#feeling a little self indulgent so have this

[quarterlifekitty]

I love your weaknesses posts🥹✨do you have any thoughts about the guys and massages (full body, shoulders, hands, etc)? could be receiving or giving them

I personally feel like Kyle would be so into them in general, meanwhile Johnny would try to be handsy or silly with them

Machveil I hope you know that I would blow up a fucking building for you if only you would ask me to

Weaknesses part 7: massages

I think Gaz is super into anything relaxing, aromatic, therapeutic. Loves candles, baths with special scented soaps and salts, massages. Anything that inspires slow, tantric intimacy. And also I think he is the king of treating himself and self care. Generally he’s more into giving, but he likes to trade massages too. He always sets the scene for you, lighting the aforementioned candles, putting on music, dimming the lights. And he’s really good at giving them. Because of course he is.

Soap is the fucking naughty masseuse and we all know it ok. He basically gives massages the way they do in porn where it’s just an extended pretense to sex where he can feel you up. Like he does try to give you a real massage for all of 3 minutes (if I’m being generous) before it’s basically just spanking you and reaching between your thighs. And if you decide to return the favor? He’s not going to shut up about getting a happy ending. Not for the entire time.

Ghost isn’t all the comfortable giving massages because he can see the blood on his hands at the edges of his vision all the time, like a cataract born of sin and violence unbridled n stuff. But he loves receiving them! You know he’s tense as fuck back there man. Doesn’t know how to relax himself, needs someone to force him to relax. You sitting straddled on him while you rub his back does it for him.

Price likes both. Plays a little into the housewife kink. Likes you to rub his shoulders after a long day, kneading into him and just trying to help him unwind like a good, sweet, considerate girl. And in return, this man is rubbing your feet and I’m not gonna apologize for saying it. Especially if you’re pregnant. Then it’s happening like every fuckin day.

While Gaz gives very sensual massages, König is gonna give you a massage that hurts like hell but fixes your entire life. Massages are one of the few things I think he’ll actually indulge in and pay for from a professional. Dude has a lot of muscles that go through a lot of grief. I think his height and his age also make him a little more prone to aches and pains. That said, he will love whatever kind of massage you give him, but it’s more of the thought that counts, cause you’re not hardcore enough to break his back the way he usually gets it done. He will literally lay down and let you walk on him.

Nikolai also loves a massage as an act of service. Just shows you’re thinking about him and his comfort, which he finds to be very sweet. He’s partial to a hand massage— he does a lot of work that strains his grip and fine motor muscles, so it feels good to take off the gloves and have you press between his knuckles and knead the meat of his palms. The massages he gives are a bit between therapeutic and foreplay. He uses the opportunity to edge you, is what I’m saying.

[citrus-writing]

Hello-hello

In your headcanons, Chrollo is very careful with reader, afraid to scare her away with some thoughtless actions or words. Especially when it comes to intimacy

But could something happen that would make Chrollo just take her by force?

Perhaps something made him very angry or upset, but that wasn’t fault of the reader herself?(He’s a leader of the Troupe after all…)

Will Chrollo blame himself the next day?

Spoilers for the yorknew and succession war arcs! 

Warnings: nsfw, non-con 

------------------------------------

I imagine there are a few things that could upset Chrollo so deeply he acts impulsively, and when it comes to his darling, the impulse he’s constantly holding himself back from is taking them by force. Because he wants them so badly, and normally he has a great deal of self control, but when his grip on his emotions start to slip, so does his control over his more innate desires when it comes to you.

The deaths of his fellow troupe members hit him hard, harder than he’d like to admit, and as much as he tried to push the despair from his mind, it left him reeling. How someone could be there one moment and then gone the next- of course he’d always know this, but to lose so many so dear to him so fast has him desperate for something to ground him. 

And of course, it’s you. You’re all that he needs, he knows this, he’s always known. Just to hold you close, smell the scent of your hair, feel your soft breath on his skin, listen to the soft beating of your heart. It’d be enough. It’d be more than enough. 

Chrollo wraps his arms around you tight, pulling your back against him as you lay together in his bed. It’s not uncommon to lay like this together, but you can tell something is wrong. His breathing is a little off, and his heartbeat is pounding. 

His hands trace little patterns on your skin, inching over your bare arms and across the fabric of your nightclothes. It’s not like him, to get so handsy with you. It’s so unlike him that you squirm a little, uncomfortable with the advances he’s making. 

“Chrollo-” you whisper, unsure what’s gotten into him and scared of what it could mean. 

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispers against the back of your neck, before pressing an open mouthed kiss against your skin. 

He’s been holding back for so long, wanting you for what seems like an eternity but never able to have you. But tonight he can't resist you, whatever it is that draws him to you is too strong and he cant stop himself from indulging in you. Surely you’ll hate him for this, surely all the progress he’s made will be lost, but he needs you- more than he’s ever needed anything. 

He pins you down beneath him, body caging yours against the bed, and before you can let out a noise of protest his lips are on yours. Gone is the way he normally kisses you; so soft, so sweet. 

The way he normally gently caresses and touches you is gone, replaced with this new side of him, hungry and desperate. 

It’s not that he’s rough with you- even now, he hates the idea of having to hurt you. But if you insist on making this difficult, he won't be able to hold back. But he’d much rather have you willing beneath him. Or, if not willing, then at the very least, not defiant. 

He kisses you again and again, his tongue sliding into your mouth when you try to gasp. His body presses up against yours, hips moving against yours in a desperate attempt for friction. This is what he needs- all of you. And soon enough he can wait no longer; pulling at your clothes to free your body to the night air, delighting in the sight of you finally, finally, bare to him after all this time. 

He knows he’ll hate himself tomorrow, he knows he’ll fall to his knees and beg you for forgiveness, plead for you to give him another chance. But with you beneath him like this, tomorrow seems so far away.

------------------------------

[macabrebatz]

A SIGHT TO BEHOLD (Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson/F!Reader)

Summary: Wade gets spit-roasted. That’s it.

Author’s note: This is my first time writing a smut one-shot! I literally don’t know how I feel about how this came out. I had a dream about this exact scenario involving Wade and I woke up in the middle of the night to write it. Literally had to write out my fantasy so I could go back to sleep. I hope you enjoy it because I’m NERVOUS. I’m a mere newbie smut writer.

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, MMF threesome, Wade gets some special treatment, or in other words you & Logan fuck Wade, pegging/anal (m!receiving), oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, a little bit of voyeurism, established relationship, open relationship, Honda odyssey mentioned lol, self indulgent, not beta read

Word count: 2036

Logan didn’t intend to interrupt. He was headed to the bedroom, about to go take a nap when he heard it. A quiet moan from an all too familiar voice. Logan found himself quietly walking down the hall of the apartment, listening to the sounds. The door was cracked open just a bit and from his position in the hallway, he could see your nude body hovering over Wade.

For a moment, he turned to walk away, to leave the apartment for a bit and let you two have your moment. Logan and Wade had their fair share of you together and you and Logan had plenty of fun alone as well. But the sound of Wade's moaning and your soft voice talking to him piqued his curiosity. It was calling him in like a siren’s song.

He slowly pushed the door open. Wade was laid out in front of you, his head buried in the covers of the bed with his ass up. You were between his legs, slowly pushing into him with a red strap on.

Logan’s hand pushed the door a bit more, causing it to creak. You turned your head at the sound.

“Hey, Logan,” you said with a smile.

“Well, ain’t that a nice sight to see. Never seen you so speechless, Wilson. She’s barely even gotten started yet,” Logan said.

He leaned on the doorway, watching the two of you. Wade looked up from his place below you as you paused mid-thrust. Your hand gently rested on Wade’s back.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t take you for the type of guy to watch in the corner but here we are, Peanut,” Wade said, glancing at him.

Logan rolled his eyes a bit. A small smirk was forming on his lips.

“Couldn’t help myself. All of those sweet sounds you were making,” Logan trailed off.

“Glad you like it,” Wade said, pushing his hips back a bit.

“You’re welcome to join us, Logan. It’s been so long since the last time,” you said, slowly thrusting the rest of the way into Wade.

He let out a whimper, laying his head to the side away from Logan.

“Fuck,” he moaned, pushing back against you.

Logan walked over to you, putting his hand on the nape of your neck. He pulled your head back, making you look up at him.

“As much as I’d love to, Princess. I think watching you two is enough this time around,” Logan said.

He kissed you on the lips and then the cheek.

“I knew it. You hear that, he’s one of those guys that watches in the corner. I mean, I’m not complaining or anything,” Wade said.

Logan pulled away from you and slowly walked around the bed, staring at the two of you before kicking off his shoes and sitting near the head of the bed.

You leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses up Wade's back. You lingered, kissing his shoulder and then his neck.

“Shall we continue?” you asked quietly.

Wade nodded his head.

You leaned back, gripping Wade’s waist, and pulled him in closer. The bed began to creak as you began to slowly thrust your hips back and forth.

Your thumb grazed against his skin, drawing little circles on his side. You wanted to take your time with Wade. Your thrusts were agonizingly slow and drawn out, each one drawing out a long moan from Wade’s lips. With each thrust of your hips, you would fill him to the hilt with the toy before almost pulling out. And you'd stay like that sometimes, with just the head of the silicone cock in him before he was begging and pushing back onto it.

This wasn’t the first time that you had gotten Wade in this position but it was the first time Logan had ever seen either of you like this. When Logan was involved it was usually you getting fucked. You didn’t mind being passed around by Wade and Logan nor did you mind being sandwiched between them. You enjoyed it a lot. But today it was Wade's turn.

His hands gripped the side of the bed, burying his fingers into the sheet. You had barely even started to fuck him and he was already a mess.

“Fuck, oh my god,” Wade mumbled into the bed.

Logan was sprawled out on the bed, his head resting on the headboard. He had already taken off his shirt. He unbuckled his jeans and one of his hands rested on his knee, the other slipped into his pants and palmed his growing erection.

You rubbed your hand across Wade's ass, squeezing a bit as you picked up speed.

Logan shifted where he sat as he pushed his pants and boxers past his hips. His erection flopped out, resting against his abdomen. He reached down stroking his dick. His thumb grazed across the head, smearing a bit of precum over it.

“Enjoying the…show?” Wade questioned in between moans, turning his head to look at Logan.

“You know I am,” he said.

His chest heaved a bit as he jerked himself off. His eyes scanned across the scene before him.

Wade's head rested on the bed, his hands still holding onto the blanket. His eyes were locked on Logan's cock. You had a grin on your face as you continued to pump the strap-on into the merc beneath you. Your breasts jiggled ever so slightly with every thrust. Logan moaned as his cock pumped into his hand. It truly was a sight to behold and Logan wasn’t sure how long he’d last watching you and Wade. Every time you’d glance over at him, locking your eyes on him. Every time a little whine or a quiet plea would escape Wade’s lips. It was enough to drive him crazy.

You were in a trance. Wade was falling apart. You had bent him over in just a way that was causing you to hit that sweet spot in him with every thrust. You weren’t being stimulated but the sound of Wade's whimpers, Logan’s moans, and the lewd sound of every thrust was almost enough to make you come.

“Ah, fuck. Please go harder, baby,” Wade begged.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Your hands gripped his waist a bit tighter and you picked up speed. Wade's jaw fell and his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowing.

“Oh my god, yes,” he moaned.

He gripped the bed tighter, whimpering as you pounded into him. If he latched onto the bed any harder you swore he could’ve ripped holes through the sheets. He whispered something about his cock which had been hard and throbbing since you had first begun. And now it slid back and forth on the covers with every thrust. You knew he couldn’t take it much longer. And neither could Logan who was so close to the edge.

His hips thrust into the air as he watched Wade become undone below you. The bed shifted a bit as Logan stood up and walked over to Wade, cock in hand. You watched him saunter over to Wade, figuring he had decided that he was done just watching. He needed more.

“Tired of being the guy in the corner?” Wade asked.

“Open,” Logan demanded.

Without another word, Wade parted his lips and let Logan fuck his mouth. Logan groaned at the feeling of Wade's warm mouth. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips causing Wade to gag a bit, drool dripping down his chin.

“Fuck, you’re so good, Wade,” Logan grunted.

He hummed in response, a small thank you, causing Logan’s hips to buck at the vibration.

Wade was close, you could tell. His thighs were trembling under your touch, something that often happened when he was on the edge.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you said.

You reached down, kissing his back.

Logan was close too. The thrusts of his hips had become erratic as he cupped the side of Wade's face. Wade had become a drooling mess, moaning around Logan’s cock. Logan had never received head from Wade before but you knew that it must’ve been good. Wade had always had a way with his tongue. There were many times when he had made you see stars while eating you out.

There was a particularly long moan from Wade, humming around Logan once more. And that was all it took.

Logan gently gripped the side of Wade's head, grunting as he pushed his cock further into Wade's mouth. His nose gently grazed against Logan’s pubic hair. Cum shot down his throat and he swallowed around Logan’s cock.

“Knew you’d be good with your mouth,” Logan said.

You were still thrusting into him as he removed his mouth from around Logan. Logan sat back down, this time in a chair directly across from you and Wade.

Wade had become unglued. The feeling of you fucking him, his cock moving against the bed, the taste of Logan still on his tongue. It was all too much.

“Please, please,” he whimpered.

“What do you want, baby?”

He could barely make a coherent sentence, mumbling about his cock and his desperate need to come. Whispering in incomplete sentences about how close he was. It was a bit unusual for both you and Logan. Wade was usually very mouthy in bed. But he was a sputtering mess. And you loved it. And by the looks of Logan, who was watching intently, he loved it too.

“Such a good boy,” you whispered.

Wade’s hips bucked into the bed, his head buried into the blankets. You placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him harder into you.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

“Go ahead, baby. You’ve been so good for us,” you said.

You were moaning yourself, just the sight of Wade like this with Logan looking at the two of you was turning you on. You didn’t even need them to touch you.

Wade’s breath hitched, his mouth hanging agape. He was seeing stars, a white vignette around his eyes as he came. He rutted his hips against the bed as you pushed into him slowly. His body shuddered as he looked into Logan’s eyes in a silent wave of pleasure.

You slowly pulled out of Wade with a grin as he collapsed onto the bed, closing his eyes and panting. Logan had gotten up, disappearing into the bathroom. You unfastened the sex toy, taking it and the harness off, and sitting it aside.

You pulled Wade up, moving him towards the head of the bed. You lay down beside him, placing a kiss on his forehead. Logan emerged from the bathroom, wash rag in hand. He gently cleaned up Wade and tossed the rag aside into a hamper. Then Logan got into the bed, laying on the opposite side of Wade.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Wade spoke.

“That was fucking amazing. Holy fucking shit, who taught you how to do that?”

You giggled. It seemed Wade being speechless was only a temporary thing.

“What I’m hearing is that you enjoyed it?” you asked.

He nodded his head, smiling.

“And you,” he poked Logan in the chest, who huffed in response.

“You couldn’t resist me even if you tried. Honestly, I knew it. Ever since we were in that Honda Odyssey. I get not being able to resist her,” Wade pointed at you, “she’s perfect. But I guess it took you a bit to realize that I’m also a catch-“

Logan interrupted Wade, kissing him hard. It took Wade a bit by surprise but he softened, opening up and bringing his hand up to Logan’s face. You looked on from your position in the bed. Seeing them like this made you more happy than you had ever expected.

“Wait a minute. What about you?”

Wade pulled away from Logan’s kiss, turning his head to look at you.

“What about me?” you asked, curling up beside him.

“Last time I checked only two of us came,” Wade cooed.

“You know what, I think he’s right, Princess,” Logan chimed in.

The two men had mischievous looks in their eyes. You knew you were in for a long night.

[amomentsescape]

Slashers handling ovulating s/o?? 😚

Btw I love your work so much! You’re amazing

Slashers with Ovulating! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo

Warnings: MDNI, suggestive and mature content (It gets pretty steamy but nothing too crazy)

A/N: Definitely the most NSFW fic I've posted on this page. As a reminder, I don't write smut so this will probably be as steamy as I get for my posts. But this was a fun request, and I enjoyed writing for it! Thank you, Anon!

Freddy Krueger

Your dreams give you away

(Yes, he'll watch your dreams if he's not already controlling them; there's no privacy with this man)

And he's very interested in these dreams you've been having recently

It only takes a couple for Freddy to quickly snap

You'll go to sleep one night only to find yourself immediately in Freddy's domain

The setting and environment feeling very familiar somehow

You won't see him at first, but you'll definitely feel him around you, his voice echoing around the dreamscape

"Wanna make those dreams come true, baby?" he cackles throughout the darkness

Before you'll be able to respond, you'll feel his hand slide over your waist

The question was mostly out of politeness

He's not going to let you say no now that he has you (not that you were going to anyways)

Michael Myers

He picks up on everything in an instant

Your smell, your actions, your voice- literally everything is screaming at him

Now, Michael has a lot of self-discipline

He could just go about the day like usual and not need to indulge in anything

But he wants to

Don't mistaken this for "giving in"

It's just another way for him to put himself in control

You're just so desperate for him that he can just about get away with anything he wants

A simple touch has you weak in the knees, a slap on the ass has you arching your back

He could just absolutely ruin you these next few days

And he is very much planning on doing so

Jason Voorhees

Jason is fairly innocent when it comes to this sort of topic with you

But unlike Bubba, he does pick up on your teasing after a bit, he's just too flustered to do anything back

He loves the attention, but the way you're making him feel is causing him to freeze up and blush wildly under his mask

He knows you love him, but he can't understand how someone like you could possibly desire someone like him

He can't even hold eye contact with you when you're looking at him like that

When you've finally grown too impatient, you'll hop on his lap and grab his cheek, forcing him to look at you

He'll give you a big sigh and concerned eyes, silently asking if you're sure

"Jason. I want you. I want you and only you."

Those words must have been laced with magic, because a switch flips, and he's suddenly standing up, holding you bridal style

He'll toss you onto the bed and crawl on top, suddenly more confident than earlier

Looks like all he needs is a little bit of reassurance during this time of the month

Thomas Hewitt

It might just be the primal side of him, but he can literally smell it

Your pheromones during this time of month are always consistent to the point that he anticipates this weeks in advance

He lingers around you more often than normal (which isn't saying much since he stays near you 99% of the time anyways)

He's just waiting for the moment that you'll let him take a bite

And if you bump into him just slightly, his breath hitches and he'll freeze, hoping maybe you'll turn that bump into something more

Stands a little too close to you so he can breathe in your scent

But he's also hoping it'll increase the chance of you rubbing up against him on "accident"

This only makes things worse for the both of you until you two are finally alone together

All you have to do is give him that look, and he's throwing you over his shoulder, locking you two away for the night

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a very innocent man

He didn't even really know what the concept of "sex" was before you

So unfortunately for you, pulling out all stops will quite literally do nothing

You could stand there completely bare in front of him, and he'll sweetly think you want to shower

That's not to say you're constant touches and flirting don't do anything for him

They do, he just doesn't understand what that feeling is yet

When you finally get to be alone with him, you'll gently let your hands wander, watching carefully at his reactions

Once you hit a sensitive spot, you'll know

His breath will hitch and he'll give you this soft, pleading look

And once you kiss him, that fire inside him will quickly engulf his body

You just have to give him a sweet questioning glance, and he'll be feverishly nodding his head, grabbing at your wrists to continue

Brahms Heelshire

To be honest, whether or not your ovulating doesn't really change how Brahms acts around you day to day

Because he is always down bad for you

But he does appreciate how quickly you seem to return his advances during this time of the month

He enjoys turning it into some sort of game when he can too

You'll feel his breath on your neck, only to be met with an empty room

You'll feel his gaze on you all throughout the house without a single sight of his whereabouts

When you finally have had enough, you'll break

Turning on the shower peaks his interest

And the moment he sees that first button of your top open, he's revealing himself from the walls

You've been working so hard for him today

He thinks it's time for you to finally relax

Norman Bates

Norman knows before you do

The sweet man tracks your cycles for you, always wanting to be prepared to care for you in the way you need

But this time of month isn't one where he feels too bold

He becomes even more shy somehow, having trouble holding eye contact

Every kiss or hug from you sets him aflame, and he turns into a blushing mess

It's honestly like he's the one who's ovulating

And all you have to do is hold him for just a little bit too long and whisper in his ear to make him break

He'll quite literally fall to his knees in front of you, waiting for anything

He'll do whatever it is you ask

Like I said, he wants to care for you in any way you need

Billy Loomis

He tries to be smug about everything

You're more affectionate than normal, even doing some PDA that he's not used to from you

He just acts like his usual self out in public

But the moment you two are alone, he confronts you

He'll pin you against the door, his free hand wandering across your skin while he looks at you with dark eyes

"You think I can't see what you're doing? It's not very nice of you to be such a tease."

His voice is barely above a whisper while his grip on you tightens

His wandering hand finds the most sensitive spot on you and squeezes, causing you to let out a whimper

He smiles in return

"You're going to have to do better than that to make it up to me," he whispers, leaning in gently

Stu Macher

Look at this guy

He literally can't keep his tongue in his mouth (sorry, bad joke)

He can tell something is up though

You're more cuddly than usual, practically sitting on his lap at all points during the day

And Stu does not mind one bit, but he isn't sure what's gotten into you

You're hoping he'll take the hint, but he's as oblivious as he is happy

It's only when you straddle his lap and kiss him deeply that he understands what's going on

His hands are on you in an instant

He'll happily oblige to your "demands"

Just be careful when and where you decide to break though

Because the moment you open that door, Stu will be having you in that instant

And if he has to pull you into a broom closet in public to do so...

He will

Vincent Sinclair

Despite barely seeing the light of day most of his life, he's fairly knowledgeable about everything

But unlike his brother, he doesn't really get driven up the wall by this time of the month

He just wants you to be happy, so if being flirted with and touched every two seconds is what you want, he'll happily go along with it

Even though his face feels like it's going to burn off again every time

He won't initiate anything, but he also won't say no to anything you do

Just guide his hands and tell him what you need, and he'll be helping you out instantly

He doesn't even expect anything in return

But when you smile at him just like that, his brain might short circuit

He'll be your slave if you ask nicely

Bo Sinclair

Bo is, well, Bo

He sometimes acts like he can't tell or that he's too "deep" into his work at the moment to be bothered

But he knows

And he loves the feeling of being needed and desired

You'll come up to him, hugging him for a bit too long, your hands lingering on his chest and torso

He likes to play coy

He wants to see you break first

He'll happily make it worse for you too

Hands on your waist, a gentle caress of your neck, that piercing gaze of his

He can see your face flush and body practically tremble at his actions

But he won't do anything about it

It won't be until the end of the day when he finally comes back home to find you already waiting at the door

You about have to throw yourself onto him before that smile finally breaks out onto his face

"So impatient, aren't we darlin'? Gonna show me just how badly you need me?"

[plumpybread]

Asking because of the previous ask, are you not a fan of Ethan anymore? If so, why?

It's complicated, I suppose (rant where i talk abt ethan but then also my OCs in general)

I really do not like the first version of Ethan I made like 3 years ago. Obviously I like indulging in devilish ideas but I don't know, it ended up turning into something I didn't really end up liking too much.

Then I revisited and sort of rewrote his story a bit a while back when making the OC archive site (I'm aware the site is not available anymore for the people who asked, I took it down myself) and was much happier with it for a while.

Don't get me wrong, I like Ethan, I know he's the OC people seem to like the most, but it's still like a personal mental battle of like maybe it's too effed up? Even when I draw characters going through unwilling/accidental extreme weight gain, I make them either ambivalent or accepting of their situation, but for Ethan it's kind of like torture, and I can't bring myself to get like..aroused and excited to draw more of that *personally*.

Changing up his lore wouldn't really work either since his story is based on helplessness and stuff, and it'd be disingenuous to make him be happy with his situation, so I've just sort of subconsciously decided to leave him as is and treat his content as its self contained story more than nsfw art to goon to, if that makes sense. I don't know, maybe I'm just thinking about it too much, but just wanted to say what goes through my head.

I also don't really revisit Ethan for the same reason I don't tend to draw much of all the past OCs I've made, as I see each of them as a way to explore different facets of how weight gain can manifest and adapt into a character's life to create a story around it, and I feel like I've covered most of the ground around them already.

All of my OCs come from a sudden short prompt that pops up in my head, usually out of nowhere. I suddenly wanted to make a big-hearted southern farm guy who was super massive and I immediately ran to draw Rudy, for example.

I draw them a little reference, with my typical bullet points next to them with basic info to get an idea of what their dynamic is like, and a more lengthily written backstory or description if I'm feeling fancy under it, and then for the next week or two it's all art of them and answering questions about them... and then another idea pops up, and a new OC comes in.

It's not that I get tired of them, but I just simply do not know what to draw with them. Ethan is the biggest outlier in this case, since he is my fattest OC and half immobile, you just don't really know how else to bring something new that's not him laying on his bed at a slightly different angle.

I guess that's why I always do OC asks, I sort of need them to be able to know what to draw with them, since I struggle coming with things like that by myself, and you know I always like avoiding drawing a character in a void with no context.

The Genshin Obesity AU is my longest running like "project"?? thing just because there is an endless amount of content I can pull from since there's all these characters, places and possibilities I can write from. My OCs are obviously much more self-contained and moreso serve as individual experiments to explore different people and scenarios, so after the 10th drawing of them... I genuinely do not know what else I can add to them.

I hope that was a bit insightful. I know most of you guys love Ethan, and I love him too! But I don't know, I guess this is why I don't tend to have immobile/near immobile OCs, since the potential art ideas for them drop to just them sitting on a mattress or sitting on the floor and I'm just left confused on what to do with them.

Maybe Ethan in his college days is something you guys might be interested in? Or I don't know, I'm just writing this post as my thoughts enter my head.

Sorry for the rant, I sure do love typing, hope this clears up some questions people might've had

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

The last drop in The Last Drop🍺✨

Here is my self indulging fic set in the Arcane series because I miss Vander a lot and I need to cope with the ending somehow -> Basically a fic where I add an og character (a little girl named Luna) who becomes Vander's fifth adopted child (shoutout to the single dad of the year)

Disclaimer: I haven't played LOL and english isn't my first language, so yeah, and oh I've got daddy issues (reason for which I'm writing this lol)

Pre-Act 1.1

Part 1: Luna liked Vander's hands. They made her feel safe. He made her feel safe.

Part 2: the Last Drop was a loud place, and Vander's kids were also loud, but Luna slowly begins to fit in within the chaos with her new family

Part 3: Luna has nightmares, but Vander will always be there for her. She just has to learn that.

Part 4: Luna likes to hang out behind the counter because she likes being close to Vander.

... more to come!

If you have any requests or want to see something happen let me know! I do have a few things mapped out, but as this is a very self indulging fic, I'll probably don't follow a concrete order posting (maybe one day I post a one shot set when they were all kids and the next day one set in season 2, idk depends on the mood ig)

Tell me if you want to be tagged!

[dogwartz]

i also found it a bit hard so ill write them out for anyone else who is struggling to read what its saying

Image one: If you find a corner of this world wide web that has any substance at all, then please stick to it. The hundreds of millions of people that now place absolutely no value on their time, their precious time, and spend it watching soulless content designed to hold their attention is depressing. This all depressed me. There is so little substance in this mess of a world wide web, so little heart or soul or love. If you find any substance, stick to it.

Image two: A Tribute To Minecraft, The Great Potato War, TheOriginalAce's Q&A's, Ludwig's 2020 streams, SMPLive Talent Show. This was everything to me.

Image three: Status is irrational & nature is cynical It's attention porn. Don't get addicted to it. It's nothing. It means nothing. They are more insecure than you. But what the fuck do I know

Image four: When I was a boy, alone, this meant everything to me. I found my people. My place. And along the way I was a part of something that really meant something. That is the only of this . Whatever I did that meant something, that is the only good bit.

Image five: I can't watch back my old videos because everyone in them wasn't who they said they were. Do you know bad this makes me feel. Do you know how sad I have felt all year.

Image six: How could anyone possibly find out who they are when you are all immersed in the needless, self indulgent spiral of instant gratification and distraction. This is not good for you.

Image seven (all written upside down): I don't think I trust anyone here. I don't think anyone trusts anyone here. the poor 12 year old watching this sad ass video when he subscribed for funny minecraft videos. poor guy lmao.

Image eight: yeah i know it's too much like bo burnham. it won't be in a year though. In a year it will be like Tom Simons. Just let me figure out what that means, OK?

Image nine: I used to feel like I was just doing everything wrong. That I just wasn't smart or good like any of my friends. I realize now I was the only one doing the right thing. I just wanted to have fun. What I'd do to get that back, my god. What I'd do. To have things be simple again.

Image ten: I just don't want to slip back into who I was. A year ago I needed you. A year ago most of my self esteem and worth and love came from you. A year ago I wasn't happy unless you were. I don't think I can ever do that again. That really was wrong. How did I possibly end up there?

screencaps of the text in tommy's new video for anyone that wants them!!

Hurts a little but make sure to go check it out!

[yeahspider]

SWEET LIFE

A/n- this is so self indulgent. like seriously. maknae line x f. reader fluff yes plz! might get a hyung line version bc I like the concept (maybe if yall want it) but this is just a vibe so vibe with me. nsfw (weed mention) . enjoy and feel free to visit my inbox as I am taking requests. <3

Your apartment was a little crowded today. Considering it was everybody's off day. The boys decided to spend most of it at your place. Your apartment for them was a safe haven away from prying eyes and demanding schedules.

You didn't mind having them all over as you hated when you were alone. The noise they brought provided you a piece of comfort. After grueling rehearsals all week and your never-ending day job, this was a much-needed moment of peace.

“Someone take the scissors out of Jisung’s hand thank you very much!” you say as you prepare yourself for the task of taking down your braids. Your next appointment is in the upcoming week and you wanted to give your hair some time to breathe. With the length they're at, it was going to take a while. But of course, your boys are ever excited to help you out. Well most of them.

I feel like you’re scamming me babe.” says Seungmin as he grabs the scissors from Jisung. No one wanted to risk your wraith if he cut too high.

"I don't know what are you talking about Minnie I'd never scam you beloved," you say in your defense.

"yeah because five dollars is a completely reasonable nonscamming price," he says with a smile. Taking your braids gently out of the bonnet you had them in. Seungmin didn't want to pull on them if he could help it.

Jisung, now scissorless, took a seat beside you on the floor. Setting the blunt wraps on the coffee table in front of you. Preparing to roll for you and himself.

"I wish you would let me help more," he said with a pout on his face. You wanted to kiss it off him.

"you are helping sungie your presence is enough. It keeps me calm. Plus no one else rolls a blunt for me as good as you do." you comfort me as you kiss his now smiling lips. That seemed to satisfy him enough as he started the rolling process.

Felix came bounding into the living room from his napping spot in your room, flopping himself on the couch and picking up the remote to the TV. Channel surfing for something interesting to watch.

"Ugh, nothing is interesting to watch on TV. Felix complained while sliding down the couch to the floor as if he was melting in boredom.

"You could always just hook up the game and play Mario Kart or something. Go see if one of the boys wanna play with you," you suggested. Smiling at his antics as he crawled across the floor to give you a kiss. "You always have the best ideas, babe." He said as he practically skipped out of the room. Making your face flush at his praise. Just waving it off as Jisung teased you for your reaction.

A soft moan left your mouth as Seungmin got to the root of a braid. His hands gently unbraiding and giving your scalp a little rub to loosen up the tension. His hands felt so heavenly on your head after the rough week you had.

Felix took his time dragging a sleepy Jeongin into the room. It seems as if he found his gaming partner, although unwillingly. Going straight to the TV to set everything up, meanwhile, Jeongin sleepily made his way to you. Placing his head in your lap as he pulled himself closer to your stomach. You just laughed softly at his cat-like antics. Reminding you of a certain someone.

"Tell Felix to let me sleep." Jeongin groaned. His warm breath hits the exposed skin on your stomach. Hands hin his hair as you stroking softly.

"Now you know once Lix has his mind set on something there is no telling him anything." you comfort the boy.

"But I'm so tired and you're so warm and comfortable Don't make me go over there to that heathen."

Felix can get kind of crazy while gaming but before you could even suggest a solution the sunshine boy dragged the sleepy one out of your embrace. A groan erupts from the latter. There was no saving him now.

An object in front of your vision distracted you from the two gaming boys. It was the blunt Jisung rolled especially for you. To take the edge off a rough week. Encouraging you to take a hit he placed it right between your lips. Murmurung a "There you go. good girl." as you inhaled. Normally you would correct him for goodgirling you but today you didn't care. So you let him get away with it. Plus he could roll one hell of a blunt. And it was kind of hard to be cross with his hand on your thigh and Seungmin'd in your hair. In fact, you were quite content.

"Chan texted he and the hyungs should be home in a bit," Felix said from in front of the TV.

"Good, that's just enough time for Jisung to roll another one," you suggested. Tugging on the hem of his shirt. Maybe you were too high, because you really wanted him to take it off. Yeah, you were so high.

"Hey, I'm not rolling for those losers! I roll for you, and for you only! They have their own hands." Jisung protested as he offered it to Seungmin to which the younger declined, stating that he had to stay focused on your hair. Something about his statement made your heart swell. It's a nice feeling to be cared for.

Jisung then offered to blunt the other two in the room. They on the other hand accepted his offer. It was often he shared his blunts with anyone other than his girl. He said it was the gentlemen in him.

Time passed as you all waited for the older ones to get home. The more that passed the higher you got, and soon enough everyone in the room was higher than you originally intended to be. You could tell in the way everyone was lying to each other. Felix and Jeongin are a pile of limbs, their game long abandoned. Music is playing from the speakers as they whisper secrets to each other, giggling like school children while watching random videos on their phones. You were still seated between Seungmin's legs. His hands still dutifully unbraiding. Ever dedicated to his craft. But you could tell he was contact high as well. You could tell in the way he would kiss your head ever so often. A gentle reminder of his affection for you.

Jisung was sitting in your lap, playing with random parts of your body. Your face arms legs had all been prodded by him, not that it bothered you in the slightest. His touch left sparks all over you. You were having conversations about whatever came to mind. And finding comfort in one another. The atmosphere is warm and cozy. You wish every day could be like this.

[roigami]

(Really rushed y’all… really rushed) The first time you saw Satoru, it hit you like a wave. You couldn’t quite put it into words at the time, but there was something about him that made your heart skip a beat. He was stunning in a way you hadn’t expected—like a burst of sunlight breaking through a clouded sky. His hair was messy, fluffed up in that effortless way, as though he had just rolled out of bed but still looked better than anyone else. His smile, lazy and self-assured, was both inviting and exasperating all at once. And the way he carried himself—like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t owe respect to anyone, especially those who were supposed to command it—was so far removed from your own nature. Everything about him was an unspoken challenge, a stark contrast to your quiet, controlled existence.

And maybe that’s what drew you in.

It was as if he lived in a world you couldn’t even touch. Your world was about duty, about tradition, about what was expected of you. Love wasn’t something you sought—it was something arranged, planned, calculated, like everything else. You didn’t want to have these feelings for him. You didn’t know how to handle it. Crushes were something you didn’t get. They were for others, people who had the luxury of indulging in their emotions, not someone like you.

Every time you tried to hold his gaze, you found it impossible. His eyes made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain, until you found yourself smiling without meaning to. That made you panic even more, because smiling felt like weakness—something you couldn’t afford to show. So, you did the only thing that felt safe: you faked a frown. It was your armor, the one you knew how to wear, even if it didn’t quite match the fluttering in your chest.

You hated it. You hated feeling this way. You couldn’t tell anyone; you had no one to tell. Not your friends, not your family. Who could understand? Who could possibly get it when your world was already written out for you, and love wasn’t supposed to be part of it?

And yet, every time he walked by, your heart betrayed you. Every time he smiled, so effortlessly, so carelessly, you felt your walls crack, just a little bit more.

——————

Gojo couldn’t quite figure you out. He had never met anyone quite like you, someone who existed in the periphery of his life, who didn’t seem to fit in but still lingered in places where he couldn’t ignore you. The way you carried yourself—quiet, composed, distant—always caught his attention. It wasn’t like you were shy; no, you had this quiet strength, this undeniable presence that stood out even in a room full of people. You spoke with respect, even when it wasn’t deserved, and your words were always measured, never sharp. And yet… there was something about you that made it impossible for him to place.

Around him, you were frowning. It wasn’t that you seemed angry, but your expression was always steeped in something heavy— You never smiled. Never laughed in the way his friends did, never seemed to lighten up like the others. It wasn’t even as if you were a stranger to him. You’d tagged along on missions, hung out with his friends, and somehow fit in without really being in. You were like a shadow, constantly present but never quite seen. You only spoke when spoken to, offering no more than the bare minimum, always on the sidelines, always observing.

And that bothered him. It got under his skin more than he cared to admit. Gojo was used to people being drawn to him, engaging with him, enjoying his presence. But you? You made it clear you didn’t need him, didn’t want him, or anyone else for that matter. It ticked him off, this indifference of yours.

But Gojo wasn’t someone to let things slide, not when it came to his ego, not when it came to understanding people. He started to wonder: Was it just a mask? Nobody, not even someone as enigmatic as you, would walk around with a frown on their face all the time. It didn’t make sense. There had to be something else behind that expression, something deeper. And if it wasn’t a mask, if this was truly who you were, then maybe you were just miserable on purpose. Maybe you were someone who sought to suffer, to shut out the world for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. Or maybe… just maybe… it was him you didn’t like. The thought stung more than it should have, but it kept gnawing at him. He remembered the way your frown deepened every time your eyes met, as if you were unable to hide the disdain you felt for him.

He couldn’t help but dwell on it. But… maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t dislike at all. Maybe it was something far more complicated. Maybe you liked him. That thought, for some inexplicable reason, dug at him. The idea of you being silently affected by him, of you possibly harboring feelings for someone like him—an egotistical jerk—bothered him in ways he didn’t care to explore. And that upset him more than he wanted to admit. So, naturally, he decided to talk to Geto about it.

Geto, ever the voice of reason, listened to him with that patient, knowing smile that irritated Gojo more than he cared to admit. When Gojo had shared his suspicions—half joking, half serious—Geto’s response was enough to make his blood run cold. “Maybe it’s the opposite,” Geto had said, his voice almost teasing. “Maybe you like her.”

Gojo had scoffed, immediately dismissing the idea. That’s complete bullshit. He barely knew you. Sure, you were attractive, but looks weren’t enough for him to call it “like.” It wasn’t just about physical attraction. It wasn’t even about the shallow interactions that might have suggested something more. No, it was about who you were, and he couldn’t figure that out. The quiet, withdrawn nature you exuded made it hard for him to place any of this.

But curiosity gnawed at him, more and more each time he saw you, each time you spoke those few words. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you, to the way you seemed so completely unaffected by him, yet at the same time, always so close, always so present in the spaces he inhabited. And deep down, he wondered—maybe, just maybe, that was the most intriguing thing about you.

His ego, ever his guide, whispered that he couldn’t like you. Not in this situation, not now. He told himself that, over and over. That’s what his pride demanded. That’s what his ego insisted. But even then, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to you—something that called to him, even if he refused to admit it.

—————

“Just ask her if she hates you.”

“Do you hate me?” Satoru asked suddenly, his voice slicing through the comfortable silence. You froze mid-step.

“What?” you managed to say, confused by both his tone and his question.

Satoru turned to face you fully, crossing his arms with a dramatic sigh. “It’s weird,” he began, eyes narrowing slightly, “because every time I’m near you, your frown deepens by, like, a millimeter. Do you know how insulting that is for someone of my charm and good looks?”

His deadpan delivery made your head spin. Were you frowning at him? Did your face have a vendetta you weren’t aware of?

You felt a twinge of panic rise in your chest. It wasn’t that you hated him—quite the opposite, actually. But apparently, you were giving him the worst signals in the history of mankind. If there was an award for unintentional mixed signals, you’d win gold every time.

While Satoru stood there, waiting for your response, he didn’t seem inclined to stop talking. “Seriously, you’re always looking at me like I’ve done something horribly wrong. I mean, I’m amazing, so it can’t possibly be my fault, right? Maybe it’s you? Are you allergic to people who are this good-looking? Or maybe—”

You tuned him out for a second, mentally slapping yourself. You waited until he finally ran out of breath, his hands gesturing wildly as if proving some unseen point, and then calmly said, “I don’t hate you.”

Your words landed with a thud, and for a moment, there was blessed silence. Satoru blinked at you, his head tilting like a curious puppy. “You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.” He squinted, suspicious. “Are you sure? Because the frowning thing really had me convinced. Like, I was about to write a thesis on how much you secretly despise me.”

You shook your head. “I’m sure.”

His eyes lit up like someone had just handed him his favorite dessert. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?!” he exclaimed, his grin so wide it could’ve powered a small city. “You had me worried for no reason!”

Before you could respond, he spun on his heel and started skipping away from you down the street. Yes, skipping. He was practically glowing, and you swore you saw actual sparkles radiating off him like some sort of anime protagonist.

————

You guessed that’s when it all started. When he really started to speak and see you more.

The sun beats down relentlessly, its heat pressing into your skin like a heavy hand. You walk along the street, feeling each step drag beneath the oppressive warmth. But then—thankfully—you spot a vending machine. A savior. You eagerly shove money into the slot and press the button, waiting for your drink to fall with a sigh of relief.

And then, a voice cuts through the quiet hum of the afternoon, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re really quiet.”

You flinch slightly, turning to face the voice you already know well. Gojo Satoru stands there, looking as effortless as ever. His white hair gleams in the sunlight, and his usual confident, amused expression is plastered across his face.

You bow, a reflex, and immediately hear the soft sigh he lets out. His gaze is already rolling, and you can practically feel his exasperation “Can you get me a drink too? This heat is killing me!” He says dramatically, fanning himself, though there’s no sign of sweat. Maybe he’s just blessed with not feeling the heat the same way.

You shrug and reach into your pocket, pulling out another coin. “What drink?” you ask, your gaze cool as you meet his. He pauses for a moment, as if trying to decide, before muttering, “I guess, any.”

With a slight tilt of your head, you grab the drinks from the machine, handing him one without much thought. The lychee flavor.

“Hm?” He looks at the drink in his hand, an eyebrow raised. “How’d you know this was my favorite?” His teasing tone is there, but his glasses slip down his nose, and you catch the playful gleam in his eyes.

Your words quiet but clear. “Whenever the group hangs out, I always see you ordering lychee. And you always stare at lychee-flavored drinks when we try to order something else like Sprite.” Your voice is as steady as ever, unaffected by the fact that you’ve just revealed something Gojo didn’t know.

For a split second, he freezes, his lips parting slightly in surprise. And then, the most charming smile spreads across his face. It’s bright, almost blinding.

“Ah, I see.” He chuckles softly to himself, turning his back to you as he takes a sip of the drink. You watch him, your head tilted in quiet curiosity. Is drinking that private to him? But then you notice the faint redness creeping along the tip of his ear. It must be the heat, you reason, but somehow, it’s endearing.

“Goodbye,” you say softly, preparing to leave, but as you start to walk away, you feel him behind you, just a little too close.

You stop, turning your head. “Why are you still following me?” You can’t help the small bite in your tone. Isn’t he bored yet? All you are doing was walking.

He catches up, leans in slightly, and you feel his presence beside you like an unspoken weight. “Because I’m not sick of you yet,” he says, his voice low and warm. There’s something soft in his tone, something genuine—maybe he’s not entirely teasing, after all.

Your steps slow, heart beating a little faster, as the distance between you both closes, and for the first time, you let the silence between you feel like something more than just an awkward pause. Something familiar. Something you might just want to keep.

————

The group meandered down the lively street, their laughter and casual chatter mingling with the bustling sounds of vendors calling out and the sizzle of food being cooked on open grills. The scent of roasted chestnuts and skewered meat wafted through the crisp evening air, but your attention was elsewhere.

You were trailing behind the others with Satoru, who seemed unusually content staying close by your side. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his usual carefree demeanor was only slightly overshadowed by the way he kept glancing at you.

When your gaze caught on a bright, retro-looking machine, curiosity flickered in your eyes. It was old-fashioned, boxy, and decorated with neon lights.

Satoru noticed your intrigue immediately. “Oh! It’s a Photo Booth!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Before you could even process what he said, he grabbed your hand, his warm fingers wrapping around yours, and tugged you toward the machine. The group called out after you, confused about your sudden departure, but Satoru didn’t even turn around.

“We’ll catch up!” he hollered over his shoulder before turning back to you with a mischievous grin.

The booth was cramped and a little dusty, but Satoru paid no mind as he dug out some coins and inserted them into the slot. He held the curtain open for you, and you ducked inside hesitantly, feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation.

“Let’s just snap a few pictures,” Satoru said, crouching slightly to get a better look at the buttons on the machine. “How does this thing work again…?” He frowned in concentration, poking a few random buttons until the countdown suddenly began.

“Three… Two…”

The numbers flashing on the screen triggered a burst of panic in both of you. You scrambled to get into position, barely managing to sit up straight and look at the camera as it clicked. The result was… less than flattering.

Satoru groaned loudly, looking at the preview. “Ugh, we look so stiff. Let’s be more… comfortable,” he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye with a teasing smile.

He hesitated for a second, then moved his arm as if to drape it around your shoulders. But before he could, the camera flashed again, catching him mid-action.

“Shit!” he whispered, his hand retreating quickly as though burned.

“Two more!” you muttered, glancing nervously at the screen.

Satoru didn’t waste time. This time, he grabbed your shoulders firmly and grinned brightly at the camera. His confidence was infectious, and you couldn’t help but manage a small, tentative smile just as the next flash went off.

“Alright, one more,” he said, shifting gears entirely. He threw up a peace sign at the last second, his expression effortlessly goofy. You instinctively copied him, feeling the tension ease. The final flash went off, and the booth chimed to signal the end of the session.

Satoru leaned over to retrieve the printed photos from the slot, and as soon as he saw them, he burst into laughter.

“They caught me looking so ridiculous in the second one!” he said between laughs, showing you the strip. “And look at you—you’re so awkward!”

He handed you a copy of the photos, still chuckling to himself. You stared at them, cheeks burning slightly at how unpolished you looked in the first two shots.

“…I’ll do better next time,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. Satoru immediately stopped laughing. “Oh? Next time?” he asked, his tone playfully curious.

You froze, realizing what you’d just said. “yeah, next time.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his teasing eyes sparkling. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice low and amused.

Before you could respond, he turned back to the others, waving the photos in the air as he called out to Suguru and Shoko. “Hey! Look at these masterpieces! We’re basically models!”

As he walked ahead, your eyes drifted down to the photo strip in your hand. Despite the awkward poses and mismatched expressions, there was something undeniably warm about them.

Next time didn’t sound so bad after all.

————

You both entered a small store, the warmth inside immediately thawing your frozen limbs. Satoru, of course, had made a beeline for the snacks, grabbing armfuls of chips and sweets while you followed, shaking your head. At the register, you pulled out your wallet to pay for his haul.

“Really? You’re paying for me?” he teased, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

“I’m feeling generous,” you replied as the cashier handed over the change.

Back outside, the air hit you like a wall, the cold sharper now as the sun fully dipped below the horizon. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, snuggling into its soft fabric as your breaths came out in puffs of white.

The silence between you was comfortable, the crunch of your boots against the snow the only sound until thick flakes began to fall from the sky. It started softly, a gentle flurry that quickly turned into heavy snowfall, the world around you blanketed in white.

“You cold?” Satoru asked, tilting his head as he looked at you. His blue eyes sparkled, even in the dim light.

You nodded, unable to properly respond as the cold numbed your lips and cheeks. He stopped walking, and before you could question him, he stepped closer, pulling his hands from his pockets.

Suddenly, his hands were on your cheeks, and you flinched at the unexpected warmth. He had heating pads tucked beneath his gloves, the heat seeping into your frozen skin.

“Warm up,” he said with a lopsided grin, his voice soft despite the teasing undertone.

You fluttered your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth soak in. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of falling snow.

“Not a problem,” he replied, his grin growing wider. His hands lingered a moment longer before dropping back to his sides. He seemed pleased with himself, his expression bright despite the freezing air.

By the time you reached the meeting point, Shoko and Suguru were already there, waiting under the awning of a convenience store. Shoko was lazily sucking on a lollipop, while Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“What took you two so long?” Suguru asked, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up.

Before you could explain, Satoru grabbed your arm, leaning against you dramatically as a mischievous smile spread across his face.

“On a date, kind of!” he chirped, his tone entirely too casual.

“What?!” Shoko nearly choked, her lollipop falling from her mouth as her wide eyes darted between the two of you.

You immediately shook your head, stepping away from Satoru’s grasp. “We were just running errands,” you said quickly, your voice firm as you glared at him.

“Oh, okay,” Shoko replied, visibly relaxing. She bent down to retrieve her fallen candy, though her smirk told you she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Good. If Satoru got a lover before me, I’d actually die.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru shot back, crossing his arms in mock offense.

“It means you’re insufferable,” Shoko quipped, sticking her tongue out at him before popping the lollipop back in her mouth. Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “You really know how to stir things up, huh, Satoru?”

———

The stars were faint tonight, their shimmer dulled by the glow of city lights. The group had decided to spend their evening lounging at a nearby park, the cool breeze and faint rustle of leaves creating a sense of calm. But for Satoru, it was anything but peaceful. He sat slightly apart from the others, slouched on a bench with his sunglasses perched low on his nose. His usually vibrant energy felt dimmed, weighed down by the unresolved mess of thoughts swirling in his mind.

He sighed heavily, his fingers idly tapping against the bench as he stared into the distance. The chatter and occasional bursts of laughter from his friends blurred into white noise. He zoned out, his mind wandering aimlessly, until he felt someone settle beside him.

He assumed it was Suguru or Shoko, their usual presence comforting in its familiarity. Without looking, he started to speak, his voice low and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “…I’ve been hella bummed out lately,” he admitted, rubbing his temples as he took off his sunglasses. His fingers lingered on the frames, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I think—”

His words faltered when he turned. Your gaze was steady, unflinching, but there was a softness in your expression that made his chest tighten. Satoru blinked, his usual confidence temporarily erased as his jaw slackened. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“Oh, hey,” he finally managed, his voice lacking its usual cocky edge.

You didn’t respond immediately, your focus entirely on him. Your eyes lingered on his face, studying him with an intensity that made his palms sweat. Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but cutting through the quiet.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Satoru froze, his mind scrambling to process what you’d just said. The breeze carried a few strands of your hair across your face, framing you in a way that felt almost cinematic, like a scene pulled straight from a dream.

“Yeah, uh… a signature trait of the Gojo clan,” he replied, a weak attempt to regain his composure. His usual pride crept into his tone, but his heart was beating too fast for him to fully pull off the nonchalance.

You nodded, a small, thoughtful movement. “I know,” you said simply, your voice calm as you turned your gaze forward, leaving him to process the weight of your observation.

Satoru, however, couldn’t look away. His eyes lingered on your side profile—the gentle curve of your cheek, the way your hair danced against your skin in the breeze. The streetlights cast a faint glow over you, and for a moment, he thought you looked ethereal, like something he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved to sit beside.

“Sorry,” he spoke again, breaking the silence. His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic gesture of nervousness. “I must be bumming you out, huh?”

“You aren’t,” you replied, your voice quiet but resolute.

It was a simple statement, but it hit him harder than anything else that night. His heart fluttered, his chest tightening as though he’d heard the most beautiful melody in the world. How could two words, said so plainly, hold so much power?

Satoru fell silent, his usual quips and bravado forgotten as he looked at you. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo felt seen—not as the strongest sorcerer, but simply as Satoru.

————

Amanai’s mission

————

The mission was grueling, a constant haze of tension as you protected Riko, the Star Plasma Vessel. It left you drained—physically, mentally. But for now, there was a fleeting moment of quiet. The halls of the building you were staying in were dim, shrouded in the soft, bluish glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. The darkness outside seemed vast, like it could swallow you whole. You yawned, padding silently through the corridor, your destination the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help you sleep.

But as you neared the dimly lit room, you noticed you weren’t alone. A tall figure, familiar even in the faint light, stood by the counter. Gojo Satoru. He wasn’t exactly someone you expected to see here at this hour. His white jacket was gone, leaving him in a simple black shirt, his usually perfect hair a little disheveled. For a second, you debated slipping away unnoticed, your feet shifting carefully on the wooden floor.

“You walk loud,” his voice rang out suddenly, startling you. He turned around, his piercing gaze meeting yours, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

Caught, you gave him a small bow. “What are you doing up so late?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to mask your own unease.

He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, though his posture betrayed a weariness he rarely showed. “Not tired,” he replied simply.

You frowned slightly at his vague answer, your concern flickering to life despite yourself. “I have sleeping pills,” you offered, stepping closer.

“They don’t work on me,” he said with a dismissive wave, though his voice lacked its usual playful edge. There was something off about him tonight. He seemed… different. His usual overconfidence and cockiness had dulled, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.

You sighed softly, unsure of how to approach him in this rare, unguarded state. Comfort wasn’t exactly your forte, but before you could overthink it, his voice cut through the silence again.

“Can you stay?” he asked, almost too softly for you to believe it was him.

You blinked, turning to face him fully. “What?”

“Company would be nice,” he repeated, his tone light but sincere. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep. Just… stay.”

Something in the way he said it tugged at you. With a small nod, you crossed the room and sat down on the couch near the corner, one seat away from him. You didn’t want to crowd him, but you also didn’t want to leave him alone. The silence stretched between you for a moment, but then, to your surprise, he shifted. Slowly, deliberately, he slid closer, shortening the space between you.

“I’m just watching over,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Can’t get distracted. Anyone could show up.”

His words made sense, but the exhaustion lining his features made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t name. “You need rest too,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I can watch over for a while.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice steadier now. “I can deal with it. I’m the strongest, after all.” There it was—his trademark ego, though it felt more like a mask than a truth tonight.

You deadpanned at him, unimpressed. “You’re weirdly stubborn, you know. Just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have to handle everything alone.”

He turned his head slightly, his pale lashes lowering as he studied the floor. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” you countered, your voice quieter now. “I’m here.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and they hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended.

His head tilted toward you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, he chuckled softly, the sound more subdued than usual, almost self-deprecating.

Before you could react, he leaned into you, resting his head lightly against your shoulder. The gesture was so uncharacteristic, so vulnerable, that it rendered you momentarily speechless. His hair was soft against your neck, and you realized with a start that his infinity was off.

“Satoru?” you whispered, the surprise evident in your voice.

“Just until the clock strikes five,” he murmured, his voice low, almost drowsy.

You wanted to protest, to ask him what was weighing on him so heavily that even Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, sought solace like this. But you stayed quiet, letting the moment settle between you. Despite his words, you knew he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing was too steady, too measured. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t ready to share it.

So, you stayed. The minutes ticked by in silence, the faint hum of the clock the only sound in the room. His presence, though unexpected, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, grounding, a quiet reminder that even the strongest among you weren’t invincible.

“I’m tired,” Satoru muttered, his voice unusually quiet. He leaned against the counter, his usually perfect posture slightly slouched. It was such a simple statement, yet it felt heavy, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders for once.

You studied him carefully, your brows furrowing. “I have sleeping pills,” you said, your tone steady as you tried to offer a solution.

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t work,” he replied, dismissing the idea with a lazy wave of his hand.

“They’re specifically made for sorcerers,” you added, your voice soft but insistent.

His head tilted, the faintest glimmer of curiosity crossing his face. “They really made that?” he asked, his tone laced with genuine surprise.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small smile. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt… peaceful. The usual tension between you had dissipated, leaving behind a quiet stillness that neither of you rushed to fill.

After a moment, Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, breaking the calm. “Sometimes I feel like you hate me,” he said, his tone light but tinged with something else, something harder to place.

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes widening. “What?”

He pouted, his lips curving downward in an almost playful expression. “You won’t even try to push the answer out of me,” he muttered, his gaze shifting away from yours as if he were embarrassed.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. “I just didn’t want to be a bother,” you admitted quietly.

His gaze returned to you, sharper now. “So… do you hate me?”

The question hit you like a physical blow, your heart skipping a beat. Hate him? The thought was absurd. If anything, your feelings leaned far in the opposite direction. But how could you admit that to him now, here, when his usually impenetrable confidence was already fraying at the edges?

“Well, I don’t,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Honestly, despite your ego and occasional… disrespect, you still care about people. Don’t think I missed the way you saw Riko’s sad expression and decided to add another day to this vacation. Even if you’re the strongest, we’re friends, aren’t we? To me, you’re just Gojo Satoru.”

His expression softened, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to say something. But you kept going, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Your heart is pure, Satoru. I don’t hate you. In fact, I think that you’re—”

The sentence died in your throat as your eyes locked with his. His expression was completely unguarded, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something raw, something vulnerable. He looked at you as though you’d said the most earth-shattering thing he’d ever heard.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged, as though the slightest movement might shatter whatever fragile thread was holding it together.

Finally, Satoru let out a soft chuckle, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m not getting ahead of myself, am I?” he asked, his tone lighter now, though there was a trace of nervousness behind it.

You shook your head slowly, and that small gesture was all he needed.

He leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as though giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was soft and tentative at first, as though he were afraid to break you. But then the kiss deepened, his hand gently cupping your jaw while his thumb brushed against your skin. He tasted faintly of sugar, and the warmth of him against you sent your heart racing.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an unspoken confession. The teasing, the stolen glances, the quiet moments where his guard slipped—it all made sense now.

————

“Satoru,” you started, concern lacing your voice. His eyes flicked to yours briefly, soft yet unwavering. Before you could finish your thought, chaos erupted.

The attack came out of nowhere, swift and violent. Your instincts kicked in as you reached out, shouting, “Satoru!” But he was already moving, stepping in front of you like a wall. He raised his hand, palm out, as if to shield you from more than just the physical threat.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice calm, almost infuriatingly so, as he glanced at you. His usual playful arrogance was replaced by something far more serious. “Get Amanai to Master Tengen’s place. Immediately.”

You hesitated, your heart thundering in your chest. The thought of leaving him here, alone, against—it made your stomach churn. “Satoru, I—”

“I’ll be fine,” he interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes, impossibly blue and still alight with that maddening spark, locked onto yours. “He has to be stopped by the strongest, and… I’m the only one who can do it.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “You always think it’s your job to shoulder everything alone—”

“Because it is,” he said, cutting you off again. This time, his voice softened, as if he was letting you in on a secret. “It’s what I was made for.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but your voice cracked when you finally spoke. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

He rolled his eyes, but the faintest flicker of something—gratitude? relief?—flashed across his face. “If that’s what you want,” he said, his smile quirking up at the edges in that way only Satoru Gojo could manage, even in the face of danger. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last look, your gaze lingering, trying to memorize every detail—the tilt of his head, eyes swirled around his silhouette, the resolute strength that seemed so unshakable.

————

That’s where it all went wrong.

The last clear memory you had was the bitter cold biting at your skin and Satoru’s voice ringing in your ears—calm, steady, and so sure of himself. “Get Amanai to safety. I’ll handle this.” Then chaos. A sharp pain searing through your skull. And then—nothing.

When you woke, the world felt… dimmer. You blinked, groggy and disoriented, only to realize you could only see out of one eye. Panic clawed at your throat as you sat up, heart pounding, reaching up to your face only to feel the bandages covering the gaping absence where your left eye had once been.

You had questions. So many questions. But the answers never came.

Satoru was the first person you thought of. Surely, he would explain what happened, right? But every time you asked, he brushed it off with an infuriating shrug and a nonchalant, “What’s done is done. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

It pissed you off.

You were his friend, weren’t you? You had fought beside him, trusted him with your life. And yet, now it felt like there was this invisible wall between you—one you couldn’t break through, no matter how hard you tried.

Geto wasn’t much better. He was quieter than usual, his sharp edges dulled by something you couldn’t quite place. His frame seemed thinner, his eyes darker. He avoided your gaze during the rare moments you saw him, always in passing. You tried to connect, to figure out what was wrong, but he slipped through your grasp like smoke.

And as for Shoko—she was the glue holding everyone together, but even she seemed stretched too thin. Her humor became brittle, her smiles forced. The four of you, once inseparable, were now like scattered fragments of a mirror, each reflecting a distorted version of what you used to be.

It all came to a head when Geto finally snapped.

The news hit you like a freight train. The murders, the defection, his complete rejection of everything he once stood for—it was almost too much to process. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it.

But Satoru? He knew. He must have known.

You saw it in the way his posture slumped ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his usual bravado felt more like a mask than ever before. For once, Satoru Gojo—the strongest—looked fragile.

You tried to talk to him about it, but he shut you down every time. “It’s not your problem,” he’d say, his voice clipped and distant. And maybe he was right—maybe it wasn’t your problem. But it was his.

And that made it yours too.

The bond between all of you, once unbreakable, had splintered beyond repair. Missions and eye check-ups consumed your time, leaving you no room to breathe, let alone process everything that had happened. You felt like you were drowning, and no one—not even the people you cared about most—could throw you a lifeline.

The days blurred together, and you found yourself wondering if things had ever truly been as good as you remembered. Or if you’d just been too naive to see the cracks forming from the very beginning.

If only you had stayed with Satoru during the attack.

The thought haunted you, replaying in your mind like a broken record. You had trusted him, as you always did, to be the strongest—to handle everything alone. But what if you hadn’t? What if you had stood by his side, fought with him, and shared the burden instead of leaving him to carry it all? Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he would be different.

But Satoru never let you find out.

He shut you out, retreating into himself like a shell snapped shut. Every attempt you made to reach him was met with indifference—an impenetrable wall of silence. His once vibrant personality, the one that lit up every room, now seemed dimmed, guarded, and distant.

You told yourself it wasn’t your fault, that he was grieving in his own way—over Suguru, over Amanai, over everything that had gone wrong. But guilt sank its claws deep into your mind, whispering relentlessly. You should have stayed. You should have fought harder to help him.

You drowned in that guilt.

And while you struggled, Satoru disappeared into his work. He buried himself in missions, dedicating every ounce of his being to the world of sorcery, leaving no space for anything—or anyone—else. When you tried to talk to him, you were met with clipped tones and hurried goodbyes.

Until one day, there were no goodbyes at all.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

It was as if he had vanished entirely from your life. And just like that, 12 years slipped through your fingers, passing as swiftly as a winter breeze. Time dulled the pain but never truly healed it. Your first love didn’t work out, but you were glad he was the first man you fell in love with.

You had left Jujutsu High not long after Suguru’s betrayal, unable to stomach the memories and the lingering fractures of your once unbreakable bond. The world outside sorcery offered no solace, but it was quieter. You tried to move on, tried to forget, but the echoes of those days followed you like shadows.

Years passed. The simplicity of a normal life wasn’t sustainable. Low pay and rising expenses forced your hand, and eventually, you returned to Jujutsu High. The halls felt colder than you remembered, the laughter of younger sorcerers ringing hollow in your ears.

It was strange being back, stepping into a world that once felt like home but now felt alien. Satoru’s name was on everyone’s lips, his legend only growing in the years you’d been away. But to you, he wasn’t a legend. He was the man who had once smiled at you like you were his whole world, only to shut you out when you needed him most.

And now, here you were—older, wiser, but no less haunted by the ghost of him. Would he still be the same Satoru you had known? Or had time changed him just as it had changed you?

You weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

————

A deep, involuntary sigh escaped your lips, the frustration of being caught between duty and your own growing hesitations bubbling to the surface. It had become routine: kill, eliminate, destroy. But this time felt different. It was always different when there were no clear lines to cross, no simple black and white.

Stepping out for a moment to breathe, you wandered into the open air. The sky was turning a shade of purple, its glow reflecting the storm inside your mind. The dusk painted the world in a hue of melancholy beauty, and for a moment, you simply watched, trying to ground yourself in the sight of it.

“It’s pretty.”

The voice cut through the air like a soft breeze, familiar yet foreign. You turned swiftly, your eyes locking onto him before your mind had even fully processed the sound. Your heart skipped in that fleeting moment, and your breath caught. There he was. Satoru.

It was as if time had shifted. He stood before you, older now, his blindfold hiding whatever secrets lay behind his eyes. Gone was the reckless, cocky persona, replaced with something quieter, more thoughtful. The aura around him was different, subdued in a way that didn’t match the memory of his youthful arrogance. And yet, he still exuded power, a quiet storm that seemed to whisper of years gone by.

You stood there, frozen, unable to look away. You’d barely noticed the way he tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. But you noticed it now. The change, the growth. It was like staring at a ghost of the person you once knew, yet not knowing if you could still reach them.

“I’m telling you, the old man is just stupid.” His voice was casual, but you could hear the underlying urgency in it. The underlying plea. He didn’t need to say it outright—you knew exactly what he was asking. He wasn’t telling you to defy orders. He was asking you not to carry out the mission. Not to destroy the kid.

Your mind reeled. The old man’s orders were clear. You couldn’t just ignore them.

But then, the storm inside you churned. You met Satoru’s eyes—no, not just eyes, but his very soul seemed to be laid bare. It was as if he were pleading for you to see him for who he was now. The same person who once seemed invincible, but now seemed fragile, vulnerable in a way that felt so far removed from the confident, untouchable figure he once was.

“Gojo,” you whispered, your voice calm but steady despite the turmoil. “I can’t disobey orders.” There it was, the wall you’d built to protect yourself. The truth you couldn’t escape from.

His expression softened, his steps drawing nearer. The weight of his presence was undeniable as his hand lightly rested on your shoulder, the warmth seeping through your skin, through your defenses. “I know you,” he murmured, voice lower than before, with a sincerity that almost broke you. “You’re better than this.” His words were a quiet plea, a confession of sorts, as if he was hoping you would remember who you were before the world had scarred you.

And then, his voice, tinged with vulnerability, cracked through the air like a fragile promise. “I guess I’m not worthy, but I’ll ask this one last thing of you.”

You could feel it. That raw, unspoken emotion between the two of you, a fracture that never quite healed. It lingered in the spaces between your words, in the silence that stretched between your breaths. This wasn’t just a mission anymore. This wasn’t just about a cursed kid. It was about you, and him, and everything that had ever been left unsaid.

“… I guess you finally learned how to not deal with the burden yourself,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. The words felt like a release, the truth that you had been holding back for so long. There was a shift in the air, a heaviness that you couldn’t quite shake, but his low chuckle met you nonetheless.

As he turned and walked away, leaving the space between you cold and vast once again, you stood frozen, your heart heavy with what could have been and what never was. It wasn’t just the kid you had to decide about. It was everything. The past. The present. The tangled threads between you and Gojo Satoru.

And just like that, he was a stranger again.

————

You walked into your office, the familiar scent of paper and ink hanging in the air. The desk was cluttered with scattered papers, the endless work that always seemed to pile up. You glanced over the mess, letting your gaze linger on the various stacks, files, and forgotten notes. It was a typical day—nothing out of the ordinary. Yet something felt different.

As you moved further into the room, your eyes were drawn a bright yellow lily, placed on a stack of papers. Its petals were wide, almost regal, their golden hue catching the light from the window, casting a soft glow over the surrounding chaos.

You paused, the sudden appearance of the flower stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. You leaned closer, inhaling the subtle fragrance that filled the air—a sweet, almost intoxicating scent that seemed out of place in the otherwise sterile, work-heavy atmosphere.

You pursed your lips “geez, I wonder who this is from.”

————

Too lazy to write this but just imagine you got into a deadly fight before the Sukuna vs gojo and boom into a coma.

————

You slowly began to wake from the depths of slumber, your mind groggy but slowly regaining consciousness. The familiar warmth of the bed you were lying, you blinked, trying to adjust your senses to your surroundings. Something was off. The room you found yourself in was so strikingly familiar. An old, worn room, the kind that held fragments of your past—your student days at Jujutsu High. The walls were lined with memories you had long buried.

With a sudden jolt of recognition, you flung yourself out of bed, your heart racing as the weight of nostalgia crashed down upon you. You rushed to the mirror, practically stumbling in your haste, your breath quickening in anticipation. As your eyes landed on the reflection before you, the reality settled in with a shock. It was you—young, untouched by time, and whole in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

There was no trace of the fatigue and scars that had marred you over time. Your eyes, now shimmered with a hopeful innocence, almost as though you had forgotten how to carry the weight of your own choices. Your skin was smooth, without the burdens of experience. You leaned closer, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the surface of the mirror. The reflection of your younger self stared back at you, still so full of promise, so unaware of the pain and regret that would soon mark the years ahead.

Your heart swelled with an aching kind of longing, yet the joy was quickly tainted by a creeping bitterness. Your hands fell to your sides, and you couldn’t stop the rush of memories that hit you like a wave. Was this a gift or a curse? A dream too detailed to be one, a mirror into the past so perfect and raw that it hurt to look. The weight of what you had lost pressed down on you with suffocating force. You had so much ahead of you then, so many chances. You could have chosen differently—could have stayed with Gojo, could have acted faster, been quicker. If only…

A sharp pang of regret twisted your gut as you stared down at the floor, your body tense with frustration. You could feel your chest tightening, your breath shallow. What if you had been there when Gojo needed you most? If you had made the right choices, where would you be now? The bitterness of your thoughts threatened to choke you. The future, the path that was now set before you, had been shaped by your own faults. If only you had chosen differently.

And then, as if in response to your spiraling thoughts, the sharp ring of your phone cut through the silence, jarring you back to the present. Startled, you fumbled to unlock it, the screen flashing to life. A message from Gojo.

—

(Cn: idk what messages looked like back then. Pls don’t come after me.)

—

With a shaky breath, you pushed the overwhelming emotions aside. There was no time for dwelling in sorrow. You had a choice now—an unexpected chance to relive a moment from the past. You shook off the melancholy, forcing your mind to focus on the here and now. You stood up from your reflection, pulling yourself together as best you could. Your gaze swept across the room, the walls adorned with photos, clothes, and memorabilia—each one a reminder of who you once were. The nostalgia hit you hard, but you couldn’t let it pull you under. You were here for a reason, even if you didn’t understand it fully yet.

You hurriedly gathered your things, slipping into your clothes as memories of laughter and camaraderie flooded your mind. The clothing you once wore felt oddly familiar, almost too fitting for a time that felt so distant. Your heart quickened as you finished preparing, the excitement of the amusement park trip creeping into your thoughts. A taxi ride later, and you arrived at the park, your breath catching in your throat. You stared at the entrance, the sounds of distant rides and laughter filling the air. A lump formed in your throat as you approached the gates, your heart hammering with both anticipation and fear.

Would you burst into tears as soon as you saw them? Would they be the same people you once knew, full of warmth and life, or would this dream only amplify the aching void that existed without them? You couldn’t be sure, but the possibility of seeing them—of reliving even just a sliver of those happier times—was too much to deny. Steeling yourself, you stepped forward, your breath shallow, each step a struggle between hope and the reality you knew you would eventually have to face.

The air was thick with excitement, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the space, but it wasn’t the noise that caught your attention—it was a voice, sharp and familiar, cutting through the crowd like a beacon.

“Over here!” The voice called out, and you turned instinctively toward it, heart racing, only to find Suguru, standing with a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Suguru… The bastard who betrayed Jujutsu society, who killed thousands without hesitation, the man who tried to take your life and the lives of your students. The one you couldn’t save.

For a moment, the memories rushed back—the bloodshed, the betrayal, the silent screams of everyone who had fallen to his hands. He looked so different now. He stood there, as young as he had been in your past, yet there was a softness in his expression you hadn’t remembered. This Suguru was not the man who had tried to destroy everything you held dear, nor the person who had walked away from everything for a cause that seemed too foreign to understand. No, this Suguru seemed almost… like the version you once knew—the friend you never thought you’d lose.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I’m sorry for not noticing how you felt sooner…” The words formed on your lips, but they stayed silent, trapped beneath a weight you couldn’t shake.

You stepped forward, caught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and just as you were about to close the distance, to reach out as if nothing had changed, another familiar face emerged from behind him. Shoko. She popped her head over Suguru’s shoulder, grinning playfully, and as always, sucking on a lollipop.

“I’m here too!” she said, her voice full of warmth. She was trying to hide it, but you could tell she was still battling her smoking habit—just another small, bittersweet reminder of the time you’d lost, the years that had passed in between. She looked the same, but different. It was almost as if nothing had changed, yet everything had.

A sharp pang of sorrow gripped your chest as you smiled back, the tears you’d been holding back now threatening to spill. But there was no time to reflect on that. The noise of the crowd, the joy that should have felt comforting, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

“Hey!”

The voice sliced through the air, too familiar, too personal. Satoru’s voice. You froze, a cold shiver running down your spine. The man who had once been your closest friend, your confidant, the one you had been so painfully distant from. He was the one who always stood by you, who never let go, even when you shut him out. The one you had betrayed in the worst way.

No… You didn’t have the right to even think about him like that anymore. You were the reason everything had gone wrong. You were the reason he had been forced into isolation, into being the man who wore a mask for the world—a mask you had helped build, one that only showed the strongest version of himself. He had once been like you—open, raw, vulnerable—but through your decisions, he had become as closed off as you had been. You were the mirror that reflected the worst of him.

And now, standing there, watching him, all you could think of was how you had failed him. The guilt twisted inside you, suffocating you with every breath you took. You wanted to reach out, to apologize, to make everything right again. But all you could do was stand there, watching him as he approached, a warmth in his expression that didn’t match the ice in your heart.

“Heyyy?? You were totally zoned out!” His voice broke through the fog in your mind. His hand waved gently in front of your face, a gesture that should have been teasing but only made you want to collapse in on yourself.

“…Hey.” The word escaped you in a barely audible whisper, and your gaze fell to the ground, ashamed, unable to meet his eyes. You could feel his gaze on you, though, and you wanted to scream in apology. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you.

You couldn’t even look at him—Satoru, the man who always gave you that goofy, carefree smile, even when you didn’t deserve it. Even now, despite your coldness, despite the way you had distanced yourself from him, he was smiling at you. His smile was so bright, so effortless, that it made your chest tighten with an unbearable ache. He had always been there for you, and now, you couldn’t even be there for him.

The guilt that swirled within you grew heavier, suffocating you as you forced yourself to look at him. His smile remained, but there was something softer about it now—something that made your heart break even more. You wanted to tell him everything, apologize for every wrong you had done. But instead, you just looked away.

Satoru didn’t seem bothered by your lack of response, his hand falling back to his side as he shrugged it off, turning toward the entrance of the amusement park. “Guess we should go inside, huh?” His voice held the same lightness as always, despite the heaviness in your chest.

Suguru and Shoko followed behind, the four of you walking together like nothing had changed, but everything had. You trailed behind them, your heart in your throat, the weight of your past mistakes pressing down on you with every step you took. You wanted to collapse, to apologize, to make up for everything, but you knew you couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never. But for now, you just had to walk beside them, pretending as though this fragile dream wasn’t unraveling in your hands.

—

“Let’s get some plushies!” Shoko exclaimed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, her eyes lighting up as she darted toward one of the claw machines. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out a few coins and popped them into the slot. “Watch and learn,” she declared, gripping the joystick with determination.

The machine whirred softly as the claw descended, brushing against the edge of a plush panda before slipping away empty-handed. Shoko let out a frustrated groan but quickly tried again. And again. And again. Twenty attempts later, she was clutching her head, biting her lollipop like it had personally offended her.

“What the fuck?! This isn’t fair at all!” she yelled, stomping her foot in frustration. Her usually calm demeanor had evaporated, replaced by the fiery temper of someone truly defeated by a claw machine.

Suguru, leaning casually against the machine next to her, chuckled under his breath. “Move over, rookie. Leave it to the masters.” He flicked his hair over his shoulder with mock arrogance, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, please,” Shoko scoffed, stepping aside begrudgingly. “Let’s see you do better, Mr. Master.”

Suguru slid a few coins into the slot, cracking his knuckles as if gearing up for a monumental task. “This is about precision,” he said, his voice dripping with faux seriousness. “Focus. Strategy.”

The claw descended, snagged the plush bunny by its ear, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like he might succeed. Then, the bunny slipped through the claw’s grip, tumbling back into the pile below.

Suguru stared at the machine in stunned silence. “What?”

Shoko burst out laughing, pointing at him. “Master, huh? You’re no better than me!”

“Alright, amateurs, step aside,” Satoru interjected, pushing past them with his signature cocky grin. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He cracked his neck for dramatic effect, drawing the attention of a few passersby.

“You’re just going to fail like the rest of us,” Shoko muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Bet you five bucks I won’t,” Satoru shot back, sliding his coins into the machine.

The claw descended under his control, shakily grabbing hold of a bright yellow duck. For a moment, it seemed like he had succeeded. But as the claw ascended, the duck slipped free, tumbling back down just like before.

“WHAT?!” Satoru exclaimed, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “This thing is rigged!”

Suguru snorted. “You were saying something about being a pro?”

“Shut up,” Satoru snapped, popping in another coin.

Before long, the three of them were caught in an endless loop of failure, shoving each other out of the way to claim the joystick for another turn.

“You’re hogging it, Satoru!” Shoko yelled, trying to pry his hand off the controls.

“I’m the only one who came close!” Satoru argued, his voice rising in indignation.

“By ‘close,’ do you mean failing slightly less spectacularly?” Suguru quipped, earning himself a half-hearted shove from Satoru.

Their bickering grew louder, each of them trying and failing to best the cursed claw machine. Their laughter and animated arguing filled the arcade, drawing stares from strangers.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. Like little kids, they were utterly absorbed in their futile mission, completely unconcerned with how ridiculous they looked. It was almost embarrassing how they were acting up in public.

But then again, their childish giggles and fiery bursts of frustration brought a bittersweet warmth to your chest. These moments, fleeting and full of life, reminded you of why you loved being with them. It wasn’t about the plushies or the competition. It was about this—this messy, chaotic joy that only they could bring.

—

The three of them had finally scored plushies after what felt like an eternity. Suguru held up his monkey with quiet satisfaction, its stitched-on smile mirroring his own subtle grin. Shoko smirked as she turned her smoking egg plushie over in her hands, clearly amused by the absurdity of it. And then there was Satoru, smugly twirling a gray plush rock between his fingers like it was the most priceless treasure in existence.

You couldn’t help but notice how everything about these three—their chosen plushies, their demeanors—felt like echoes, reverberations of something deeper. Memories bubbled to the surface, threatening to drown you. Was it coincidence? Or was the past merely a map of the future yet to unfold? You stared down at the ground, lost in the maze of your thoughts, lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, snapping you back to reality. His gaze was sharp yet playful, the trademark gleam in his eyes. “Where’s your plushie?”

What? This never happened … but dreams aren’t specifically supposed to be accurate…

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck. He didn’t wait for you to respond anyway.

“I got this,” he announced with that unshakable confidence of his, already making his way to the claw machine. “Watch and learn the ways of the strongest.”

You watched as he squared up to the machine, his shoulders rolling back like he was about to take on some ancient curse. His eyes locked onto the prize with laser focus, a pink bear nestled just within reach. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration, and his fingers worked the joystick with expert precision. He hit the button. The claw descended, brushed against the plushie—and missed.

Satoru froze. His expression didn’t falter, but you could sense the simmering disbelief as he fed another coin into the slot.

Again, the claw moved. Again, it missed.

It became almost comical as the cycle repeated. Five times. Ten times. By the fifteenth attempt, Suguru had slumped against the machine, barely holding back laughter, while Shoko lit an imaginary cigarette in mock frustration. Satoru’s face, meanwhile, remained fixed in a look of determined fury, the joystick now an extension of his will.

“Come on,” he muttered, brows furrowing as he lined up the claw for the twentieth attempt. The plushie wobbled but slipped free. He let out a loud groan of frustration, clutching his head dramatically. “Gah! What’s wrong with this thing?! All my money’s gone!” He patted his pockets in disbelief, as if a miracle coin might magically appear.

But you weren’t paying attention anymore. Somewhere in the midst of Satoru’s theatrical tantrum, the world shifted. The lights of the arcade flickered, the noises dulled, and the air thickened with an unnatural heaviness. You blinked, and suddenly, you were surrounded by shadows. A voice, deafening yet indistinct, cut through the silence.

“Change the future.”

It wasn’t a plea—it was a demand, suffocating in its intensity. The words echoed in your mind, but the speaker remained faceless, nameless.

“You think this is a dream, hm?” the voice said, softening just slightly.

You gasped, a sharp intake of breath that pulled you back to reality. Satoru’s face was inches from yours now, his crystalline eyes scanning your expression with uncharacteristic worry. “Hey… [Name]? You okay?”

You blinked at him, still shaken, his words barely registering.

Before you could spiral further, Satoru straightened up and gave a little cough, trying to regain his usual swagger. “Anyway,” he began, pulling something from behind his back, “my money’s gone, but I got you a present.” He held out a plushie—a butterfly, its wings soft and delicate, its stitched antennae slightly crooked.

“Sorry if it’s not what you wanted,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—”

“Thanks,” you interrupted, the word tumbling out before he could finish. You reached for the plushie, your fingers brushing his for a moment. It wasn’t the butterfly itself that struck you—it was the gesture, the effort behind it.

Satoru’s grin returned, a little lopsided but no less radiant. “Of course,” he said simply.

You clutched the plushie tightly, its soft wings grounding you as your thoughts crystallized. You didn’t know what the voice meant, or who it belonged to. But as you looked at Satoru—his unshakable confidence, his occasional vulnerability—you felt the weight of your decision settle in your chest.

—

The sky turned a deep shade of indigo, stars just beginning to peek through the encroaching darkness. Neon lights from the food stands illuminated your surroundings in bursts of color, their glow reflecting off the shiny wrappers and paper trays strewn across the ground. The lively chatter of the crowd buzzed in your ears, but you barely noticed. Your gaze was fixed on the backs of your friends—Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru—who were engaged in their usual playful bickering. You’d been zoning out all day, a heavy cloud of unease clinging to your thoughts.

“We went everywhere,” Suguru groaned, his shoulders slumping dramatically. “My pockets are empty. Absolutely cleaned out.”

“Same here,” Shoko agreed, lazily flipping through her wallet as if hoping to find some forgotten cash hidden in its folds. “Not even a coin.”

“Speak for yourselves!” Satoru chimed in, his tone both smug and exasperated. “I said we should’ve skipped that overpriced cotton candy, but nooo—‘it’s a carnival, Satoru,’ ‘you’re too uptight, Satoru.’ Now look at us.”

Their banter drew a soft chuckle from you, but the sound barely reached your lips. You were too preoccupied with the lingering thought that had been eating away at you all day.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to reality. His crystalline blue eyes locked onto yours, a playful tilt to his lips. “You got any money for the roller coaster?”

You blinked, startled, before nodding quickly. “yeah, hang on.” You rummaged through your bag, finally pulling out a few crumpled bills and handing them over. Before you could process what was happening, Satoru casually announced, “I’ll be with [Name].”

That stopped you in your tracks. You stared at him, momentarily stunned, as Shoko and Suguru exchanged glances. There was a split second of silence before the two of them burst into barely contained snickers.

“Thanks for the donation, [Name],” Shoko teased, snatching the money from your hand before you could react.

“Yeah, much appreciated,” Suguru added with a grin.

Before you could protest, they were already walking off toward the line, laughing together like they’d just won the lottery. You turned back to Satoru, your heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest. Alone. With him. On a roller coaster. The thought filled you with unease, and not because of the ride itself. Guilt for the future you knew was coming pressed down on you like a weight, making it hard to breathe.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice was softer now, his teasing edge gone. You hadn’t realized your eyes were glued to the ground until he stepped closer, his hand snaking around yours. His touch was warm, grounding, and it made your breath hitch.

“Let’s get going,” he said, his smile brighter than the carnival lights around you.

You managed a weak nod, letting him pull you toward the line. It wasn’t long, thankfully, but the time it took to move forward felt eternal. Each step closer to the ride amplified the lump in your throat. How could you face him? How could you sit beside him, knowing what you knew?

—

You finally reached the roller coaster, the hum of the machinery and the chatter of excited riders filling the air. As the two of you stepped into the car, Satoru slid into his seat first, his trademark grin in place. He patted the spot next to him with an almost hopeful air, the blue of his eyes sparkling with expectation.

But you hesitated. That tiny flicker of warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten, and you turned away, pretending not to notice. Instead, you slipped into the seat directly across from him. You could almost feel the confusion radiating from him as his smile faltered, his brows knitting together ever so slightly.

“I wonder if Suguru and Shoko are having fun,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, his gaze drifting toward the window. His tone was casual, but there was something else—something unspoken. He didn’t look at you.

You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. The tension between you was almost suffocating, an awkward silence that settled like a weight on your chest.

Guilt clawed at you, burrowing deep into your thoughts. It overshadowed everything else, refusing to let go. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t face him with the same ease as before. How could you, knowing what the future held for him? The burden he would bear. The loneliness. Every single struggle he faced, he carried on his own. And you—you hadn’t been there for him. Not when it mattered. Not like he had been for you, time and time again.

The knowledge of your failure stung like an open wound. You hated yourself for it, hated the ache that came with the realization. But even as the guilt threatened to consume you, a flicker of hope sparked deep within.

Maybe… just maybe, I can change it.

That fragile thought lingered for only a moment before reality came crashing down, crushing it into dust. Changing the future would mean rewriting everything—every memory, every bond. The people you had met, the connections you had formed—they would all disappear, erased from existence. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a tiny, selfish part of you refused to let them go.

Your thoughts tangled in knots, and when your eyes finally found Satoru’s, something inside you stilled. His gaze was steady, searching, as though he could see through the barriers you had put up. His expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

And in that moment, you admitted the truth to yourself.

You would be okay with losing everything if it meant he could smile without that weight pressing down on him.

“Is something wrong?” Satoru asked softly, tilting his head like a curious child. His crystalline blue eyes studied you, their usual mischief replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. His confused expression only made your chest tighten further. You quickly shook your head, the tension in your shoulders refusing to release.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you replied, but your voice wavered ever so slightly. The silence between you stretched once again, fragile and heavy, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. You glanced down at your trembling hands, your lips quivering as unspoken words clawed their way up your throat.

“Satoru,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper.

His attention snapped back to you in an instant, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?” he asked, his voice as steady as ever, though his posture straightened. He was worried now.

“Thanks.” The word slipped out before you could second-guess yourself, and his reaction caught you off guard. He blinked, his mouth parting slightly as if he hadn’t heard you right. For a moment, he looked almost… stunned.

Then that familiar grin crept onto his face, lighting up his features like a dawn breaking through the dark. “For what?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity. His hand moved to the back of his neck, scratching it almost sheepishly.

“You know… for everything,” you said, your gaze firmly fixed on the ground. You couldn’t meet his eyes, not when you felt this raw. “All the times you helped me, all the times you stood by me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed through. “I never really said it before, and I should have. I should’ve said it a long time ago.”

The silence that followed felt unbearable, and you bit your lip, already second-guessing yourself. Of course, it’s not enough. It’s such a small thing to say after everything he’s done. He probably thinks I’m ungrateful. You braced yourself for some teasing remark, some cutting joke to lighten the tension.

But it never came.

Instead, you felt a warmth spread through your hand. His. At some point, he’d moved to sit beside you, so close you could feel the faint heat radiating from him. His hand rested gently atop yours, grounding you, steadying the storm inside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic weight. “You know, [Name], you’ve made me happier than you’ll ever know.”

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped to his. The sincerity in his smile was almost too much to bear. “Satoru…” you whispered, but he pressed on.

“I mean it,” he continued, his hand squeezing yours. “You’ve been there for me, even when you didn’t realize it. You’ve helped me through so much—more than I’ve ever let on.” He paused, his smile faltering just slightly as his eyes dropped to the space between you. “I want to be with you. The real you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. “And I’ve been trying to hard to find you.”

You swallowed, your voice barely audible. “But I’m right here.”

But he shook his head slowly, almost sadly, his gaze flickering away. “Yeah, but…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t finish the sentence. Then, as if the weight of it all became too much, he leaned forward, his arms wrapping around yours. His head found your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. In the distance, you heard the faint crackle of fireworks, their vibrant light illuminating the night.

“Satoru?” you asked softly, your own voice trembling now.

“Just… just until the ride’s over,” he murmured, his words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the fireworks.

You let him stay there, the closeness both comforting and terrifying. Did you disappoint him? Did your answer fall short? Your thoughts were a whirlwind, but then you felt his vulnerability, the way his weight leaned into you as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself upright anymore. His infinity was off, something you hadn’t experienced in the future. Slowly, tentatively, you reached for his arm, pulling it from your lap and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Satoru,” you said again, firmer this time. He turned his face slightly, his eyes meeting yours, questioning. “Hey… seriously,” he began, a small, almost nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Am I getting ahead of myself here?”

Your heart ached at the sight of him like this—so unsure, so unguarded. You smiled gently, and that was the answer. Your eyes softening as you leaned in closer.

His breath hitched, and before either of you could overthink it, the distance between you disappeared. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as though testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. The world around you dissolved, the fireworks bursting louder and brighter as if celebrating this fragile, precious moment.

When you two finally pulled away, Satoru’s smile was a bittersweet thing, the curve of his lips that only made the pain in his eyes more apparent. They were red-rimmed, exhausted, as if he’d been crying for a long time without letting anyone see. He leaned in, his breath shaky, his voice a quiet whisper —

“Whatever happens,” he said, his tone something vulnerable. “Don’t blame yourself.”

His hands found your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly. The world tilted as you were shoved back, stumbling helplessly, your heart racing with the terror of knowing the finality of it all. Desperation flooded your veins as you reached out, fingers stretching, aching to grasp him, to stop him from slipping away.

“Satoru!” Your voice cracked, torn between the need to hold on and the brutal reality that was unfolding before you.

And then, the ground gave way beneath your feet. The world around you shifted, falling—sinking—until it felt like nothing but darkness wrapped around you. Trying to catch anything to stop the fall, but there was nothing to grab. Only the fading echo of his name in your chest.

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, your body drenched in sweat, the cool hospital sheets tangled around you as your heart thudded in your chest. The monitor beeped rhythmically beside you, you reached up instinctively, your fingers pressing against your throbbing temples as the remnants of the nightmare clung to you, twisting around your thoughts.

Your eyes drifted to a TV screen next to you. Live streaming a horrid thing to wake up to.

Tears started to spill from your eyes, hot and relentless, as they tracked down your cheeks. They fell in a rush, like a sudden waterfall, unstoppable and full of grief. The sobs tore through you—broken, desperate, full of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say. You could feel the weight of it all in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you, sinking deeper into your soul.

The dream—the dream—had been a desperate, aching hope. A desire for something that could never be. You had wished for it, longed for it, but deep down, you knew. You knew that no amount of yearning could change the cruel, inevitable truth of what had happened. The future was set, and the pain of that truth was something you would have to carry forever.

I’m so sorry, Satoru.

————

This was so rushed and that’s why half the parts make no sense. The parts are extremely fast paced so I’m super sorry , and there would be more angst and yearning if I was more locked in… a lot of Clerith inspired scenes in there but anyways !!

#lazytown😜😜

[casuallyobssessed]

Vicious Pastimes - Evil Robot Ted x Virgin!Fem!Reader ❥ 2.6k Words

A/N: Completely self indulgent fic. I spent a lot of time mulling over this. Sorry if it's a little weird. Let me know if you see any mistakes!

Warnings: Dead Dove content, dub/non-con, P in V Sex, minor character death, virgin!reader, graphic depictions of blood/blood play, mentions of violence, no use of y/n, no beta

Archive of Our Own Link

Blood is everywhere. Your hands are barely visible through the blinding red as you press your shirt down against the hole in Ted's chest. With your heart racing and hands trembling, you knew there was no way he could survive something like this, yet you hold pressure anyway. Sobs rip from your throat as you apologize to your boyfriend who lay motionless beneath you. None of this is fair. 

Laughter rang out from behind you, cutting your mumbling apology short. You sniffle and lean back, smearing blood across your face as you wipe your tears away. 

“Crying won't bring him back, y'know,” Evil Ted snickers.

You can't dignify him with a reply. Instead, you lean down and brush the stray hairs out of Ted's face. As much as the look suited him, you hated the fact that his unruly hair made it impossible for him to see clearly half the time. You try your best to ignore the now glassy look in his eyes. The quiet stillness, the unusually pale skin… none of it is him. Your Ted is gone. All that's left is the evil robot version of him that ripped his heart out, and will now, presumably, take your life, too.

“Dude, c'mon. This pussweed isn't worth the tears, you've got the better version right here.”

Evil Ted crouches down beside you, brows furrowed in confusion, like grief is a foreign concept to him. That's probably because it is, you realize. 

“Will you just kill me already?” You ask him, stone faced.

“Kill you? No way. Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn't you?” It was your turn to be confused.

“Wasting a babe like you before getting to try out the goods would be most heinous. I can see why Ted was so into you,” Evil Ted grins and gestures to your breasts, covered only by your lace bra. As all the adrenaline has worn off, you suddenly feel incredibly exposed as you're looking down at your crumpled, bloodied shirt resting on Ted's chest.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. You and Ted were supposed to have a date night; order pizza, watch a movie at his place, and you were going to ask him if he wanted to finally go all the way with you. As cliche as it was, you wore your best bra and panties to show off for him, not some evil robot version of him.

You fold your arms across your chest to hide yourself from his prying eyes as much as you can. Evil Ted's grin turns into something more sinister and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. 

“Don’t tell me you're getting shy now,” He sneers. 

By the time you can process what's happening, you're already being shoved backwards, not-so gently smacking your head against the kitchen floor. Evil Ted leans over you, arms caging you in on both sides. He stares at you, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Get off of me!” You pound your fists against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

“What did you see in him besides the huge dick? Did he at least make you cum?” He asks, ignoring you. 

“Huh?” His question stuns you enough that you just look at him, dumbfounded. What kind of questions are 

these?

“I bet he hasn't, dude probably didn't even know where the clit is.”

“Ted and I haven't had sex. We talked about it, but I wasn't ready.” 

“Shit, does that mean you're a virgin?”

You nod, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep into your cheeks.

“Dude, no way!” Evil Ted's eyes light up at your confession, adding to your discomfort, “That's gonna make this so much more fun.”

“What?” 

Evil Ted laughs at your confusion before sitting down on your stomach, effectively straddling your torso and keeping you in place. Something grabs his attention by Ted's body and he looks away from you for a moment, reminding you of your proximity to your dead boyfriend and just how alone you are now. 

You're pulled from your spiraling thoughts when he reaches down and presses his hand into the stagnant puddle of Ted's blood that has pooled beside his body. His gaze bounces between you and the blood dripping from his fingers before he gives you another wicked grin. You can't imagine what he's thinking, but it can't be good. 

You thrash against Evil Ted, but his strong, robot thighs hold you down while his thumb presses against your lower lip, pushing insistently until your mouth opens wide. 

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” You cry out, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“I love it when you fight back, babe. Gets me real hot,” He smirks and slips his fingers in your mouth. You gag at the intrusion as the metallic tasting liquid coats your tongue. Frustrated and enraged, you let out a groan as angry tears spilled from your eyes. 

“You're pretty when you cry,” Evil Ted murmurs, “What does he taste like?” 

There is an inquisitive glint in his eye as he pushes his fingers further into your mouth. Biting down on his hand proves useless. He is mostly metal, after all. 

Your chest heaves as you sob. The last thing you intended to do was give Evil Ted exactly what he wanted, but you couldn't help crying. You've never felt so defeated in your life. 

You were powerless to save Ted, too weak to save yourself, and losing hope by the minute. The entire situation makes you feel sick. From the salty-sweet iron swirling through your senses to the weight crushing your middle, your stomach is tied in knots. It doesn't help when Evil Ted bends down and removes his fingers, only to replace them with his tongue licking curiously into your mouth. You wonder what the combination of spit, blood, and hatred tastes like to him. 

Evil Ted's hand starts to roam your chest, lingering on the lace fabric covering your breast. His fingers run along your bra until they find the center clasp between the cups and unhook it with ease. You're only a little impressed by how easy he makes it seem with one hand. 

Trying to think about anything other than Evil Ted's tongue halfway down your throat, you focus on the way his hand grasps your breast. A thumb brushes over one of your already hard nipples, inciting a low hum from you and sending a warmth straight to your core. 

Playing along with his weird advances hadn't been part of the game plan, but if it gets you out of here alive, it might be worth a shot. 

“Fuck. Look at you,” Evil Ted growls appreciatively as he pulls away from your face, licking the remaining blood from his lips. 

The last thing you wanted to think about was how disheveled you probably looked. Blood coating various parts of your body, puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, all topped off with your tits hanging out. By the hungry look on his face, he clearly liked what he saw. 

He confirms your suspicions when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue circles over the sensitive bud sending goosebumps spreading across your skin. You close your eyes, searching for your happy place. This way, it almost feels normal. 

At least it does until Evil Ted takes it upon himself to bite your nipple. Your whole body jumps from the sudden, harsh sensation and your eyes fly open. He looks pretty pleased with himself by the expression on his face. 

“Seriously? Do you have to be such an asshole?” You huff at him. 

“It's in my programming, babe. Now do me a favor and get on your knees.”

Evil Ted pats your thigh while standing up, allowing you room to move. You hesitantly follow directions, shrugging out of your bra while repositioning. The moment you get settled on your knees, he's pushing your upper half towards the floor, giving you only a moment to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Something akin to ‘fuck you’ finds its way out of your mouth before you remember the situation you're in. 

There's a brief second where you try to lift yourself back up, but he's got a steady hand between your shoulder blades. Cheek pressed to the grimy tile, you come to terms with the fact that you're not going anywhere. 

“Stay down.”

You nod. It's a simple command, but his tone is nothing like you've ever heard come from your Ted's mouth. 

“Good girl.”

Those words spark an unfamiliar fire somewhere deep in your gut and a new, bright pink flush across your cheeks. Behind you, Evil Ted is making quick work of pulling down your pants for you, revealing your matching lace panties. His warm hands caress your ass, giving you an appreciative smack as he lets out a low whistle. 

“The view from back here makes me glad I killed that loser. Dude had no business dating a babe like you if he wasn't gonna take advantage of the full package.”

You roll your eyes and wonder if it's too late to try to crawl away from him. Would you have any real shot trying to run away from an evil robot? Chances are you could make it a couple feet at least before he tackles you. 

After a little bit of musing in your head, you decide it's not worth the off chance that he decides to just kill you out of frustration. Your main goal is still survival, and you try your best to remember that as he unceremoniously yanks your panties down your thighs. 

His fingers find your surprisingly dripping wet center and his touch makes you gasp. You're ashamed at how your body has been reacting to him. You weren’t expecting to be turned on at all, much less to this degree. 

Slowly, he dips one finger inside of you, and it's the most gentle he's been with you throughout this entire situation. He's met with little resistance on your part. One of his fingers already feels like too much and you're whimpering embarrassingly beneath him. 

“How the hell am I supposed to fit my dick in here if you can't even handle two fingers?” He snaps, sounding mildly annoyed. 

It's not your fault that you’re not used to this. You haven't done anything like this before. How can he expect you to be comfortable moving this fast?  

After adding another finger and pumping them in and out of you briefly, you hear Evil Ted undo his jeans behind you. You turn and watch him as he shoves his underwear and pants down, far enough for his cock to spring free. You let out an unfeigned gasp at how thick it is. 

He was right about one thing. Fitting him all inside you was going to be a challenge. You're hit with a fresh pang of guilt when Evil Ted lines himself up with your entrance. He eases the tip in, graciously giving you more than a couple seconds to adjust to the stinging stretch that brings tears to your eyes. It wasn't long before he decided he didn't want to wait anymore and shove himself all the way in. 

“You are so,” Evil Ted growls as he bottoms out inside of you, “fucking tight.” 

He wastes no time in pulling all the way out and 

thrusting back in again, hard. Your body rocks forward from the force causing your arms to collapse beneath you, landing you nearly face first on the tile, again. You let out an involuntary, high pitched whine as he slams into you. 

“You liked that, huh?” Evil Ted goads, gripping your hips tighter and thrusting in harder this time. 

Your heart knows this isn't your Ted, but your body clearly isn't convinced. Clenching your walls around his dick and moaning his name was not sending the message that you wanted him to stop. You are taken pleasantly by surprise when he reaches around your hip and begins toying with your clit. Maybe he isn't completely evil. 

“Beg me for it,” Evil Ted’s breath ghosts across your back, sending chills down your spine. 

Okay, maybe he was still fully evil. You do not want to beg him for this. Saying it out loud makes it real, and you're not sure if you're ready to face that, yet. 

With your lack of an answer, his touch on your clit slows down to a halt. The painful aching in your core is growing and you’re starting to think you really do need that release from him. 

“Please?” You sound unsure of what you're asking for.

“Please what?”

If you could look him in the face, you'd be glaring daggers at him right now. 

“Fuck. Please let me cum,” It comes out more like a whine than you intended. 

It's enough for Evil Ted to take mercy on you. Teetering on the edge of bliss, it doesn't take much for him to shove you right over with a few more firm circles of your clit. You could swear you're seeing stars. 

This isn't how you imagined your first time would be, yet here you are, letting yourself get wrecked by Ted's evil robot clone. Being disgusted with yourself isn't enough to stop you from completely losing yourself in the intoxicating euphoria of cumming on his cock.

While you're shaking, being fucked through your orgasm, Evil Ted seems to be following close behind you. His thrusts are getting sloppier, his breathing quickens, and the grip he has on your hips is sure to leave behind fingerprint shaped bruises. 

With a guttural moan, he finishes deep inside of you. The good news is that it didn't take very long for him to finish, but now there's an uncomfortable fullness in your cunt as you feel his cum begin to drip down your thigh. 

How does that even work for a robot? In all honesty, you don't really care. You're just glad it's over. The breath of relief you exhale is cut short as Evil Ted grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back towards him. The sudden pain makes you squeak and jerk against him, but his grasp is firm. 

“That was most excellent,” His sarcastic tone was not lost on you, “Next time, I'll totally go down on you. Promise.” 

“We are not doing this again,” You scoff, knowing there's no way in hell you'd willingly do anything with this asshole ever again.

His grip tightens, yanking your hair again and hissing in your ear, “I could keep you here, y'know. Use you whenever I feel like it. That'd be a pretty sick trade-off for getting to live, huh?” 

Not sure how to reply to that, you just growl at him. This asshole has a way of leaving you speechless in all the wrong ways. 

“That doesn't sound like a no to me, babe.”

He lets go of your hair, letting you drop down to the floor again. There's comfort in the cool tile this time. At this point, you don't actually care what he does with you. After what you've allowed this robot to do to you right next to your boyfriend's corpse, you're sure that wherever Ted ended up, he's not too thrilled with you. You hope there's no way for him to know in the afterlife, but you've got a feeling he does. 

[skeedelvee]

Carry On Countdown Day 4 - Daydreaming

For this year's COC I've decided to put together daily fic rec lists! Let me know if you find any new favorite reads from these <3

For todays prompt I've gone with fics that involve dreaming

A Dream is a Wish by @dragoneggos

Rated T, 17,239 words

This one is really sweet! Dream friends to dream lovers to real life lovers ❤️

"I began to cherish the time we had, the few hours in a day where I could pretend I didn’t hate him, where it wasn’t Agatha’s hand I was holding, but his. Where I could watch him unabashedly, and whisper nonsense to him until the sky opened to the sun. I dreaded the coming of day. In the darkness, we could pretend." Simon Snow doesn't know who the boy who's been haunting his dreams is. But Baz Pitch knows. Baz knows that it's been Simon the whole time. Simon he's been sharing dreams with, sharing everything with since they were eight years old. But how do you tell your arch nemesis that it was you who held them while they cried? It's even harder to tell them, when you've been kidnapped by numpties.

I'd Gladly Eat You for Breakfast by @whogaveyoupermission

Rated M, 6,981 words

Always love a good sex dream fic and this one’s great

When Simon has a sex dream, Baz asks for a demonstration.

Gates of Ivory and Horn by @aristocratic-otter

Rated E, 16,094 words

This one’s dream-ish, but I think it counts! Simon is shown two visions of the future and has to pick which ones real. SO GOOD!

Simon Snow falls to a Humdrum attack and is locked in a deadly dream. To survive, he has to choose the dream that is true. But Simon's not historically been good at recognising lies...

Cumdrop Buttons by @martsonmars

Rated E, 4,427 words

Simon has always been food motivated, so this fic is so him. And great for the holiday season! 🎄

“So good,” he whispers, lips wet and shining with saliva and precome. “You taste so good. I want to swallow you whole.” I shouldn’t find this as erotic as I do, but this is Simon, and of course eating people turns out to be a huge turn on for him. (I should add cannibalism to the list of his love languages, right next to homicide.) When Simon wakes up from a biscuit-themed wet dream, Baz has no other choice but to indulge him and roleplay his own "demise by mastication".

A Restless Mind by Theweatherbee

Rated E, 21,360 words

Dreaming and daydreaming in this one! Truly excellent! Pining Simon is the best

He was staring at Baz's legs, at his footwork, at his legs again, at his arms, and his legs just a little bit more, and then his face—he was staring at Baz like he’d never seen him before, which was ridiculous, because he’d spent most of his academic career staring at him. And then Coach Mac blew the whistle and Baz jogged to a stop, breathing heavily, and he pulled up his jersey to wipe the sweat off his face, and Simon's insides were performing some complicated acrobatics as he stared helplessly at Baz's stomach. A thought came to Simon, unasked for, something that hit both like a realization and like something he had always known. Baz was proper fucking fit. Baz was unreasonably fit. Baz was...Baz was looking right at him. In which Simon has a dream that has him looking differently at Baz. Baz notices.

✨Gratuitous self rec✨

Buttered Up by me! @skeedelvee

Rated E, 799 words

Baz and butter? It’s Simon’s perfect dream! 😂

Simon has a dream, it involves a gratuitous amount of butter and a tiny Baz Pitch.

If you have any recs that fit the prompt that I've missed, feel free to leave them in the comments! There's plenty of gaps in my reading so there's a good chance I may not have read it.

Also I've had a hard time finding if some people are here on Tumblr, so if you know someone who hasn't been tagged, feel free to leave that in the comments as well <3

@carryon-countdown

[perseus-oh-my-perseus]

Uh... contrary to what popular belief would be, I typically go for a fancier look when I'm running late. Like, I'll originally plan for something like sweatpants and a I-truly-do-not-care shirt, and I'll have that stuff on, but when I'm running late, I just tend to. Change, ya know? I'll throw on some jeans, some jewelry, my boots, and I'll try to fluff up my shirt. I'll just be running out while putting on my makeup when I originally woke up planning to deadpan-glare my way through the day.

I love rain! No matter how inconveniencing, it always manages to lighten my mood because it reminds me to throw expectations out the window and say 'fuck it' and move on with a pep in my step. As much as I need sun, I also like my rain because it gives my light-sensitive eyes a break. It reminds me that I am alive just like everyone else I see and that the reality I see before me is real; and half the time I don't even realize that I'm starting to feel like a passenger in my own life. It's my own little break, it's my self-indulgence, it's my laughing in others' faces because they're annoyed at the rain when I've never felt so alive.

I'd say my laugh is different with a shitty joke. It's more of a kneel-over barking laughter that makes me start crying and my stomach her kind of laughter that takes me by surprise and leaves me with my eyes a little brighter, my smile a little more mischievous as we share that little moment of joy and humanity that we know will leave but we are both okay with it because it will come again. It's also got this sort of delay when I'm in the moment and enjoying myself where it'd take me a little bit to register it happening (delayed audio processing my beloved <3 /lh /s), and then the joke itself, and then I'll laugh and it'd be a little embarrassing that such a joke took so long--especially when I'm the only one to react to it--but everything washes over eventually, so it'll be alright.

I'd duck and scream. Honestly and genuinely, on Jupiter, that will be my reaction. I hate insects and I hate the unknown, so I will react accordingly because I don't know what it is or if that bee will sting me. And yes, this is a genuine, heart-gripping fear :(. I don't mind existing and I even respect how and why they Work, but I genuinely, truly and utterly, hate them flying near me because of the unknowns :(. I could give you a whole psycho-analysis about it, tbh, but that's not the conversation of today :).

I have two moods when delving deep into a good fanfic or book--either hilarious, I-forget-that-I'm-being-perceived faces (usually when I'm in public or in an otherwise populated/I Need To Be Aware Enough Of Reality To Remember I And Said Reality Exists space), or a truly and utterly, devoid of any expression or mental existence, deadpan/resting bitchface that leaves people concerned for my well-being and me totally and utterly unaware of my surroundings bc I'm just That Deep Within The Book. Both are equally likely to happen no matter the book or my involvement within it, it is just a product of being so very easily lost into hyperfocus when occupied with something but also unable to be bored/not doing anything. So... there we go! This happens with pretty much anything--me acting out so I remember my existence and Presence Within Reality, or just going completely dead to the world out of hyperfocus and/or being mentally drained (and the amount of hours I've lost after functions/long days- wow-)

Another thing I'd like to say, since we're already sorta on the topic of it, is that I make the cutest and most innocent facial expressions when my name is called/I'm being brought out of a focus/my attention is being shifted. One of my teachers literally Stops what she is doing when calling roll/being distracted by the monotonous of things when she calls my name because my nose is usually deep into a book/something I'm doing that I literally pop my head up, frown, and glance around to figure out where I am, before looking up and smiling to say that I'm here and then immediately burying my nose back into whatever I was doing. She. Stops. to do this with me :)). Each & every day I have her class :)). This happens in a lot of things too! It's just that look of genuine confusion about Everything like after a good and deep nap that leaves you wondering what day it is and what the concept of time is :)). I think about this interaction constantly :))

As for the other things? I've never had coffee a day in my life and I don't plan on it for a long time. I hate soda. I'm my own worst asshole and I will do things against the best interest of myself--for the better or the worse. I talk and genuinely feel as though I am not doing enough even though I am gone for nearly 18 hours a day on the regular. I am genuinely injured and still will go through that process and the back and forths of wondering if it's worth enough to take a break and also feeling like I've already taken too many breaks. I will worry needlessly over projects and grades despite having numerous past experiences telling me I'll do well because I'm worried that, as soon as I let my guard down, that will be it. I actively and vocally bargain my own fate almost 90% of the time because I, again, am my own worst asshole and, again, I worry that I'll drop the ball with my own cockiness on something I need. If left waiting/in an event where I'm merely watching instead of doing or I need to focus on something/kill time so I don't become a nervous wreck, I will start conducting a fake band with absolutely no rhythm than my own anxiety. I will also start tap-dancing with my boots (I have never tap-danced or seen tap-dancing a day in my life), and I have a much worse lung capacity than someone my age and ✨skill level✨ should have. But I am great at lessening anxiety around me, listening to people/talking through theirs, and joking around about my own stresses because I deserve it and it helps me too :)).

I also absolutely & utterly hate loud, unnecessary, and sudden noises--the second one especially when overstimulated!

Long distance relationships suck. I want to know so much more than what you text me.

I want to know what kind of outfit you pick when you're running terribly late. What's your first reaction to rain. If your laugh is different when it's caused by a shitty joke. How you react to a bee flying by. What expressions you have when reading a very good book...

All those things you find insignificant about yourself, I want to know them. I know there is so much to love about you that I will miss if I'm not close enough.

[buildoblivion]

A Fallen Crow

[cheesecakethots]

Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

[mintjeru]

technically this is for the requester but it's also for anyone who's having a hard time-- you've worked hard, good job today 💜 "alhaitham and kaveh hugging but kaveh is comforting alhaitham" for @/zarzaryyy. thank you for your donation to @hkvthm-action!!

open for better quality | no reposts

[little-pup-pip]

I'm still sickkkkk