#i think this is enough to fall under that tag

[loveanddeepsecrets]

They say three’s a crowd…

Synopsis- How Zayne and Caleb would one up each other when all three of you reconnect

tags: headcanon, jealousy; angst, no comfort :’( mostly gn, but some hcs imply an afab+ fem! reader

I don’t know if the LI’s will ever officially interact with each other in-game, but if they did, this is how I’d imagine Caleb and Zayne’s relationship dynamic

I’d imagine they’d make jabs at each other based on time spent vs time lost and sometimes using their own expertise as leverage. They’re both quite decorated in carriers especially being so young. Both try very hard to keep things amicable. They’re alike in many ways, and the feeling of responsibility to care for you is no exception…

- When you’re sad, Zayne would try lending a listening ear but before he can respond, Caleb chimes in with just the right words and inside jokes to make you smile again.

- When you’re getting ready for dinner, Caleb would be in the kitchen preparing your old favourites, then Zayne hovers over advising the best food substitutes as he reminds Caleb of your heart condition.

- When you’re suddenly feeling under the weather, Zayne would have you lay down and go to fetch a blanket, but Caleb steps, pillows and a blanket in hand explaining that you always need 3 pillows and a fuzzy blanket to help you fall asleep on sick days. He follows up with turning on the TV and choosing your two’s favourite comfort movie.

- On an afternoon stroll in the park, you’d stop and admire the blue hydrangeas, leading you and Caleb to reminisce about the many summers spent together. Zayne would then passively recall that one summer day all three of you spent at the florist shop and mentions the bushes he has of the same blue hydrangeas in his backyard (did anyone else clock that?!) and invites you to pick your own bouquet on your way back.

- At the start of your picnic, you pull out an apple and excitedly ask Zayne to show you how he peels it in one go. While he does this, Caleb examines the species of apple and goes on about how sweet and thoughtful you were to bring his favourite. He then remembers the exact orchard your class field trip went to when he first tried that specific Asiatic apple, and says he’ll take you there to go apple picking come autumn.

- On snow days, you’d sometimes visit the ski lodge. Caleb being a natural athlete, picks up on it pretty quickly. He hates to see you struggle, so he has the both of you back onto the small slopes. Zayne later passes by holding his and your snowboard, saying something along the lines of “That should be enough training for today. We did come here to have fun, and it would be hard to do that if you’re already sore from just one activity.” He’d then invite you to ride the ski lift to test if you still remember everything “Coach Zayne” taught you.

- During your cycle, Zayne would recommend and demonstrate the best stretches and positions to alleviate cramps, only for Caleb to walk in and insist the stretches he learned were the better alternative. Further explaining that he learned them from his fem colleagues during training for the Farspace Fleet.

- On one night with a vivid sky illuminated by the full moon and bright stars, the three of you lay on the grass searching for constellations. Caleb would share memories of the first time you two saw Orion’s Belt under the glass ceiling in grandma’s attic. Zayne stretches his arm out to you and suddenly feels the cool jade pendant he carved and begins to recall how beautiful the moon was the night he gave it to you. He then says a full moon is another one of the many things that remind him of you.

A/N: I often thought abt Zayne while completing Caleb’s story. I wondered if Caleb felt jealous at all when Zayne and MC reunited, and it led me to think about how all three of their relationships might have changed now that they’re adults. It actually hurt writing this bc they both deserve the kind of love they have with MC :(

***If anyone who actually writes, decides to make a real fic from this pls tag me so I can read it! I’m not a writer, so I’m limited to little blurbs like these

Dividers

Artwork

[veephoenix]

zutto — chapter sixteen | wc: 2.8k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary:  Lia and Noah return to L.A. and Jolly surprises Noah with big news.

Reading time: 10mins.

Tags and trigger warnings:  mostly fluff, mentions of Lia going back to therapy, 2 spankings.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

The sky was clear when they landed in Los Angeles. Before leaving the airport, they stopped at a Starbucks in the arrivals area for coffee and a quick bite to make up for the cheap food on the plane. Afterward, they took a cab to Lia’s apartment. 

For the time being, they had decided to stay at Noah’s place since he had his studio there and he was meant to start working asap. Lia was already used to living within those walls so it felt like the right thing for now. 

Noah dropped her off at her apartment to unpack and start a load of laundry, agreeing to pick her up later. In the meantime, he would do the same at home. 

When he walked through the door, Jolly greeted him from the kitchen, pausing what he was doing to give him a brotherly hug and a pat on the back. 

Noah had barely set his luggage down when Emery appeared in the hallway, waving at him. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and one of Jolly’s hoodies, looking very much at home. 

“Hi, Noah.”

“Hi, Em.” He gave her a quick hug. 

“Good flight?” she asked, stepping back and noticing the slight dark circles under his eyes. 

“As good as it gets. I think I’m really jet-lagged, though.”

“I’m making coffee,” Jolly announced, busying himself with the machine. “Want some?”

Noah had just had one about thirty minutes ago, but he replied, “Sure. Thanks.”

He removed his backpack and sneakers, sighing as his feet finally found relief. 

“Where’s Lia?” Emery asked, glancing over her shoulder at Noah as she walked into the kitchen to help Jolly. She retrieved three mugs from one of the cabinets. 

“Dropped her at her place,” he explained. They hadn’t been apart for more than fifteen minutes, and yet he was already missing the warmth and peace she brought him just by being around. “I’m picking her up later. She’ll be happy to see you.”

“Em’s been staying here,” Jolly said, stopping the coffee machine and picking up the kettle. 

Noah raised his eyebrows and looked at Emery, who had now made herself comfortable on the couch, waiting for Jolly to bring the coffee. She gave Noah a gentle smile. 

“Nice. How long are you planning to stay?”

“As long as Jolly doesn’t get tired of me,” she replied.  

Jolly pointed at her while passing a coffee mug to Noah across the kitchen isle. “Which is never happening.” 

Emery laughed, her cheeks turning pink. Their comfort with each other was so obvious that Noah felt suddenly stupidly jealous. He was tempted to check the time on his phone. He’d told Lia he’d pick her up whenever she texted him, which he hoped would be soon—just enough time for her to sort her things and take a shower. Had it only been fifteen minutes? Because it felt like she’d been away from his reach much longer.  

Emery’s laughter blended with a sarcastic snort from the hallway. When Noah looked that way, he saw Jesse strolling in.

“I need to fall in love and get out of this house,” Jesse declared, running a hand through his hair. He nodded at Noah. “Welcome back, man.”

“Hey,” Noah said with a nod. 

“Where’s Miss Gremlin?” 

“At her place. She’ll be here later.”

“Great. Well, I’m heading to the gym, so I’ll catch up with you guys later. Oh, and if you are doing laundry, grab my stuff from the basket, yeah?” 

Noah raised his eyebrows, following him with his gaze. Jesse bent down to grab his sneakers from the shoe rack. “I just got back, and you’re already assigning me chores?”

“Consider it a welcome-home gift,” Jesse grinned over his shoulder, tying his laces. “Hope you enjoyed your holiday.”

“I should’ve made it longer,” Noah replied, but there was no malice in his eyes. He picked up his luggage again as Jesse waved goodbye and left. Noah muttered “unbelievable” as he started towards his bedroom. 

“I promise I’m not giving you guys any extra work,” Emery added from the living room, raising a hand. “I do my own laundry.”

“Beware of Jesse,” Jolly warned, dropping onto the couch beside her with the two mugs of coffee. “He’ll rope you in if you’re not careful.”

An hour and a half later—showered, dressed in clean clothes, with the washing machine running and his room semi-organized—Noah returned to the living room. 

He inadvertently interrupted a tender moment in the kitchen, where Emery and Jolly were exchanging whispers between kisses and affectionate touches. Neither of them seemed fazed when Noah walked in; Emery simply gave Jolly a long kiss on the lips, rose on tiptoes, then turned and disappeared into his bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Noah raised his eyebrows at Jolly as he crossed to the fridge, intent on finding something to eat.

“Dude, I’m so in love,” Jolly blurted out, leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes frozen on the dark hallway where his girlfriend had just vanished.  

Noah snorted. “I can see that,” he said, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a yogurt.  

“I’m going to marry her.” 

Noah froze, the yogurt halfway out of the fridge. 

He turned slowly. “What?”

Jolly turned to look at him and shrugged. “I’m ready to marry her.”

Noah blinked once. Twice. “But,” he furrowed his brow, closing the fridge and setting the yogurt on the counter. “Wait. Are you serious? You’ve been together for what, a few months? Half a year?”

Jolly crossed his arms, still leaning on the counter. “We’ve known each other for six years. It’s not about the time we’ve been officially dating.”

“Yeah, I get that, but—” Noah blinked again, momentarily lost. He grabbed a spoon from a drawer to buy himself a moment. “I mean… Okay. I do get it, but…” His head was spinning. “I just got back from the other side of the ocean. I expected dirty socks everywhere and an empty fridge—not a bombshell about you wanting to get married. You never said much about it. Doesn’t it feel sudden?”

“Not to me. Not anymore,” Jolly’s voice softened. “She’s the one, Noah.”

“Yeah, Lia’s the one for me, too, and yet—”

“And yet, what are you waiting for?”

“What?”

Jolly shook his head but steered the conversation back to himself. “These past few weeks have been perfect. We work so well together, man. She doesn’t mind my bad habits—I don’t mind hers. We can argue and talk things through. She makes me laugh like nobody else. And waking up and seeing her there beside me is something I can’t even explain. And the sex… Fuck, the sex is good, man.”

Noah looked at him closely, spoon hovering over the open yogurt. “So, you’re totally serious. You’re really thinking about this.”

Jolly spread the back of his hands on the marble, standing to his full height. “Why would I joke about it? I’m telling you because you’re my best friend, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I need your thoughts.”

Noah tilted his head slightly, taking a bite of his yogurt as he considered it. “Okay, so… have you talked to her about it? Like, does she even want to get married?” 

“We’ve talked. She does. She even wants kids someday. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Noah shook his head, smiling despite himself. Could he picture Jolly as a husband? A father? No, but only because they’d been so caught up in the band, in working full time, that none of them had stopped for a second to consider wanting something more. Marriage. A family. It made sense, and honestly, Noah was sure Jolly would be great at both.

“Okay,” Noah said, his smile widening. He was suddenly infected by the same thrill coursing through Jolly. “Then it’s a yes from me. Go for it. When are you planning to propose?”

Jolly’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t know. Haven’t gotten that far yet. We need to find a place first, a nice condo or a house. But I was thinking we could go check out rings next week, to get an idea about prices and stuff, and while we’re at it, maybe you could take a look too.”

Noah raised a slow, suspicious eyebrow at him. 

Where is he going with this?

“Why would I want to take a look at engagement rings?” 

“For whenever you grow a pair and pop the question to Lia.”

Noah stared at him.     

Jolly pointed a finger at him and gave him a sideways look. “Don’t even dare tell me you’re not going to marry her because man, you’ve been breathing her as if she was your oxygen since you were kids. It’s just because you two were stubborn as fuck to admit you loved each other that you’re not married by now.”

“I—” Noah was exhausted, jet-lagged, hungry, and still reeling from Jolly’s sudden news about wanting to get married. And now, thanks to him, he was imagining Lia in a white dress and a flower crown on her head. 

What the fuck. 

“We haven’t talked about this, Lia and I.”

“Maybe it’s time you do. This is the perfect excuse.”

Noah stared at him for a long moment, torn between exasperation and amusement. As thoughts filled his mind, he realized he didn’t even know if Lia wanted to get married. “I came back expecting dirty clothes everywhere and no food in the fridge,” he muttered, “not life advice and a push toward marriage.”

Jolly laughed. “Well, now you’ve got both. Welcome home, man.”

When evening came, Lia and Emery curled up in the corner of the couch after dinner, talking animatedly, each holding a cup of tea, while the boys finished cleaning up the kitchen. 

Somehow, Lia had mustered the energy to prepare one of the dishes Hana had taught her in Japan, and despite his exhaustion, Noah had offered to do the washing up afterward. Before picking her up, Lia had walked to the nearest supermarket to grab the missing ingredients. The moment she arrived at the boys’ house, she started cooking as if she hadn’t just spent the past twenty-four hours crossing the Pacific Ocean and trying to sleep in a cramped, uncomfortable airplane seat. Where she got the energy from, Noah couldn’t tell. 

After the kitchen was cleaned up, the five of them settled on the couch and put on a new Adrien Brody movie. Jesse made popcorn and ended up eating most of it himself, ignoring Jolly and Noah’s comments about all his efforts at the gym going to waste. 

Half an hour into the movie, Noah had already yawned three times. He was stretched out in the corner of the couch, legs extended on the sectional, with Lia nestled against him, his arm draped over her shoulders. Every now and then, she’d ask Jesse to pass the bowl of popcorn.

“I’m dozing off,” Noah murmured to Lia, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shall we go to bed?”

Lia pouted, her eyes wide open. No trace of sleep in her expression, unlike Noah’s.  

“How are you not sleepy?” He asked, frowning as he sat up a bit on the sofa, removing his arm from her shoulders. 

“Hmm…” Lia bit her lip and looked up at him, still nestled at his side with her legs curled under her body. “I may or may not have taken a nap at my place.”

Noah’s eyes widened despite the look of sweet innocence in her face. 

“Without me?” he exclaimed. 

“Dude, shut up,” Jolly told him off without looking away from the screen, where Adrien Brody’s character stood in the pouring rain, his face shadowed under his hat.  

Lia parted her lips to say something in her defense, but she didn’t get the chance. Noah stood up, and towering over her, he scooped her up in his arms, lifting her bridal-style off the couch. 

“Hey!” she protested. “Where are you taking me?”

“Bedroom. To sleep. Good night, guys.”

“Help?” Lia called over Noah’s shoulder, but despite her theatrics, she was smiling, nearly laughing, and she had to admit it felt nice to be carried to the bedroom.

“Sweet dreams, lovebirds!” Jesse said. Next to him, Jolly and Emery laughed, waved their hands and said goodnight.

Once in the bedroom, Noah kicked the door shut behind him. Then, without warning, he threw Lia onto the bed. She landed with a soft thud, her hair fanning out over the gray comforter. 

“That was so romantic,” she deadpanned, stretching before rolling onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. She watched Noah with a raised eyebrow as he pulled off his hoodie and tossed it onto the armchair where Lia liked to curl up and read. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, still giving her that mock-offended look she knew was just an act. “Almost as romantic as my girlfriend taking a nap without me.” 

He walked over to close the curtains, then switched on the lamp on his side of the bed. 

“And dramatic,” she added.  

He stopped and gave her a long look. Two seconds later, his open palm landed on her butt with a sharp slap.

Lia gasped, eyes going wide. 

“Did you just spank me?” 

“Should I do it again for clarification?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grinned, and another smack followed, firm but playful. Even through her cotton leggings, a tingling sensation spread through her. She pressed her legs together, unable to look away from him, her cheeks warming. 

He studied her reaction, enjoying this as much as she seemed to. He arched a brow at the realization. “You likethat, don’t you?”

Lia tilted her head to one side, lifting her feet off the bed and lazily crossing her ankles. “Maybe.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he reached for one of her wrists, pulling her up. “Come on. Let’s brush our teeth. Then we’re sleeping, because I’m actually dead.”

“Hum,” Lia pouted, but got off the bed and followed him barefoot to the ensuite bathroom. 

The moment they got under the covers, sleep was the last thing on their minds. 

For the next half hour, they talked—about the next day, about Lia’s return to therapy, about how she planned to attend a yoga class beforehand. She had work to catch up on, so she’d spend most of the day at home, while Noah would head to the studio with the guys. 

As they lay tangled up, Lia’s bare foot lazily brushing against his calf, she mentioned she was thinking about taking on more illustration jobs while the band focused on creating new music. It seemed like a good way to stay busy. She could focus on designs for new Bad Omens merch later. 

“That’s a good idea,” Noah murmured, voice thick with exhaustion but still engaged. “You could also think about exhibiting your work.”

“In a gallery?”

“Yeah. Your art is sick. I’ll never get tired of saying it. You should put it out there more. Not just through the band’s merch. I told you before.”

The idea of her illustrations being displayed for people to admire—or worse, to judge—didn’t really sit right with her. 

“I like being behind the work,” she said. “Just making things and putting them out there without having to… explain them. I don’t want to do artist talk or anything.”

Noah turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “Then don’t. You wouldn’t have to. Just exhibit the work and let it speak for itself. People will see what they want to see.”

“Yeah, and what if they see something that isn’t there? I’d want them to see what I see.”

“Art isn’t always about making people see your vision,” Noah said, thoughtful. “It’s about them feeling something. Doesn’t matter what. They don’t have to understand it. And you don’t have to explain it.”

Lia exhaled softly, letting the thought settle in the quiet between them. Maybe.

She rested her head against his shoulder after a while, pensive. Silence stretched between them as she mulled it over. “I don’t know. Maybe someday. I just like things the way they are right now. Making art without the pressure. Just… creating for myself first, you know?”

She paused, waiting for his response.

When she didn’t get one, she lifted her head slightly and looked up.

Noah’s breathing had deepened, his lips slightly parted, the steady rhythm of light snores filling the room.

“Of course you’re asleep,” she muttered. She lifted her head a little, watching him in the dark— the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelashes fanned against his cheek, the soft exhale of his breath.

Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his in a whisper of a kiss. “I love you,” she murmured before tucking herself back against him, letting sleep finally take her too.

— prev. chapter | chapter seventeen

Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lacy1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h | @ferduttini | @dominuslunae | @todressabladeupinred

[seellove]

Counterfeit Shrines // sukuna x female reader

Masterlist

Chapter 3 - The Danger in Starting a Fire // (4.2k words) // Explicit - 18+

\|/ AO3 - Chapter 3 | << Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >>

You're a late bloomer when it comes to cursed energy, entering Tokyo Jujutsu High partway through the 4th year on the support student track. Because of this, you get paired with the only combat track sorcerer without a partner for obvious reasons, Ryomen Sukuna. He's had a tragic upbringing as a human that is part curse with dark expectations for how to live his life. However, after meeting you, he slowly starts to see the possibility of a different path with someone he might love.

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are Jujutsu Sorcerers in a JJK AU, explicit smut, violence/blood/injury, dubious consent, dubious morality, drug and alcohol use, falling in love, angst, comfort, fluff, happy ending

Sukuna POV

I can taste blood in my mouth and feel it trickling down my chin and neck. No way this bitch just hit me, how did she even manage to do that? No support student should ever be able to lay a hand on me. She’s laying on the ground now though, unconscious I guess. 

I can move my body again, what kind of technique was that? Some kind of paralysis maybe? I’m intrigued, she could be worth something after all. No one gets a lucky hit on me. She beat me on our math quiz, immobilized me, and landed a hit on me, so she’s smart and possesses some kind of strength. When she wakes up I want to know more about her technique.

As I kneel down I notice the training grounds are silent, looking on at me. Toji and Gojo run over. 

“Damn bro did she do that?” Toji grins pointing at my mouth. “Didn’t think she had it in her.” I swallow in response, these fools are witnessing a once in a lifetime moment with a support student making me bleed.

“Did you do this to her??” Shoko exclaims, hovering over her while glaring up at me.

“Wow Suk, are you losing your touch?” Gojo laughs as he slaps me on the back. I shove him away hard, his infinity protecting him from me actually touching him. 

“Here I’ll take her to the clinic,” I say, eager to get away from all the commotion. I lay one arm under her knees, and one behind her back, gently lifting and cradling her against my chest. I notice Kiko and Yorozu glaring at me. Stupid hoes are jealous of an unconscious girl. 

I leave the training grounds without looking at anyone else. When I’m further away, I channel my cursed energy into her body, identifying her injuries. I really did a number on her, I’m not about to use reversed curse technique (RCT) though, this isn’t my problem.

I’m kind of impressed honestly, it was her first day doing this and she put up a good fight. She might actually be worth training. Plus she seems smart, dumb people bore me. I’ll try to talk to her more when she wakes up. 

I kick the door open to the medical clinic and enter the intake room. I explain what happened, remembering that I was quite physical with her before all this happened. I walk her back and lay her on the exam table. 

The doctors said 3 broken ribs, punctured lung, broken hand, and passed out from overuse of cursed energy. They perform healing techniques but say that she still needs to rest. I think I’ve done enough, I think I’ll come back later, just to try and talk to her. Maybe after hours when no one is around, it's not like I sleep a lot anyways. I leave the ward and decide to go have an early dinner.

Your POV

You hear a bit of chatter around you. Everything is still dark, but you feel your chest and stomach throbbing. Slowly but surely your vision returns, revealing Shoko, Gojo, and Geto sitting at a table along the wall. They look to be playing some kind of game. You try to sit up but a sharp pain tears through your body as you realize it’s not possible right now. You break out into violent coughing which alerts them of your return to consciousness.

“She’s awake! How are you feeling,” Shoko says as she rushes to your side. “We brought you some soup.” She holds up a container. 

“I’ve definitely been better,” you wince while trying to force a smile. 

“Doctor said broken ribs and a broken hand plus a punctured lung. You’re a badass if you ask me,” Geto grins at you while patting your shoulder gently.

“Holy shit,” you mutter, this is not how you wanted your first day to go at all. 

“Sukuna is a real ass for that,” Shoko seethes next to you, “there is no need to go that hard in a training class for support students. I love that you busted his lip up though, not many of us can leave him speechless like that. I guess he felt some slight remorse as he’s the one who brought you here.”

You barely recall the events before everything went black. Guess you broke your hand on the impact with his face. Which you are pretty proud of by the way. 

You start to get tired again so your friends bid you farewell for the night. The night nurse comes to check on you and then dims the lights for the evening. As you start to doze off, you hear the door to your room slide open. In the darkness you can make out a person, but it’s the glowing red eyes that really stand out. You sit up abruptly, wincing with the pain in your stomach.

“Relax, it's just me,” you hear a deep voice. 

Sukuna, what the hell is he doing here? The room lightens up as he adjusts the light switch. His towering form approaches the hospital bed, and he looks to be carrying a small bag. Your ego swells a bit when you see his busted lip, swollen and dark.

“Oh did you come by for round two, beating me up once wasn’t enough for you?” You snap at him. 

He smirks at you as he places the bag on the bedside table. “Not in this pathetic state. Where’s the glory in beating up someone who can’t even walk?” 

“Oh glad to know that’s the only reason. Not any of the other endless reasons including beating up your new classmate who’s been using cursed energy for one day. You sure are a tough guy tearing up such a strong person like me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says shortly, gritting his teeth in annoyance, “I came to ask how you did it. Was it a cursed technique?” 

“Did what?” 

“You know what I’m referring to.”

“No I don’t think I do, why don’t you be specific?” You smirk, trying to antagonize him.

His eyes darken as he side eyes you and a scowl overtakes his face. He crosses his arms and looks down at you.

“Ok now you are just being a stupid brat,” he rolls his eyes before locking them back on you. “How did you stop my legs from moving and do this?” He points at his mouth. 

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t care, but I can appreciate a good use of cursed energy when I see it.”

Good use huh? So you seem to have impressed this asshole a bit.

“Yes, it was a cursed technique. I inherited it from my dad. It didn’t actually manifest until the summer, thus how I ended up here as a 4th year. As for how I used it, I can’t be too certain, it was almost instinctual because I haven’t trained much with it. I just know I was extremely angry and it’s like my body and mind knew what I needed to do.”

Sukuna nods, listening intently, actually seeming to be invested and engaged in what you have to say. He pulls a chair over so he can be at your level, settling in next to you. He leans back and props one leg up on his knee. 

“Are you able to tell me more about how it works?”

You hesitate, you can’t help but wonder if there is an ulterior motive to his questions. 

“Look, I just like learning about jujutsu, nothing bad will come from this,” He follows up. He must have read it on your face.

“My technique involves doing almost instantaneous math, physical, and chemical analysis on things. I can run cursed energy through the voids or pores of something, and convert the energy into various materials with differing strengths depending on what is available. To break it down using an example, say you are repairing a sidewalk. Typically you need to know how much pressure the soil beneath the sidewalk can handle from the weight of the concrete. You also need to know how strong to make the concrete depending on the load being applied to it. I can run my cursed energy through the cracks in the sidewalk and voids in the earth, analyze all of this, and then basically turn my cursed energy into the perfect strength and makeup of concrete needed to repair the sidewalk correctly. But it all happens in seconds. I haven’t gotten to use it too much, but that was one thing my dad taught me before coming to school. Sorry that was incredibly nerdy sounding,” you chuckle at the end.

Sukuna’s eyes widen a bit and one side of his mouth twitches with a small smile. “Yeah a little nerdy, but also pretty neat honestly. So you are really good at math then huh? I remember you got a perfect score on that match quiz not even knowing what it was about.”

You are surprised at his response, but crack a guarded smile. “Yes it was pretty easy to be honest.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together. “So what’s your future plan then?”

You swallow before responding. You didn’t expect to be confiding this type of stuff to Sukuna of all people. But you were weirdly appreciating his company. “My hope is to be an engineer for the jujutsu society here in Tokyo. I’d like to be able to help assess and repair structures that are damaged by combat sorcerers, as it’s inevitable that things like buildings, bridges, and roads will take some damage during a fight. So I’d plan to go to engineering school after high school to learn more about the theory of such things so I can better wield my technique.” 

You look up at him and notice he is very focused on your words. Your eyes search his face, trying to find something hinting at what he is thinking. He finally breaks the silence, his face softening. “That’s quite a goal you’ve got there. I didn’t even know those types of sorcerers existed.”

“My dad is one,” you answer him, “it’s definitely a niche skill set that’s for sure.”

He leans back in the chair, slouching a bit as he rests his arms behind his head. His shirt hitches up just a bit to reveal a sliver of his abdomen. You notice a tattoo that seems to snake into his waistband. You blink quickly and immediately snap your gaze back up to his, scared he might notice your wandering eyes. He might be an asshole but damn he is hot. He raises an eyebrow slightly and his mouth twitches with a faint grin, but he doesn’t address it. 

“Well I think it’s impressive, can’t say any of the other support students have such aspirations. Probably one of the smarter people in our class,” his eyes are partially lidded as his smoldering gaze meets yours. Your breath hitches a bit, did he just compliment you? 

“If you are up for it, I’d like to give our partnership another try. Your potential is…intriguing to me,” he states as he runs a hand through his pink hair, giving it a tousled look. 

You ponder his words. You are wary given your first attempt at combat training with him. After all, you wouldn’t be laid up in a hospital bed if he hadn’t gone crazy on you. However, you can’t deny his strength, and feel you could learn some stuff from him. 

“Sure, we can give it another go,” you respond.��

“Good.” He rises up from his chair and moves it back to the wall where he got it. “Well I’m going to head out,” he yawns, a sleepy look starting to cross his face. “That bag is for you by the way, sweets from dinner,” he gestures towards the brown bag he had placed on your bedside table when he entered. 

“Oh wow thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” you blush in response. 

“Yeah whatever, thought it could be a bit of a peace offering,” he scoffs a little. “Want the lights off again?”

“You can dim them a little, I don’t really like being in the pitch dark. It’s a little creepy here.”

He snickers, dimming the lights. “Good night,” he states as he turns to leave, closing the door softly behind him.  

You stare up at the ceiling, what the hell just happened? You hadn’t known Sukuna for a long at all, but going out of his way to check on someone didn’t seem like something he would do. You peek into the bag to find three mini eclairs carefully packaged up in a cardboard box. The clinic food hadn’t been the best, so you happily indulge. Then you settle into the sheets, sleep coming on quickly after the disaster of a day you’ve had.

***

After 3 days in the clinic you are allowed to leave to go back to your dorm. Every day the medical staff treated your injuries slowly healing you back to health.

“How are you using cursed energy to heal me?” you asked your doctor as she came in to do one final check before discharging you.

“It’s called reverse curse technique, it allows cursed energy to mend internal and external injuries. You just can’t do it all at once or it will overwhelm the body, thus how I had to do it over a period of days,” she explained as she ran her hands over your stomach checking your ribs and lungs one more time.

“Wow, that's fascinating, is it difficult to learn?”

“Yes, it's not a very common technique. Myself for example, I’ve dedicated my career to this and trying to hone it. I attended medical school after high school here to learn about the human body while also continuing to train here to apply my knowledge in college using cursed energy.” 

It sort of sounds like what you hope to do, and what Shoko has talked about doing as well. The whole jujutsu society is very interesting to you and you enjoy learning as much as you can about it. The doctor tells you to come back once a day to continue to monitor your treatment, but you should be good to go about your daily activities now.

You’ve missed feeling the sun on your skin and breeze in your hair as you exit the building. Inhaling deeply, you feel your senses come back to life as you bask in the crisp morning air. 

Finally back in your dorm, you immediately strip so you can take a proper shower. While you start to get the bathroom ready, you see your phone light up with an unknown number texting you. 

Unknown: Are you out of the clinic yet?

You: Who is this?

Unknown: Sukuna, I got your number from Shoko

What the hell, why is he texting you? 

You: oh ok. Yeah I got out this morning.

Unknown: Cool. We need to do a project together for history class

You: ok…why are we together?

Unknown: we had to pair up with our combat training partners. Not my rules brat. 

You decide to just not respond for now, it was Saturday so thankfully you didn’t have any classes, but you surely would need to catch up on work you missed out on while in the clinic. You step into the shower and let the water flow over you, the hot water soothing your sore body. 

Feeling much more refreshed now, you wrap your hair in a towel and wrap a plush bathrobe around your body. You walk back to your bedroom and see Sukuna had sent another text asking if you two could meet up today so he could fill you in on the project. He seems to care about his schoolwork at least. You tell him he can come over in an hour. 

You get into your bed and start to play around on your phone, zoning out watching TikTok’s of fall fashion for the year. Next thing you know you hear a loud knock on your door. Fuck it’s been an hour already!!

You jump up, still in your bathrobe and hair wrap, and crack the door to see Sukuna looking down at you. You swear he blushes as he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Well if this is what you meant by come over in an hour I’d have come over sooner,” he drones as his eyes trail down to your chest.

“Oh my god no, I’m sorry I just got out of the shower,” you feel your face flush, trying to regain your composure to not to egg him on. “Just come in and I’ll finish getting ready in the bathroom.”

Each dorm room has an extra desk so he goes to sit down in the extra chair. You grab some clothes out of your drawer and steal away to the bathroom, closing the door. You let yourself collapse against the wall, now letting the embarrassment out. You are sure he’s seen girls in much less, so you try to just let it go, but still you aren’t someone who has been around a guy in that way, so you can’t help but cringe a bit at the interaction. You quickly dress yourself and just leave your hair wet and down for now. 

Sukuna looks up as you reappear from the bathroom. You notice he has a gold chain on, his white t-shirt and baggy black jeans look so flattering on him, tattoos sculpting his arms with his neck ones peeking out from his shirt. It's undeniable how attractive he is even though he has the approachability of a cactus. Your mind wanders dangerously to thoughts of him laying you down on the desk and positioning himself between your legs. His fingers in your hair as his mouth finds your sensitive collarbone - 

Your whole body almost jerks as your vision comes back to you. What the hell were you doing? Your eyes flick up to meet his staring back at you, a hint of amusement flashing across his face. 

“I brought you some breakfast, I wasn’t sure if you were able to make it over there this morning,” he says as you notice a small to-go container on the desk behind him. 

“Wow yeah I actually am starving,” you respond, you didn’t even realize you were hungry while you had been fantasizing. He hands you the box and you sit down at the desk next to his. You open the box and see a mixture of rice, egg, and vegetables. It looks and smells delicious. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like,” he says stoically, his face devoid of any emotion as he stares down at the floor.

“This is perfect thank you.” You are surprised at the gesture, then remember he had come to the clinic bearing food when he visited you. You chuckle to yourself internally, food must be his version of a truce. 

“Mhm,” he hums. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you scarf your food down. 

“So how long have you gone to school here?” you ask him. You figure if you were going to be spending extended amounts of time with each other you’d at least try to make it more civil and bearable. 

“This is my third year here,” he answers shortly.

“Where did you go to school before this?”

“Nowhere, I was homeschooled.”

“So did you only start using cursed energy 3 years ago?”

“Fuck no, I’ve been using it since I was a kid.”

“Oh wow, how did you learn and who - “

“Enough questions, I don’t want to talk about this, especially with you,” he snarls finally, making you stiffen in alarm at his harsh response. Fuck him, he gets to be such an asshole but god forbid you do anything he deems to be remotely annoying.

“Ooooo mister too good to talk about themselves, so mysterious,” you mock and roll your eyes at him. 

Sukuna grits his teeth and you can see a hint of his canine protruding from his lip. You challenge his glare, refusing to lower your head. You both stare at each other, an unspoken dual of who can break first. Suddenly he lunges at you with his arms up, causing you to flinch, until you realize he was faking it.

“Loser,” he scoffs, the side of his mouth twitching up as he runs his hand through his pink hair, causing it to spike up even more. “Now shall we start on this project?”

You just shake your head in annoyance, pulling your notebook out of your backpack. “Sure, so what do we need to do?”

He turns around and straddles the chair to face you on your bed, his arms hanging over the backrest. “Each group was assigned a region of the world. We need to choose and research a conflict that happened in the last 50 years in the region, then present it to the class.” 

“Ok that seems simple enough. What region did we get?”

“Central America.”

You finish jotting the info down in your notebook. “Hmm ok, so that’s like Mexico, Panama, Costa Rica, that area huh?”

“Yeah, basically south of the US and north of Colombia.”

“Wow Mister Worldwide,” you snicker.

“God you are so annoying you brat,” he stares up at the ceiling and shakes his head. You catch an amused glint in his eye as he looks at you again. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” you shrug, “I prefer associating with smart people actually.” This guy takes everything as a personal attack. 

“Likewise,” he intently stares back at you. “What were your grades like at your old school?”

“Are you just going to call me a loser if I say they were good?”

“No! Like I said, I prefer smart people. Fucking listen.”

You lay on your stomach towards the footboard, sitting up on your elbows to face him, notebook in front of you. “I’ve never gotten below a B. Usually had all As except in Writing and Reading. You? Can’t be working with a meathead who can’t pull their weight.”

“All As except in Math,” Sukuna responds. “I find the school here easier than when I was at home.” 

“Where is home for you?”

“Like 2 hours from here, Uruame and I grew up together.”

That name didn’t sound familiar. But you hadn’t exactly been able to meet many of your classmates yet thanks to this menace putting you in the hospital.

“I see. So any ideas for our topic?”

“How about the cartels and drug trafficking?” he suggests, looking way too excited.

“What the hell?” you snort. “That's so specific.”

He rolls his eyes. “Drugs interest me. You being from a private school I’d have thought you would have dabbled in that.”

“How did you know I went to a private school?”

“I dunno someone mentioned it at some point,” he responds in an aloof tone.

“Anyways, what a bold assumption to make that private school kids are involved in drugs,” you lash out at him.

“I know for a fact that private schools have a higher demand,” he snaps back, “now answer the question.”

“Fine, a few times, but no more than that. I was a serious athlete and it didn’t really align with my goals at the time.” 

“What did you try?” His face contorts into a sneer, eager to hear more.

“Dude we just started talking and you are asking me about drugs?”

“Do you really think I’d get you in trouble over this? I just want to hear about this other side of you. From my perspective you are a spoiled rich kid with a good family. One who happens to be smart as fuck with some jujutsu potential.” 

You blush as you ponder his words. “No that’s not it…I just don’t know you at all. Typically people don’t go talking about illegal stuff with strangers.”

“When does someone stop being a stranger in your eyes?” he challenges you.

You process what he just said for a minute, it’s almost a philosophical question. “I’d say it’s not about the time that’s passed, it’s about gaining a level of familiarity with someone where you can anticipate how they’ll act and respond to things. That doesn’t mean they are a safe person, just that you are able to predict their intentions.”

He cocks his head a bit to the side and looks at the wall, looking like he’s thinking deeply before speaking. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.” 

He looks back at you, leaning back against the desk and propping his legs up on the back of the chair. 

“We will probably move on from strangers eventually, we do have to spend time together. I’d prefer to at least have a little familiarity with an unknown man as a young woman, so I’d appreciate it if you toned down the asshole behavior in the near future to make this at least a little more bearable,” you say sternly.

“Well we will have to just see where it goes.” He twists the gold chain around his fingers, his eyelids just laying a little lower than they were before. 

“Or you’ll just have to get used to it.”

<< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >>

Masterlist

[violetsareblue-selfships]

First Kisses

F/O: Vi (mentions of Caitlyn) | Word Count: 1131 | Warnings/Tags: Drinking/alcohol mention, ask to tag | Masterlist for this ship // woo this fic - technically i could wait until tomorrow to share it but i'm too excited lol :3 anyways the title gives away what this is hehe - hope you enjoy it!! <3

The music is loud enough to make her dizzy, and the bass thumps like a heartbeat, one that reverberates through her whole body. April clutches her drink tightly, occasionally sipping at it. She's stopped wincing at the burn of alcohol down her throat, though it's different from the wine and champagne she's used to.

It's sweet, though, which is really all it has going for it. Plus, the buzz settling into her mind eliminates the ache constantly in her body.

She misses Caitlyn. Badly.

They both do.

It's pervasive. Every time one of them accidentally mentions her, it's like dark clouds have rolled over, drowning the good mood of whatever conversation they'd been having.

Speaking of Vi, she can see her from her spot on the edge of the room. Vi's in the middle of the dancefloor. She moves much like she fights, with a grace one wouldn't expect from someone who thinks with her fists.

It's hypnotizing to watch.

The longer she watches, the more April wants to join her. So she glugs the rest of her drink, not managing to stifle the wince this time as the drink burns down her throat, her mind going a little fuzzier with it. She barely has the mind to set the glass down before she's slipping into the throng of people, her eyes set on Vi.

She instinctively wraps her arms around Vi from behind once she gets close. Vi's body stiffens under her hands, only relaxing when April coos her name into her ear. It's not lost on her the way the taller girl shivers at it as well.

"Sunshine, do you always sneak up on people?" Vi teases, making April giggle. Vi turns around, wrapping her arms around April.

The touch isn't anything new, but it still makes April's heart flutter. They've grown closer these past few months, cuddling nearly every night. Something about Vi makes her nervous, the same kind of nerves she felt when she started dating Caitlyn.

They start dancing together, April following Vi's lead. This is nothing like the galas she's used to, and the dancing's much different. She's had basic ballroom lessons before (so that she wouldn't embarrass Caitlyn), but nothing like this.

As time passes, the alcohol in her system pushes her past tipsy, and she leans more and more on Vi. It doesn't seem to bother her. Her arm tightens around April's waist, nearly lifting her off her feet.

April's hands grip her biceps in response, her eyes raising to Vi's. They pierce through her, almost seeming brighter with the backdrop of black hair, black eyeshadow, black lipstick… Her eyes barely flick down to Vi's lips, and her heart stutters.

Vi's eyes are a little unfocused when hers meet them again, and the pet name that falls from her lips in a questioning tone isn't April's. Vi leans a little closer, causing her pulse to rush in her ears, her eyes instinctively falling shut.

Warmth brushes over her lips. "S-sunshine…" It seems she's realized that it's not Cait. April can't blame her for seeing Cait in the first place -- long dark hair, terrible lighting, plus she's definitely drunker than April is. Hell, April sees shadows of Cait when she gets drunk enough.

Despite the realization, Vi's lips return to hers, kissing her hungrily. April indulges her long enough for the song to change, growing addicted to the taste of Vi on her tongue. Though, she bets it would be better without the alcohol mixed in.

Slowly her senses return to her, and she pulls back, nearly kissing her again when Vi whines. "Vi, you're drunk," She protests. Sure, her head's swimming but she's not at the level Vi is.

"Yeah? And I've wanted to kiss you for weeks…" Vi murmurs, nosing at her ear. If Vi weren't supporting her weight fully, her knees would've weakened.

Her words almost have April giving in. She's wanted to kiss Vi for longer than that, but she kissed her first thinking she was Cait… "No, Vi. If you still want to in the morning, then sure." She closes her eyes the second Vi starts giving her those puppy eyes that should be illegal.

"Ugh, fine…" Vi whines. April doesn't have to look at her to know she's pouting. "Will you still cuddle me when we go back?"

"Sure."

-----

The next morning finds them intertwined again. Vi groans as she wakes up, the light filling the one room they've been staying in making her head pound. She buries her head into April's hair, memories of the previous night slowly returning to her.

Her eyes widen as she remembers the kiss. She hadn't lied that she's wanted to kiss April for weeks (hell, maybe even longer than that), but it's unfair to her that she saw Cait in her for that first kiss.

That's not how she would've wanted their first kiss to go -- all drunken and messy and passionate…

She stays stuck in her thoughts long enough that she feels April stir in her arms. "Vi?" April murmurs sleepily. Those pretty hazel eyes peek up at her, gripping her heart and filling her with the same urge she had last night.

Vi's fingers gently brush along her cheeks, lifting it to face hers. "G'morning, sunshine…" She murmurs. "About last night…"

"I know," April murmurs, her eyes sparkling a little. "You called me cupcake, Vi."

"Shit, I'm sorry…" Vi winces. She can't imagine how April's feeling right now, being mistaken for the one girl they both miss (and yet are frustrated with given the Kiramman banners littering the Undercity once martial law was declared).

"Don't. Just… do you regret it?" April asks, and the way her voice goes small strikes Vi's heart.

"No. I could never regret kissing you, sunshine. Just… you deserved so much better for our first…" Vi murmurs.

"Then kiss me again. Make it up to me."

Vi's eyes widen and a grin spreads across her face. "Gladly."

This time, her lips press softly to April's. Her hand slides to the back of her head, holding her close as she gently kisses April. She gently nips at her bottom lip she pulls away. Damn. April's so pretty when she blushes like that…

"Did that make it up to you?" Vi murmurs, feeling so damn warm as April laughs softly.

"Mm, I dunno… Maybe you'll have to keep kissing me until I decide it's enough."

Vi laughs as well, settling in on top of her. "You drive a hard bargain, sunshine…" Yet she connects their lips again and again and again.

And for a moment, it's like Caitlyn doesn't exist to either of them. All they can focus on are the budding feelings between them and the warmth of each other's lips.

It's perfect.

[thelyingjoke]

having loadssssss of gonta and kokichi thoughts now...obsessed with them The Besties Ever.........

it gets me because their friendship is both about trusting Each Other. and trusting Themselves. like. in those summer camp interactions. it’s gonta repeatedly putting his trust into kokichi. because that’s his Friend. everybody else says that he shouldn’t. kokichi says that he shouldn’t. but gonta trusts him anyway. not because kokichi is tricking him. but because he’s using his own judgment. instead of following what others say about kokichi and what kokichi says about himself he instead looks at him from his own point of view…and comes to his own conclusion to trust him. and i think that is So Sweet. gonta’s a Lot more intelligent than he gives himself credit for!!! his own conclusion—that kokichi ends up always doing something to make people laugh—is accurate!! he can read him well! that’s where the trusting Himself part comes in. because he’s so convinced that he isn’t smart. that other people inherently know better than him. and yet, even when everyone tells him kokichi’s just trouble—he makes his own decision. he has faith in himself to put faith in kokichi. he is confident in this, which i think is so very important for him

they both kinda see something in each other that the others don’t!!! gonta seeing into kokichi’s better intentions where other people wouldn’t, trusting him despite everyone’s insistence that he isn’t trustworthy, including from kokichi himself. kokichi realizing gonta’s intelligence in a way that others don’t, despite others’ and gonta’s own dismissiveness towards that.

like…aughhhh i have so many thoughts but they aren’t entirely coming out into words correctly. kokichi doesn’t think he deserves a friend like gonta, if the utdp graduation event didn’t make that clear. he almost can’t believe someone could like him as genuinely as gonta does, to the point of accusing gonta of lying about being sad to see kokichi gone. and then in summer camp he keeps saying how gonta trusting him worries him. for kokichi it’s about learning to have faith in someone else to know when they want to hold faith in him. about having faith in himself to trust someone else. If that makes sense.

and then in the main game. It’s So Painful. because everything falls apart for them when they don’t have that. gonta had known what the motive video plan was and had agreed to it. but kokichi’s paranoia got the best of him, which led to gonta’s lack of belief in himself getting the best of him, and they didn’t work together again until chapter 4 at which point both of these issues had gotten Worse.

because the whole thing started with gonta now being so caught up in the need to protect everyone else and the belief that that’s all he’s good for. he goes with everyone’s distrust of kokichi and that’s exactly what kokichi uses to get him to do what he wants. while later kokichi becomes distrustful of gonta because during the trial, it seems like gonta is lying, and lying very well. I hope that i explained this in a way that makes sense my brain is foggy right now and i can’t seem to get the Exact Right words out

i just think they’re neat…i loveeeee the existence of the official non-despair AUs because they’re really cool insight. these two could be So Friends. basically i think they’re like this image:

[dreamtydraw]

Entering depressed dreamty wave era of the month, I’ll excuse myself for being moody, I randomly feel like crying on the floor.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Shepard & Kaidan Alenko (ME1) 1/?

MIRA'S MORE CANON ME1 "After everything that happened with Zaeed, Caleston, and the Villa? I think need to tell you a few things about BAaT." "Well, after everything that happened with Zaeed, Caleston, and the Villa? I think I might owe you an explanation about how I really know Anderson." AKA: Zaeed Massani and the case of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad message ping. :) Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[unma]

@notwowee requested: Mettaton

There is so much to say about this robot but let me start off with my initial thoughts on him.

For like, a good good while I wasn't sure what Mettaton's gender was? In all fairness I was raised in a hella conservative country and Undertale was the first piece of media I'd ever interacted with that even depicted queer people, so for a bit I assumed the pink meant he was probably female. That wasn't helped when I discovered that Mettaton was Blooky's cousin with the locked pink house.

Luckily for me he was discussed enough that I eventually realized my mistake before I ever had to admit it. That would have been emabrassing.

Anyway I absolutely adored this robot and his style, his quizzes were cool and he had the most charming attitude that made me smile whenever he was there (not to mention the quizzes were funny, too). Don't get me started on the musical. Or when he hits you with the puzzle you've almost certainly forgotten the rules for. Hotland is very well done, even if some people dislike having to deal with Alphys's messages there (personally I thought those were neat).

Despite all this I have to admit that I initially thought he was a lot more shallow than expected. I didn't realize he was the type of person to actually care about his love ones, and I probably would've believed anyone who told me he treated Alphys like shit (okay maybe I'd have been a little skeptical, but you get the point).

Nowadays, I'm honestly pretty fond of his relationship with Alphys, as he's probably the one person she relied on the most during her various fuck ups. Also, his... his worries about Alphys in the ending where he becomes king... ah, that still makes me tear up a little. You can tell he cares and regrets not being a better friend to her.

This is only partly related but I dislike Papyton. For no reason, really, I just don't like it, and I disliked having to see it so often (until I learnt filters existed, anyway). I couldn't tell you why; the ship's perfectly fine. Yet if I see a fic with it I click out. Oh well, maybe I'll get over it one day.

I could totally see a world in which I become as attached to Mettaton as I am to Cagliostro from GBF. I'm not trans by any stretch (perhaps I'm non-binary, given I don't actually care much about my own gender in the slightest, but for now I'll stick with cis+ until I actually feel like I should consider it more) but I do have admiration for characters like them who strive to be their best selves in terms of appearance and are absolutely confident in it. I suppose if I was born a girl, I'd be more attached to Mettaton than Cagliostro, but eh. Who knows.

Mettaton's importance (or rather, lack of) in the genocide run is saddening, though I have come to terms with it because in terms of the game's writing it's a pretty damn good decision. I do love that he got fangames giving him an actual battle though, it's lovely to see him actually get that chance to fight back.

I feel the need to restate once more that I adore his relationship with Alphys, and seeing works explore that relationship is always great. I think Mettaton is one of the least fan-explored of the game's main cast, so it'd be wonderful to see more works. It's a shame I'm too busy thinking about Sans, Frisk and Chara to do that myself, though.

One more thing: Until I wrote this post, I always wondered why Mettaton didn't just fight the human in his indestructible body instead, especially in the genocide route. I mean, it's obviously because his other forms are the ones actually designed for human eradication, of course, but I also like to think it's because he likes those forms a lot more than his box form, as he sees them as a proper expression of who he truly is. I just think that's neat. Sure, he's indestructible when stuck in the closet, hiding who he truly is, but it's restricting, and wouldn't you prefer to simply be you? Even if it could mean you could get hurt? I think that question is somewhat inseparable from Mettaton's character as a whole, as his overly confident and theatrical personality could perhaps be one answer to that. It's fine if you get hurt a little, because in the end you'll be much happier for it.

[izzy-b-hands]

If I don't find a new job before September, it's gonna be 9 straight weeks of polls starting in September, every weekend of September and October (including the weekend of Housemate's bday, and the weekend leading up to Election Day)

In addition, no cancels or sick days will be allowed for that period of time. Any cancels or sick call outs will result in disciplinary actions up to a fast tracked firing (to be fair they didn't say this exactly, but the Implication in this part of the email is quite strong lmao.)

Anyone wanna hire me on to do literally anything? Dig holes? Clean your house? Shine your shoes? Feed your cat/dog/fish/cow/etc? Stare at a pot of boiling water for your dinner? Paint your living room then stand there and watch the paint dry then repaint it a different colour and watch it dry again? Anything at all, anything you want, anything-

[seven-thewanderer]

just thought of something so random:

Technically y’all don’t gonna answer, I was just curious :3

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again. 

[kurooh]

MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, & suna rintarou tryin’ to knock up their pretty wife !

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, cuddlefucking, doggy, talk of kids & pregnancy, fluff, creampies, shower sex, minor cockwarming, squirting, full nelson, mirror sex, mention of lactation, mating press, cum in panties (offscreen), not proofread.

xoxo, juno ★ my namesake?! hehe, cheers to the surviving haikyuu fuckers on my blog <33 ty for your patience!! as always, send in some asks/reblog if you enjoyed, i love reading comments/tags

— MIYA ATSUMU

“go ahead ‘n slut yerself out all over my cock, baby.. fuuuck, jus’ like that.”

atsumu’s lips part around a needy moan, jaw hanging slackly in some kind of disbelief. after such a lengthy, tiring day, he found himself trudging into your shared bathroom to greet you.

he’d gotten hard in seconds, seeing your tits pressed against the glass door as well as your face, lidded eyes and cute pout enticing him to come join you. when he got onto his knees to get you ready, you’d bent over and tossed him a knowing smirk over your shoulder.

“lemme see that ass move again.. shit, ‘s perfect. yer perfect.” you giggle, throwing your ass back onto his cock, eyes rolling back when his tip kisses your cervix just right, sending sparks of pleasure right through your veins.

“tsumu, this isn’t all that fun,” you huff, the wild need for him to truly ruin you growing by the second. “wan’ you to fuck me, and make me yours.”

“baby, yer already mine,” atsumu lands a slap on your wet asscheek, startling you enough for your legs to spread further. “good girl,” he praises, hushed and under his breath. he reaches upwards and pulls the shower head down, pushes it into your hand and changes the setting.

“use this on yer clit, ‘kay? when yer feelin’ like ya wanna cum, don’t. hold it ‘n we’ll cum at the same time, yeah baby?”

you nod, and he smacks your ass hard, leaning backwards. atsumu pushes a hand through soaked gold strands, chuckling lowly although his voice has a serious edge to it. “‘s not how we say yes, is it?”

“y-yes, tsumu. at the same time.”

he draws his hips back, then finds himself advancing forward brutally. he doesn’t think about anything beside you — you, you, you. with the scent of your body wash tangling in the hot air, the beautiful curves and slopes of your body, the noises you make for him only.

your chest heaves when the steady spray of the shower head soon reaches your clit, immediately proving to be overwhelming and intense paired with him fucking you.

“so god damn tight,” atsumu hisses, nails digging crescent moons into the plush skin of your hips as his own collide with your ass. the bathroom is full of steam and the rhythmic clap of skin against skin — it’s hard to keep from trembling with how good everything feels, all over.

frantic panting cuts through the sound of your whimpers as atsumu feels himself nearing his peak. it’s nasty, downright filthy, the way your nails drag down the wall tiles as you desperately hump your ass back into him.

gasps of your name and affectionate nicknames fall from his lips like a sacred prayer, blending into a whiny harmony as atsumu’s thrusts grow rougher.

“baby,” he chokes, voice tight. “ya better be close, can barely last.”

“tsumu, cum inside me,” you beg, skin burning and pussy squeezing uncontrollably, squelching growing louder. “p-please, i can’t— i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” your body tenses, and the shower head falls to the floor with a clunk that neither of you register.

luckily atsumu looks down at the right moment, sees you squirt, pussy gushing onto his pelvis. as if your back arching and your clenching pussy wasn’t enough, he ends up cumming too hard, ribbons of white gushing deep into your awaiting pussy.

“fuckkk,” he groans, overstimulation setting in way too quickly and causing him to pull halfway out of your fluttering cunt.

“no, tsumu,” is all you can heave out, pushing back hard enough to send him into the wall behind him, muscled back hitting the tiles as he lets out a startled oomph. “wanna keep it inside, feels so good.”

— MIYA OSAMU

“samu,” you mumble into his lips, tossing a leg over his hip. he grunts, nose nudging your cheek as he pulls back. “yeah? what’s on yer mind, angel?”

“had a dream about a baby,” the words are spoken softly, and osamu’s fingers lightly graze your chin as he makes you look up at him. “i know it’s kinda stupid, but it was so..” your voice trails off sheepishly and there’s a pause before you admit, “you were such a good dad, samu, ‘n so sexy too.”

your bare bodies are bathed in the morning sunlight, warm and comforting as it peeks in through the curtains. this is the perfect moment with him, skin to skin, his cock still inside you as you kiss and talk about dreams of the future.

in his chest, feelings stir and ideas come to life in his head; osamu presses his hips forward with a hushed moan.

“well, i’ll give ya a baby, angel,” large hands smooth over your hips as he helps you turn away from him; then they pull you close, grabbing at your tits and tugging your nipples between his fingers.

“samu,” you sigh, words fading into a content moan as you feel his hips draw back, then advance forward, against your ass. “i want you to fill me up, give me everything.”

“only if ya take it all,” osamu huffs, tucking his face into your shoulder and closing his eyes as he starts to fuck his cock into you deeply. the thick tip kisses your sweet spot over and over, and if that wasn’t already overwhelming enough, your hand wanders towards your swollen clit.

somehow, osamu’s faster than you, releasing one of your tits and swatting away your hand before he’s finding your clit with his index finger and rubbing it in messy circles.

“s-samu, fuck— jus’ like that, don’t stop!”

your back arches against him, hips twisting as a heat spreads through your veins, fiery and intense in the best ways possible. the movement of your body and then the frantic clenching of your pussy is too intense for him; sharp whines escape his throat, muffled as osamu bites into your shoulder desperately.

“i-i— shit, ‘m gonna fill you up,” is all you can make out from his rushed mumbling, and you turn your head quickly, desperate for his lips.

“kiss me, samu. kiss me as you cum inside, please.”

it’s as though the words break him — his face twists as he kisses you, whole body tensing. he presses his cock deep, thickening and throbbing before he’s gushing cum and can’t seem to stop.

“ah, fuck,” he tosses his head back, fingers scrabbling at your nipples as his chest heaves against your back, heart pounding steadily.

you cum with a whine, grinding down on his cock in an effort to get him impossibly deeper. as you ride out your highs together, trembling deliciously, he can’t help but dissolve into giggles of pure happiness.

“angel, ya got that baby for sure, jus’ like ya wanted, hm? ah, i can’t wait for a mini-me or a mini-ya. yer gonna be the prettiest mom, swear.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ

“fuck, babe. you’ve got no idea about what i saw today,” tetsurō huffs, warm breath fanning over your tits as they bounce, controlled by your bra.

spices clatter as tetsurō sweeps his arm across the kitchen counter behind you, clearing the space so you can lean back a little easier. his grip on your thighs doesn’t waver, nor does the ruthless tempo of his hips.

“tetsu, what’d you see?” you gasp, tears threatening to pour over your waterline.

“well, i saw this family,” he grunts, thrusting into you particularly hard now that he’s recalling the memory. “the dad had their kid on his shoulders, and the mom was pregnant. they looked so happy, and it made me think of you.”

“is that so?” you ask, spreading your legs impossibly wider as an invitation. you bite your lower lip, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get his cock deeper.

“tetsu,” he raises his eyes from the mess between your legs to your face, earnest and flushed. “kiss me, baby.”

tetsurō obliges, lets you tug him forward by the chin, mesh his lips with yours. it’s warm and sweet, the aftertaste of the dessert you’d been making as his surprise for when he’d come home. your tongue slips between plush, parted lips and moves with his gently, quite a contrast from the rough way he’s fucking you.

“ah, shit,” he moans, struggling to kiss you back when he feels your sticky walls clenching down on his too sensitive cock.

tetsurō leans forward and buries his flushed face in your shoulder, kissing the tender skin a few times before nipping it and then finally biting down into your shoulder.

he practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into muscle as you push him forward. in a hushed tone and into his ear, you say sweetly, “tetsu, fuck a baby into me.”

“oh, i fucking will, princess.”

although, despite his rough words, he’s wheezing and whining every now and then into your shoulder, hoping it muffles his sounds.

your hand slides up his neck and tangles into dark tufts of hair, pulling tight as your own orgasm approaches. your pleasure mixes with his own, and just before the knot in your belly snaps, you feel a strong pulsing deep within your pussy.

he groans loudly, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. your nails dig hard into his scalp and the sting of pain only seems to make him get a little more vocal.

tetsurō pants into your neck, trying to find his bearings now that his limbs feel like jelly.

“hold me?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“h-haji, this was a good call..”

“oh yeah?” hajime’s voice rumbles in his chest, strong and steady against your back as he keeps your legs wide open. “have we ever tried this one?”

“i don’t think so, but we definitely will in the future.”

“feels that good, princess?” hajime chuckles, eyeing your reflections in the mirror mounted across the bed. for a moment, he considers the two of you puzzle pieces — he sees that his cock fits snugly inside you, and the thought that you may be made for each other briefly crosses his mind.

“of course it does,” a sheen of sweat glimmers on your face, skin glowing beautifully in the mirror. “god, hajime, y-you’re so deep..”

he notices your eyes falling shut, head tipping back, and he raises his hand to lightly smack your cheek. “mm, princess, gotta keep watching. i want you to see yourself cum, alright?”

“fine,” you huff, feet dangling in the air and bouncing every which way as he fucks into you, heavy balls smacking your pussy with each stroke.

“what made you wanna try this?” you ask, knowing you should save the question for later, but you’re too curious not to ask. why would your husband come home someday and randomly want to try a new position you’d never heard of?

“well, you know..” in the mirror, you catch the flush on his tanned cheeks. “we’ve both caught the fever recently, and this is a solid position for makin’ babies.”

you gasp sharply when hajime turns his hips ever so slightly, and the resulting sensation causes pressure to build in your pelvis. “shit— right there, haji, just like that..”

he grunts, body stiffening as he tightly holds you in place and fucks into you like it’s the last time you’ll ever be like this together.

“wanna get you pregnant,” hajime groans, abs flexing with the effort of maintaining his merciless pace, “i wanna—shit—wanna breed you.”

“you want it that bad?” you breathe, just barely keeping your eyes open and focusing on your bouncing reflection. “fuck me full, then, haji.”

hajime doesn’t question it, thinks of you with a swollen belly and milky tits all for him to hold and take care of. you, with your glowing skin and beautiful body from all the pregnancy hormones.

the idea of it all is too much to bear, not to mention cumming deep inside your cunt, this time with the intent to breed.

he can’t even muster the words to warn you that he’s cumming as hard as he is; after a choked, tight groan, he falls silent and rocks his hips into you.

“fuck it deep, haji,” you whisper, on the edge yourself. obedient and too far gone in his fantasy, he does exactly what you ask, whining very quietly from the sensitivity.

shaking on top of him and watching the reflections in the mirror, you cum hard, dissolving into unmatched pleasure. and you’re thankful you keep your eyes open, moaning at the very sight— hajime doesn’t even pull out, he’s still pushing his cock in and out of you, but cum races from your cunt in thick white rivulets.

“i’m trying,” he huffs, sensitive when he glances up and notices how intently you’re watching the mirror. his cheeks flush lightly when you both notice that most of his cum ends up dripping down his balls and out of you.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll cum however many times it takes, sound good?”

— SUNA RINTAROU

“you want a few brats? oh, i just felt your pussy squeeze up. ‘s what you want, huh?” rintarou bites, harshness of his thrusts drawing whimper after whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

“i want it, rin,” you feel one of his palms smoothing over the plushness of your lower stomach, just above your pelvis. “w-what’re you doing?”

he laughs at your stutter, keeps your legs steady over his shoulders. rintarou draws his hips back, leaving just his tip inside your quivering pussy. then, he presses down on your lower stomach and slides in, adding more pressure with each inch.

“rintarou!” you wheeze, jerking your hips to the side in a pathetic attempt to run away from the overwhelming pleasure he gives you with every movement, big or small.

“nuh uh, pretty girl,” his free hand grabs ahold of you tightly, tugs you towards him and then settles to rest on your neck. rintarou’s fingers are loose on each side of your throat, hand placed there in a demonstration of control. but what’s the point of that, when he’s already made it clear by hoisting your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half?

“you’ll take it, all of it.”

“but ‘m sensitive, i’ve cum too many times,” you can’t even recall a number or remember how long he’s been fucking you like this.

you’re both sticky with sweat, your thighs stained white with dried cum from previous rounds and marked with love bites he’d given you in his excitement to get a taste of your pussy.

it’s so fucking messy because rintarou’s the one who can’t stop asking to eat you out and push the cum back inside; you always say yes, then cum until you’re dizzy and can’t see straight.

you taste yourself from earlier on the corners of his lips when he bends forward and gives you a chaste kiss. “l-last time, okay? i’ll give you your brats, pretty girl.”

the sweet pout on your lips that’s quickly replaced with something else and wail of his name that leaves you when he starts jackhammering your pussy turns him on to the max.

incoherent babbling of what he’ll give you and how good you feel blend together, and before you can fully register it, rintarou’s folding forward with a deep groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard, i—”

he shuts up and gives you a few more thrusts before he’s pushing deep and cumming — he’s not done when he pulls out and covers your pussy in cum.

“r-rin, keep it inside,” you whine sadly, watching as he collects it on his tip and then plunges it back inside.

“jus’ needed some extra lube,” he says coolly, but he really just wants to cum all over you. “how’s it feel inside, pretty baby?”

“like i need some more.”

rintarou laughs at the way you turn away, cheeks hot in embarrassment because you were the one who wanted a break. “we are going out later, hm?”

your nod makes him smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “how about i cum in your panties and you walk around with ‘em?”

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[spacedoutwitch]

Day 3! The first one actually drawn on the right day...! The prompts were Marrow and Feral, and in the spirit of their source material, we're being flexible about the definition of "dragon".