#like did you even watch the show? are there any brain cells in there?

[broodpuff]

everyone with a working brain cell recognizes that catra isn’t an irredeemable kitty. cry about it.

how spop should have dealt with catra

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

��You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

While gazing down at you, his ringed finger drifted down your chest and along the seam of your blazer. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[kiyzukiy]

Cat distribution system

Sypnosis: Caleb? A cat. You? None the wiser, but you have a stinky cat now so how about give him a bath? Nothing could go wrong, right?

Tags: CalebxReader, fun, Cat!Caleb, reader is not MC, self-aware!Caleb?, Caleb in our world

A/N: And I'm back again! This one is a bit shorter than the starter, but I hope you still like it. As usual cat shenanigans. That's it. I've also implemented a taglist now, so anyone who wants to get peeping hot updates hit me up! :3

Word count: 3,9k

<<previous || next >>

divider by me

Lost in your thoughts if you really should name a cat that you probably have to give away again, you didn’t notice the squirming cat on your thighs. Was it a wise choice? Probably not. If you gave it a silly name was it easier to give it away again? Like the ones they give the animals in a shelter. Dave, the magical cheese wizard or something. You also thought about giving it a meaningful name like “hope” or something along the lines. 

You only got disrupted by your sense of smell. Jesus Christ, was that you? No. You were forgetting something very important here, you were sure of it. Raising up your arms so you could smell your clothes, you wanted to facepalm yourself the very next second. The cat. Where did you find it? That's right. In a dumpster. Oh your fucking god. 

Amused about your own stupidity you shook your head. You really were tired and your mind was barely even in survival mode. 

A tinge of guilt and shame hit your system. So immersed in yourself, you totally forgot that you picked up a cat on your way home and just did what you usually did. Playing Love and Deepspace for an hour and then making food as soon as motivation found your body again. It was a simple way to unwind. Clearing your head in a way and let you focus again as soon as your little me time was over. The true dangers of a routine, and what didn’t help your already offline mind was that cat quickly made your space to its new home. It surprised you that cat didn’t dive head first for a spot to hide after your small walk. You thoroughly expected that reaction as it was the default for any animal. Hide, checking out the stranger, gauging the threat and then maybe trying to form a relationship. 

Not your friendly buddy of a cat right here though. Would you have any brain cells left to use critical thinking, you also would wonder about the high intelligence the cat a moment prior showed. How knowingly it moved it’s paws to go to “falling for you”, watching what it saw as if it understood the scene that played. 

Once more ripped the stench you out of your thoughts. Cat however didn't seem to be bothered to be covered in grime and everything a street had to offer. Its fur caked together and a smell emitting you wished you could just dose it in a febreze bottle. 

“Alright. No name for you yet, buddy. First a bath”, you said and scooped the cat up. 

This time around the cat was not happy to be picked up. As soon as it wasn't on your legs anymore and near the tablet, cat began to yell and squirm in your arms like the devil was after it. 

“I know, I know. Cat’s can bathe themselves and get clean but this is only once. I promise”, tried to soothe it and held it a bit tighter. 

Cat didn't want to listen to you, it seemed like. Was it this against getting cleaned? Well, you did know cats usually didn't like water and maybe something bad happened to this cat with it. Rain and no shelter would be enough to avoid any kind of water, you think. Just for being in the safe, you closed the bathroom door behind you. No escape until this cat didn't smell like a drunk puked on it. 

________ 

First up? A good call from you to take a bath. He did feel disgusting. Slowly the sensation of sticky dirt and grime spread all over his body, and he too couldn't stand the smell anymore. What even was in that dumpster? Couldn’t he have woken up in a recycling bin rather than in a trash dumpster with whatever that was inside? 

Would he make it easy for you though? Hell no, he wanted answers and for you to figure out that the character you tried to gain affinity for and he was one and the same. That is what is most important here, right now. 

As soon as you scooped him up, he started to complain. Ranging from a simple “let me down, I can walk” over a few demands and maybe one insult but he would rather die than admit that. The next thing he heard was you trying to convince him that it wasn’t even that bad and he knew. Caleb knew it wasn’t that bad, that it was necessary even but he was stressed. Confused. Angry and frustrated. Agitated and for once in his life, he didn’t know what was going on. Back at the experiments as a child, even then, he had a sliver of understanding as to why certain things happened. This shit right here? No clue. A mission, blackout and boom: Cat. If he ever would be honest with himself? He wanted to cry. It was all too much, all too overwhelming. He just got it all back. MC found him again, they slowly were in the making of a new relationship and now this? He almost had it all back. 

The ash brown cat heard a lock falling into place. Oh no. His eyes and thoughts focusing back to reality that was about to unfurl. No, wait. Bathing? Him? You? You were going to bathe him? The realisation hit him like a freight train. He begged your finest pardon? No. The answer was no. Yes, it was necessary but he could do it on his own. No help needed. He was not a cat. He was. Not. A. Cat! No matter that he sported paws right now. He could make it work. He was a man and last time he checked, he was neither a child nor were you his mother that could warrant this treatment! 

You placed him on the ground again. Cold tiles beneath his paws and he had to watch you what could only be described as his personal doom: adjusting water. 

Ey! Leave! He can shower on his own! Ears flattening against his skull, he let out a growl. 

“Alright mister, no need to hiss at me. It's not my fault you ended up like that”, you said absentmindedly with a little laughter in your voice. You weren't even looking in his direction. But, oh a smile on your pretty lips. 

Caleb, in the back of his mind, did understand that you were doing your best as a person caring for a new found pet. If he would just take a deep breath and do what he usually did, that was seeing his opponent out of their eyes, he wouldn’t act this way but emotions were clouding his judgement so he did what he never did: letting them roll. Enraged at your unfitting response, he ended up nipping you in the heel.

“Ow! What the fuck? What was that for?”, with a look full of judgement you looked down at him. “I’m helping you here, you know?”

Serves you right, he meowed and huffed. 

“Not so friendly anymore, huh?”, you chuckled and shook your head in amusement. In the back of his field of vision he saw you turning the water off. Clearly satisfied with the temperature. 

Bold of you to assume that I’m friendly to begin with, he hissed. Not that he expected you to understand that. 

You now fully turned to him and got on your haunches. A hand slowly crept towards him. Inching closer to brush once more over his fur. Soothing, calming, trying to convince him.

“You really need a bath though, so don’t make this difficult for the both of us, yeah?”, you said and looked at him with a pleading look. 

Oh, game on. He will make you regret this. For picking him up on end, like he was some kind of plushie and not having a telepathic evol. Not that any of that was your fault. Was he petty? Childish? Probably, but he was frustrated and with no one but you to vent it on, this was almost too easy. 

Caleb let out a huff. Fed up with you touching him without asking and the height difference that made his neck harden. No wonder you didn’t take him seriously that much. Who would when a smudgy little being that only could hiss and meow showed an act of defiance that was born out of pure spite?

With a flittering look he spotted the next best thing to remedy this temporary issue. In quick succession he was on the bathroom sink and sat down. Now he was looking down on your hunched over form. Your move now.

“Oho? Is this how you wanna play?”, you said as you got up from your position on the bathroom tiles. “Buddy, if you don't go on your own I have no issues to grab you by the scruff and hold you beneath the water. A good little water boarding session would do your new found attitude some good.”

You tried to sound earnest but he saw the mirth in your eyes and the mischievous smirk building on your lips. Still, he kept sitting. Buddy, as if. You were all bark and no bite.

“Have it your way then”, your hand darted out. 

Nah, you wouldn't dare. 

Ey! No! 

He dashed away and just barely missed your hand that was straight going forthe back of his neck.

His escape route was right into the shower bed. Urgh, now his feet were wet. It felt more like stepping into water with socks on. This sensation did not spark joy. One dip and the next jump was right out of the shower again, a few hurried pitter patter taps and onto the toilet seat.

“Mister! Get back here!”

Nuh uh! You are crazy! Don't dare to remind him that he actually went with you to get clean. This objective clearly missing in his mind as he was hellbend of avoiding your hand that was rather good in trying to catch him. Making him work up a sweat. Just barely did he dodge your hand once more that reached for him and onto the sink shelf he went. If he could stick out his tongue, he would. Actually? Why not, he did stick out his tongue at you. 

“Oh you think you are so smart, mister fancy pants”, you said, slightly out of breath. “Just you wait.”

Try me, he meowed, his playful character seeping through. Like a predator lying in wait, you assessed if he would move again. He did the very same. A silent stand-off ensued. Who would move first? Could he hide somewhere? Would you reach out obviously again? 

In his moment of distraction he saw your hand too late out of the corner of his eye and the next thing he felt was your hand steadfast on his scruff. 

“Aha!”, you celebrated triumphant. “Got you!”

Ah, well fought. He yields, but only because it wasn’t worth it to prolong the inevitable further. Your blinding smile to your victory and cute giggle in your voice, might have helped him as well. Caleb came to terms with the fact that you would help him take his first shower in this body. The ash brown cat also had to admit that it was funny to play catch it with you. It took his mind away from the disconnecting mess of information that he still needs to process. For a bit he was just himself again.

Cautiously you put your hand on his hind legs and picked him up. Steady grip that was strong enough so he couldn’t struggle but not enough to hurt. You set him down in the shower and he almost immediately jumped out again. The feeling of wet socks shoots up in him once more and for a split second he wanted to dip. Nah, fuck this. 

“No. Stay”, you said with a stern voice and pressed his ass down in the shower. Ouh! Even worse! That’s like sitting down on a bench you didn’t know was wet. 

I can stand!, he complained. Your grip not loosing up in return. 

“Yes, yes. Water. I know. You got this.”

He definitely didn’t. Caleb's body was screaming at him to move and get rid of these sensations. You try to be a cat and he would force you to go through with this. You can bet your fine ass that he wouldn’t be so nice about it though. 

He sighed. Maybe he should be a bit more kinder to you. Disregarding the conflict in his mind that, yes. He could, should and it probably would make this all easier. On the other side, why? You are a stranger. Basically kidnapped him (no, he wouldn't elaborate that he coaxed you into taking him with you) and made threats to harm him. A stranger he would leave behind as soon as he got his answers and could go back to his universe.

The ash brown cat heard the water turning up again. The hand on his neck never leaving. Merciful you faced the spray away from him. He half expected a full on face splash for his little stunt he just pulled and you following through with your promise you made earlier. 

“Just how did you end up this way?”, you mused to yourself more than him. Honey, if only he knew. The meaning in more ways than one. 

The water gently sprayed his paws first and then his whole body. The light flow of the water was like a breath of fresh air. Calming and soothing, it washed away the sood and dirt in his otherwise pristine fur. As well as in his mind. Back to logically and rationally thinking about his situation.

All he could do was meow at you to make you see that he listened.

“Yeah, not helping much buddy. I don't understand cat”, you giggled and put a bit of shampoo in your hands. 

Again this buddy. For crying out loud, stop calling him that. He was not your friend nor a good acquaintance you could call that! 

In retaliation he bit your hand that was about to lather him up in soap. Immediate regret greeted his taste buds and you just laughed harder. 

“Suits you right. Bite me one more time, mister”, you grinned as you quickly went through his fur and got the sticky dirt out. Carefully and with a lot of probing, squeezing together and combing your finger through his fur you managed to make it smooth again. The flooring of the shower started to get coloured in a disgusting brown and grey. Small pebbles falling off of him. 

All through it, Caleb stood still. His body relaxing, him just letting you do what you have to do. The feeling of wet clothes leaving as soon as the water hit his skin and god damn, you were good at massages. He didn't realise how beaten up his body was and stiff in some places. This was heaven. 

Out of his control, he began to purr. 

“That's the good shit, huh?”, you said in a hushed voice, your hands still getting out knots without making it hurt.

Caleb nodded to your statement. This was really it. Water hit his body once more, a little bit warmer this time around.

“Alright, mister. One more time and then you are free.” 

Whatever you say, woman. He could just die right now. The ash brown cat wouldn't mind. He was in bliss. Your expert fingers making him forget that he actually still needed a way to tell you who he is and getting answers. 

This time a different shampoo made him bubbly. Slowly he opened his eyes, only to be hit by your hands on either side of his cheeks. Holding his face so tenderly like he was made out of glass. When was the last time he got hold like this? Like he was the most precious thing the earth could grace? 

“Hey there, big guy”, you smiled and slowly rubbed his face with your thumbs. Getting it also cleaned. “You truly have beautiful eyes.” 

Caleb breath got stuck in his throat. Uh…back off? A bit too close for comfort. Hello? Uh? 

A bit flustered he tried to move his head away but you gently turned it back to you.

“No, you need a handsome face too. Come here”, you said and returned back to gently rubbing his cheeks and lathering up his head. 

“Yeah, there you go. Look at you. Such a handsome fella.” 

Just how many compliments have you given him? He was used to having women and men alike salivating after him, but straight out compliments? It made him short circuit. 

Once more water washed over him. This time his face as well. Looking out for his ears and eyes you washed the foam away. The water stopped and a quick kiss was pressed to the crown of his head. What? 

“Wait here, mister”, he somehow registered you say. Was this violation? Assaulting, or did he like it? More confusion entered his brain. Breathing, he should be breathing. 

Moments later he felt the fluffy feeling of a towel upon him. Gently but steady you patted him dry. Sometimes ruffling to get friction into his fur to get more water out. After a while you seemed satisfied with your drying off, so you got up again and he out of the shower. 

Exhaustion tackled away the state of relaxation in him. The stark contrast of the humified, warm air in the shower and now being out of it made his small body shiver. Closing his eyes, he listened for what you are doing. Clinking and a few things got pushed aside, a cupboard opened and closed somewhere to his left. Not much later you were back in front of him. 

“Hm, is someone getting tired?”, you asked in a soft voice and with a hand full of affection stroked along his cheek.

Yeah, you could say that. The experiences, happenings, tumultuous feelings from today finally caught up with him. 

“Come on, buddy. I don’t know how much you like a blow dryer but you need to be properly dry before you get sick”, you explained. 

Mh okay…it made Caleb remember the times he gave the same treatment to MC. He wanted to laugh that he was the receiving end today. No one before even tried to attempt to do it for him. 

With no fight left in him, he let himself get picked up tenderly and placed on the bathroom sink. The whirring of the blow dryer starting soon after. Warm air washed over him, his eyes still closed. Just let him have this moment. This moment of care and tenderness, of not worrying for a bit, carefree maybe. For once not the one doing it all on his own. 

“You are such a handsome balinese cat. The audacity to hide that, hm?”, you said in between. “Now your owners will recognise you.”

Sorry to tell you, princess. There will be no owners but regardless did he appreciate your care. Your help. 

A balinese cat? That’s what he turned into? Interesting. This universe right here had an ironic sense of humor. Balinese cats were usually affectionate and playful. Things Caleb only was with his childhood friend. The only one he truly was close to. 

Your hands left his body and he was dry again. Caleb was now as fluffy as the towel you dried him off with. He could only assume you were putting away the blow dryer. Would he dare to look? Look at himself in this form? Maybe he would wake up then and he could laugh about it with MC, what a fucked up dream he had. 

So he turned to the mirror in front of the sink. An ash brown cat stared back at him. Black ears, whiskers and a black out right arm. The other three paws were also black, as the signature of a balinese cat. In his black face glimmered his own violet eyes he saw countless times before. Shining with the same intensity in lavender hues, strong blue lilac tones and the splatter of gold at the bottom. 

Ah, so it’s real. He is a cat. This is how you saw him. A pretty little kitty with full, soft fur and an even fluffier tail to accompany him with. 

He saw you approach in the mirror and he knew what was coming. He was getting picked up again, right? Okay, let's get it over with.

“Do you recognise yourself in the mirror?”, you wondered out loud. Mh duh, obviously. Caleb watched you stretching your back. A crack sounded through the bathroom and you let out a groan. Yo, you good there?

In these few seconds you sounded and looked a lot older than you were and Caleb blamed the exhaustion you must feel yourself. The spirit you showed earlier in trying to catch him must have drained all your energy you had left and Caleb respected you a bit for that. Fighting for what you assumed your responsibility. He let out a small laugh inwardly. Amused by his own actions and letting you see what normally was reserved for only one person.

“Alright, I leave you alone now, my brave fighter”, you smiled tiredly at him. “Gotta make some food.”

Huh? Okay...then...? Thanks?

Caleb inspected him for a few minutes more. Baffled and astonished with his new body. Would he become human again? Could he become human in this world? Would he only return to normal when he went back? How could he go back? Would you even know? You seemed ordinary. Living a simple life with a small reprieve in a game he was unfortunate to appear in. 

He sighed and patted after you. 

The rest of the evening flew past rather uneventful. Caleb thanked the gods that you didn’t have cat food immediately at home. Otherwise he would have started the next fight. Instead you served him some grinded beef with an egg in it. Raw, might he add but he chose against it to get angry at it. For you he was a cat. For now, he would let you believe it as well. But as soon as tomorrow came his plan would start. 

First he would test out if he still got his evol in this world. If he could manage that, he could show you how he manipulated certain things and that would be enough to understand that he was no simple cat or a cat at all for that matter. If he didn’t have his evol? Well, then he needed to find another way. No more blindly tapping on tablets and charade games. Clear and no misunderstandings for you. Caleb would make it crystal clear that he was himself. 

Something that did happen that evening that blew the wind out of his sails was, that you decided actually, for a fact, for real, to name him…Caleb. 

“I mean, you do have his eyes, you know?”, you explained your reasoning. “And if and when I find your owners you get your old name back anyway. It’s not like you will get used to it, right buddy?”

Count him flabberghasted, in utter disbelief. Didn’t you earlier in the evening say yourself, that this would be an awful idea? That you would have to be very lonely to be even considering that? Don’t lie to him. He remembers word for word. 

“Nobody would know that it comes from a otome game”, you rambled on. “And it’s not like you would mind.”

Does he? Caleb was conflicted. Yes, no, maybe? On one hand, yes it’s his name. The name he got. The one he was born with, and on the other hand? You didn’t see that name as anything more than from a character you liked. In the end, he accepted your name choice. One step at the time, right? He got the name down, now he needed everything else. 

The whole funny side with this rather ridiculous turn of your both lives was: 

You both needed each other, you just don’t know it yet.

tag list: @bookworrm1999 ; @luna-looniesblog ; @dummiebunny @roscpctals99 ; @mcdepressed290

~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*

Hey and welcome back to this story. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Any feedback is always appriciated, as long as it's constructive.

Thank you, beautiful soul for reading <3

[treatmelikeasmut]

This Journey of Ours

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Viktor x AFAB!Reader//Modern!AU

CW: Pregnancy, fluff, passing mention of postpartum

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kind of wrote this on a whim. Just something small and cute that came to mind!

Don't forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics <3

__

You stared at the clock, then at the time on your cellphone. Both read 11:48 PM. Of all the days for Viktor to stay late at the lab, it had to be today. Your knee bounced rapidly, impatiently. Gaze lingering on the TV, though you had no idea what was playing. Some show you swore for ages you’d get around to watching and never did. Now the volume was so low it was barely a hum. It joined the anxiety buzzing in the back of your skull.

Once again, you looked down at the object in your lap.

POSITIVE stared back at you. As it had for the last two days. No matter how many times you put the test down or hid it away in a box, that word remained. For two days nerves wrapped you in nausea, or maybe that was just the morning sickness talking. You were pregnant. The reality hardly set in. It just couldn’t seem to sink into your brain with any form of permenace. You were growing an entirely newly life that hadn’t existed before. That grew from two microscopic halves and would eventually become a whole new being.

You checked the clock again, then your cell phone. 11:53 PM. You had texted Jayce that morning, asking for him to muscle Viktor out of the lab early. You didn’t tell him a reason, only that you wanted your husband home before midnight. He had replied that it would be easy. Given the hour, it appeared it hadn’t been.

Chewing the inside of your lip, you looked at the test again. POSITIVE was still there. What would Viktor think? Children were a subject that was danced around in your household. The stance on it should’ve been made clear before your marriage. But was never established.

11:57 PM - the sound of a key being jammed into the front door lock. It was still three minutes to midnight, Jayce got lucky this time. A muttered curse came from the entry way. Then the uneven gait of Viktor’s footsteps as he came down the hall. They stopped at the entrance to the living room.

“Love, you’re still awake,” Viktor observed. He came up behind the couch, kissing the top of your head. “It’s late, you need your rest.”

“I like to stay up and wait for you,” you told him, praying your voice was steady.

“You don’t have to do that.” He came around and sat on the couch, leaning his cane against the arm. He looked at you with that smug expression you loved. “Though, I will admit - coming home and seeing you so immediately after a long day is my favorite.”

You smiled briefly, and Viktor’s expression changed. The test was pressed between your thighs, keeping it from sight. It was a hard rigid against the soft flesh that grew more uncomfortable the longer he stared at you. Your husband was sharp as ever, even as tired as he was. You never could keep anything away from that sharp gaze.

“Something is wrong,” Viktor stated, eyes searching. His hand sought yours, holding in on the cushion between you. “What is it?”

You drew in a shaking breath, staring down at your woven fingers. Your heart was in your throat, clawing at your ribs. You were sick with it. Even the tips of your ears burned.

“What…” you started. “What do you think about kids?”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, stilling in his seat. His fingers clamped aorund yours a little harder. “In general? Or…as in us?”

You swallowed, mouth tacky. “Us.”

“I…well, I -” He couldn’t seem to find the words, gaze wandering to the TV. The grinding of the gears in his mind almost audible. He muttered something under his breath. Then said, “I thought I had the count wrong. But I did not.”

You knew Viktor tracked your menstral cycles. It was even on a calendar on your fridge. He must’ve been doing the math in his head. Even being semi-irregular, your period exceedingly late.

“You’re pregnant,” he stated, turning back to you.

There was no doubt in his face. He was as sure about this as if he’d told you the sky was blue. In response, you pulled out the test. It still said POSITIVE. He took it from you with a shaking hand. Viktor was quiet for a long time, just staring at the digital screen. Like he was daring it to change its mind. You knew it wouldn’t.

“I know we didn’t talk about it before,” you admitted. “We should’ve…so, what do you think?”

Viktor didn’t move, replying sensibly, “That we will call the OB in the morning to set up and ultrasound and ensure all is well.”

You nodded. “And…other than that? I’d like to know what’s going on in Husbandland right now.”

Viktor’s eyes bounced to you, holding your gaze for but a moment, before they turned back to the test. “Do you think we are ready?”

“They say you’re never really ready for kids.”

Viktor’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “If I ask something, will you be truthful, my love?’

You squeezed the hand you were holding. “Always.”

“Will I be a terrible father? You know I never -” He cut himself off at the thought.

“I think the fact you’re nervous about it means you’re already a good one.”

The corner of his lip twitched, but his face remained blank. “I always figured if it was meant for me, then children would come. If it was not, then I would be fine with that too. - The same as before I met you. I thought that if love was meant for me, then it would find me. If I was to remain alone, then I would reconcile with that as well. Yet we are married and this test tells me that a little one will come. There is a surprising amount of fear in that.”

“I think you’re going to do great.” You scooted across the couch until your legs touched. Then leaned your head against his shoulder, your folded hands resting on your thigh. You stared at the test with him now. The only sounds in the room the murmur of the TV and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Jayce will be stupid excited,” Viktor finally uttered. Louder, he asked, “But what about work? Long nights in the lab cannot be avoided forever. They will happen. You will be alone.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“That is not fair you.”

“It’s what happens when I have a brilliant scientist as a husband.”

Viktor hummed. “I will need to do better…”

“You and I will figure it out down the line.” You squeezed his hand again.

Viktor’s cane clattered loudly as it slipped from its resting place. You both flinched. Viktor stared at it. “I will not be able to run with them. To do many things other fathers can.”

“Viktor,” you cooed, coaxing him to look at you. Panic was leaking through a careful mask. His eyes were wide, breathing a bit more rapid. You took his face in your hands, he leaned into the touch. “Our kid isn’t going to care about the stuff you can’t do. But they’ll always remember the things you can.”

“Like what?”

You leaned in a kissed him chastly. “Like vinegar and baking soda volcanos, and showing up to their games if they’re in sports, reading to them before bed - that sort of thing. They’ll just want time with you, how ever you can. - I’m also scared. What if I mess up? What if they don’t think I’m someone they can trust and come to when they get older? What if I accidentally feed them something they’re allergic to? I’m terrified of getting postpartum and doing something heinous.”

“I have no doubt you will as wonderful a parent as you are a partner. Whatever you need, I will do my best to accommodate.” Viktor cupped your cheek in one hand, running his thumb lightly across your skin. “I let you down enough as it stands. I don’t want to let the little one down, too.”

“You never let me down,” you whispered, a clot building in your throat. You swallowed against it. You were not going to cry right now. “You’ve frustrated me, sure - but never let me down.”

Viktor chuckled, the panic finally easing up. His eyes wandered back to the test. “So, it’s real and truly.”

You nodded. “I peed on two boxes worth of tests in the last three days, it was like Juno in here. They’re all stashed in a shopping bag under the bathroom sink if you want to see them.”

“That’s a bit overkill, don’t you think?” he teased, smirking.

Warm relief flodded through you, all your muscles relaxed for the first time in days. You laughed, shrugging. “Maybe - I wanted to be sure. Really sure before I told you. It’s like one of your experiments, right? You have to be sure you can replicate your results before you announce your findings.”

Viktor laughed rather heartily at that. “I suppose.”

“I’ll call the OB in the morning.”

Viktor nodded. “And I will make a list of questions for her. I have much to learn.”

“I’ll have to warn them when I make the appointment,” you joked, rolling your eyes. “You’re going to go overboard on research, aren’t you?”

“I would never dream of it,” scoffed Viktor, “I just want to make sure we are prepared. There is nothing wrong with that.”

You kissed him again. “Just make sure to enjoy the journey, too.”

Tentatively, Viktor placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it through your shirt. You didn’t have a bump yet, but he seemed mesmerized all the same. He leaned his forehead to yours, then pressed a kiss to your lips.

“As long as the journey is by your side.”

~

[visionsofmagic]

✤ rougher please [yuuji + reader + sukuna] ✤

―❛ age up yuuji, pussy eating, cum eating, vessel switch, gentle, rough, harsh, humiliation, pet names, swearing, slapping, licking, biting, eating, sucking, two tongues, porn without a plot [?] • 987 words • just came into my mind & couldn't resist the urge to write. • [masterlist]

you watched how the pink hair disappeared between your thighs, leaving his black part visible more than before, after closing his sparkling eyes with excitement yet you paid attention to his tongue in your folds in the particular moment.

itadori yuuji was so good with his tongue, playing with your folds, licking all the juice your clenching pussy was making, chest raising up and down rapidly at how well he was fucking you with his hot tongue that entered inside, earning a yelp from you.

he chuckled childishly at the action, hands still holding your inner thighs, separating the legs aside so that the pink pussy of yours was wide open for him to eat out.

eyes closed, head thrown to behind only to kneel down closer to him when he began to make fucking noises that sent jolts into your slit. “mmmhh - aghhh mhh - fuc aggh! taste so gooood - shiii -“ his tongue began to go in and out in a slow yet effective rhythm. “aaagh pretty pussy - the fucking prettiest pussy!”

hand inside his hair’s folds, pulling it upwards - a source of balance to stay still after feeling so high because of his now wet tongue, leaving lewd sounds mixing with your pleases - moans and his. “yuuji!”

he chuckled once again, listening cute voices you make.

you stayed like that for a certain time before you put your legs on his wide shoulders, pushing him harder into your pussy so that his nose began to scratch the tip of your pussy - euphoric!

looking down at his face, you see him paying all his focus to enjoy the moment without hurting you.

smiling widely, you caressed his hair, making him look up around your face with his sleepy yet shining eyes. “rougher yuuji - fuuck - please please pleas - uh - oohhh -!”

you lost it when he began to work on your pussy again, only this time - it felt different and you were so high to understand the reason until he left a deep chuckle this time - the sound of it didn’t belong to yuuji, no, even the body wasn’t full of yuuji now - it was someone else’s and you see it when you look down after earning a slap on the pussy - what?

“slut,” he said, the fucking king of curses the moment you witnessed the marks on his face, eyes became four in an instant, crimson color had menace - not excitement, maybe a bit of it; lips that were covered with juice you made smirking devilishly. “the brat can’t go any rougher, but I can.”

the hands on your thighs got heavier, his grip got tighter enough to leave bruises, and the breaths you had no longer functioning.

“fuuuck!” you said, mind didn’t comprehend the situation you were in because how could it? especially after you earned another slap on the slit with the following bites. “yuu -“

a lick that took away the last brain cell from you with a slap on the thigh, “no fucking yuuji. that brat can’t do shit - not like me. did you forget whore?”

the difference hit you like a ball, yet, you showed no weakness, you just moaned his name this time when his tongue went from bottom to top until it reached the tip of the pussy, sucking the flesh as if it were the most delicious thing he can taste.

“sukuna - aggghhhh - ‘kuuna!”

he laughed at you without breaking the contact with your pussy, a hand reaching into your mouth and your messy brain couldn’t make a meaningful statement about it until the hand covered your mouth, bitter taste of the palm changed into something more - a fucking mouth of sukuna as he kept sucking, licking and eating your messed pussy.

“fucking dumb slut,” his bitter words didn’t affect you- already got used to it as you kept kissing the tongue on his palm, closing your eyes, losing yourself in the moment; a mouth kissing you, biting the lips, tongue entering into the wet mouth that leaves salvia behind whereas the other one does the same with your pussy - biting it, entering it, getting wet in sync.

already lost in paradise and hell at the same moment, your moans no longer heard, shut down by the mouth you’re kissing.

that mouth left yours, hand traveled through your body from chin to neck, breasts to abdomen ‘till it reached its final destination to join the other one by licking and leaving salvias - a few bites too, in every place it visited on your body.

no matter how much you tried to hold decency, it vanished in thin air when sukuna began to fuck you with his two tongues after putting his palm at the bottom of your pussy. “agghhhh, mmhhhh - ‘kuna, ‘is soo muuch - I - I can’ - mmmhhh - fuuagghh!”

never listened, never left, never got gentle.

he kept going only to stop when you cum hard on his tongues, dripping into them and to the floor shamelessly, screaming louder - his name was the only thing you comprehend.

leaving you there, the body already collapsed into the bed under you, he rose up on his feet, fingers collecting the last drop of your cum from the lips, disappearing inside his mouth as he licked and drank it, saying ‘hmm’.

“tasteful,” he smirked, looking at the mess he made out of you with pride. “as always, my cute little whore,” he then put his hands on your sides, kneeling down to your level, smirk still on his face as he caressed your cheeks, “would fuck you now, makin’ you paralyzed for a few days but the brat is being so noisy. it’s his time to fuck you this time, but,” he winked - oh that bastard! “the next time will be mine.”

💙💜

taglist • tagging: @snowprincesa1 ^^

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ sober thoughts ] n. hischier

paring: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico appears on his best friend’s doorstep after the Stadium Series win and confessions are made

warning(s) : slightly drunk nico, mentions of alcohol (but no actual alcohol consumption involved)

author’s note : pls ignore any typos bc i thought of this while drunk and wrote it while tipsy so i will go back and edit when i am 100% sober. it’s a v short and cute thing that i wanted to write (even tho i am working on like 7 different requests rn)

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment ‘nico 🏒🤍’ appears on her phone screen, she thinks something is wrong. She’s especially worried because it’s nearly two in the morning. Something could be seriously wrong.

The last time they talked, Nico was getting in an Uber to go to the bar after they won the Stadium Series game against the Flyers. That was a half hour after the end of the game and nearly three hours ago at this point.

A very exhausted and confused (Y/N) quickly answers the phone as soon as she processes what’s going on.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice slurred with sleep. “Do I need to come get you from the bar?”

“I’m outside your apartment building,” he tells her. “Can I please come inside? It’s so cold outside and I just played a game in this weather. Please let me in.”

She rolls over and turns on her bedside lamp before she walks to the window. Outside on the sidewalk stands her best friend and captain of the New Jersey Devils. He smiles up at her and waves. “Oh my God,” she gasps as she puts on a pair of slippers. “Why are you just standing outside my building like that?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you,” he tells her as she grabs her keys and leaves her apartment. “It felt very wrong that I wasn’t celebrating with my best friend after one of the most amazing games and one of the most beautiful moments of my career. If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

Without tripping down any stairs, she says, “It’s okay. I was just worried you were passed out on the side of the road in East Rutherford.” She pushes the main entrance door open. “Yet here you are on my doorstep.”

Nico smiles and stumbles up the steps after he hangs up the phone when he sees her. He trips on the last step. She catches him and he catches himself on the doorway. She can smell the alcohol on his breath because of how close they are to each other, yet her heart races in her chest since they’re so close to each other.

“Are you drunk?” she asks as she backs away from him with a look on her face. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you drove because I might kill you and your team is going to be left without a captain.”

“I’ve had a few drinks,” he admits to her. “I took an Uber because I did have a few drinks. I didn’t drive here. Don’t worry. I still have brain cells.”

Nico walks into the building in a hoodie and jeans instead of the tracksuit he showed up to MetLife in. She’s happy he is in actual clothes because if he showed up in that tracksuit, she might lose it.

“Why did you come here instead of going home?” she questions as they make their way up to her apartment. “I thought that maybe after the game you’d celebrate with your teammates then go home to sleep.”

They walk into the apartment as soon as she unlocks the door. “I told you that I wanted to come celebrate with my best friend,” he replies. She closes the door behind her. “Especially since I couldn’t get you into the stadium to watch the game. I wanted you to be a part of this day.”

She pouts and sits on the couch as Nico turns on one of the lamps. “Your family flew in for the game,” she says to him. “I shouldn’t take priority over them. I get to see you play all the time. They don’t.”

He sits next to her. Not too close but close enough where she can feel the heat coming off his body. If he were to move his knee, it would bump into hers.

“You’re my family too,” Nico softly says. “I wanted you to be there.”

“I’m your friend, Nico,” she sighs. “I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. I didn’t need to be there.”

It feels like she is trying to convince herself too because sometimes the line blurs. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she is to him. She has to remind herself that they aren’t together, and probably will never be together.

A moment of silence falls over them. She looks at her hands on her lap while she plays with her thumbs. Nico’s big brown eyes never leave her while she avoids looking at him.

Nico sighs and practically whispers, “I wished you were there as my girlfriend.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks at him. “You what?”

“I wished you were at the game as my girlfriend,” Nico repeats. “The entire time I wished that you were at the family skate and sitting in the suite with everyone else’s families. I wished you had one of those cute jackets that the wives and girlfriends had with my number on it.”

She stares at him until he’s done talking. Then she starts to shake her head. “You’re just saying that because you have been drinking,” she replies. “You don’t actually mean that.”

Never once has Nico shown that he wanted to be in any kind of romantic relationship with her. He’s never given her any kind of hint or sign that he wanted to be more than just friends with her.

They’ve known each other since Nico moved to the US in 2017 to play in the NHL and never once did it seem like he wanted something more.

There is no way he means that.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he says.

“Then tell me when you’re sober,” she retorts. “Tell me in the morning if you actually mean it.”

Nico frowns and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Schätzli, you have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that,” he tells her. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I wake up before I tell you again.”

Almost as if on cue, he yawns. “Go to sleep, Nico,” she says to him. “Tell me whatever you want in the morning. You know where the guest room is but do you need my help in getting there?”

He shakes his head and sinks down against the back of the couch. “I’ll get there eventually,” he replies. “You can go back to sleep.”

With a nod, she stands up. Nico’s eyes are half open so she takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up onto the cushions. She grabs a blanket to throw over him as he lets out soft snores. The alcohol has finally caught up to him and knocked him out.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you wanted me to be your girlfriend,” she whispers to a sleeping Nico. “All it took you was having a few drinks and winning a big game before you told me how you felt.”

She presses a soft kiss to his temple before she retreats down the hallway to her bedroom just in case he wasn’t actually asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The smell of coffee is the thing that wakes her up in the morning. Not the sunlight or an alarm. Coffee. It takes a second before she remembers that Nico stayed over.

She remembers Nico telling her that he wishes she was at the Stadium Series game as his girlfriend. She has no idea if he remembers that he said that to her.

It’s time to find out.

Slowly, she makes her way out to the kitchen. She finds Nico standing at the coffee machine with his back to the hallway. She yawns and walks into the kitchen area.

“Morning,” she softly says so she doesn’t scare him. He turns his head and looks at her. “You making coffee?”

Nico nods and pours them both a cup. He puts cream in her cup and hands it to her. “I figured we could both use a cup,” he tells her. “Me to get rid of this hangover and you because I woke you up at two in the morning.”

She blows on her coffee before taking a sip. “How much of last night do you remember?” she curiously asks as she leans against the counter beside him.

The moment of silence that follows worries her. He probably doesn’t remember what he said, and she isnt going to remind him if he doesn’t remember.

He takes a sip of his own coffee before he asks, “Are you asking me if I remember telling you that I wish you were my girlfriend? Yes, if that’s the case. I told you that I meant it.”

“And you’re sober?”

“Very,” Nico replies. “And very hungover.”

It surprises her to the point where she almost drops her cup of coffee. Her eyes widen and Nico smiles. “Nico, I could kill you and kiss you at the same time because why did it take you playing in one of the biggest games in your career before you-”

Nico takes the cup of coffee out of her hand while she’s talking then cuts her off by bringing his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise then melts against him as he presses her against the counter. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her fingers in his hair so he can’t break the kiss.

Never in her life did she think that she would be in her kitchen kissing her best friend of nearly seven years. The thought only occurred in dreams and occasionally during games when she found him attractive, which is really all the time.

This is something she has wanted for two years. Since the moment she realized that she was in love with Nico.

He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. He stands between her knees and rests his hands on her thighs.

It becomes too much for her and she has to pull back for a second to breathe. Her eyes meet his and finds worry in them. “I just- I don’t think you understand how long I have waited for this,” she breathes out. “Wanted this. Wanted you. I just need a second.”

Nico smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears before he cups her jaw. “I’m such an idiot for waiting so long before I told you,” he replies. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Schätzli.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

“We’re both idiots,” she tells him. “I’m glad you meant it though. I thought you were going to get my hopes up.”

He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I would never lie to you about loving you.”

“Well I love you too,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Nico laughs and envelopes her in a hug. She smiles and happily accepts the hug.

“I told you that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“I believe you now.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[bywons]

𖦹 ICE, ICE, BABY! — PSH

⌕ where park sunghoon takes you on an ice skating date

pairing. bf!park sunghoon x f!reader wc. 0.5k tw/cw. kissing genre. fluff sru's note. requested ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated, PLS REBLOG if u like the fic !

the chilly winter air blooms goosebumps beneath your skin, eventually drying your lips which makes you lick them yet again. you wish you had brought lip balm with you to moisten your dehydrated lips, but a kiss from park sunghoon was just enough.

“c'mon, scared of a little ice skating?”, sunghoon smirks, suppressing a small giggle within himself as he watches you hold on to his shoulders for dear life to avoid a devastating crash against the ice floor beneath you.

“easy to say when you're a pro”, you scoff, your body gliding around the ice rink solely by the support of your boyfriend.

your ice skates did a horrible job of keeping you steady on your feet. your equilibrium constantly disrupts you, causing wobbly legs which makes you stumble, loud gasps leaving your mouth. or maybe you are at fault here really, first day at ice skating and expecting to ace it so quick? yeah, not happening.

but what did happen next had you screaming inside, and melting outside. your boyfriend of just four months, park sunghoon, kisses your cheek and paints it deeper, as he shoots the most endearing smile down at you, his hands wrapping tighter around your waist.

“does this help?”, he whispers. yeah well that does help you regain your stability and guide through the ice better indeed, your knees aren't wobbly anymore, the toe blades a lot more still.

but with that mesmerising face of his, not a single brain cell of yours could focus on the ice rink.

“kinda, i still c-can’t do it on my own though”, the stutter gives away your faux confidence and you mentally curse yourself.

“but i think you're doing just fine?”, sunghoon chuckles, letting his grip on your waist loosen up. and when you loose balance without his support again, it evolves to a laughter.

“totally not funny ‘hoon!”, you roll your eyes, your hands returning to his forearms to grip them harder, “why'd you bring me here to show off your ice skating skills and not even help me?”

“well maybe i also wanted to show off my girl at the ice rink?”, sunghoon says with a smug smile, to which he receives another eye roll from you, this time accompanied with a blush as he brings you forward face to face.

“really funny, nobody even knows us here”, you scoff.

“they don't have to”, sunghoon whispers again, his hands clasping the either sides of your face and pulling you dangerously close to his face, his starry eyes lost in yours.

and it's just a moments’ wait before sunghoons lips find yours, falling magically into puzzle pieces. it's soft, stirring and warm, immediately giving you butterflies in your stomach. you don't know how long the kiss lasted but every second of it felt so embracing. just like home.

you are the first one to pull back from the kiss, face hot and flushed from the kiss, and you try to look at his face but he's still looking at you, specifically your lips with his comforting touch lingering on your cheeks. you gulp, trying to hold back his forearms to stabilise yourself again.

but in the search of his hands, you find none on you.

“hey!”, sunghoon squeals, giving you the biggest toothy grin, “the kiss helped you skate huh?”

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[walkingnearfoxes]

The Space Between the Lines (Homelander x Reader) - Chapter 3

1.7k words. 18+. Warnings for stalking and the Homelander being horny. She/Her Teacher Reader. 

There are a dozen teachers who would kill for this job. You’re just not sure that you’re one of them.

The Homelander had been watching you for weeks.

He didn't have much of a choice. He clearly couldn't trust Ashley and her merry band of mediocrity to pick an educator for Ryan. These "teachers" brought to him were either idiots, ugly as goddamn sin, or too busy shitting their pants at the sight of him to educate his son. One bald and sweaty winner was all three; he took care of that one. That dumbass wouldn't be teaching anyone any time soon.

Clearly, to ensure the best possible future for his son, the Homelander needed to step in. He looked at the curriculum. He re-mapped the lessons with wide-eyed instructional designers. He looked at the resumes. He burned the resumes. He asked Ashley whether she was picking these fuckers out of the sewers or the prisons.

And then, to her luck, she found you.

At first, he wasn't very impressed. You were young, first of all. Educated, sure. Cute, even. But young. Weren’t the best teachers supposed to be ancient? Set in their ways?

"She won an award for education, sir," Ashley had offered at his evident ambivalence. Your file was displayed across the screens of the conference room. The Homelander sat back in his usual chair, gloved fingers drumming at the arms.

He rolled his eyes. "Did she win by having a fucking pulse? Honestly, Ashley, after the zombies you sent me-"

But then she clicked on the video that came with your award profile. It showed a clip of one of your lessons - an introduction to the War of 1812 with a rambunctious group of middle schoolers. He would have fried them immediately, but you were the image of calm. 

It was the way you held yourself that caught his attention. You had energy, but you were always in control. You answered each question the little shits had for you concisely and even joked with one or two of them. When a student reached for the cell phone bulging in their jean pocket, your glare across the room was enough to stop them and give you a mumbled apology.

You cared. You cared deeply.

He stared at the screen for another minute, his gaze following you across the screen. Finally, he nodded. "Bring her in."

Ashley looked like she might just come from relief. "Absolutely, sir," She breathed and turned to the computer for all of two seconds before her dirt brain got distracted. "I-I should mention, she doesn't have a background in math or science-"

"Oh, boo hoo." The Homelander drawled as he stood. "Now we won't know how a plant fucks itself. Half that shit isn't real, Ashley. Just bring her in."

He didn't take part in the interviews. He had actual work to do and lives to save. The notes that Ashley gave him were all things he already knew. You were quick, intelligent, and wanted to make a difference. No shit. He didn't need an hour-long conversation to know that. He knew that keeping an eye on you was much better than any performance task. He did the actual work.

It was comical to him how little people paid attention. He was invisible to all the ants if he didn't want to be spotted. He easily flew from building to building, neighborhood to neighborhood, all to learn more about cute, unsuspecting little you. You weren’t hard to find; Vought had all of your information before you even applied.

His findings were boring as fuck at first. You had a small group of friends, you read all the fucking time, but you kept yourself in shape. He appreciated the last part, at least. But you weren’t as refreshing as he thought you would be from the teaching video. The only thing that slightly caught his curiosity was the mysterious relationship to your family. Your mother called about twice a week - sometimes more. From his x-ray vision and superior hearing through the ancient walls of your apartment, he learned enough to know your family didn't live far away, but you made no effort to visit them. Every time your mother called, he saw your lips thin and your eyes narrow. You usually were doing something else while speaking to her - browsing the Internet, pacing the living room, even punching a pillow. Why, he wondered? Maybe mommy and daddy were neglectful of you. A favored sibling, maybe? Drugs? There are limitless possibilities, but you never spoke about it to anyone. Was it a minor issue then, or were you so selfless that you didn't want to bother anyone with your problems? His mind drifted to the matter more than once. He didn’t quite comprehend what would make someone distance themselves from their blood when it was so close at hand.

Then, there was the run.

You very stupidly liked to go for runs at night. Alone. With headphones on. It was like you were asking to be gutted. Sure enough, only about two weeks into his watch, a mindless oaf of a man found you at a stoplight. From his standing perch on a nearby rooftop, his body cloaked in shadow, the Homelander rolled his eyes. 

Was he going to have to save you already? Christ.

But then, he noticed your movements. The man was to your back, but you had already turned off your music and lowered your headphones. You already knew he was there. 

"You lost, baby girl?" The man murmured, stopping a mere five inches from your back. "I can bring ya home and warm ya up..."

You turned to look at him, and the smile on your face - a grin full of teeth - wasn't polite. It was a warning. "I'm just fine, buddy. Now walk away."

The man bristled - he had a good foot of height on you and about three times the fucking body mass - but then your smile disappeared. The Homelander saw the way your eyes changed. There was something darker. Something he was intimately familiar with.

The man swallowed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shuffled backward. "Right. Sorry. Ma'am."

You watched him for a long moment, ensuring he truthfully intended to leave you alone. Once you were sure, the Homelander watched as you put your headphones back in and carried on as if nothing had happened.

Oh.

Oh.

You weren't just a cute little teacher. There was something else.

His lips twitched upwards in approval. There was another twitch down south, but that wasn't too surprising. He’d always admired strong women. He could take care of that later; the few “accidental” peaks of you in your shower had given him plenty of material.

So, he told Ashley to hire you and continued to keep an eye on you. It wasn't out of surveillance now; it was out of curiosity. He didn't see another glimpse of that side of you again, but that would come with time. You weren't perfect. Your clothes were boring, you couldn't nail down a signature scent, and he loathed your roommate.

But that look. He could do something with that look.

And so he sat and watched as you taught his son. He had to admit that you were good. Ryan was paying attention, and he was smiling. He was smiling a little too much - he certainly never smiled that much with him - but what was important was that he was learning. What was also important was that you were slowly becoming more at ease. You had stopped your adorably nervous glances at him about 20 minutes ago, and adrenaline had stopped obnoxiously pumping through your body. He could barely detect the scent anymore. 

You were explaining how the colonists had grown independent from Britain when Ryan's brows began furrowing.

You, the diligent educator that you are, notice right away. "What's up?"

"I'm...a little confused," Ryan admits.

You smile encouragingly. "Well, share with the class. It's my job to help with that."

Ryan points to his textbook. The Homelander can see from across the table that he's touching an image of a plantation. "You said George Washington had slaves?"

You hesitate, and your eyes move to glance at the Homelander. He says nothing, the same polite smile on his face. You look back to Ryan. "That's right."

Ryan's frown deepens. "He wanted the colonies to be free but he had slaves?"

Uh oh.

The Homelander laughs, and it's the first sound he's made this entire lesson. Ryan meets his eyes immediately, and you barely mask a flinch. "Whoa there, buddy," He says, standing up from his place at the table. "It's a little more complicated than that."

There's barely a beat after his words before you reply. "Yeah, their whole idea of freedom is a bit...convoluted."

The Homelander blinks and raises a brow. "What do you mean, teach?"

Your smile is polite, but your eyes are a bit less so. "I mean that Ryan is making a good point. It's a bit hypocritical."

He scoffs and steps forward, his hands moving to his hips. "Are you calling our founding father a hypocrite?"

There it is. There's that look in your eye. Without missing a beat, you nod your head. "Yes."

He hadn’t expected to see it again so soon - certainly not directed at him. But there it is.

There is a long silence interrupted only by Ryan's fingers anxiously tapping against the table. It's death to the Homelander's eardrums, but he doesn't care. He's staring at you, waiting for you to flinch or murmur an apology like all those other mudpeople did. You don't.

"Well, on that exciting note, I think we can call it for today," He announces, turning to give his son a warm smile. "Ryan, you earned yourself some Tournament of Heroes time."

Ryan turns to look at you - a decision that makes the Homelander's fists clench on his hips - and you smile back at the boy. "Same time tomorrow?"

Ryan smiles shyly back. "Yeah. Definitely." He stands up slowly, closes his notebook, and looks at his father. "Do you wanna come play, Dad?"

The Homelander grins. "Sure thing. You set up the VS5 and I'll be there in a jiff," But he looks back at you with a wink. "I just gotta have a word with Miss Benedict Arnold here before she rushes out on me."

The way your pulse skyrockets makes his heart sing.

[httpsghostie]

Enemy pt 2

pt 1

if I saw him walking towards me like this I would run

I'm speechless this is so long I'ms orry I got carried away

Summary: you put yourself in a delicate situation with your superiors despite knowing more and end up in wrong hands.

Word Count: 4,3k

Warnings: dubcon, smut, König x female!reader, strong language, blood, gore, violence, knife play, spanking, dacryphilia, edging, unprotected piv sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), no use of y/n

masterlist

You've underestimated him, that's for sure. But you found out too late.

You found out when you were walking around, trying to find your captain to discuss some issues, and instead found a pile of dead soldiers and a pool of blood.

The door to his cell was ajar and of course the lights were off. That fucking bastard, how was it so easy for him to take down four trained soldiers? And how did he get away from the chains?

Maybe it happened when he was being fed, maybe he was strong enough to break the chains. And even if he was, why didn't he snap out of them when you were literally milking the info out of him?

You reach for your pistol and carefully follow the dark hallway to his cell after calling for backup, but you decided they would take the time you couldn't waste with this bastard. On the way, you rolled one of the soldiers with your foot, he'd been stabbed on his vital parts, and you deduced he did this to every other one of your guys.

Your ears ringed, your blood boiling through your veins with anxiousness, but at times like this you couldn't show your weaknesses. You were in it until the end.

You stand in front of the door, your fear getting even worse. You know you shouldn't show it. He smelled fear, he got off from that, of how your pretty eyes widened at his sight.

In an instant, the door is kicked open by your right foot, and before you could inspect the cell, your body was thrown on the ground in a loud thud, a heavy weight collapsing onto you, pinning you down on the floor.

Your head got dizzy from hitting the concrete too hard, but you could recognize that man from a mile away. You could recognize his nauseating scent even if someone brainwashed you for years. 

He pressed your weak body with his weight as his blood covered hands caressed the black fabric on your mask, slowly lifting it up to reveal your puffy lips, waiting for him. He can't help but smile at the memories of your lips wrapped around his girthy cock as he held your head in place. He wants to do it again. But not now, now he's worried about other things.

"You're so pretty when you keep your mouth shut." He runs his finger along your lips, you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood. "I want to kill you so bad, slit that beautiful throat you got." He grabs you by the neck.

"Then do it." You said with gritted teeth.

"And end the fun of hunting you?" He pushed you back on the floor as your face started to get red. "I'll give you another chance to live, how merciful I am." He laughs, standing up and leaving you there, almost like the way you left him.

He disappears in the dark, and the last thing you remember were his eyes piercing through your soul, marking you forever, and your vision blurs. There were dry tears on the corners of your eyes, and your mind was filled with red.

You wake up in a white room and as soon as you open your eyes, you're blinded by the bright lights that reflect on the white walls and floor. There's no one with you. Great, they didn't even bother to put a recruit to watch out for you, ouch.

When you're prepared to leave the room, a doctor sees your movement and says he's glad you've finally woken up. He tells you about a concussion, and you listen to it until it slowly starts to sound like a distant babble, so far away, and your brain can't handle any more information as someone lurks behind the doctor.

He. It was him. He was there for you again. He was going to get you.

He's standing behind the man, holding a knife up to his face. His gaze. You can only feel how creepy his gaze is on you and how intimidating he looks with his gigantic size.

You know he's smiling, of course he's smiling, he's fucking insane, that's why. He's not leaving you alone, he's going to get you, he's going to kill you. You're gonna pay for what you did.

And the thoughts don't leave your injured brain as you try to run but your body does not respond to any of your commands.

He's there, he's going to kill you.

He's going to kill you.

"-and some might experience hallucinations." You blink rapidly and he's gone. You look back to the doctor. "Are you alright?" He asked you as he saw your sweaty forehead and your out of breath figure.

"Mhm." You cut him off, reaching for the clothes on the side of your hospital bed. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A day. Listen, you should rest." He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and you push him away.

"I can't afford to rest."

You get dressed quickly and leave through the white corridors, trying to find your phone in the never ending pockets of your vest. Your head was hurting like hell, you felt your brain pounding on your skull. 

You're going to end his life.

"Tell me you got that motherfucker!" You screamed on the phone as your captain picked up.

"Listen, you need to calm d-"

"I am fucking calm! Where the hell were you when he killed our men? Where the hell are you now?" Your anger makes your head hurt even more.

"I can't talk right now." You were able to hear other voices in the call, like someone else was talking in the room he was in.

"Then shove your dead men in your fucking ass!" You scream again, throwing the phone on a wall. Everyone around looks at you and you feel embarrassed, picking your phone up and shoving it in your pocket.

The sun falls down and you're met with a beautiful night and a sky full of stars. But that sight irritated you deeply when you had spent the last five hours looking at it when you couldn't sleep. He always came back. He always found his way into your brain. That manic look on his eyes whenever he had control over the situation. It's okay, you could handle it.

"You'd look so pretty with a knife up to your throat."

"What?" You blink fast, looking frantically to the sides and trying to find him lurking in the shadows. He wasn't there. He wasn't real. You shake off the thoughts, taking another long sip of the now cold coffee in a bottle right by your side.

But as they say, idle hands are the devil's tools. You couldn't stay still, how the fuck did he escape? How did he break those chains and most importantly, how did he break that iron door?

You wander around the hallways, finding your way to what used to be his cell. The floor still had a blood stain that couldn't be washed away, and thankfully they didn't care enough about such a thing. Holding a flashlight to the door, you see it wasn’t forced, so maybe he escaped when someone got in.

You take a deep breath before entering the cell, leaving a foot holding the door from the inside. It had a mechanism of automatically locking when closed, and there was no way to open from the inside. 

The dim light is enough to illuminate the room, but you need to get closer to the chains if you want to examine them.

"Fuck." You mumble, trying to stretch your best to get to it, but it's too far from your hands. In a blink of a moment, the foot that supported your weight slipped and you fell to the ground, leaving the door unattended.

You look desperately to it, but it stays open. You sigh in relief, standing on your feet again and moving closer to the chains. You pick them up, but they have no sign of damage, someone unlocked his cuffs.

It's strange, this doesn't make sense at all.

Fear starts to settle in your mind and you think you should leave by now. As you leave the cell, your heart starts pounding mercilessly in your chest and your vision blurs. Your head is spinning and your legs betray you, making you fall on your knees and hands.

Bullet wound.

Bullet wound?

The night creeps onto your brain, you rolling the guard on his back, watching his lifeless body turn. Besides having stab wounds on the stomach, he had a bullet wound on the cheek, wait, what? Was it necessary to shoot him if he was dead already? Or was it necessary to stab him? And either way, how? König didn't have any guns, let alone a knife. Well, of course he could've snatched it from them, but how?

Plus the guard's cheek wound seemed to have come from a bigger caliber than what they dealt with down there.

This was suspect as fuck.

You regain consciousness, looking around, and you smile as your eyes meet with a red light from a security camera in the corner of the hallway.

But they wouldn't be so stupid, would they?

You sprint your way to the vigilance room, sighing as you face an at least easy obstacle. There was a guard there, of course, watching the cameras, but he seemed to be more interested in what you had to offer.

"Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." You fake a smile, leaving the room. Like a needy man, he doesn't hesitate to go where you told him you'd be, and you lock him inside, saying you just need a few more minutes.

You try to get the images as fast as you could, putting them in a flash drive and running back to your room.

It seemed almost too easy.

As you're turning left in the hallway that leads to your room, you hit a wall, well, a man, but he was so tall and bulky he could be considered a wall.

"Where are you going in a rush in the middle of the night?" Ghost asks. Solid as a rock.

"Asking you the same thing." You scratch your head in embarrassment, he was too close for your liking.

"What you got there?" He points to your clenched fist, the flash drive was in your hand.

"Nothing." You say too fast, trying to get past him, he grabs your arm tightly, making you open your palm and yelp in pain, the small device falling on the ground. He stomps on it, smashing it on the ground, and gets even closer to your ear.

"Don't mess with them." He growls. "Go back to your room before you get yourself killed."

He knew something was up, and that confirmed your suspicions. He let you go and stood there looking at you getting away.

"'Cause you're gonna pay for it, maus." You turn back and he's still standing, holding both of his hands in front of him.

"What did you say?" You frown, walking back to him, ready to tear him apart.

"What? I didn't say anything?" He looks genuinely confused. "What's wrong with you, nitwit?" 

Aw, Ghost and his delicate words.

"Yeah, I hope you didn't say anything."

You couldn't give yourself rest, you've been awake since you woke up at the hospital a day ago. The footage was gone, there was no way you could get it back, Ghost knew about something, and you were close to finding out the truth.

But you didn't give up so easily, you needed to know what happened. 

While everyone else was getting breakfast, you went to the vigilance room again, trying not to get caught. The room was left alone for a few minutes as the guard miraculously had to go to the bathroom, you know, maybe it was the laxative you put in his coffee earlier.

You searched through the files and finally found the one you were looking for, the night he escaped.

The hallway was calm, a few men guarding the door to his cell. A man slowly approached them, and he wore a mask, but everyone could recognize him. The captain. What was he doing there?

They open the door for him and he gets in, there's a few minutes between him walking in and out, but when a guard opens the door, he's suddenly shot in the face. König walks out too, helping the captain take down the other guys.

It's pure brutality, and it's also so explicit. The violence of their hands committing such a crime, not hesitating to kill an innocent life for their own benefit. You hated them even more when you saw the captain's eyes widening, probably it was the moment you asked for backup on the radio. 

He gave König a little tap on the arm and said something, then ran to the opposite side, leaving König alone to do whatever he wanted to you.

Then why did he spare your life?

He could've killed you so easily, why did he decide to let you go?

"And end the fun of hunting you?" You remembered his words.

The door gets kicked open behind you and two soldiers drag you out of the room, you try to get away from their strong arms, kicking and trying to scratch their skin.

Ghost was walking by when he saw you, giving you a disappointed frown. You knew what he wanted to say, you saw it in his eyes.

I told you not to mess with them.

You went too deep.

They drag you to the captain's office, throwing you on a chair.

"It's enough, you know too much." 

When you think about biting back, you feel a stinging pain on your neck and the men holding you down. The pain was unbearable in your veins, like it was tearing you inside out, and soon your brain started to shut down.

Your head hurts when you wake up, and you panic when you feel your hands tied behind your back. You'd been tossed on a mattress, and your body was hurting more than usual, your stomach was hurting, you couldn't believe you were hungry in times like this.

You swallowed the weird taste on your mouth, looking around the room with half lidded eyes. Your head falls to the mattress once your eyes meet his and you sigh heavily, trying to shake off the hallucination.

"You know, this didn't have to go the hard way." You hear him say, you quickly turned your head and he was still there. "I told you'd be going to pay for that. You know how badly you humiliated me?" You chuckle.

"Aw, poor König." You laugh, but your laugh is cut as soon as he crouches in front of you, gripping your chin to face him. He makes you stay on your knees, and you gulp nervously.

"You really look prettier with your mouth closed." He throws you back on the mattress like you're made of paper and gets some silver tape from the chair. You widen your eyes, shaking your head from side to side. "Are you gonna shut up?" He lands a harsh slap to your face and you nod. "Good girl, maus. See? Not too late to learn."

He throws the tape back, grabbing you by the hair so you could stand. He's looking deeply into your eyes, and for a moment you fell for it. You didn't know if it was from the sedatives, but you fell for the way he looked at you.

"What's that puppy look for?" He asks, letting go of your hair. "I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already dumb?" He chuckles. 

You can't express how badly you want to give him a sarcastic response, but judging from your red cheek, he wouldn't be pleased by it.

He reaches for his knife and presses it right against your throat. You swallow hard, trying not to move.

"Can't help but remember how cute you look taking my cock. I think I might have to do it again." He moves the tip of the knife across your collarbone, then down to your chest, stomach, slowly stopping at your crotch.

You're looking at him with not a single thought behind your eyes, the pain in your head was gone miraculously, and it's like time has frozen. He's so tall, so masculine, so insane. Maybe your taste in men is completely unhinged, or maybe he was hot.

He moves behind you, one hand to your mouth and one holding the knife against your throat.

"You can scream, cry, and no one can hear you here." He really got off from your fear, and you feel his devious smile. "I can do whatever I want to you." He gives you a creepy laugh.

Your shirt is ripped off from you, leaving you in a sports bra that also got cut by his knife, letting your chest free from fabric. He runs the knife along your tits and smiles from how hard your nipples are.

Pants were also a thing he didn't want to see you in, but this time he just pulled them down, leaving you naked. He stood in front of you once again, eyeing you up and down, like you were to be his last meal.

God, this was so embarrassing. Humiliating.

He takes his gloves off after putting the knife on his boot, revealing his veiny hands that were at least double the size of yours, and runs an eager finger around your folds, chuckling when his fingers meet your sticky fluid.

"You're fucking wet." He inserts a finger into you without any warning and you moan, trying to close your legs. "I can't believe you're into this."

"Shut up." You grit your teeth and look at him through your eyebrows, trying to keep your balance. And there goes another red cheek, you swear you could taste the blood from a cut.

"Watch your mouth." 

He fingers you quickly, sometimes pausing to rub a few circles on your clit. He was enjoying the power he had over you, to watch your limbs get weak to his touch, to feel how wet he could make you without doing much.

You could feel something growing inside of your stomach, and showing it off would make him get his fingers away from you, but he saw it in your face.

He removes his fingers, slapping at your wet cunt, and makes you kneel for him. You whine, but there's not much time to complain when he's burying his cock down your throat. Thank God you don't have a gag reflex. He fucked your pretty mouth with so much taste, making you drool all over your tits.

He loved hearing the sounds you made, like your throat was made for him. He couldn't forget this feeling, that night when he met you, he wanted to live in that moment forever, him securing your head in place, pressing your body against that cold wall so you couldn’t get away from him, and coming right down your throat.

You cough when he pulls out, your face covered in tears and your own saliva. He pushed you on the mattress, spreading your legs further apart. He was so fucking hard, he needed to see how hungry your pussy was for his cock.

He pushes his pants further down, and pulls his shirt up only to expose his abdomen. His fat, girthy dick wanders on your wet folds before entering you in a long thrust. You suppress a moan, it's not like you've fucked anyone else that had such an advantage down there, it's hard to take him.

He holds your knees to your shoulders, increasing the pace on which he fucked you. You felt so good, so warm and especially tight, so fucking tight around him.

In a moment, he's pounding so hard into you that you can barely breathe, you feel the sweat sticking your bodies together, how his body hair stuck to his body with your slick, and how you're quickly reaching your high.

Why is it always written on your face?

"Not yet." You cry out as he leaves you empty, turning you to have your ass in the air for him. You tried to struggle, but he held your hips in place as he entered you at full speed, hitting your cervix repeatedly. He slapped and scratched your ass, leaving red marks. "I'm gonna ruin you, make you only ever want me." He growls as he takes the knife again, holding you close with his free hand as you try to escape him. "I'm gonna ruin you so bad that I'll be the only one you'll be willing to fuck."

His knife glides on your skin, pressing a little too hard for your liking, and you can't help but flex the muscles on your thighs as you feel it giving you a light scratch.

"Shh, shh, easy, maus. I’m not gonna kill you right now." He whispered and gripped your thigh way too hard. You winced in pain and he let go, lurking his hand around your body and pulling you close.

You've felt worse pains, but neither of them ever turned you on. This was something else. You had no clue on what you've been drugged with, but you lost every inch of self preservation you could ever have.

"Ahh, just like this." He moans, still fucking your brains out. "That's it, hase, let me hear you, hm?" Until now you've only let out soft whimpers, trying your best to keep quiet in fear he’d tape your mouth, pressing your lips together and scrunching your nose. "It's not like anyone else will hear you down here."

"Fuck, König." You finally cry, like you were holding your breath for hours. Your hands are touching his abs, nails digging on his flesh as he pushes past your physical limits. It’s such a strange feeling, he was definitely too big, too much to take, but at the same time you craved even more of his touches, like you were starving for any kind of touch.

“So pretty when you scream my name.” His hand takes a few soaked hairs off your face, then stops at your neck, squeezing tight.

“Please, it’s too much.” Your voice cracks and he throws your body on the mattress, your face buried in it, inhaling the sweet smell of dirt and making a tiny pool of tears.

“You didn’t seem to listen when I was the one asking you to stop.” His hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you down on his cock, like you were some kind of toy. He whimpered as his long fingers entered the tight hole of your ass, pumping it back and forth with his thrusts.

You could feel a burning sensation crashing against your skin as you reached your orgasm almost forcefully, contorting your face as your body was shaking uncontrollably. “See? And you wanted me to stop.”

“Shut up.” You mewled, and he wasn’t very happy about it.

König pulled you by your tied hands and stood in front of you, grasping your chin tightly.

“Why do you have to be so impolite when I’m trying to give you pleasure?” He lifted just a bit of his hood to spit on your face and slapped you. “I’ll have to teach you some manners.”

He tapped his dick on your face, covering almost half of it, he smeared your tears across your cheeks and pushed his long shaft past your lips. “Scheiße.” He murmured under his breath as his tip brushed your throat. He couldn’t contain the need to ruin your pretty little face.

You looked at his arms with blurred vision, he was so strong, so tall and masculine, yet he used all of that for the wrong reasons in war, fighting for the opposite side. You cursed yourself for ever letting this happen.

His pace becomes irregular and he’s panting even more, looking down at you with that lunatic look. He’s holding your hair in his fist, fucking your throat until you couldn’t even talk, leaving your jaw sore. He pulls out, using his free hand to jerk his member in front of you until he’s coming all over your mouth and chest.

The taste is almost the same as last time.

You both take deep breaths before he’s getting dressed again, preparing himself to get away from you.

“Wait, König, please.” You try to crawl to him in a pathetic attempt to make him feel pity for you.

“Please what, maus?” He asks in the most innocent way, looking deeply into your eyes. You can’t form a sentence, you’re not even sure what you want. “I told you’d pay, hm?”

He laughs deviously, leaving you there alone. Hands still tied tight behind your back, your naked body that he used to get revenge and your chest, covered in his bitter cum. Your jaw is sore, your limbs are weak, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of there. He left you with more questions than answers.

Oh, you’re so gonna pay for that.

taglist: @butterbunana @alyObe @snoisisabitch @nuhteyam @iamabsolutelynothere @blissful--moon @jellyluvr @khomugi @xaintxun @kichimiz @frog-spot

[dee-writes-anime]

IM SO SORRY FOR SPAMMING REQUESTS!!!! I have so many good ideas

So im a biiig redbull and monster fan (the energy drinks) and currently on gojo brain rot rn-

So imagine if reader is a teacher like gojo, special grade sorcerer. And is a littleeee younger (last tike i checked gojo is 28? So can reader be 25?) and reader is training with yuji , inomaki(?) , panda, megumi and maki

Gojo decided to watch them train, and reader is very VERY hyped up from the 10 redbulls she’s had, and gojo noticed and calls her out for it. 😭

She’s embarrassed and gojo chucks a water bottle at her and then decided to spar with her, and it goes on for a loooong ass time, and all the students are entertained, and reader pulls a power move on gojo as he tries to hit her while sparing, and pulls a similar move maki did in the jjk 0 movie but instead kicks out gojos legs out and slips him up and wins the spare

So later shes calmed down and in secret they’re dating :0 (SUPRISEEEE) and he scolds her for having so many redbulls and just hugs her while doing so as she comes down from the rush???

Soooo fluffy!!!! For our baddie 🤩, im loving that word, and i may or may not be high on redbull rn

MONTY! Eat sleep drink

Rockin' Redbull

FEATURING Satoru Gojo x Reader

SUMMARY You're hyped up on caffeine and Gojo decides to show his worry by sparring with you

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff!, reader is absolutely CRACKED OUT, worried gojo, jujutsu high students being actual students (!!)

AUTHORS NOTE Gojo is a parasite that lives in my brain. That's it. That's the note. Side note: King and Queen have been highlights in my verbal rotation these days. "get it King" is a proud example of this.

The sun was blinding—high and sharp and merciless, like it had a grudge against everyone beneath it. The rooftop training field shimmered under the heat, the concrete warm enough to fry an egg and the breeze almost useless. It was the kind of afternoon where everyone wanted to be anywhere but here.

Then you arrived.

You didn’t walk onto the field. You rocketed onto it like a chaotic comet of cursed energy and carbonation, half-jogging, half-skipping, hoodie sleeves bunched at your elbows, a mangled Red Bull can in one hand and what was probably your eighth or ninth of the day tucked under your arm.

“LET’S GO, BABY SORCERERS,” you shouted, skidding to a dramatic halt. “TIME TO GRIND!”

Yuji fist-pumped like he was born for this moment. “YEAAAH! I’m so ready!”

Inumaki glanced at you with a calm “Tuna mayo.”

Panda clapped once with the rhythm of a sports chant. “Someone’s overclocked again.”

Megumi, already stretching in the shade, didn’t look up. “Why are you like this.”

“I’m dialed in,” you declared, popping open the next Red Bull with a fzzzt that sounded suspiciously like doom. “Fully optimized. Mentally turbocharged.”

“You’re going to rupture something,” Megumi said flatly.

“Like a brain cell?” Yuji asked.

“She doesn't have any left,” Megumi deadpanned.

You took a long sip from the can. “I have become caffeine, destroyer of self-control.”

Maki leaned on her practice staff, raising a brow. “You realize this is a sparring session, not an MMA title fight, right?”

You grinned at her, jittering like a kicked beehive. “It is now.”

Panda tilted his head. “How many of those have you had?”

You blinked. “Define ‘had.’”

And then, as if summoned by sheer dramatic timing, he arrived.

Gojo stepped out onto the field like a model strutting into a battlefield. He wasn’t even pretending to hurry—just strolled up in his black uniform, blindfold half-lowered so you could see the faint curve of amusement playing on his mouth. His silver-white hair glinted under the light like it had its own gravitational pull.

The moment he saw you, he stopped walking.

Then blinked.

Then slowly turned to the rest of the students. “You let her drink how many Red Bulls?”

“She didn’t let us stop her,” Maki muttered.

“She threatened to fight a vending machine,” Panda added helpfully.

Yuji nodded. “It was kind of impressive.”

You struck a pose mid-field, vibrating like a hummingbird with an attitude. “Nothing can hurt me! I’ve surpassed mortal limitations!”

Gojo raised a brow. “You’re going to vomit on your own shoes in about twenty minutes.”

“Then I’ll vomit with honor!”

He sighed, like a man used to being surrounded by lunatics. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your face flashed hot, and before you could even think of a comeback, a cold bottle of water came flying at your head.

You caught it just barely. It thudded into your palms with icy finality.

“Hydrate,” Gojo said, looking deeply unimpressed. “Before I put you in a holding cell with the cursed corpses.”

Yuji gasped. “She’s getting detention?”

“She’s getting intervention,” Megumi muttered, still stretching, still over it.

“I’m not that bad,” you protested.

You cracked open the water and poured some over your head dramatically like it was a baptism.

Gojo tilted his head, studying you with a smug, unreadable smile. “You know what? If you’ve got all that energy to burn…” He paused. “Why don’t you spar with me?”

The entire rooftop froze.

Panda’s eyes went wide. “Wait. For real?”

Maki blinked. “He’s serious?”

Yuji let out a full-body gasp. “OH MY GOD YES—”

You paused mid-sip, water dribbling down your chin. “You wanna fight me?”

Gojo smirked. “Unless you’re too scared, Red Bull.”

You grinned, eyes shining, blood singing, muscles buzzing with cursed energy and terrible decisions.

“Oh, you’re so on, Snowflake.”

The heat was still clinging to the rooftop, but it wasn’t the sun making the air shimmer now.

It was cursed energy.

Gojo stood loose and unreadable in the center of the training field, rolling his shoulders back with deliberate, relaxed movements. His blindfold was off now, folded and tucked into a pocket—those eyes sharp as cut glass and fixed on you with a slow-burning curiosity. He wasn’t smiling.

Not yet.

You were still coiled with caffeine and adrenaline, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. The tremor in your limbs wasn’t nerves—it was fuel. Unstable, wild, and stupidly potent. The Red Bull rush was peaking, and Gojo? He was standing in your line of fire with that smug, infuriatingly calm look on his face.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I’m fueled by science and bad decisions,” you replied, cracking your neck. “Let’s do this.”

The students scrambled back instinctively, creating a wide circle around the sparring ring. Yuji practically vibrated with excitement. Panda pulled out a bag of popcorn from God knows where. Inumaki sat down cross-legged, eyes locked on the center. Maki stood still, watching with her arms crossed, the glint in her eye the closest thing to amusement she ever allowed.

Megumi just sighed and crouched beside a stack of water bottles. “If either of them levels the building, I’m not helping clean up.”

Gojo raised one hand lazily, fingers curling in that taunting “come on” motion. “Show me what that energy of yours is good for.”

You didn’t wait for a countdown.

You moved first.

One heartbeat you were standing still, the next you exploded forward—curse-enhanced speed cracking through the air like a bullet. Your fist came in fast, low, aimed for his side, but Gojo slid out of reach with impossible ease, feet barely whispering against the ground. The aftershock of your strike cracked a chunk off the tile floor.

“You’re fast,” he said mildly, turning on his heel. “Not faster than me.”

You spun, grinning. “Guess we’ll find out.”

You closed the distance again, throwing a feint left before twisting low into a sweeping kick. He stepped clean over it, countered with a flat-handed strike toward your shoulder. You blocked with your forearm, the impact reverberating down to your teeth.

“You’re holding back,” you said through clenched teeth.

Gojo tilted his head, stepping into your space again. “So are you.”

For a moment, everything sharpened. Your bodies moved around each other in precise, blinding rhythm—strike, block, twist, pivot. It was like dancing with knives. Your cursed energy pulsed with each movement, bright and erratic, while his remained cool and impossibly smooth, flowing around him like he didn’t even have to try.

Yuji had stopped cheering. He was just staring, slack-jawed.

“They’re insane,” he whispered.

“They’re insane and reckless,” Megumi muttered, arms crossed. “Great combination.”

“Pass the popcorn,” Maki said under her breath.

Panda whispered, “This is way better than class.”

You threw a series of sharp jabs, ducked under his counter, then spun around behind him—but he was already there, waiting for you. He grabbed your wrist, twisting it with just enough pressure to warn you, not break you.

“You’re gonna crash soon,” he murmured.

Your eyes flashed. “Then I better end this fast.”

You twisted free, body bending back in a full arch to slip under his arm before launching yourself into a jump kick aimed at his shoulder. Gojo caught you midair—of course he did—and shoved you backward with a palm to the chest that sent you skidding across the ground.

You crouched low, breathing hard, grinning wide.

He wiped dust off his uniform and gave you a look.

A real look.

Curious. Challenging. Like he was finally seeing what you could do. Like he wanted more.

You surged forward again, ducked one swing—then dropped your center of gravity, pivoted, and swept his legs out from under him.

Your heel cracked against the back of his knee with a satisfying thud. Gojo’s eyes widened—not in pain, but in surprise—as he lost balance. You didn’t hesitate. You moved into a spin, rose up just enough to plant your foot on his chest as he landed flat on his back, winded but grinning up at you with his hair a mess and one arm thrown lazily over his head like this was the best day of his life.

You stood over him, panting, one knee bent, hair falling into your eyes. “Who’s crashing now?”

He blinked up at you. “You just Maki’d me.”

“I learned from the best.”

Gojo let his head fall back into the cracked tile. “Incredible. I’ve been publicly humiliated. I might retire.”

“I’ll send flowers.”

“You better.”

Across the field, the students erupted in shouts and laughter. Yuji threw both fists into the air like you’d just taken down a final boss. Inumaki nodded approvingly. Panda was filming. Maki smirked faintly, just once, before returning to her neutral stance.

Even Megumi… cracked the smallest grin.

You stepped off Gojo’s chest and flopped beside him, your body still trembling from adrenaline and caffeine, heart jackhammering in your chest. Your arm brushed his.

Gojo didn’t move right away.

Then, softly—just for you—he muttered, “That was hot.”

You didn’t answer. Just smiled at the sky and let yourself breathe.

The hallway lights buzzed low and warm, and the lounge was nearly empty.

You were curled up sideways on the couch like a cat that had tried to fight God and won—barely. The hoodie you’d half-stripped during training was back on now, draped messily over your shoulders like a blanket, your body half-wrapped in a throw someone had left behind weeks ago. Your head throbbed dully. The caffeine high had cracked apart hours ago, leaving behind a sluggish ache and the unmistakable fuzz of dehydration and regret.

You were still clutching the now-empty water bottle like a lifeline.

The door creaked open.

You didn’t bother lifting your head. “If it’s Ijichi, tell him I’m dead.”

Gojo’s voice answered, dry and amused. “What a coincidence. I was just about to say the same thing about you.”

You cracked one eye open.

He strolled in like he owned the damn room—his uniform jacket slung over one shoulder, collar loosened, hair damp from a recent rinse. No blindfold. Just those too-bright eyes focused solely on you, filled with that familiar gleam of smugness… and something softer buried beneath it.

“Still alive?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of the couch.

“Debatable.”

“You look like someone who tried to fistfight a vending machine and lost.”

You squinted at him. “I won. I got the Red Bulls.”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Ah, yes. Victory through organ failure.”

You groaned and slumped deeper into the cushions. Your voice dropped to a mumble. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Tough. You’re gonna.”

He dropped his jacket on the armrest and sat beside you, shifting until you could feel the warmth of him just barely brushing against your side. He didn’t say anything at first. Just reached over and pulled your hood up gently, letting it fall over your head like a soft reprimand.

“Ten cans?” he murmured.

“Thirteen,” you corrected automatically. “But one was sugar-free, so it doesn’t count.”

Gojo sighed, leaned back, and tilted his head to look at you. “You know you don’t have to kill yourself to prove something, right?”

You closed your eyes. “I was just trying to keep up.”

“With who?” he asked, genuinely confused. “You wiped the floor with me. And I’m the strongest.”

You snorted softly.

But he didn’t let it go. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced, and said—quieter this time—“You’re already good enough. You don’t have to run yourself into the ground to be impressive.”

There was a silence that followed that. Thick, honest, uncomfortable.

You didn’t say anything.

So he moved first.

Gojo leaned over, and before you could process it, you were being pulled into his lap like you weighed nothing. His arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand settling low on your back, the other resting against the crown of your head.

You let yourself collapse into him—bone-tired, brain-fried, and strangely at peace. His chest was warm beneath your cheek. His scent was clean, bright, familiar—like soap and sun and something electric that only belonged to him.

“You scared me,” he said against your hair.

“I sparred you,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

“Exactly,” he whispered. “You sparred me while chemically unhinged. I had flashbacks to Suguru’s cooking.”

You laughed—low and rough.

He held you tighter.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he said. “I get it. You want to be strong. You want to keep up. But you can’t protect others if you’re wrecking yourself in the process.”

You went quiet for a while. Not because you disagreed. Just because it was hard to hear when it came from him—from someone who had made self-destruction look like an artform.

“…I’ll cut back,” you said eventually.

Gojo hummed. “One can a day.”

“Two.”

“One and a sip.”

You sighed into his collar. “Fine.”

His hand moved gently along your spine. “Good. ‘Cause I happen to like you with functioning kidneys.”

“You like me?” you teased weakly.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your hood. “Don’t push it, Red Bull.”

[coff33andb00ks]

20 Oscar

20: pressing the other’s hand against their cheek

warnings: author doesn't understand the meaning of the word "short" and (badly written) descriptions of a wreck during a race (no injuries)

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

Piastri just doesn't give a fuck.

Oscar is just too chill.

Does he ever show emotion except when he's laughing at Lando?

You try to stay out of comments. Hell, you try to stay off social media, it's nothing but a cesspool of people with too much time on their hands and not enough brain cells to comprehend more than the surface level of what they're shown. But sometimes you like it, because there are creative people who put out beautifully edited videos of your boyfriend. Sometimes you show them to him, enjoying his giggling while he watches and shakes his head over someone finding him attractive enough to warrant a thirty second video set to a Rihanna song.

But the comments about his emotionless black cat behavior hurt. He's so much more than how he portrays himself. He's vibrant and so full of life, and you will forever appreciate the people who see beyond his social anxiety and notice his amazing sense of humor, his passion for racing and life. They'll never know the real him and will probably never understand why you fell in love with him.

Him. The sweet and shy guy who'd come to your defense when a rude customer had been berating you over a wrong order. His voice had cut over her yelling, calm and measured, and after your manager had kicked out the irrationally angry woman it had been Oscar that had approached you to check on you, frowning when he saw your tears. His gentle tone had calmed you, his respectful stance had won your admiration, and his calling the woman a fucking cunt had made you smile.

You wish you could defend him as he continues to defend you. When a video questioning how a nobody like you had bagged a formula one rookie had gone somewhat viral he'd taken to twitter and unleashed such a beautifully worded rant that people were still quoting it more than a year later.

It's come to my attention that some so-called fans are referring to my girlfriend as a nobody. Allow me to introduce her to you. She's funny, she's brilliant, she's beautiful. She's every word you can think of to describe the perfect person and she's so much more. She shines light in the darkest corners of my soul. Her eyes are a map of my universe. When you look at us together, know that I am constantly trying to be worthy of the love she gives me, and know that if you speak ill of her you will never have my respect but you will have my disgust.

You would never ever doubt his love for you. Not that you ever had but that had cemented it. You could never come to his defense in such a way. If you even tried you'd be sneered at for being a try hard.

And really, you didn't need to. Because the one thing Oscar did not give a fuck about was anyone's opinion. Only a handful of people mattered enough to him for him to care what they thought. You were blessed to be included on that list.

You love him so much that for a while it scared you, having never fallen into the this one person is my moon and stars mindset. But now you understand. He didn't just hang them, he is your moon and stars. Your one and only and if for some reason this doesn't end in forever you'll be ruined for any other man.

It was still a shock, though, when you felt your heart stop beating as you watched his car careen towards the barrier. The front wing clipped Max's rear tire and you can't breathe, watching in slow motion as the brightly colored car tips and lifts into the air. There is nothing but absolute silence around you in the McLaren garage and you're frozen, staring at the monitor while his car flips and rolls, carbon fiber flying in every direction when it lands upside down, his helmet just visible as it slides to a stop at the safety fence.

Silence. Then pandemonium. Your world has just flipped and spun and you can't breathe, ears straining to hear him but you can only hear the crackle of the radio when Zak and Tom try to get him to respond.

Then, finally, his voice. Shaken and scared. "Are they okay? Please tell me they're okay."

Of course he'd ask after the others involved. You can finally breathe but it hurts, not knowing that he's okay. And you can't do anything but wait, heart barely beating until he's finally out, he's moving, he's giving the fans a thumbs up as he's put on the stretcher. You still can't do a thing and you've never felt more useless than you do while you're waiting just inside the medical center with Zak and Lando, who'd come to wait during the red flag.

Then the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

"He's okay."

There's more after that, about him being transported to the local hospital for a complete check, the possibility of a concussion but he's okay. And you're allowed to go see him while the ambulance is readied.

He's sitting up, looking a little pale but he's not hurt, he's in one piece, and when he sees you he gasps. You try to be gentle when you embrace him, but he steals your breath, holding you so tightly it hurts, his face pressed into your neck.

"They won't tell me - are Max and George okay?" His voice is strained and you feel his tears.

"They're fine, my love," you promise.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know what I did. I was going good and then I was upside down." His voice shakes and cracks and he's trembling, one hand fisting in your shirt. You reach for the other.

"Shh shh... It's okay my love," you whisper, your tears finally spilling when he guides your hand up, holding it to his cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. "Everyone's okay, you're okay."

His eyes meet yours and your world rights itself.

[11queensupreme11]

ASJDJDHDDHD I TOTALLY FUCKING FORGOT APOLLOOO I'm sorry king 💔 I didn't mean to throw shade but the shade kinda eclipsed ur whole existence I did not remember you existed 😔💔 the favouritism is so real with me. At least Percy loves you 💞 Not me tho I would drawn the line at the nymph harem and your habit of putting humans through horrors via doomed dick. Ty for having him Percy, now nobody else has to. Our Queen making sacrifices for us every day..

ALSO YES!! THE BEELCY KIDS ASK WAS ALSO ME!!! I forgor my new designation bc I was so sleep deprived 😭😭 but I'm so glad you recognised me!!

(ALSO added comedy for the dimension hopping demon spawn, but I feel like even if she wouldn't let it slip intentionally bc she doesn't want to minimise their inter-dimensionnal war crimes and shit, depending on the timing some of the kids would be having what amounts to a toddlers temper tantrum to her because of how fast the gods age. So she just distracted lying drops the bomb that "anyway I'm really sorry but he's only five so I'm hoping he'll maybe grow out of it with lots of special attention and guidance" and the universe inhabitants are just like??? THAT EVIL MF IS FIVE?? MY UNIVERSE IS HANGING ONTO A THREAD BC A TECHNICAL TODDLER BE BEEFING WITH US??? That or they're looking at her like she's crazy like 'lady.. this mf is NOT five do you see the DEVIOUS way he's looking at me when you turn your back...'

Also all I can say is RIP if any of them end up on Penacony. One of the kids would end up either murdering or making a pet out of that Death entity or whatever that shish kebab'd Firefly and Sunday would be having an aneurism because they're shattering his influence and ruining all his plans. Unless he gets lucky and its Cu's daughters (or maybe the Apollo kids depending on how well-behaved and non myrdery they are) that end up there, they'd probably be the most well-behaved and have a blast!!! Until their daddy shows up and then the planet is under threat for sure, they better hope he's too focused on his daughters to think about the implications of a planet that encourages them to experience all their dreams 😭 especially if his brain cells start putting in work and he figures. Dreams coming true. Hmm I wonder if my hopeless romantic daughters might've been imagining 👹 B O Y S 👹

Circumstances would go so differently depending on which kids end up where... God forbid this is all happening synonymously.. One of the Beelcy kids is going around swallowing plants because they were hungry and they looked like good snacks or smthn (and Beel is too distracted flexing on Ruan Mei or smthn like pshh you call THAT a SWARM? Watch this im gonna end your whole career and many species) and Cu's daughters are innocently frolicking somewhere and too innocent to consider that they're putting whatever planet they're on in danger just by being there even if they're being the goodest of girls 😔 bc daddy's a 👹 menace 👹 (If they do end up on Pencacony they'd probably be besties with Robin if she's still around there and not on tour or smthn. Sunday better keep his distance tho lest they get.. too attached... and start thinking 'wow!! A bestie AND a perfect Disney prince for a boyfriend HUSBAND!! This is great 🥰' Daddy would NOT approve)

💫

(from 💫 anon)

that entire first paragraph 😭😭😭 "Ty for having him Percy, now nobody else has to" DAMN YOU'RE KILLING HIM WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU LMAO 😭😭😭 our poor boy (i'm just kidding, flame him harder 👹)

also you're right percy WOULD just casually drop the bomb that the being(s) destroying their universe is just a wittle baby five year old

percy: pls help me find my babies 🥺

and then the babies in question are these psychos:

💀💀💀 she'd be 1000% serious too, cuz those literally ARE just babies to her ahshadfv hdvb 😭

AND CÚ CHULAINN'S DAUGHTERS IN PENACONY ASHFGHWGV

percy probably finds them all there first and they excitedly tell her all about the super cool dreamscape and she's like "oh what the heck, sure. i'll try it out, i can use a vacation!" so she joins them into the dreamscape while her husband's out losing his shit looking for them 😭😭😭😭

anyway, you know how you gotta fall asleep in the dream pool thingy to enter the dreamscape properly?????

imagine poor cú chulainn getting into the reverie hotel and finding his daughters and wife all knocked out in different rooms inside this weird pool thingy not waking up and he just fucking LOSES IT. HIS BABIES ARE UNCONSCIOUS HIS WIFE IS UNCONSCIOUS WTF IS HAPPENING. WHO DID THIS TO HIS FAMILY. CEARBHALL'S ASS IS GROUNDED

when in actuality, they're all having the time of their lives in the golden hour ashfahfv 😭😭😭😭😭

and then he eventually learns about what's going on and then loses it again BECAUSE WHAT IF THEY'RE TALKING TO 👹BOYS👹?! WHAT IF OTHER 👹MEN👹 ARE DROOLING OVER HIS WIFE???? WHERE'S THAT IDIOT SON OF HIS, HE SHOULD'VE STOPPED THIS 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

also, i love the differences between the percy babies 😭😭😭😭

the sécy daughters in the hsr verse (except maybe luisne tbh 💀):

meanwhile some of the other percy babies 💀:

[snnowwpheenix]

Part 2: Tokyo Revengers men trying to redeem themselves after their child roasted them with “Wow… you’re really bad at this.”

🐻 Mikey (Manjiro Sano)

Next day, Mikey returns to the table with a math tutor video playing on his phone. He dramatically slides the pencil to his kid. “Check it. I learned how to do fractions in 1 night.” Your kid: “…You still forgot to carry the 1.” Mikey: shoves paper off table “Okay but did I LOOK smarter?”

🐉 Draken (Ken Ryuguji)

Draken shows up with flashcards and a determined look. “I’m gonna prove to you I’m not dumb.” Your kid: “Dad, I never said you were dumb—just bad at math.” Draken: “Same thing.” He gets the answer right this time and does a tiny fist pump. Child: genuinely proud “You did it!” Draken: “Damn right I did.”

🕊️ Takemichi Hanagaki

He shows up wearing reading glasses. You didn’t even know he owned any. He’s done research. He printed practice sheets. He even brought cookies as “study motivation.” Child: “You look like a teacher now.” Takemichi: “I AM the teacher now.” (Still gets the answer wrong but gets an A for effort.)

🐯 Kazutora Hanemiya

He draws all the math problems as angry little cartoons to make it fun. “Now solve for x before x explodes.” Your kid: “Why is math… cool now?” Kazutora smirks: “Because I made it cool.” They both forget the real assignment—but hey, bonding.

🐥 Chifuyu Matsuno

He comes in with a new notebook, matching pens, and printed guides. “I did some research last night. Let’s ace this together.” Kid: “You’re a nerd now.” Chifuyu: “I’ve always been a nerd. Now I’m just a useful one.” Your kid: “Valid.”

🐺 Baji Keisuke

Baji flops into the chair with a massive math textbook. “I hate this. But I hate being wrong more.” Your child: “You’re still gonna mess up.” Baji: “That’s why I brought backup.” Chifuyu appears from the doorway. “Hi. I heard your dad needed brain cells.”

🌺 Ran Haitani

He bribes the kid with ice cream. “Call me dumb again and no dessert tonight.” Your kid: “So you are bad at it?” Ran: “I’m leaving.” Later that night, he secretly studies and aces a math worksheet. Leaves it on the fridge with a note: “Ran: 100%. Suck it.”

👑 Rindou Haitani

Rin walks in like it’s a redemption arc. “I watched 2 hours of YouTube math.” Kid: “What’s 7x8?” Rin: “...Fifty...six?” Kid: claps slowly “You did it, Dad.” He raises his arms like he just won a championship.

🧵 Mitsuya Takashi

Mitsuya brings handmade math flashcards—with cute designs. “Let’s study together again.” Kid: “Did you stay up making these?” Mitsuya smiles. “You caught me.” Child: “You’re not bad anymore. You’re cool math Dad now.” He wins. Effort always wins.

👑 Izana Kurokawa

He redeems himself in the most dramatic way: By solving the entire worksheet before his kid even wakes up. Then leans on the doorframe like: “Still think I’m bad at this?” Your child: jaw drop “You… you learned it??” Izana: “Out of spite, yes.”

🖤 Kakucho

Kakucho asks a teacher friend to tutor him overnight. He comes back confident, calm, and correct. Kid: “You’re not bad at it anymore.” Kakucho smiles: “I wasn’t bad—I was rusty.” Kid: “So… are you the math boss now?” Kakucho: “I’m your math hero.”

💰 Koko Hajime

Koko walks in with a literal tutor trailing behind him. “You said I was bad? This is Kaede-sensei. She’s the best.” Kid: “You cheated.” Koko: “I outsourced. That’s not cheating—it’s rich people strategy.”

🐾 Inupi (Seishu Inui)

He doesn’t say a word. He just hands the completed, correct homework over, then smirks. Child: “You studied?” Inupi: “I care.” Your kid gives him the biggest hug like, “You’re the best even when you weren’t good at it.”

😢 Angry (Souya Kawata)

He shyly walks in with a worksheet he solved himself. “Is this… right?” Your kid checks it. “…Yeah. It is.” Angry: blushes hard “See? I just needed a second chance.” He gets a gold star sticker from his kid. He wears it on his jacket all day.

😈 Smiley (Nahoya Kawata)

He sets the homework down like a battle plan. “Alright. Sit. Watch the master.” Kid: “You gonna mess it up again?” Smiley: “No. I studied.” He proceeds to get everything right, but makes every answer rhyme. Kid: “Okay, you’re chaotic and smart.”

💪 Taiju Shiba

Taiju slams down a perfectly done worksheet. “Boom.” Child: “You got them all right?” Taiju smirks. “Don’t underestimate your old man.” Kid: “You’re scary and smart.” Taiju: “Good. That’s the goal.”

🧍‍♂️ Hakkai Shiba

He nervously asks, “Want me to try helping again?” Kid: “Only if you’re better this time.” Hakkai proudly gets the first question right. Child: “Oh… you learned!” They hug him tight. Hakkai tears up a little. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

🃏 Hanma Shuji

Hanma struts in with fake glasses and a whiteboard. “Class is in session.” Kid: “No way.” Hanma: “Yes way. I watched three videos and one got it into my skull.” Surprisingly? He actually explains it well. Kid: “You’re scary when smart.” Hanma: “That’s my goal, sweetheart.”

🧠 Kisaki Tetta

Kisaki returns with multiple textbooks and a vengeance. “I have mastered this curriculum.” Kid: “That’s extra.” Kisaki: “You roasted me. This is revenge.” He makes them take a pop quiz. Spoiler: he grades it harshly. They bond over their pettiness.

[grandlinedreams]

I love your writing! Could your write something where Law has to work with Luffy and Kid again and he’s pouting to his s/o about it. I just really like how he interacts with the two. There are no brain cells there. Maybe Luffy and Kid meets his s/o and they’re like “how did emotionally stunned Law manage to land this?”

PLEASE I showed mom where they're bickering and said "there are no braincells. Whatsoever"

[Heads up!: nothing, just them being idiots, reader is amused]

"This is getting annoying."

Crouching, you study the cluster of plants growing at the base of a tree, reaching out to drag a finger against one of the waxy green leaves, watching as it promptly folds and recoils. Interesting.

"The least they could do is be on time, I don't know why I expected them to be considerate." Law turns on his heel, frowning as he spots you with your back to him, engrossed in your examination of the island's plant life. "You could stop me from ranting, you know."

You glance over. "Where's the fun in that? It's cute to see you so worked up."

Law huffs, reaching to pull at his hat as he looks away. "It's not cute. It's annoying."

You watch him with a small smile, then blink as there's a call of, "Heey, Traffy! Where are you?"

"Finally," Law grumbles, and you straighten to follow him in the direction that you'd come from, dirt giving way to sand and the smell of ocean. "About time you showed up."

"Watch it," grunts Kid from nearby, distaste for both Luffy and Law clear on his face. "You're lucky I even decided to entertain this little meeting of yours."

It's clear that Law wants to say something just as scathing back, but you decide to step in, knowing nothing will get accomplished if you leave those three to their own devices.

"We wouldn't have asked you to meet us here if it wasn't important," you say, "and the less time you spend arguing amongst yourselves, the better chance we have for actually getting something done."

There are three sets of eyes on you before Luffy points at you. "Hey Traffy, who's this?"

"You've met before, idiot," Law snaps. "This is [name]." When Luffy still looks confused, Law heaves a sigh. "They're my..." He searches for an appropriate word. "Partner."

Luffy looks content to leave it at that, but the sly narrow of Kid's eyes says that he knows what Law means by that ㅡ and your boyfriend glares back. "If you're going to run your mouth, I suggest you don't."

Kid bristles, and you sigh, shaking your head as you retreat a couple feet and settle into the sand, rummaging in your bag for your notes. If they're going to insist on arguing like a bunch of children, at least you can be productive.

ㅡ

"I think that went rather well."

Law scoffs. "I'm not so sure. I went over the plan three times and I'm still not convinced Strawhat understood any of it."

You stifle a laugh at the almost sulky expression on Law's face. "Maybe so, but he's always done his own thing, you know that. And it usually works out, doesn't it?"

"Not without more hassle than necessary." He glances over at you and the leather bound book still in your hands. "I thought you came with me to play mediator."

"I did, but I know lost battle when I see one." Your tone is amused. "Besides, I told you. You're cute when you're worked up."

What follows is a rare sight, blush dusting across his cheeks and tinging the tips of his ears as he scowls and looks away. "Whatever. I'm not cute."

You step to his side, fingers intertwining with his as you lean to kiss his jaw, then his cheek. "Whatever you say, Law. Whatever you say."

[geeeemmmmmmm]

Tomorrow Never Came - part 4

chapter summary: Soldat is starting to trust you more and more each day and with that so is the urge to be in your presence. Just as things are moving somewhat steady you get a text from Steve Series masterlist

a/n:Wowow she updated this series oh my god!!! I did use google translate for russian so any mistakes are my fault. Not much to say here but this chapter is just mainly one to just set up for the upcoming parts but as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

wc:2k warnings:I don't think there are any but if I have missed anything please lmk

It had been a couple days after you reintroduced bathing to Soldat, and that process seemed to make him a lot more trusting within your company. He was improving at a somewhat rapid pace, considering what he escaped from. His stomach was adjusting to proper sustenance again, and it showed on him; his hair seemed to be more sleek and shiny, his skin was gradually returning back into a healthy complexion from a pale and unhealthy one, but what seemed to be the most noticeable was the way his dark blue eyes, that resembled a storm at sea, was in a way clearing up.

Sadly, what would never improve would be the vicious nightmares he and you shared. Hydra's grip on your mind may be shoved off, but the imprint from them will always linger – even in the happiest of moments. Even after a couple weeks of harbouring the poor man, his nightmares kept themselves consistent, as if Zola was in his room again. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the same; their savage hands would always stay on your body. Your sheets acted like the restraints that were once forced on you as the first serum was rammed into your veins. In every nightmare, you’d find yourself searching for Bucky, the security you always felt with him and the promise that he’d always come back and protect you.

Soldat experienced a somewhat similar thing within him – a feminine figure with a gentle voice calling out for him would always be standing over him as he fell from the train. It was a figure that was comforting, even if it was blocked by the fog in his mind.

It was another calm night of you being cuddled up on the couch with your favourite blanket, along with your favourite movie playing softly in the background; you kept the volume down on everything in order not to scare Soldat and to be able to hear him if he were to be even more distressed. Something felt odd… a lingering presence loomed over your mind. Carefully, you looked over your shoulder, expecting the worst, yet it was just Soldat standing outside his door, looking at you like a sad puppy.

“Soldat, are you okay?” you asked, making sure your tone wasn't coming off as accusatory.

He blinked a couple times, like he was trying to remember what he was doing, before turning on his heel to disappear in the guest room where he resided.

“You can sit out here with me, it’s okay to want company,” you called out softly, letting yourself smile as his head tilted slightly towards you.

Soldat had always wanted company, yet he was always put into a cell with the only company being the echoes of guards laughing through the halls. If he was ever given company within the miserable lab, it would be training the next batch of barbaric winter soldiers, and they both saw each other as programmed assets. Very rarely, he’d meet a pair of soothing eyes staring at him from another grotty cell or when they looked up from the floor of the training ground — all bloody and beaten from riling up the soldiers for him. That was the most pleasant company he’d had for decades, and even then it was burned out of his mind. Yet somehow, those hypnotic eyes would always weave themselves back into his brain.

“Who could resist those eyes, doll,” Bucky whispered as he cupped your cheek, watching you chuckle at his statement. It was something he’d always tell you, that your eyes were hypnotic to him, with the way you would gaze at him in any situation. You used your charm to your advantage by pulling extra puppy dog eyes when you wanted to go dancing with your boyfriend; of course, Bucky would relent every time and sway you around the dancefloor — not once breaking eye contact.

In a hesitant manner, Soldat turned to face you again, like he was making sure he heard you right. No handler would ever willingly want his presence if it weren't for a mission or mission report.

“You heard me right, you can sit out here if you like,” you said softly.

You knew how it felt being deceived by your handlers as they laughed before taking control of your body. Everything in his mind was telling him not to, that this was a cruel trick to hurt him. Yet something in your eyes made him ignore those chary voices as he awkwardly shuffled to stand next to the armrest which you sat next to.

It broke your heart, the way he looked down at you, awaiting a new ‘command’.

“You can sit on the couch with me or anywhere else. I don’t mind.”

His tense demeanor flickered between a state of distress and comfort with the ability to pick what he wanted. Keeping his movements slow, he managed to situate himself on the carpeted floor, with his back resting against the couch — near your legs.

“I’m just watching a movie. It’s probably my favourite one that actually isn’t from the 40s,” you laughed softly, remembering the way Bucky, Steve and you would sneak into cinemas. Soldat looked over at you, confusion evident on his face.

“I know, I’m old, right? I was at Hydra too. I was kidnapped from my house after having the last night with the love of my life before he went to war,” you explained solemnly. Your joke didn’t soothe you this time.

Soldat’s expression kept seeming confused as he slightly nodded, in a way to egg you on. It took you by surprise — not many people really cared about the details of life, especially an ex-tortured assassin that didn't speak much.

“I don’t know why Hydra took me, but I was injected with one of the first serums. It worked, but not in the way they’d hoped. I harness some excess strength and I don’t age, and that’s about it. So they kept me to bait the other soldiers so they could learn how to properly fight while I was basically a glorified lure.”

You explained the grisly details of your time at Hydra and gave some of the memories you kept from your old life. It felt like you talked for a lifetime, yet Soldat kept listening and keeping his eyes on you as you spoke.

“God, Bucky would always stare at me like you do,” you said carefully.

“I… know you.” His voice was unsure as he spoke. “твой знакомый.” [ your familiar]

“I would watch you from my cell, maybe that’s it?” you questioned softly, not wanting to upset him if he’s reverting back into Russian out of old habits, forced into his mind by his handlers.

“Нет.”

Soldat’s voice kept quiet and rough as he slumped further into the couch. You just left that conversation there — after all, you remembered how daunting it was to hold a conversation at first.

Throughout the movie, your attention would drag down to him and the way he would shiver ever so slightly. Without thinking, you shed one of the blankets wrapped around your body and started to place it around his shoulders — a gesture you would always do to your Bucky.

You both jumped at the interaction as Soldat whipped his head to look at you, and then the blanket you placed around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, you uh, you seemed cold,” you stumbled over words to try to justify your action as he stared at you in silence. You kept your hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure of what to do, and Soldat did the same. He stayed stationary, not particularly showing a sign of discomfort.

“I’m going to go to bed, it’s quite late,” you whispered before reaching to switch the TV off.

“Feel free to stay out here and watch TV or anything like that,” you quickly reassured him as you got up.

“Спасибо.” [Thank you]

You smiled down at him as he held the blanket curled over his shoulders.

“Of course,” you murmured, suddenly you were grateful you picked up on some basic Russian.

Sleep comes quickly to you after completing your nightly routine. For what felt like the first time in years, you slept without a nightmare. You dreamt about the domestic life you had always imagined having with Bucky. It was bittersweet to wake up and remember the tired smiles and kisses exchanged, even if it was in a dream — it was what was meant to happen. You couldn't tell if Soldat had a nightmare, you hoped not, considering you weren't jolted awake by his screams and cries.

Like a bear emerging from its cave, you crept out of your room with your favourite PJs on, ready to make a calming tea. You were expecting tea — what you weren’t expecting was to find Soldat still sitting where he was last night. Unsure if he was asleep or not, you tiptoed your way to face the couch; sure enough, he fell asleep like a little kid who fought their way to stay up late, only to let slumber pull them under. You smiled at the sight of him and tiptoed back to your room, not wanting to disrupt him by making breakfast.

Happily, you crawled back into bed and checked your phone. 2 new messages

It was uncommon for you to get texts; you preferred the calmer lifestyle. It was even more uncommon for Steve to text you.

I don’t know how, but I found a letter Bucky wrote for you. I’m sorry I didn't find this earlier.Dear Y/N,I don’t know where you were on the morning I shipped out. Steve told me something came up with your parents or something like that—I hope that’s what happened. It must’ve been. You promised me you’d be there, and doll, I’m scared something happened to you.I don’t know how long it took for you to read this, but I’ve only been gone about a week, and I miss you with everything I have. I miss our diner. I miss tasting the chocolate milkshake you always had on your lips. I miss teasing Stevie with you. I miss your eyes. I miss the way you’d hold my face in your hands like I’d break if you didn’t—but I am breaking without you.I just miss you.I’ll keep this short, in case my mind’s just playing tricks on me about why you weren’t there and I’m being a fool. But I had to write to you. I’m doing everything I can to come back, I swear it. I’ll swear on my sister that I will marry you when I’m home—no matter how long it takes.I love you.Yours forever,Bucky

You couldn't help it; tears flooded your eyes as you read. You missed Bucky with everything, and you never let yourself remember how he must've felt when you disappeared. You don’t know how long you curled yourself up in your duvet for, but it made everything worse when you saw the second text Steve sent you.

I don’t know if you’ll believe this but Nat was looking into this person, The Winter Soldier, I think he’s called. I don’t know if you have seen him but something about him reminds me of Bucky. We are looking into the records we have about what happened to Buck after he fell from the train.

It felt like finding out what happened to Bucky all over again. No. Surely the assassin you’ve harboured and kept hidden from Hydra is your Bucky. The Bucky that would walk you home in the dead of night, even if it was an inconvenience to him. The Bucky who would match your pace as you walked hand in hand. The Bucky that showed you what love is.

You couldn't bring yourself to reply, let alone tell Steve about what’s changed in your life. You knew you would have to and somehow ask Soldat about his mysterious past, but all you know is you just wish this was just some extravagant nightmare, and you’d wake up safe and sound in Bucky’s arms again.

a/n:This chapter has kinda set me up with ideas on how to progress further so I don't really know what to think of this but I hope it was somewhat enjoyable and thank you for reading💞

[in-my-loki-feels]

For the bed sharing prompts: 💡 Needing white noise or a night light (Lokius :))

Thank you for the prompt! This is pre-relationship but hopefully you'll still like it! Going to put it under a read more since it got a little long. 🙈

💡 Needing white noise or a night light

Mobius waited until he was alone in his quarters before calling on Miss Minutes for help. 

“Howdy! What can I do for ya?” she said, popping into existence. 

“Can you pull up the security feed for room 674C?”

“Sure thang!” 

On Mobius’ TemPad, the pixels resolved to a view from above of where he’d left the Loki variant. They didn’t usually keep variants around, and when they did it was in a time cell, but Mobius wanted Loki to work with him. He’d found a floor within the TVA with forgotten rows of single occupant rooms and brought Loki to one to see if he could build a little trust. Even if he’d had to lock Loki in the first time. 

“After that chase you led everyone on, I have to,” he’d explained, “but if you behave, show you’re serious about wanting to help, then we can talk.” He’d pointed out the PJ’s and toiletries and left him to rest. 

Time worked differently at the TVA but that didn’t mean there were no breaks. In addition to their 17 minute meals, all TVA workers had a rest period in between working shifts. The problem was, Loki didn’t look like he was getting any rest, which left Mobius wondering what he was up to in their downtime. He hoped it wasn’t another escape plan, but it wouldn’t have surprised him. 

By the second “morning”, Loki had been looking a little too close to how he had when he came through the portal in that S.H.I.E.L.D. base. They’d never kept a Loki variant within the TVA. Could something in the walls be affecting his biology? 

On the TemPad screen, Loki appeared to be sleeping: he was lying on his side, partly curled up, eyes closed. However, the lights were on and since there wasn’t any light fixture other than the overheads, the room was awash in bright yellow light. Mobius couldn’t imagine trying to sleep under those conditions. 

“Does he know how to turn the lights off?” he wondered aloud. 

“Yep,” Miss Minutes chirped. “I switched them off the first night and he put them right back on.” 

It didn’t make any sense. As far as he knew, Jotunn needed sleep like most other creatures. But Loki had been showing serious signs of being deprived of it. 

“Is that all you need?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Miss Minutes winked out of existence, leaving Mobius to sit and watch Loki in bewildered silence. 

—

He thought he knew everything he needed to know about Lokis and what made them tick, but this new behavior had Mobius going back to the Archives—skipping out on his own rest—to look for answers. He took this particular Loki’s file to a table and began flipping through it, scanning the info for anything relevant. 

His life matched that of his Sacred Timeline counterpart, up until his nexus event. Mobius knew most of this data by heart, so he read through it in reverse order, starting with the Battle of New York and then the events preceding it. 

“Time spent between worlds: unknown,” he read out loud. What must that have been like, floating in space—or whatever lay between the boundaries of the Nine Realms—until he was eventually found by Thanos? All alone in the dark, wondering if there was any end to hope for. 

Mobius froze, then re-read Loki’s fall from the Bifost. Then he smacked himself in the head with the folder he held. He was an idiot for not seeing it right away. Shuffling the papers back into the folder, he slapped it closed before hurrying out of the Archives. 

—

Of course, Requisitions gave him a hard time when he went down to make his request. 

“All rooms come with the standard items and nothing can be replaced unless it’s broken,” the clerk behind the desk said, her tone long-suffering. “Is it broken?”

“Uh, no.” Mobius wracked his brain for ideas. “What about something new? A little change of scenery?” 

She gave him a long look, then pulled out a thick binder with dog-eared papers in it. She flipped through it, pausing to read a couple of times, then set it aside with a sigh. 

“I guess that’s not against the rules.” 

“Great!” 

—

Loki, with dark circles starting to form under his eyes, seemed curious about the bag Mobius brought along to his room.

“Please don’t tell me I’m being given more work to do in my spare time.” 

“You wanted to be helpful, right?” Mobius replied, grinning at Loki’s dismay. “It’s not that, don’t worry.” 

Mobius usually left Loki at the door but today he followed him inside. Then he stopped, seeing that the room was so sparsely furnished, there wasn’t even a bedside table. Oh well, the look of the thing wasn’t the point. 

He set the bag down and pulled out his surprise: a small brown table lamp with an orange lampshade. 

“Is the TVA aware there are other colors in the universe?” Loki asked dryly. 

“What’s wrong with brown?” said Mobius, in his usual brown suit. “I thought you could use something to zhuzh up the place.” 

Loki gave the lamp an unimpressed look. That was alright. Mobius hadn’t expected an effusive show of gratitude. He took the lamp over to the bed—the only other piece of furniture—and plugged it into the wall. When he switched it on, the area by the bed took on a softer, yellow-orange hue. 

He looked to Loki for a reaction.

“Yes, it really livens up my prison cell,” Loki said.  

Mobius chuckled and started towards the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Which still makes no sense!” Loki called after him. 

—

Mobius felt a little guilty for pulling up the security feed for Loki’s room when he got back to his own quarters. He wasn’t looking to spy on him all the time, but he wanted to see what happened. 

The TemPad showed Loki had moved to sit on the bed. The overhead lights were still on, and the longer Loki sat, without moving, the more Mobius began to doubt his suspicions. 

Then Loki stood and crossed the room to turn off the overhead. It left the room mostly shadowed, except for warm glow from the lamp on the floor. Loki got onto the bed, curling up on his side like Mobius had seen before, and seemed to fall asleep. Mobius watched a little longer, then closed the TemPad. He hoped that had done the trick. 

—

When he fetched Loki from his room the following morning, the bags under the god’s eyes were less prominent and there was even a little pep in his step.

From this prompt list. Other fills will be under this tag.