#n its meaning

[artsyannierose]

I saw this quote on twitter and i was like “yeah that’s totally Nori”

No i have no idea how long it actually takes to make a robot baby but for the sake of this we’re gonna pretend its 9 months okay okay thanks

[utterlyazriel]

featherlight touch

a/n: and what if i said surprise smut. what then :) my soft launch of the fact i can and do write smut... <3 word count: easy peasy barely over 1k-squeezy synopsis: Given particular knowledge, you try something new. wing!fic

Your knees sink into the black satin sheets of Azriel’s bed and you sigh contently.

Across the room at the window, the curtain is haphazardly drawn, letting in a curious ray of moonlight. A dim glow lights the room.

You’re thankful for it now—the moonlight allowing you to drink in the sight beneath you with a ravenous gaze. Thighs straddling across his hips, you take in Azriel under you with, what can only be described as, ardent hunger.

But, well, it’s not often enough you get to be on top, after all.

Azriel’s wings splay out on the bed, gloriously on display. His scarred hands rest easily on your waist. His hazel eyes, narrowed in a suspicious way, are focused entirely on you. He, as always, looks devastatingly handsome.

“I’m not sure if I like the look of that look.” He comments slyly, shifting his head to flick a stray curl back from his eyes.

His hands on your waist give a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure you that he’s only teasing. His shadows lurk, traversing the rumpled bedsheets with a lazy designation, unbothered.

“Oh, hush,” you respond. “As if I haven’t been on the receiving end of this before.”

At the mere mention of your reversed positions, Azriel grins, even as a hot glow takes to his cheeks. The dusty rose colour sets a warm spark off in your chest and the heat wastes no time heading south, between your thighs.

Your relationship with Azriel is of the newer side, despite how long you've actually known each other. Long time friends, eventually, finally turned lovers.

But these new steps forward together, getting to know each other in an entirely new way—it's still enough to make Azriel fluster. Centuries old he is but a bashful shyness still remains, if only you can coax it out.

Bringing you back to the moment, Azriel squeezes your waist again, one hand shifting across your skin, his thumb dipping closer to your waistband.

“I don’t know what you mean,” He says, even as his satisfied smile gives him away. He watches closely as you pluck up his large hand and move it back to your waist, the message clear. He's not in charge tonight.

“Y’know,” you say, voice softer suddenly.

You haven’t let go on his hand. As you speak, you let your fingers travel down his veined and chiseled forearm slowly. “I learnt something today. From Feyre.”

Azriel watches you intently, the very feel of your skin across his enough to make him shudder in muted pleasure. No one touches him like you do.

Goosebumps break out along his arm as your hand reaches his bulging bicep and you drag your nails across it lightly.

“Is that so?”

Despite all his body betrays him, Azriel is a master at keeping his face and voice cool and calm. You smile at the sight of it, goaded on by his unwavering voice, and let your hand linger, resting on his collarbone.

“What did she tell you?” Azriel asks, his dark brows raising.

Purposefully, you shift your hips an inch, grinding against his own. Azriel barely manages to hide the grunt it pulls from him, his fingers flexing against your waist as if he’s resisting something more.

“She told me,” You say, dragging out the words, sultry and low.

Your hand begins to move, tracing the line of his defined chest and feeling it heave slightly beneath your touch. Tantalisingly slow, you let it trail down, skimming across his toned stomach where you pause.

“That if I ask you nicely, there’s a certain spot—”

Your teasing, trailing touch moves sideways, dipping down his ribcage and nearing his wings. They rustle against the sheets, a minuscule motion, that you hope is in what’s anticipation.

If what Feyre said is true...

Moving slow, so there’s time for him to interrupt you, you reach down and hover your hand over the delicate membrane of his wings.

Intentions clear, your eyes dart to Azriel’s to check.

Pupils blow wide, the ring of hazel you love so much barely visible, Azriel looks debauched before you've even begun. His hands are stilled on your waist and his cheeks are that same glowing scarlet. After a beat it becomes clear he’s waiting, not stopping you.

Grinning, you take your cue.

Brushing your fingers gently across a section of his wings, the reaction is instantaneous.

Azriel shudders, his whole body shivering as a strangled breath passes through his clenched jaw, his eyes fluttering closed. The hands on your waist constrict, tightening his grip, and beneath you his hips shift up, into you.

The shape of him, pulsating and hot, suddenly feels much firmer than before.

“She’s—right.” The words come out in two stilted breaths, Azriel’s chest rising and falling a little faster now as he fights to compose himself. His eyes open, heavier lidded than they were a moment ago. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Is she?" Your voice is lilted in mock uncertainty, given away by your mischievous grin. "I think I better check again."

This time, instead of a small brush, you try something bolder. Two fingers on either side of a prominent vein, you draw a delicate stripe up his wing.

Azriel whines— a soft, pitiful noise that leaks out through his clenched teeth. It melts into a soft groan as his whole body shifts, his hips shoving up, seemingly out of his control. His hands pull you down at the time, dragging you forward against his hardness.

Something fiercely hot simmers in your gut, both at the friction and his glorious reaction. He's been fucking holding out on you.

"I don't know, I'm still not sure..." You continue, far too delighted to abuse your newfound knowledge.

Stroking another soft line up his wing, this time you're rewarded with a needy whimper. His chest arches up, his head thrown back lightly—nearly writhing in pleasure from just a few touches.

"Oh, Az," You murmur, half consoling and half wicked. His screwed up eyes take a moment to find yours and you relish the panting of his chest. The rosiness of his cheeks has spread, crawling down his neck and beginning along his toned chest.

"This your plan?" He says, but it's nowhere near that unwavering voice from earlier, raspy and on the way to ruined. "To—" He takes a sharp inhale as your nail scrapes the membrane again. "—to tease me all night?"

You're impressed he's got the words out, given the sight of him. His hair looks messier now. Paired with his heaving chest and eyes bright with lust, he looks downright sinful.

"Doesn't sound too bad a plan to me." You say, letting your hips draw forward, then back, the smallest rocking motion against him.

Azriel hisses, his large, scarred hands threatening to bruise your hips with how tight they grip them. He makes no attempt to stop you though.

"What do you think?"

You purposefully retract your hand, hovering it over his wing, and watch his face. Wings are very personal to Fae and Azriel letting you touch his own, in such an intimate way, was not lost on you.

You don't want to overstep, even if you do desperately want to see what happens if you stroke once, twice, three times in a row. Gods do you want to watch him fall apart beneath you, whimpering and whining through it all.

"I think you're a temptress," Azriel says, breathless. His eyes, heavy with desire, give away his answer. A grin spreads across your face, devious and enamoured all at once.

"A temptress you'll let have her way with you?"

"Depen—ah," His voice shudders into another whimper as you touch your fingertip back to his velvety wing, drawing a small circle.

Eyes crushing closed, it takes another moment for him to catch his breath before he speaks again, breath ragged. "Mother above..."

His wing, the one you've been taunting, rustles against the bed. It lifts up an inch before flapping down in an almost impatient motion. Like a cat, wagging its tail. Azriel wets his lips again, their skin cherried and plush.

"Alright," He says, faux begrudgingly. His eagerness is given away by another impatient rustle of his wing and the throbbing length of him, pressing firmly up against you.

His gives your waist another squeeze and then lets go, letting his arms fall lax to his side. Trusting you completely.

"Have your way with me."

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas

[msmimundo]

Do you think Perry ever mixes up being mindless and sentient?

[hinamie]

sidelong

[eights-world]

yknow how in kids shows theres almost always some episode with some weird love potion effect thing?? yeaaaa

[bacchuschucklefuck]

they licensed his ass

my finished piece of the FWMS (official name definitely 100%) thing we started a few days ago! I had fun I hope folks had and/or continue to have fun with the sketch as well.

[dreamyblanket]

[nemesyaaa]

little playdoll // rafe cameron x reader

summary : rafe's finding some kind of fun with your slutty twin braids.

warnings : +18. minors dni. smut. oral (f&m r.). hair pulling/playing. choking kink. dumbification/dollification. p in v. dirty talk. etablished relationship. be aware of the warnings before reading.

author's note : none.

“you know what that means…” he whispered as he slipped a hand on the pink choker that decorated your neck, passing a finger under it to pull you towards him.

you had slid onto his lap and placed your hands on the sheets, letting Rafe pull you into a passionate kiss. you could feel how eager he was in the way his tongue played with yours, his mouth was always so good at devouring yours, deep crushing against your lips. at the moment, your little head was nothing but empty, waiting for your boyfriend to give you something to think about.

he loved admiring your face after a kiss, your luscious lips parting in a stream of drool as you were looking at him with small stupid eyes. your breath was so short, literally serving as an excuse for him to make fun of you.

rafe always dreamed of having a pretty little doll at his disposal. maybe, it was due to the sexual frustration he felt after being a virgin for so long. but now he had you and not only were you his, but he owned you completely.

you were his type, the kind of bimbo who never got on his nerves because your only desire was to please and satisfy him. you were the kind of doll who had a brain between her thighs. it was the only thing Rafe asked you to use and nothing else. but you had so many other charms. after all, you were a fucking doll. you were multifunctional.

you had a fantastic mouth. not only did she say everything your boyfriend wanted but on top of that, she took and swallowed everything he gave you. you had amazing lips but they were even more amazing when they were around his cock and started giving him the blowjob of his life. oh yes, and damn, you knew how to make him a happy man.

he was in love with the way your mouth moved over his dick, the way your throat tightened every time he buried himself deep inside you. while you were losing yourself in tears, he gained inches between your lips until he completely invaded your space. you were short of air, your eyes were rolled back and your back and forth came louder and faster. your sobs were diminished by guttural sounds, by the pumping noises of your opened mouth on his length.

he was so hard, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, no matter how much you gag, no matter how much saliva dripped from your lips. you were full, and all you wanted was for him to change holes. your pussy was wet, waiting to be fucked, to be used until it was ruined.

rafe looked at you with eyes full of lust, you consumed him with your lips. everything was sloppy except your two long braids which were still intact. he couldn't afford to damage his work after spending an hour on it.

your tongue lapped at his cock, making him tremble with every stroke of your muscle. your mouth was useful, working intensely on his length, doing the job nice, wet and clean.

when he felt it coming, he pushed you back against the mattress. he didn't want to cum in your mouth, he wanted to save all his loads for your pussy. he placed himself between your legs, lifting them so easily with his arms and his head disappeared between your thighs.

he wasn't going to waste his time. while he sucked on your clit, teasing the bud, and making it throb softly, he pushed fingers into you starting with gentle and pleasurable thrusts at first before following a faster and harder rhythm.

he was insane when it came to making you feel good. his fingers were thick, and you felt like they were even bigger between your walls. he was making sure you were going to be able to take it.

his lips alternated between your quivering clit to your wet folds. his tongue licked from one spot to another while his fingers were pushed far into your pussy, forcing sometimes the tiny hole to stretch, before fingering you raw.

your pussy was soft, and he was latching at your taste. his tongue was fat and sticky against you. your poor sensitive clit being bullied by the rough muscle but it was nothing compared to the fingersfucking your cunt was living.

you were such a little mess, whimpering and screaming like you were a helpless prey. you were trying so hard to stay still but it was difficult with your boyfriend eating you deep.

when he decided that you were finally fuckable, he placed you on all fours while he stood behind you, his dick already in hand. “ gonna make you very pretty…”

without warning, he had pushed his cock into your wet hole already coating the glistening tip. his eyes glued to the stretch of your lips as he entered on your insides. your pussy was so tight he was sure you felt every inch he added to your sticky walls, every depth he reached. “ come on, take it for me babe…yes…just like that…look at you being such a big girl, taking it all….can you feel it growing inside you… ” it seemed so slow until you finally felt that wave of pleasure when he started to move. “ r…rafe !! mmph…” you cried out bursting tears. “ i promise, you do such a good job…” he praised you. “ baby, you're literally owning that dick. ”

you said something muffled and his voice came deep and raspy against your ears. “ look at you soaking yourself on my cock and drenching your cheeks with tears…such a wet baby, making a mess everywhere…"

you swallowed hard, giving him a small whimper in response while his length bullied your cervix, giving you the insane strokes your needy cunt needed. your sweet core was dripping, wetting the size of his big dick to the point you could only hear the spongy sounds of your juices brushing every of his moves.

his hips were snapping at your ass while he pounded at your core with powerful thrusts. the room was loud with your breathless pathetic cries. “ ‘s too much…” you plead out, your tongue was out, panting over your chin like a pup, a stream of saliva spurting out of your mouth every time he was hammering you hard. “ come on, baby. it's not even close to what i can really give you…quit acting before i show you what's really too much. ” he was over you, the sweat brightening every part of his toned body, his mouth fucking grunts at you as a smile slowly floating on his lips. “ huh huh, suddenly, you're much quiet…should i give you something to cry about….”

his dick was huge, taking all the space of your pussy and making a home everywhere. with both of his strong hands, he grabbed each of your braids, wrapping them tightly around his wrists to put pressure on your useless doll head, forcing your neck to back a little while your eyes rolled hard under his breakful thrusts. he started playing with your hair, making the twin braids bounce above your body, driving your body with his hands and pushing you to arch every time he pulled on them to drive you.

you complained with a small gulp. and he answered you. “can't i have fun with my doll after making her all pretty? ”

you couldn't even answer that he had already continued his game with your hair. you felt the strength in his hands in the way your pigtails were pulled back hard as you were restricted in your movements due to the pressure on your head when his cock always running heavy to your hitted spot. “ such a good pussy, taking my dick so well. she's understanding what she made it for. "

your hair was pretty, decorated with bows that shakened through your braids when his thrusts were too sharp. your clit was pulsating, as legs were trembling and your fists curling the sheets under your fingers.

he had figured out how to be controlling without even talking to you, just by pulling each of your braids, but above all how to make you fuck yourself on his cock without having to give you orders until you were finally the only one moving your hair in his hands.

Rafe was addicted, your body bouncing in sync with the movement of your braids who were slapping your own back. you were perfect.

“give me a kiss.” he commanded, and you complied. “ such an obedient girl. you really want to make me proud…”

your body was mixed with so many feelings. the pleasure was intense, so stimulating that you were overflowing with wetness on all sides. your flesh was sweating and you were suffocating. you kissed him, locking your lips on his. “ good doll. ” he commented, brushing the side of your left cheek with his mouth while some of his fingers came between your lips. understanding quickly what he wanted, you immediately started to suck on it, drenched them with the saliva leaking from you. you were messily pumping, the loud gagging sounds from your little throat echoing around the majority of his digits. the way he was caressing your skin with his lips was a rare part of softness during the moment. your cunt still busily fucked by his rawed dick while your stuffed mouth was foaming.

“ do you understand it, babydoll ? ” you tried to reply but some short panting escaped your lips, leaving you whimpering at the front of his mouth. "this pussy is nothing when i'm not inside it."he said with the venom of his tongue, as he had laid you back against the mattress, resuming his initial rhythm inside of your cunt. “ say it. ”

“ this pussy…is n-nothing…when you're not inside it. ” you repeated softly, tears running down your cheeks.

“ good you have such a pretty pussy because it's not that stupid brain that would get you anywhere. ”

he grabbed your braids and crossed them across your neck before pulling back like a leash. At first, you didn't feel the lack of air until his hips slapped your ass evily, and his thrusts became more powerful. you had started to feel the itch, the terrible suffocation, breathing becoming slow and weak like your moans.

you couldn't say anything because Rafe was your boyfriend. he knew better than anyone what was good for you. so if he did it, you took it even if it hurt. your eyes were filled with salty tears. and the worst part of it all was that he was right. you had nothing in your head at the moment, neither the capacity to think nor the capacity to act and he took that to his advantage.

he had left you unconscious for a few seconds before letting you breathe again. the feeling was terrible but so exciting. it was as if you had come back to life without ever having left it. your pussy was still fucked dirty, your body overstimulated. the seconds seemed long to you but they were actually quick.

he couldn't let you die. you were the only doll he liked to play with, he couldn't damage you that quickly.

your pussy had clenched so tightly around his cock when he choked you that he had cum inside your core. “ brain so empty but pussy so full…such a dumb baby.” you could be sure he had redone the walls of your hole with all the sperm that had spurted out of his tip.

“you should do that hairstyle every day. "

“anything you want..." you said.

“fuck. you're gonna regret those words, babydoll. ”

[nonranghaes]

heads up: reader not feelin great, physically. doesn't get really specific. food mentions.

"hey." felix crouches down beside the couch. his hands are a little cold against your skin as he cups your cheek, head tilting as he tries to get a better look at your face as you peer up at him. "soup's done."

"'m fine..." you turn your face back into your sleeve, squeezing your eyes shut. "don't need it..."

he lets out a sigh, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. "honey..." his voice is soft, but the word hits you just as hard. you've always been his baby, his babe, or just your name, since there's intimacy in that, too. honey is saved for when he's worried. "it'll make you feel better to eat something. can't take medicine on an empty stomach, right?"

you just let out a whimper of pain. moving feels like too much for right now, but you know it's because you haven't eaten yet today. feeling sick means that everything is a chore. the only reason you even got out of bed was to let felix in since his arms had been full with the groceries he bought, and you practically face-planted onto the couch after you shut the door.

"i'll feed you." he says softly, fingers brushing against the back of your neck. "does that help?"

it does, a little. you turn your face again so that you can see him. he's still wearing an apron, hair pulled back out of his face as he smiles at you. he's your sunshine, even now when he looks a little tired from worrying. you want to be mad at your roommate for calling him, but... minho had good intentions. you know he did. even when you whined at him for calling felix before heading out to work, he didn't bicker with you but told you to call him if you started feeling any worse since felix wouldn't be there until closer to lunchtime (and even then, he ended up making a run to the store after he checked on you, leaving you boyfriend-less for a little longer). you muster up a nod, and felix kisses your cheek this time.

"good. i'll bring it here, okay? all you have to do is sit up." he starts to walk away, missing the way you paw through the air to try and catch him by the hand. "i'm glad minho called," he calls back to you from the kitchen, "i know it's nothing serious, but... i'm just glad he's looking out for you, too."

the blanket falls onto the couch as you slowly push yourself up so that you're sitting again. your head aches, and for a moment you feel something weird with your sinuses, but it's not as bad once you see how happy felix is that you're up again--even if it's only to eat something. you feel loved as he sits down next to you, carefully sitting the tray on the coffee table as he prepares to feed you soup by the spoonful.

and you feel it again hours later when you rouse to the sound of the front door being opened. minho stops to see you, home from work, and quietly thanks felix for caring for you so much. how wonderful, you think to yourself as felix rests his hand on your cheek, it is to live in a world with so much love embracing you every day.

[tiredtriedfailures]

what in the sam hell is this. by god you people are dogs.

thabkfully someone said it

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU’RE AN ANGEL, I’M A DOG ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. thus, he sets his sights on your professor.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, like a dot of ink on paper, dripping with exhaustion; a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching beneath his ribs.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated, from satoru this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you yesterday, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance inside your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back, so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[araneapeixes]

this is part of a one-page comic up on my Patreon but these panels were really the whole reason

[strangersteddierthings]

Fic where Wayne thinks Steve is Steve's middle name and that that's the name he prefers to be called.

He thinks Steve's first name is King because 1) Eddie always ranted about King Steve Harrington and he just thought Eddie was full government naming the kid in his rage and 2) he absolutely wouldn't put it past the Harrington's to name their only son King.

Imagine his surprise when he learns Steve's first name is, in fact, Steve.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

what if i told u,,,,,,,,,,, i had another new au idea

say hello to the 'two-faced' au! where u start to work at the daycare and become besties with Sun n Moon right as Vanny is putting the whole virus-thing into motion. Moon rlly likes u and feels like he can b his genuine Professional Silli Boi self around u, so when he starts having some more murdery tendencies he makes the executive decision to just kinda Lie About It and make sure u don't know! and everything will be fine, so long as u never find out about those missing kids! or where ur coworker went. or why ur other coworker quit. or why that one guy is in the hospital. or,,

(it gets way more complicated when management starts to wonder if u could be tied to all these accidents that only ever seem to happen on ur days off)

[hinamie]

so just know, I'm healing / even though it don't feel like it

insp