#or how the drawings get progressively worse

[notacatdown]

It makes even less sense when its already been established that this is magical world where 1) a single talisman can make someone execute a complicated action and 2) one person has the power to alter the memories of an entire village for years on end, and there's no magical way to check. An experienced demon hunter like Mu Sheng should have basic safety protocols. If any friend or relative isn't acting like themselves, the first step should be to strip them of any possible magical item.

What was the point of testing the bracelet? He should have just yanked the bracelet off. It's like seeing people on fire and not wanting to get close to them to throw water over them because they're naked. In an emergency situation, there is an exemption for everyday politeness.

In the novel, Miaomiao breaks out of the love puppet spell in a day when Mu Sheng mentions her dad. This is suppose to be Miaomiao's moment and to show the strength of familial/platonic love.

---

As Love Game in Eastern Fantasy progresses, there is this unshakeable feeling that the original protagonist group are the stepchildren and the new characters (Cuicui, Guo Xiu, the marquis, Liu Fuyi's master, and Liu-niang) are the biological children. For example, a scene meant to show a shift in Miaomiao and Mu Yao's relationship and their characterization is replaced with shining the spotlight on Guo Xiu.

^ This scene is about him being funny, and how he's going against the rules to save the day. It does nothing for Mu Yao's character.

The screenwriter's new characters are like pretty markers, and she draws a pretty palette with each of them, but what I want to see is a multi-colored drawing. How they're blended together how they contrast and highlight each other. For example, it would have been interesting for Mu Yao to rethink her idea of what a hero is after meeting Guo Xiu.

In the novel, the group doesn't split up. Originally, this is a scene where Miaomiao and Mu Yao are together. Liu Fuyi is out of commission. Mu Sheng is separated from them. Mu Yao has no confidence that they will make it out alive, but she pushes those feelings down. She goes into big sister mode and wants to get Miaomiao to safety even though that will make her own situation worse.

From the comments on the webnovel and manhua sites, this is a moment that the readers collectively cheer for Mu Yao. This is the best of Mu Yao. This scene reminds us why Miaomiao admires Mu Yao. Its not because Mu Yao is a heroine that has already conquered her fears. It's Mu Yao's acts of altruism and heroism inspite of her very human qualities of insecurity and negative feelings.

As for Miaomiao's side, she doesn't have goddess-level powers in the novel, but that's the point of Miaomiao. That she changes the plot and has a positive impact on the Mu siblings as an ordinary person in an extraordinary world. Her warm presence and her joking around during this dire situation is what lifts Mu Yao's spirits.

(The fox demoness arc originally shows how similar the Mu siblings are. For example, their first thought is to send Miaomiao away and handle everything on their own because that's what they're used to. And Miaomiao will not have any of it. They're so much happier when Miaomiao is around.)

After going through this experience, Mu Yao treats Miaomiao as a friend that she can emotionally rely on versus her friend that she has to protect. We also see this in the drama where Mu Yao babies Mu Sheng and Miaomiao and places unfair amount of responsibility on herself, but the second part of this would have been that she realizes its okay to seek comfort from her friends. Instead, the drama gives us Mu Yao's two bouts of noble idiocy. So frustrating!

If Guo Xiu can teleport to Mu Yao, then surely Miaomiao with her goddess-level powers that can transcend time and parallel worlds can

It would be super fun to have Guo Xiu as a coworker, and his monologues are entertaining, but his character and the other new characters are not written to share the spotlight.

---

More of a comment for how Cuicui and the marquis is written. The drama reminds me of how some fanfiction writers pour their love into their newly created characters in fanfics at the expensive of the actual protagonists from the original work. They create problems (love bracelet) for the actual protagonists and have their new characters solve them for the protagonists.

Neither Miaomiao nor Mu Sheng can remove the bracelet because that would take away the marquis's moment. Mu Sheng has to give up on Miaomiao and leave. Otherwise, Cuicui can't deliver the letter to him.

I don't think its entirely the screenwriter. All the changes from the original script dilute Miaomiao's character. For example the ones in ep 18: https://www.tumblr.com/notacatdown/778955556356538368

https://www.tumblr.com/notacatdown/769410748395995136

Ziqi trying to see if Miaomiao is under a spell (and being heartbroken that he can't find anything) ( ;´ - `;)

Love Game in Eastern Fantasy ��夜星河 (2024) | ep. 18

[sappho-rose]

toxic kaisagi yuri my beloved

[arkiwii]

hghhggrgrrr everytime i remember that lone trail exists i get hyped af but then i remember it will be in a while and i cry

[cosmobrain00]

well🙂

[retiredcultistredux]

(long post)

Void Termina turned around to face Prince Fluff, frowning. This was that one angry blue guy with the big eyebrows who got his arm ripped off, right? ...That could be a problem, and not one he wanted to deal with.

In fact, Prince Fluff had already rushed forward, only to completely miss Void Termina, instead rushing beneath where he was floating. ...So that wasn't a great attempt on Prince Fluff's part. Not to mention Ester and Javez were there looking like they'd just kill him if he tried anything else. ...So what was there to do?

Well, Void Termina answered that question.

He then floated up into the air, beginning to glow brightly. There was a flash of light followed by two separate lights forming around Ester and Javez, bright enough that they couldn't even be seen through it. Everyone had to shield their eyes once more.

[...Meanwhile...]

After flying through a rift, dealing with the dizziness that came with it and drifting through space for a bit, Magolor, Flamberge and Francisca had made it to Jambandra. They started to make their way through the halls, each having a different demeanor.

Francisca was calm and determined, Flamberge was a little more impatient and loud, floating ahead of the others, and Magolor was moving a little slower, his anxieties starting to creep up on him again.

Magolor: "...I know, but...n-now that we're here, I...f-feel this...dread...s-something b-bad is h-happening..."

Francisca: "Well, we need to be strong. For the sake of Hyness and everyone else."

Flamberge: "Yeah! And we'll back you up if things get dicey!"

Magolor: "...Th-Thanks, you two. I appreciate it."

[The focus has shifted back to Magolor, Flamberge and Francisca for a bit as they make their way through Jambandra.]

[toofypigeon]

huhhh?? oc posting!?!? whaat!?!? no way !

im always so scared to post my ocs because thats kinda cringe LMAO /j /lh

but i do love seeing and getting to know other people's ocs :P

[non-un-topo]

At the crossroads between wondering if it's worth it to basically completely rewrite all my WIPs or just take a break from writing for the rest of the summer

[the-acid-pear]

goign to bed goals 4 tomorrow: answer one (1) pending text, if we can answer more than that we will keep winning but one (1) is a good goal. next goal i need to start working on that system intro thing i will prob make a word for basic info and ill start working on a few portraits. They dont have to be fancy they just have to be done. And if im still feeling like it i'd like to keep working on my personal art. But let's not get overzealous here 2 goals for 1 day is like insane for me.

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) MDNI - 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap-explicit sexual content, oral (m and f recieving) light angst, lots of feelings developing, Satoru is a lil shit but he's tryingg, cumplay, creampie, cervix kisses, mating press, flashbacks of their past rivalry- WC- this chap- 11k ( a lil longer one for ya) art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3 (extras here and here)

<<<Chapter One - Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Three>>>

Chapter Two

One Week later

“Are you… are you high!?” You whisper, as Satoru Gojo steps out of the back seat of his car, grinning up at you, sunglasses covering his eyes, but when he tilted them down, they’re bloodshot, he winces as the sunny day hits them, his head pounding.

Maybe going to a party last night was a bad idea?

Fucking Suguru and Sukuna.

“What? No! Do they have good food here!?” He’s eyeing the restaurant eagerly, tummy audibly growling. “I’m starving.”

“Satoru, tell me you’re not blitzed before we meet my parents.” You hiss between your teeth, crossing your arms under your breasts, just drawing even his faded attention to them.

“Those tits, god they keep getting-”

“Nope. Answer me.”

He whistles, shaking his head, before he grins once more, lopsided and far too charming. “No way, sweets. Straight as… a whistle?”

“A whistle?” Your raised brow shows your obvious confusion, you lean over to sniff him, smelling no pot however.

“Damn baby, right here?” He’s chuckling at his own joke, he may look like a million bucks in this gray Armani suit, so damn gorgeous it’s ridiculous. “I’m fine I swear, and ooh… don’t you look good.”

“Um… thanks?” He lowers those glasses as you lead him over to the stairs. It's bustling and busy, nice but casual, not what Satoru was used to, but when you explain it’s your favorite place, he’s intrigued. “This way, you’ve met my parents, yeah?”

“A couple times.” He pauses as you step in front of him, staring at that ass in this fucking sundress, making his already fucked up state worse, as he remembers the first time he noticed that ass.

*****

Four years ago

“Well hello, pretty.” Came the slow drawl of the voice behind you, it’s your first day of college, you’re so nervous but excited, this was a big opportunity for a girl like you, a full ride scholarship so elite. You look around, seeing the white haired man whistling as he stares at your ass, his sunglasses perched on his straight nose.

“Gojo?” You ask then, since you all met Senior year of high school, he’d certainly never called you pretty.

His blue eyes lock on yours over his shades, blinking then, thin brows together. “When did you get such a nice ass?”

“A nice what!?” You turn now, shoving at his chest, which almost makes you blush at just how built he feels.

You remember seeing him shirtless playing basketball, dribbling that and dunking in school, but the two of you never talked, you were the new girl Senior year and quiet, he was as popular as it got. This year, you want to have a life, have friends, not just be the shy girl.

You have a plan.

And he certainly can’t fuck that up.

“I didn’t know it was you, shit, you been like… doing squats or-”

“Can we not talk about my ass? Also how was I pretty from the back?” He’s grinning, bright white snarky little grin.

“I bet it’s pretty from the back-” Smack. “Ow, what the hell!?”

“You are an ass, Satoru Gojo.” A crowd gathers, gasping as Satoru takes off his shades, a red mark on his face.

“Give a girl a compliment and she smacks you for it!? Prissy little brat.”

“I don’t want your pervy compliments, manwhore.” You hear the oohs and whispers rolling more and more, as he crosses his arms, smirking like the little shit he is.

“Pervy? No, you should be honored to have them by me, goody goody.”

“Conceited jerk! Ugh!”

“Little nerd!”

“Me!? Don’t you play Digimon!”

“Yeah but you play DnD.” You cross your arms now, glaring up at the tall handsome jerk of a man, in his stupid blue polo that brings out his eyes, very unfortunately.

“DnD is classy.”

“Okay dungeon master.”

“Ugh!” You both stomp off in different directions, as everyone disperses, already talking about the two of you, people who never noticed you in high school now saw the girl who slapped ‘the’ Satoru Gojo.

Satoru’s friends, Suguru and Sukuna come up to him then, as he rubs his cheeks, and he sees Utahime talking to you. “Oh great, she’s talking to the number one Gojo hater.”

“She smacked the shit out of you, dude.” Suguru snorts, clearly blitzed, where his eyes are white they’re bright red. Satoru rubs his cheek, as you walk off, that nice ass in those jeans jiggling just so, while your hips sway.

“Just told her she had a nice ass.” He grumbles, Sukuna and Suguru lean their heads to the side, whistling, earning you looking back at the three men.

“Really!?” You cross your arms, and they all snort in laughter.

“They’re pigs, I know. Hey, we should sign up for the sorority, don’t you think!?” Utahime asks, you bite your lip nervously.

“A sorority?”

“You’d do great, baby.”

“Shoko!” You both hug her, as she sucks on the tip of her cigarette, looking back at the boys and laughing a bit.

“They’re still staring at your ass.”

“My god!” You take off your hoodie then, wrapping it around your hips, flipping the three of them off, Sukuna and Suguru laugh, but Satoru’s just staring, blue eyes far, far too much to handle.

Blue eyes you fell into when you first saw him.

Before he opened his mouth, that is.

*****

Present Day 

The memories fade off, when you head up the stairs to the rooftop restaurant where you were meeting your parents for lunch, and you hear a low whistle as you step up each stair. You turn, hand on the railing while the breeze whips your dress around just a bit, when you see him staring right at your ass.

“Satoru!”

“It’s getting bigger, pregnancy is kind of hot on you.” You gasp now, as he’s licking his lower lip, eyes traveling up your body.

“I’ll smack you!” You whisper, turning and leaning close, while his hand now comes to rest on your waist, feeling far, far too good.

“It’s a compliment, Pookie, relax.”

“I’m not your ‘Pookie’ and-” He pinches your ass now, earning his smack, but this time he dodges, before casually strolling up the stairs, hands in his pockets, as you’re fuming and stomping along next to him.

“You’re a brat.”

“A brat!?”

“Never could take a compliment for shit.”

“A big ass isn’t-”

“There you two are!” Your parents wave you two over then, and Satoru puts an arm around you with ease, waving and grinning, hand precariously close to the ass that has driven him insane since the first day of college.

“Hey guys!” You greet, grinning but whispering through your teeth. “I’m gonna kick your ass later.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time now.”

“Gojo! What a… surprise.” Your mom looks at you curiously, you haven’t told them yet, but surely seeing you with Satoru Gojo was a shock. He smiles with ease, taking her hand and kissing it with a wink, as if he’s a gentleman and not someone who just pinched your ass.

“Hey there, Gojo.” Your dad says now, shaking his hand, and you both sit across from them, as the pretty waitress flirts right with Satoru, he ignores her and has an arm draped around your waist.

He plays a very good boyfriend.

Maybe his arm feels a little too good?

Pregnancy hormones, surely.

“You don’t want mimosas?” Your mom asks curiously then, as the waitress offers the bottomless special, you shake your head, and Satoru’s blue eyes assess you carefully, your hand flitting to your stomach.

You already were sacrificing, sure it’s just drinks, but he’d gotten blitzed the fuck out last night, something about that feels off to him. He can’t pinpoint or place it, when you take his hand in yours, it feels too good, your warm hand so tiny compared to his own huge hands, he falters for a moment, mind all over the place until he sees the shock on your parents faces.

Oh shit.

You just told them!

“Pregnant!?” Your mom says far too loudly, and you see the curiosity of those around you, shushing her then. “What!? How?”

“You wanna know how? Take a guess mom.” Your eyes narrow, and then your mom sighs, as your dad still blinks in shock.

“With… Gojo?” Her assessment turns to Satoru then, who’s gulping down his own icy drink, some rainbow frozen concoction, so fast his head hurts, he holds it then, whimpering.

“Brain freeze, ouchie!” He’s screaming out, earning more looks, as your mom turns back to you, watching the six foot four man waving his arms like he’s caught on fire, a question on her lips.

“Him though? Honey…” You sigh then, standing up and cupping Satoru’s face then.

“Open up.” He opens his mouth now, as you press your thumb against the roof of his mouth, to the avid attention of the entirety of the rooftop now, when Gojo sighs in relief, blue eyes fluttering open, meeting yours.

“S’better!” He mumbles, you laugh then, you can’t help it, damn him if he’s not amusing and… freaking cute, pouting like a puppy around your finger.

“It’s a trick I learned.” He’s tempted to suck on your finger then, so much he kind of does, making you heat up, pulling back and wiping his drool off your dress, as you both sit back down, and your parents look at each other.

“Oh.” They both say then, making the two of you blink in confusion.

“Oh what?” You ask.

“I guess I see it now.” Your dad’s words fill you both with confusion, but you have to admit, it works in your favor, too.

“Yes we are… together.” You say softly, scooching your chair a little closer, when Satoru’s hand rests on your thigh, burning your skin with the contact.

Pregnancy hormones, right?

Nothing else… yeah?

“We are, and she’d like to keep it.” Gojo’s soft words surprise you, making you meet his gaze, wondering then- “Gonna be a Satoru junior!”

“Satoru junior!? What if it’s a girl?”

“Still Satoru. Oh wait, Satoruette.”

“Oh god,we are not naming it Satoruette!”

Your parents laugh then, and the tension eases, soon your dad is talking to Satoru, and they’re speaking on sports, of course Satoru was also a star basketball player, amongst everything else. That’s one area you never were not missing too much, you cheered of course but it was not really your passion, also every game seemed to be some argument between you two.

“Are you sure about this, kids are a big responsibility, especially financially.” Your mom’s words hit you hard, you know that of course, and don’t take it lightly. “We can help some but things are a little tight-”

“No mom, no. This isn’t for that, though you can totally buy them some cute little toys or clothes if you want.” Her eyes get misty, as your hands join over the table. “This is just to tell you. I can do this mom.”

“But honey, your career…”

“I can do it. I know I can.” She sighs now, leaning over and brushing your cheek, Satoru watches the affection then and hears her words.

“Then I’m proud of you, I always am.”

God, what would Satoru do if he heard those words?

His parents barely gave him affection growing up, always on this island or this cruise, this country or that destination, never acknowledging how hard Satoru worked, just informing him of his duty. Taking over the business, college was useless to a family like the Gojos, maybe a nice decoration for that sky high office building just waiting with his name on it.

No straight A’s, no winning games, nothing got one tenth of the affection you just got for something that’s essentially not the best thing at your age. No, your mom is proud of you, and he watches your tears flow down your cheeks, realizing he’s seen you cry a few times now, but never in four years, while you’re smiling tremulously at her.

“Thank you mom. I needed that.” You’re on her side of the table, hugging, as your dad clears his throat a bit.

“Gonna make an honest woman out of her?”

“Dad! Satoru, don’t listen. Old fashioned man.” You tease, wiping off your cheeks and smiling so brightly, the sun hits your skin, skin that’s just glowing, and it makes his breath catch for a moment.

You’re beautiful.

He always knew you were banging hot, a little pretty brat, but he never realized until that moment, with everything glowing about you, that you’re beautiful too, an inner beauty that makes his fogged brain clear for just a moment. The crush he’d had for so long suddenly shifts into something more, even moreso than after the night you two shared that led to this moment.

“Are you okay, they’re a little extra.” He notices you’re right then, looking over to your parents and shaking his head.

“They’re great actually.” The sincerity in his voice hits deeply, you smile over at your parents, then back at him.

“They are, huh?” You grin, so clearly devoted to your family.

How must that feel to be?

So loved.

“So… dinner in a few hours with your parents, right? Should I dress a certain way?” Satoru’s demeanor shifts, you frown a bit at it, touching his shoulder. “You okay, this is a lot.”

“I’m fine.” He needs another hit of that blunt or ten before he deals with his parents, however.

“Are you gonna continue basketball, Gojo?” Your dad asks, Satoru sighs, frowning and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t.” His words make you sick as you’re struggling to just keep water down, have you already fucked his dreams up?

“The baby…”

“No, no.” His hand sits on yours with far too much ease, like it’s been there in that spot for as long as you can remember, squeezing it. “Nothing to do with that. The family business.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, you were amazing though.” He smirks just a bit at that, you sure would never have said that back then.

“Ya think so?” You nod then.

“I was a shitty cheerleader.” He smiles.

“You were.”

“Hey!” You shove him playful\y, as the food is brought out, Satoru has ordered an obscene amount of food, already digging in. “Remember nationals?”

“Oh god yeah.”

Three years ago

Satoru and the team had almost won nationals already, and you and the cheerleading squad are on the sidelines, about to head into the center of the loud basketball court, the rubber of your cheer sneakers sliding just so, squeaky over the floor as you all prepare. Satoru has a bunch of girls all over him, snapping selfies, as he’d already secured their guarantee, so of course he was the MVP of the team.

You watched him avidly, how good he was, not that you’d admit it, especially as your fists go to your hips, preparing for the routine, and Satoru’s chuckling just a bit at you, smug expression on his stupid pretty face. You can’t stand him then, when he cups his hands over his face, shouting your name.

“You can do it.” He’s mocking, one thing you were not good at was fucking cheerleading. You couldn’t flip for shit and were afraid of heights, this was a terrible combination.

Some people laugh, as your friends pat your back, encouraging you. When the routine begins, and you’re up in the air, standing stiff, you panic, the room starts spinning damn near. You feel yourself lose balance, falling in front of a court with thousands of people watching.

And one loudly laughing.

You can’t cry, you can’t cry.

You brush off the helpful hands of your friends, hopping up and immediately regretting it, your entire body aches, and you see a bruise already forming along your knee, scraped up and dripping blood.

And he laughed at you.

God you can’t stand him.

You limp off when Satoru sobers up, seeing you’re clearly hurt, and runs towards you, pausing you before you run right out of there. “Funny, huh? You get a good laugh at me?”

You glare at him, eyes watery then, and he falters, instantly feeling terrible, he didn’t think you hurt yourself, and the fall was comical. It’s what you both did, make fun of each other, laugh and point when one of you fucked up, but even the side of your face has a blossoming bruise, which he touches, earning your trembling lip.

He’s never seen you cry.

“Are you crying?”

“Really, came here to mock me even now!?”

“No I…”

“I am not crying, and I’ll be fine. I quit.” You’re limping off, even when Satoru’s hands hit your waist, feeling far too good.

You shove it down, shove it all down.

“You quit, competitive ass no way.”

“I do.”

“C-can I carry you, to get it checked? The doc is here-”

“Carry me, what kind of joke is that, to make you look even better? The basketball court is full of quiet murmurs, many worried about you, and cooes of how sweet Satoru is. His blue eyes light up with fire as they narrow.

“You think I am asking to help so I look good.”

“You always care how you look. And you look perfect, you have the perfect life, and here I am - falling in front of a room - to you fucking laughing. I’m good.” You pull back from him, wincing in pain as your knee is swelling even more.

“You’re being a stubborn brat, you have to get checked. What if you-”

“Tell them I quit, if you wanna do anything for me. You won’t have to see me as often either, works out.”

“I…”

“Congrats on the win, I’m sure.” He watches you limp away, your friends running after you, eventually he walks back, your face haunting him.

Maybe if he didn’t taunt you?

Maybe if he didn’t laugh…

You clearly got hurt, thrown off maybe because of him, and he’s just left there, quietly informing the team you quit. When he’s back to his team, even they look at him a little seriously, his coach coming to tell him about sportsmanship, and how he shouldn’t laugh like that.

Satoru tried to apologize the next time he saw you, but instead of the banter, with your leg wrapped up, you turned and said nothing to him.

Shit he fucked up.

*****

Present Day

You are walking Satoru to his car, as you both have a few hours to go, while his mind whirls with regret, with memories of you. You had brought up nationals as a joke at how bad you were, but all it did was make him remember just how fucking horrible he was to you.

“What’s wrong, intense huh?” You look at him with concern he doesn’t really deserve, your dress blowing just a bit, earning you clutching some of the thin material in a fist.

“I was an ass that day. Nationals.” You look down now, taking a little breath, shaking your head.

“It probably looked funny-”

“No. I was an ass. I’m… sorry.” Your pretty face is frozen in shock, mouth wide open while you try to comprehend his words.

“You’re apologizing for something like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” You both stand there for a bit, when you remember how upset you were, god you two didn’t talk for months, a gnawing feeling growing.

Do you know him truly?

“Thank you for that. But, it’s the past, we shouldn’t dwell.” Your hand is soft on his shoulder.

“Pregnancy making you a mush.”

“Says you, apologizing for your past, like some Eboneezer Scrooge.”

“Pshh.” You both laugh a bit, before you clear your throat, dispelling some of the tension between the two of you.

“I’ll see you soon, Satoru.”

“Sounds good.”

Doesn’t sound good, his parents are not something he wants having you scrutinized, the cozy vibes of today will be long, long gone, he already knows.

******

“Holy shit… you’re… rich rich.” Satoru snorts, rolling his eyes as you two use the brass lion knocker that evening, twilight making the sky a myriad of purples and pinks, casting the softest glow.

“Yeah, the ‘richest in the state’.” He finds it all far too pretentious, but you can’t help but feel a mixture of intimidation, and awe, the high iron gates and gorgeous mansion in front of you, in the prettiest white with light blue there was, as if it was molded for Satoru’s color.

Could anything replicate his eye color?

Why are you thinking that way!?

“Are they alright with this?” You ask quietly, hearing the footsteps head towards the door, ever so slowly.

“They are… well you’ll see.” The tone, while he’s still blitzed the fuck out clearly, perhaps more, is dark for a simple dinner. “I already told them.”

“Oh… you did?”

“Yeah, when I found out, trust me, throwing you to the wolves is an understatement of my parents.” The door opens, after an uncomfortable long moment, the butler opens it and bows at his waist.

“Master Gojo, come come.” He claps his hands, nose literally up in the air like some damn commercial for ‘grey poupon’ or some shit. Satoru’s family home is even more beautiful on the interior, floors polished to a glassy sheen, white marble of course, along with dual winding steps, in crushed white velvet with mahogany rails.

Everything in here is impeccable, sparkling, chandeliers over head with the insanely high ceilings, you tilt your head back, to see the intricate work decorating it, swirls of gold and blue, like you’d see in old royalty. It doesn’t fit a damn LA home, as rich as the area is, no it’s damn near Versailles.

You swallow down a sudden lump of anxiety, when Satoru’s hand squeezes yours, gently, and you look at him. His eyes are slightly glazed, his jaw is tight, his grip reassuring, but the way he looks around, like he himself is uncomfortable in his own home, makes you realize how much he truly hates this place.

You never considered someone so privileged could feel this way, his utter disgust is clear as day. “I know, it’s overboard.”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful…” Your words trail off, because the butler has already led you to the dining hall, where a table so long it could fit fifty people is set for the four of you. You spot his mother and father at the end of the table, their expressions unreadable, but you know they’re sizing you up.

The chandeliers are dimmer here, the walls lined with paintings that belong in a damn art gallery, including a giant painting of Gojo, his father and you’re assuming his grandfather, so giant they take over the entire room. The atmosphere is so thick with tension in the air that you could feel your lungs crave fresh air.

Is this where he grew up?

The smell of surely a five star meal wafts over to you, but your stomach feels like it’s in knots, when you see the elaborate display, and you see Satoru’s mother. She’s got long silky white locks, but dark eyes, elegant and beautiful as she stands up, while his father has the exact shade of blue, Satoru is clearly the perfect mix of the two gorgeous people.

“Ah, Satoru, and you…” She addresses your name, a cold smile as she gestures for you to sit. “Come have dinner.”

“Pleased to meet you all, thank you.” You say politely, even as this feeling of being… in some petri dish under a microscope takes over. Satoru’s plopping down, making his father’s brows lower.

“Can’t pull out her seat?” He demands, and Satoru sighs, but you’re already sitting down.

“This looks so delicious, thank you.” You try to ease the tension, while you all follow into polite, menial conversation, their words feel practiced and hollow.

You think of your upbringing, a little cozy home, far from rich or fancy, but your mom cooked every night. And that little old kitchen table they still have, the one long past its prime, was filled with laughter, tears, or sometimes even lively debates between the three of you.

Not this.

“So, let’s cut to it.” You hear, while you’re nibbling on a bite of probably the best filet mignon you’ve had, but your fork clatters to your plate at his father’s words.

“Really, couldn’t give it twenty minutes?” Satoru’s words are icy cold.

You tense as you sit at the table, scrutinized to a tee, his mother and father’s eyes cooly assessing you up and down. “You have an amazing degree, lots of community activism, some sports it seems.”

“You… researched me?” You ask, his father shrugs.

“Of course we did, we need to know if you’re good stock.”

You nearly spit out your drink, Satoru’s jaw tenses so much you see a thin blue vein popping out from his jaw, pulsing under that skin. “She’s not an animal, the fuck you mean good stock. Are we breeding corgis?”

“You know what he meant.” His mom says, dabbing a handkerchief on her lips and sighing, leaning back to look at you. “She’s beautiful, and clearly intelligent, no record ever, unlike your long one.”

“Whatever a couple charges. And… so what, then she’s okay for your standard then?” Gojo says with a glare, as you heat up in embarrassment.

“She seems like she may be good quality, though her family isn’t exactly up to par.” You throw down your napkin then, standing, and Satoru curses, knowing you sure weren’t letting that slip. He murmurs your name, but you’re far gone.

“My parents are the best there are in the world.”

“They’re poor.”

“Poor!? They aren’t on the streets, they live in a fucking superb.”

“Bad language, check that off.” His mom murmurs, and Satoru blinks at their audacity, watching as his former rival - was it former? - fire sign brat - about to go unhinged, was so enjoyable his lips twitch in humor.

“Is there a checklist you’re keeping for me?” You demand, they look at Satoru then.

“She seems angry, is that usual?” His mom asks, earning Satoru’s smirk.

“She’s fiery is all.”

“Talk to me like I’m a person, stop acting like I’m a picture, someone who fits your son in your eyes.” They both falter a bit, watching while you’re crossing your arms now, he hears your heels click on the floor, echoing while he can clearly see the fury raging on your pretty face.

“We don’t disapprove.” His father says then, making you pause, as well as Satoru for a moment. “She… sorry, you seem like you have your life together. Squeaky clean, dean’s list, high up journalism opportunity. We are supportive of the two of you getting married.”

“Married!?” The two of you shout at once, you plop back down in your seat in shock, sipping water while they look at each other, then the two of you.

“Of course you’ll get married, the sooner the better before-”

“It’s not 1810, we won’t be getting married.” Satoru cuts in. “In the future perhaps, but it’s common for people to not marry.”

“That’s unacceptable for your position, and you know it. What sort of scandal would that cause?”

“Scandal this, image that, fuck it.” Satoru downs the glass of wine in front of him, shaking his head now as he answers his mother. “I’ll take care of the baby, but we aren’t getting married for your image.”

“I highly encourage you to change your mind, a marriage and baby would look good for the corporation.” Satoru rolls his eyes at his father’s words.

“Everything for the image, huh?” He smiles sadly, eyes hollow, and you realize then and there that you’ve never really known a damn thing about Satoru Gojo.

You pictured it, the rich boy he was, flaunting his wealth in shirts worth your bills for the month, how cocky and conceited he seemed, how foolish. But now it all starts clicking together like little puzzle pieces you can finally press together. How could he handle parents like this?

“We will help support the heir, regardless.” His mother says, a little softer, you watch as Satoru stands then, hands gripping the table tightly.

“I don’t need help, and we are not royalty, as close as you think we are, don’t call it the ‘heir’ please. I think I’m… full though. You?” He holds out a hand and you nod, placing yours in his, while his parents stand across the elegant banquet table as well, stiff and stuck up… and just cold.

“Satoru, we aren’t displeased you’re having the child, just the way you’re going about it. It’s uncouth.” His father’s words make him squeeze the fuck out of your hand, while he pulls you to stand.

“Uncouth huh?”

“You’re uncouth all together, you always are. When you’re supposed to be the pride of the family.” You glare now, yanking Satoru around, until you stand directly in front of his parents.

“Guess what, I’m proud of him, even if you aren’t, okay?” They gasp at your audacity, but Satoru just blinks, staring at you.

“You’re a mouthy little girl, aren’t you?” You laugh then, right at his mother, shaking your head.

“You’re going to be grandparents, you should focus on becoming good ones, huh? Not financially, either. Focus on being someone we can feel good about you being in their lives, about the coming over.”

“Well, we won’t watch the baby. We could pay for a nanny-”

“No.” You cut his mother off again. “All due respect Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, you need to get it together if you want to be in this baby’s life. No nannies, no being uppity, you need to support your son, okay?”

“We-”

“No, I mean really support him. He got straight A’s, he was a star basketball player, leader of his fraternity, now he’s stepping up to care for his baby. What more did you need to be proud of!?”

Satoru speaks your name again, tugging at you, while his parents frown then, staring at each other. “We should go.”

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs Gojo. I hope I can see you all again.” You say now, holding out your hand, firmly shaking each of theirs, before you let Satoru pull you away, steps echoing through the elegant halls on those marble floors. Pretentious statues staring at you both the whole way, you can feel him, seething. “Shit, I said too much, I’m sorry…”

“Will you stop?” He’s pulled you past the door man now, until the two of you are finally outside, so he can breathe.

“How do you even handle them?” Your question makes Satoru laugh, without humor, while you all stand in front of the Gojo mansion, the night breeze swirling around the two of you, the moon so full and bright it’s illuminating his perfect skin.

“How do I handle them…” He’s shrugging a broad shoulder now, as the two of you wait for the car to arrive. “I didn’t have to very often, they weren’t around.”

“No wonder you…”

“No wonder I what?” He whispers, raising a thin brow now, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I shouldn’t say anything.”

“No, when have you ever held back, hmm little preppy ass brat?” It’s your turn to glare, crossing your arms.

“I wasn’t attacking you here, I was trying to be understanding, to… just try to get you, okay?”

“Why, do ya feel bad for me?”

“No!” You do though, shit. You feel horrible that those are his parents, not that they are cruel, they don’t care about him as anything other than a figurehead.

“Don’t feel bad, I have everything I ever wanted, right?” He uses your own words in the past against you, making you falter, blinking rapidly. “What’s that display, though, playing a girlfriend so well?”

“What display?”

“That you’re ‘proud of me’ or whatever.” He’s mumbling now, looking away from you, making the clenching in your tummy worse. “That’s feeling sorry.”

“That’s defending you, okay?” His eyes catch yours, more feelings than you ever expected to see from Satoru Gojo, eyes that were arrogant were swirling with more emotions than you could fathom.

“I don’t need you to.” You scoff now, shaking your head, biting on a lower lip he’s dying to kiss, a mouth he wants to devour, with every puff of breath in the cool night, he sees goosebumps along your shoulders and arms. He should offer you his fucking jacket, he should…

You’re touching his face, hand cool on his heated cheek, as you glare right up at him, making him ache to pull you against him. “If we are going to raise a baby together, we need to do a lot better than them. And we can do better, okay? I know you can.”

Satoru exhales at your words, blinking back emotions. “How do you know?”

“I just know, you’ll be more involved, you’re not like them, alright? You’re arrogant, you annoy me, you're a perverted little shit.” He laughs a bit, softly now, big hand wrapping your delicate wrist, easing off his face, but not letting it go. “But you’re not them, you’re just… Satoru.”

“Shit.” He pulls you against his hard chest, making you both falter, your own eyes darting to his lips, far too close when he leans down.

If he kisses you, you’ll melt.

“Say something dumb or pervy.” You whisper, he grins now, shaking his head, while his hand slips down your waist.

“There’s been one thing on my mind looking at you-” The car pulls up now, and he clears his throat, hands slipping down your cool arms. “Time for you to go home. Do you want me to ride with you?”

You nod then, sliding into the back of the black car with him, as he sends the address to the driver’s gps, leaning back, arm over the seat, so close to you, his long legs spread wide, brushing on your still chilled skin. You feel the warmth of him, as you fall into an uncomfortable silence, you can’t stop wondering about him, the boy you thought you knew.

You turn your head to find him staring right at you, openly, not the ogling stare of before, no it was so different. Contemplative, studying, heating you up everywhere it touches like his hands themselves are touching you, burning a trail everywhere they land, in the quiet dark of the car.

“What is it?” You murmur, biting back a moan when his hand touches your thigh, feeling so good you almost fail at concealing it.

“Beautiful, that’s what I’ve thought all day.” Your cheeks heat up, you look away then, words you’d never expect Satoru to say.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful. Okay?” His fingers brush your hair back, off your collarbone, trailing them across it then, as your chest rises and falls with every breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it, shit I always knew you’re drop dead gorgeous, but I guess today is the first moment I thought it.”

“You can’t-”

“I do mean it. Glowing, fuck.” He’s too close then, and you’re gulping, throat suddenly dry, inhaling that hundred dollar a spray cologne, intoxicating as it fills your senses.

“Satoru…” He’s exhaling, breath hot against your lips, lips you’ve bitten to death in attempts to hold back, what’s glimmering to the surface.

“We hate each other, I don’t want that, not for this baby.”

You blink rapidly, your own hand slipping up his chest, feeling his heart race as it does. “I don’t want it either. I want them to have loving parents, even if we’re not together.”

Together.

Satoru’s never dated, he’s had women in and out of his bed since he turned eighteen, sometimes multiple girls in one night, chasing some feeling that he has never gotten, except with you. But even after that night, he never contemplated it, dating someone, being with them, was he worthy of that, especially with you? He couldn’t even give you his jacket.

Suddenly he takes it off, making you giggle when he wraps you with it. “It’s not cold inside the car, silly.”

“I suck, I’m an idiot and… I am not a gentleman, at all.”

“Satoru…” He shakes his head as you cut him off.

“No, it’s true. I was fucked up before an important day for us, and I couldn’t even give you my jacket tonight when I saw you freezing.” You pull it closer, when he’s brushing a hand under it, right on your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re doing fine all things considered, I wasn’t kidding. I am proud that you stepped up, it means a lot to me, okay?”

“Don’t be so nice.” You glare, making him moan softly at how sexy you always are when you do.

“You’re being nice, too.”

“I know. Everything I’m thinking, though baby?” He’s got his other hand entangled in your hair, and you can’t stop the soft cry from escaping your lips. “It's filthy.”

“Filthy, huh?” Your voice is just a breathy whisper, he can't stop thinking just how cute you are.

“You can’t begin to imagine what I’m thinking. Seeing these rock hard all fucking day, so full already.” He’s gripping your tits then, squishing one in his palm, and a thumb brushing over it, making your hips roll, pressing your eager cunt against the seat, dying for the friction, while he’s so close you can taste him. “They want to get sucked on, don’t they sweetheart?”

You nod wordlessly, earning Satoru’s moan as he presses you down on the seat then, his own jacket falling under you, hand pushing down your dress, revealing your pretty breasts to his view. You gasp when he brushes his thumb on them, bare, lowering his snowy head, and you’re frozen there, trying to remember all the years you hated him, he hated you.

Why can’t you think of anything but how bad you want him?

“Shouldn’t I take care of you, too? Don’t you ache baby?” He’s murmuring, mouth hovering, as he just barely brushes his lips on them.

“S-sensitive…” He presses another kiss, and your hands entangle in his silky locks, cunt so wet it’s making your panties sticky.

“Sensitive, then do you want me to make them feel good?”

“Should we… ah!” He’s lapping at your nipple with his talented tongue, swirling your nipple, and your moan fills the car, to the point you’re sure poor Kiyotaka could hear you, making you slam a hand on your mouth. Satoru chuckles, little shit that he is, lapping at the other one.

“You want it so bad, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He sucks your nipple into his hot mouth, you can’t stand just how good it feels, your hand entangling in his locks, pulling him off, as your chest heaves with your labored breaths, and he hovers an inch above you.

“Is it just… sex then? Do we just have amazing sex?” He smirks now.

“It was amazing? That’s the first I heard.”

“You know it was, arrogant ass. For me I mean.”

You falter a bit, you’re sure Satoru’s more experienced, you’ve watched him have more girls on him at once than men you’ve known. Satoru sees your hesitance, pressing a kiss on your lower lip now, nipping it slowly with his teeth, unleashing the heat in your core, until you’re throbbing with need.

“You felt so good wrapped around me.” You whine out at that, as he presses kisses to each corner of your mouth, gripping your breast again, heavy weight over you, his words and caresses making you pulse now. “Felt you cumming, so tight, think I don’t wanna be back inside you?”

“Shit… this is insane.” You’re shaking your head, when he kisses down your neck, back arching up for more. “If we are going to… we’d have to be exclusive, for the safety of the baby. So you really better think about this. At least while I’m pregnant.”

As if Satoru had been with anyone since you.

“I wouldn’t put the baby at risk.” Your eyes lock, noses brushing against each other, while he touches your tummy, feeling the slight roundness just barely already, making him lose his mind.

“While I’m pregnant I mean… if you do want anyone else and want this to stop… just tell me so I know?” He nods, unable to say the words, that he just wants you.

“Guess what?” His husky voice resonates in your ears, like he’s speaking to your pussy directly.

“W-what?”

“I can cum so deep inside your tight little cunt, all you want. ” His words fuck your brain, what was left of it, his fingers brushing on your slick heat now. “Fuck, you’re soaked, you like that thought huh.”

“It’s just hormones, mnh!” He’s laughing at your attempt.

“Hormones hmm?” You nod weakly, then cry out as he sinks two fingers in your pussy, pressing up in those gummy walls, that spot that has you weak, seeing fucking stars.

“Fuck you for hitting it so quick-ah!” He’s smirking as he watches you, the sounds of your squelching wetness filling his ears, making him feral.

“Wanna cum on my fingers or my mouth?” Your lips part, brows together, uncomprehending his words.

“Y-you eat girls out?” He chuckles then, curling his fingers up inside you just so, as your slick pools down his hand, already gripping him like a vise.

“Do I seem so selfish?” You take several shaky breaths, eyes rolling back as he hits some spot even you don’t know about, bringing you higher and higher. “Think I don’t wanna bury my face between your thighs?”

“It’s… intimate…”

“You’re cute.” He’s kissing lower, lower, your thighs trembling when the car comes to a stop, and Satoru’s fingers are coated in your slick when he pulls them out, dripping off his fingers, when he sucks on them, making your jaw drop. “Fuck you taste s’good.”

“Jesus, hormones and you are dangerous.” He’s smirking, when you sit up, biting on your lip once more. “Do you wanna come inside?”

“Cum inside that pussy?” You roll your eyes.

“Oh never mind…”

“No, no, no! I do!” He follows you out of the car, while your hands tremble, trying to unlock the door, you both barely get in before your lips are all over each other, you keep thinking, this is insane.

Insane.

It’s just the situation, why he’s ripping that dress off you, leaving you naked and bare to him completely in moments with practiced hands, moaning softly when he sees your body fully, that night he hadn’t seen all of you. His hands grip your hips then, yanking you up like it’s nothing, right into his arms. You cling to him, kissing him desperately, still fully clothed, while he presses you on the door.

“Fuck me, please.” Your desperate plea alone makes him leak precum, while he stares at your gorgeous frame.

“You’re begging me? Never thought I’d see the day, preppy little brat.” Your glare just makes him harder, as you shove at him now.

“Satoru!”

“You’re demanding pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god just… shut up please…” You slam your lips on his, grinding shamelessly against his belt, that hits your clit just so, making him drop that persona for just a minute, how sexy you are, how good you feel. “God just fuck me.”

“Room?” You point weakly as he carries you, and you’re thrown right on your bed, he stands up then, pulling off his dress shirt, revealing that perfect body, glowing slightly with the moonlight filtering through your blinds. You sit up, yanking on his belt with shaky hands, yanking his pants down and revealing how hard he already is under his boxers.

Your body violently responds when you see how much he wants you, for some reason that means more than it should, than two people making the best of such an insane situation, tugging his boxers down until his cock springs free. You’re lapping at his pretty blushed tip before he can think, eyes looking up at him from lowered lashes, making him whimper from just that.

Satoru whimpering triggers something in you yourself, you’re sucking his veiny length, as his hands entangle in your hair, his head falling back, abdomen flexing while you take him deeper. “B-baby, fuck… taking it that good, huh?”

He’s mad you’ve ever done it.

He’s mad anyone’s even seen your eyes at this angle. God he can’t stop thinking how pretty they are, even as his cock throbs inside your hot mouth, and you suck him so fucking hungry. He can’t stop thinking of how gorgeous you are, how he’s not sure he even deserves this from you, like he’s in some fucking dream, sweet thoughts mixing with the wet sounds of you sucking him up.

He’s feeling the suction, your hot wet mouth so eager, when you touch your throbbing, needy clit, running it in circles, while you sit there serving him, feeling him lose it with every stroke. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he fucks into your tight throat, feeling so good when his tip brushes the roof of your mouth, leaking pearly pre cum.

“Fuck, you’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?” You pull back with a pop now, when he swipes the drool off your chin, and your hand strokes him, earning another sweet little whimper.

“Shh. Just fuck me.” You whisper, pulling back and turning, on all fours with that sexy ass in the air. He pauses, dying to fuck you, but dying to taste you more, you gasp when Satoru flips you on your back, and you blush in the dark room. “Don’t you wanna…”

“I said I was eating you out. Gonna deny me the meal? Ya that mean?” You’re stammering as he kisses down your tummy, shoving your thighs apart, lapping a stripe up your slit, you’re pulling his hair so hard it hurts, screaming out, just making his cock throb harder.

“Toru I haven’t had anyone… do that…” He pulls back now, and your hands ease, when he sees something he never saw in you before, the confident, feisty little brat that you are.

You’re nervous.

He eases up a bit, resting on his elbows, pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he inhales you, god you smell even better than before, taste even better than he remembers. “I love to do it, if you want.”

You exhale in relief, nodding shyly then, another thing he wouldn’t associate with you- shy. The girl who just ripped down his pants, sucking him like a pro, is nervous to get pleased this way. “I want it, fuck I want it bad. Just a little… you’re seeing all of me, like all.”

“I am seeing so much of this pretty pussy.” He presses a kiss higher up, breath ghosting your sensitive clit when he parts your lips, watching arousal drool out of your cunt. “Prettiest, actually.”

“N-no…”

“Mmhmm.” He licks you again, and something far too intimate forms, when Satoru Gojo is buried between your thighs, worshipping you with his talented tongue in long, slow strokes. “Fuck you’re so wet…”

“Hormones?” He just grins, you feel his teeth against your pussy, when your body relaxes for him, when you spread your thighs, letting him see you, while he presses his cock against the mattress.

“Hormones.” He slips his tongue up to your clit then, and you don’t hold back anymore, a few more strokes and you’re grinding on his face, making his groan vibrate against your sensitive clit. “Mmm…”

“There, there oh my god!” Did Satoru Gojo have to be the best at everything? Did he have to ruin you when his blue eyes watch your face contort in pleasure?

“There you go, you like it right… here.” Satoru slips two fingers in your slutty little hole, pressing up as he flicks his tongue, and you’re clinging to him now, while he works you with a tongue far too talented, you’re instantly jealous of every girl that’s had Satoru like this.

Wild thoughts, stop that.

“Loosen up, just feel it sweetheart.” He says now, feeling you tense around him, and you nod then, eyes rolling back when he fucks those fingers into you, scissoring them in and out, while flicking his tongue right on your clit, twitching in response. “Let go f’me, huh pretty?”

“Mnh!” You shatter at his urging, his mouth, his teeth, tongue, all of it merging and destroying your surroundings, you’re cumming so intense you cannot see anymore, and Satoru’s eagerly drinking you up. “Satoru!”

“Mmm…” He’s lapping all the wetness that’s gushing out of you, fingers easing out to grip your hips, while your thighs tighten on either side of his head. “That’s it, so greedy f’me, want more?”

“Please!” You’re fucking his face now, god he can’t get enough, burying his face against you, shaking his head side to side, while you’re so sensitive the next orgasm comes so quickly, you’re yanking him up, kissing his lips and reaching down, stroking his cock once more, watching snowy lashes flutter.

“God, you’re so ready aren’t you?” You just nod, and when Satoru presses his tip past that tight ring of muscles, sinking deeper, it’s even more intense.

You’re fully sober this time, with swirling blue eyes looking right at you, as he slides in your tight cunt, which struggles to take him at first, even after so much play, Satoru is huge, certainly bigger than you’re used to. You grip his shoulders, manicured nails pressing in, when he rocks his hips just so, kissing your lips, letting your taste mix between the two of you.

“God you’re so wet, fuck…” He’s enamored by you, lifting a thigh then, pulling back and jerking his hips so he’s shoved deeper, your cry drank by his eager lips, that can’t rip themselves from yours.

How is he supposed to ever be with someone now?

You feel like heaven, he won’t say that corny shit, but it’s all he can describe it to, watching your pretty face as he fucks into you slowly, and both of you freeze for just a moment. He grips your hand in his, entwining his fingers as he lays it over your head, your heart races as your pussy struggles to take more, greedy for his every stretch, every stroke.

“S’good I… ah- please, more!” You’re begging him, shameless as you do, when he slams his cock in deep, tip kissing your cervix, your head falls back, his lips devouring your neck while he bends over you.

“Taking this cock like you’re made for it.” Satoru hears your cunt sucking him in, so wet it’s squishing loudly, mixing with the slapping of your skin, as he starts to go faster, watching your eyes nearly black as they dilate. “There you go, look at you. So greedy.”

“Ngh…” You can’t form words anymore, not when he feels better than that night, not when he’s fucking every thought, worry and woe away, you can’t even remember what brought you here. You can’t remember anything, think of anything but his cock, slamming deeper and deeper, his tip dragging on that spot now on your walls. “There, there!”

“You’re so bossy, what a brat.” You can’t scowl, but he knows you wish you could, as he grins down and does just that, eyes hungry while they watch you falling apart under him, pulling back then, groaning as he watches his cock bulging your tummy, making him more sensitive inside you. “Look, so fucking hot, I’m so big in you, aren’t I baby?”

“C-conceited… mmm, y-yes…” He turns your chin, making you blush, where you watch his shape inside you.

“Gotta see this while we can, gonna be so round soon.” His words should bother you, but they don’t. He’s imagining it with you, and it takes him over. “I’ll be easier then with you.”

“Gonna take it e-easy?” You’ve got your thighs up high now, Satoru watches your little hole swallowing him, cock coated in your slick, so wet it’s dripping down his balls, that smack against your ass, harder and deeper now.

“Well I won’t be able to do this.” He’s folding you in half, leaning over you to cup your face with huge hands, slamming deeper than you’ve ever felt, so deep it damn near hurts, but you’re craving it, dying for it, hands gripping his shoulders helplessly while you lose yourself in his eyes.

Insane blue, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, while he hovers over you, breaths mingling together in the night, you’re folded so in half your knees damn near touch the bed. “So d-deep…”

“You can take it, like a good girl. Slutty pussy, listen to her.” You’re too fucked out to get offended, let him call it a slutty pussy, it’s what it was, after all.

“Ngh- Close, close.” He’s slamming his cock harder, tempo increasing as she soaks him so much he almost slips out, only for you to whine desperately, nails leaving crescent moons against his arms, he hisses in pain and pleasure, kissing you deeply, tongues dripping, messy and desperate.

“Fuck…” He’s close, he realizes, a man who could go forever, you’ve already cum, but he wants you cumming over and over until you’re a sobbing, pretty little mess for him, but you feel far too fucking perfect wrapped around him. “Want to cum with me? Want me to fill your slutty hole?”

His dirty words just make your walls flutter, earning his soft whine, right against your ear, his hands gripping your waist bruisingly. You nod weakly, whispering in his ear now - ‘Cum in me’

“Oh god, fuck yes. Want all my cum, don’t you?” You look up, intoxicated by him, losing your mind completely while he’s working you, pulling back to press on your thighs, feral grin spreading across his pretty face. “You’ll take it so fucking good like this.”

“Satoru!” You scream when he thrusts his hips just so, slamming that cervix, forcing you to cum again, to the point your ears are ringing, body on fire for him, every memory of you both thrown out the damn window.

“Beg for it.”

“No!”

“Beg.” He’s smirking, and you shake your head, clenching around him and watching him lose control, his cheeks flushed, lips parted in a gasp.

“You beg to cum in me.”

“No.” You both laugh, then the motion itself brings Satoru to the edge, tightening impossibly around him. “Fuck it, please, let me fill this pussy.”

“You really begged I- ah!” He’s glaring, slamming his cock deep, stuffing your cunt so full.

“That’s it, milk me huh?” You’re too far out, your pussy is milking him with your aftershocks, when he’s pumping you with those hot white ropes, endless sticky, gooey cum. You’re so full from it coating your walls, warm and hot and perfect, all the way even in your tummy. “There you go, taking s’much fuckin cum.”

“S’much I… Satoru.” His cum alone has you addicted, he pulls back now, watching his cock slowly pumping cum in and out of your hole, watching the way it trickles down his huge cock, glistening and mixing with you.

“You took me so well.” His praise is too much, it’s all too much, while Satoru eases back, on his elbows, hovering just so. “God you’re fucking pretty like this, so fucked out.”

You bury your face. “Am not fucked out.”

“No, need more?”

“I’m… we…”

“That’s what I thought.” He eases back, pulling away fully, seeing the mess of both of your fluids fall over the bed, pulling your pussy lips apart, watching it all pour out, drip by drip. “How is this little thing gonna push something out?”

“They stretch silly!”

“Well, clearly, took me so good.” He’s fingering the sticky cum, desperate and feral, cock glimmering from you, damn near ready to fuck into you again.

For a moment you both stare, Satoru’s scooping it out, before sucking on it, your breath is rapid at the motion, his cheeks hollowing, tilting your chin up. “Satoru you’re… a whole freak.”

“Open.” You tentatively do, allowing him to open mouth kiss you, his cum and yours in your mouth, but you crave it, so much you’re pulling him desperate. “You’re gonna be freaky just for me, aren’t you?”

“Shh.” He’s chuckling watching you drink up his cum, while you come down from your high, when he brushes your hair back, you struggle with just how much you feel, how badly you want more.

You’ve never felt anything like this.

How can you and Satoru have this?

“Um… is poor Kiyotaka waiting?” You manage to say softly, to diffuse the feelings threatening to bubble to the surface. Satoru rolls his pretty eyes.

“He gets paid good to wait!”

“Oh jesus. Let’s not keep him waiting forever.”

“Ya kicking me out? Rude. I had you cum how many times?” You giggle, that sound clutching him, pulling him by the goddamn heartstrings.

“I need sleep, and don’t you have a trip coming?”

“Shit… you remembered.”

“You all always took that trip.”

“What did you do during spring break?” He slips on his clothes, as you grab a robe, throwing it over yourself and wrapping it with a tie.

“Study.”

“Boring.” He eyes the books by your bed then, along with a fresh bag of hot cheetos, he laughs softly at that, touching the baby books curiously. “Cravings?”

“God yes, bad too.”

“I wonder… will you be showing more when I get back?” You heat up at his question, brushing back messy hair, while Satoru buttons up his shirt.

“Will that suck for you, physically?” He hears the worry, which seems ridiculous, fuck you’d just be sexier.

“Shit no. You’ll look hot.”

You’re fiddling with the ties of your robes now, his words and your wobbly leg a lethal combination. “You think?”

“Fuck yeah, milf and all.”

“Shit.” You pull him down, kissing him again, he’s gripping your terry cloth robe, yanking you to him, while the fan above you both serves no purpose, the both of you are so overheated. “Thank you, I needed it. All of it.”

“The dick is that good?”

“Psh, go on.” You turn him now, shoving him.

“I feel used!? I feel like a booty call! For a horny pregnant girl.”

“You got me pregnant, so.” You pinch his ass, he gasps, feigning upset, only making your smile brighter, your heart lighter.

Then you realize.

You’re gonna miss him, shit, a guy you couldn’t stand is starting to become… comfortable, enjoyable and clearly your body…

She’s a wreck for him.

“Satoru please if you want to be with someone else, let me know.” He is sucking you off his fingers as you speak, he turns and raises a brow.

“I would let you know. But… I think having you take all my cum? Pretty fucking elite.”

“A-plus?” Your lips twitch, and his white teeth glint.

“4.3 GPA pussy.”

You both laugh, and soon you’re standing by your door, trying to not think so much, to just let it be. So you both have fun, so you…

Fuck you already want him again, what’s that.

“If you masturbate thinking of me, video it would you?”

There he is.

Fuckboi Gojo isn’t gone, he just fucked your brains out.

“Oh god. No, go on.”

Satoru chuckles a bit, slipping on his coat now, as you both stand in the doorway, your mind rushing, feeling him trickle out of you, knowing this is batshit, knowing it’s just sex. Right, sex, that’s it… agreement, sex, some sort of understanding, that’s all that this was.

Don’t get too attached, don’t fall into his blue eyes.

“Thanks for today, though.”

“Thanks for the dick or-”

“Jesus do you stop?” You shove at him now, and he pulls you against him, far, far too close. “Thank you for being here.”

His jokes calm, as he sees it, how serious you are, so unsure when you look down, and he tilts your chin up. “Of course, I’ll be back for the next ultrasound, okay?”

“Okay.” You both stand there, kissing after sex, what’s it mean?

Don’t you hate each other?

“Gonna miss me, hmm?”

“No way.” You peck a kiss on his lips though, before you can stop yourself, leaving him blinking on the porch, when you get off your tiptoes, and turn to the door. “Be safe and don’t be late for it.”

You shut the door then, leaving him aching to go back inside, to be inside you, fuck he’d stay in your heat all the time if he could, fill you over and over until you’re so full of him you can’t take it. He pauses before he turns around, wondering then, should he go on this trip?

Should he just stay?

He shakes himself out of the spell you’ve cast, as his friends start texting him, wanting to know if he’ll be ready tomorrow, he texts them back, slipping in the back of the car, where Kiyotaka is taking a nap. Satoru leans forward, with a ‘boo’ damn near earning a smack as he wakes him up, the tired man panicking.

“Relax, you’re fine buddy.” He smacks his narrow shoulder, making Kiyotaka jerk just a bit, before exhaling.

“You were in there a long time, Mr. Gojo.” He says with yawn, focusing now, putting the car on with a purr of the engine.

“Yeah I was.”

“Not as long as most of your… escapades.” Satoru glares at him now, blue eyes narrowing as his driver clears his throat.

“Are you saying I busted quick, Ijichi?”

“Sir I-”

“Hah did you bust quick?” Satoru realizes somehow he has called Suguru, and hears Sukuna cackling in the background.

“Oh fuck you three, mmkay I lasted like a champ… kind of.”

“How long was he in there?” Sukuna asks, and Ijichi looks back at Gojo, who’s shaking his head and mouthing a plea.

“I was merely kidding, Mr. Gojo was in there so long I fell asleep.”

“Thank you, as I said.”

It wasn’t that quick was it?

You sure came enough for him, god he feels you all over his fingers, his mouth, you’re soaked into his goddamn taste buds- how could you think for a minute that he’d want anyone else? He knows his reputation, but how do you not know the level of obsession you send him to more and more every time he sees you, since he’s been inside of you twice.

This was more intimate.

His hand had gripped yours, he’d looked into your eyes as he lapped at your pretty pussy, you’d taken him so good, too. Your cries are echoing in his head as he realizes his friend is talking. “Huh?”

“Pussy that good? Share with your friends, hmm?” Satoru scoffs at Sukuna, rolling his eyes.

“You wish, I’m not telling you two shit.”

“So special? Are you down so bad?” Suguru teases, making Satoru’s jaw tense just a bit.

It was just your hormones, it’s the situation, it’s just sex.

Right?

Right… no.

No sex doesn’t do this to him, this is…What is it? Is it because you’re having his baby, is it his feelings that have pent up so long for you?

“Probably not coming on our yearly trip.” He hears, clearing his throat.

“I’m not gonna miss it, think I’m old and tied down now?” His friends laugh, but his heart aches, thinking of how fucking bad he’ll miss you already.

You fix the bed, flushing as you see the rumpled sheets and blankets, before laying down in bed, covering your face as the memories hit. His touch, his tongue, his eyes just staring into yours. Was it because it was easy for the two of you, because you’re pregnant already? Convenience?

You can’t stop wracking your mind.

Not seeing him for almost a month…

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Good night, sweet dreams about this dick.

You glare at the screen.

You don’t respond, seeing him typing and typing.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: I’ll keep in touch, please if… you need to talk I’ll have my phone, okay?

You sigh now, turning on your side, while Gojo watches those three dots, finally walking into his penthouse, mind wandering to you. He wants you… in his bed, he wants to stay, to ignore his best friends, ignore the tradition. Your pussy is… a demon surely, making him hard just thinking of it again.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: I don’t wanna bother you, I’ll be fine.

Satoru frowns at that.

Fratboy Gojo🙄   I want to know how you are.

His own vulnerability makes him feel sick damn near, but you heart the message, making him simp like some idiot with a dopey grin.

Sorority Brat 💦😻Then I will keep you updated, I hope you have a lot of fun.

Guilt gnaws at him, leaving you alone, to go on some trip, while your body would surely go through more changes. He doesn’t even want to miss it, but he can’t just… he has to still have his life, right? For now, was it just… sex to you because you’re horny, and he’s there?

Did it mean more?

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Good night, Satoru.

You watch him heart the message, as your hand drifts to your tummy, thinking about the little growing baby inside you. It almost feels surreal, as do the feelings for Satoru Gojo.

 Fratboy Gojo🙄 Good night, Sweets.

this one took a bit but it WAS a little longer- I'd expect chap three to be long as well! I will post a preview of that tomorrow as it's already in the works ;) (will time skip one month!) I hope you all enjoy, ty for being patient! ILYSM

Taglist #1- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

[searchingforserendipity25]

conclave is a very good film made up of cardinal thomas lawrence having three horrible horrible days.

however the one thing it lacks is the consideration of how much worse they could have been if it lasted longer.

day four of conclave and the draw between tedesco and lawrence does not budge.

five days of conclave and at least one of the cardinals whose name got covered up in the trembley report backs lawrence against the wall and tries to threaten him with a kitchen knife before falling to weeping on his shoulder. day six of conclave and cardinal adeyemi and cardinal trembley nearly come to blows in the loggia. day seven of conclave and people start sneaking wine bottles into the sistine chapel.

day eight and they're passing them around covertly during the interminable voting process. day nine and three separate white collar crimes come to light because the guilty parties are sweating in their cassocks thinking lawrence has the dirt on them and they can't take the pressure anymore, they just can't.

day ten and vincent benítez is doing quiet prayer catechism hour in the garden after lunch.

day eleven and sabbadin is snorting someone's vicodin in the bathroom.

day twelve and the cardinals for warsaw and budapest are having a terrible breakup everyone is trying to pretend not to notice. day thirteen and lawrence stays in his room the whole day pretending he has a stomach ache and keeps having his nap dreams interrupted by dreams of turtles.

day fourteen and aldo bellini has brought his copy of giovanni's room to reread, half-heatedly hidden behind a bible cover.

day fifteen and vincent benítez has lead by example a number of cardinals into helping out in the kitchen at least once a week to frankly terrible culinary results and growing camaraderie.

sixteen days of conclave and lawrence has to sit down ray o'malley and actively beg him not to tell him anything else, please, no more info, no more digging into old scandals, no nothing.tedesco's tax audits may be suspiciously clean but lawrence is a man of god not a forensic attorney and he will not dig deeper.

day seventeen and lawence tracks o'malley down and asks him to look into tedesco's brother's recent real estate acquisitions.

day eighteen and the new whisper campaign to discredit lawrence keeps trying to bring up his most controversial progressive views but he keeps answering impatiently back with well-thought of biblical references as he did in the homily and accidentally causes a reprise of his canon law school lecture debates. which temporarily brings everyone together and opens the stage for a fierce ideological debate.

wherein lawrence gets accused, not entirely inaccurately, by trembley and adeyemi, united once more in offense, of being the last figurehead for the complacent liberal establishment/a judgemental prig and/or treating the college of cardinals like a group of jumped-up seminarians.

aldo bellini implies very loudly that tedesco is ugly, a fascist and too stupid to ever be invited to lecture at the sourbonne even once, and cardinal vincent benítez speaks up with great dignity and strength against american imperialism.

day nineteen and someone actively tries to murder the patriarch of venice. day twenty and it is revealed via sister agnes ex machina and cardinal benítez's disconcerting familiarity with very real and more successful murder attempts that tedesco was trying to frame bellini for it.

the proof is circumstantial and so are any accusations lawrence or anyone could make against him of corruption, but this does prompt him to go on a long speech about how the leftist agenda has thoroughly ruined not only the church but society at least and made any possible unity among men a sham.

day twenty-one and someone actually dies, unrelated to the tedesco fake-plot.

day twenty-two and they elect vincent benítez. lawrence hides in the room of tears having an anxiety attack of relief.

vincent benítez holds his hand tenderly through it and immediately accepts his resignation as dean but not before telling him his secret and having his hands held back tightly, and being told very earnestly that, short of actual unreasonable harm to other people and an extraordinary amount of bribery, he could be made by god's will in any possible variation and still have lawrence's trust. and most importantly, lawrence's papacy.

day one of innocentius xiv's papacy and lawrence finds him in the gardens feeding the turtles instead of taking the next train to a nice monastery in liège and offers himself as secretary of state. and this is why netflix should hire me.

[sabertoothwalrus]

make a farcille fankid. im a fankid fan and i think that adding to the whole complicated situation is great. the political ramifications of EVERYTHING about laios's country are fantastic and making it worse by adding more interspecies kids (shoutout to chilchuck's grandkids) is fascinating

great cause I already started drawing adjkfghdjfg

PLEASE READ THIS POST TO UNDERSTAND MY THOUGHT PROCESS BEHIND THIS

but yeah I !!!!!! really like the political implications of 1) having a half-elf (which the queen of elves doesn't recognize as people) as a royal court mage who is 2) gay married to King's sister who is 3) a chimera

additionally!!!! I think Laios would pick his niece to be his successor, for several reasons:

I think he's gay. maybe aro-spec.

I don't think he'd MIND marrying a woman. He had a fiance (which ended when he left home, meaning he was engaged before the age of THIRTEEN) so I think he just always assumed he would get married at some point, regardless of his personal feelings about it

haven't decided if I think he would get gay married, get comphet married, or stay single. I think it depends on How progressive he thinks Melini should be, other countries' feelings be damned. (unless Kabru says no, actually, that's a little too risky.)

point being IDK if Laios would have any kids of his own

He LOVES Falin. He loves Marcille as well. He'd fucking LOVEEEEE their kid my GOD would he spoil her!!!!! Best Uncle In The World

He probably thinks any chimera traits she'd have Fucking Rule and would think it's badass for someone like that to have the throne

yeah so. uh. enjoy farcille fankid

[mephisto-reporting]

Take A Break

About: You’ve been pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion. Someone needs to step in and help you rest before it takes a serious toll on your health—or worse. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship yet but there is an implied mutual attraction.

XAVIER

You could feel exhaustion creeping into your bones, but your hands still worked, fixing up your equipment, mindlessly checking and rechecking everything.

“You should take a break.”

Xavier’s voice, calm and devoid of inflection. He was seated at the table, eyes half-lidded as if he could fall asleep at any moment. His usual expression didn’t waver, but you’d been around him long enough to recognize the care beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed the truth. You kept busy, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

Without saying anything, Xavier reached into his jacket and pulled out a deck of Kitty Cards, placing them on the table between you. “Play a round with me.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “Now’s really not the time for games, Xavier.”

He shrugged, his expression unchanged. “You won’t rest, and there is time until the next mission, so this is the compromise. Besides…” His eyes glimmered with the smallest trace of mischief. “I want to win this time.”

Xavier’s boyish charm peeked through his usual calm, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly how to get to you, and this was one of those moments where he wasn’t above using it.

“Fine,” you said, reluctantly setting down your tools. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

His lips quirked up. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But if I win, you listen to me and get some rest., Deal?”

Knowing how he usually was in this game, you confidentally accepted his deal. There was no way you would lose. As the game commenced, Xavier’s focus was unwavering. He played his cards methodically, and before long, he had amassed a considerable lead. You frowned, desperately trying to catch up. Just as you were about to make a move, Xavier leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Xavier!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed as he dozed off, completely unaware of the game progressing without him. You couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. The sudden quiet felt oddly peaceful, allowing you to relax for just a moment. You noticed how the soft glow of the lights illuminated his serene expression.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, feigning innocence, though you could see the way he fought back a smile.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but fatigue was making it hard. Xavier’s hand was steady as he played his next move, drawing the game closer to an end.

He was winning. “Looks like you’re distracted,” Xavier commented, his voice still soft, though there was an edge of teasing in it. “Maybe you're too tired to concentrate?”

You glared at him playfully. “You’re just lucky today.”

Finally, with a quiet triumph in his eyes that didn’t quite reach his face, he played his last card. "I win."

You exhaled, a sense of frustration bubbling up inside. “Alright, you got me. What now? Another round?”

He shook his head, leaning forward just slightly. His gaze softened, his unreadable expression giving way to something more sincere. “No. Now you rest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Xavier cut you off. “You’re exhausted. I can see it. If you keep pushing yourself, you won’t be able to fight the Wanderers. You won’t be able to protect yourself. this is my win. You rest.”

You blinked at him, a warmth settling in your chest at the unexpected care behind his words. Xavier, the one who barely showed emotion, was looking out for you in his own way. You couldn’t deny it any longer. You were tired, so incredibly tired.

“Alright,” you conceded, leaning back into the sofa. “I’ll rest.”

Xavier gave a slow nod, his eyes softening further. “Good.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt him reach over, the deck of cards disappearing from the table. The familiar sound of shuffling filled the air, and though he didn’t say anything more, the steady presence of Xavier nearby was all the comfort you needed.

He had won, but in that moment, so had you.

ZAYNE

The makeshift hospital buzzed with activity, filled with the low hum of hurried footsteps and murmured instructions. The air was thick with exhaustion, tension from the recent attacks on the area palpable. You’d been at it for hours, taking on shift after shift without a break, ensuring that everyone in the hospital remained safe. Your body ached, your limbs felt heavier with every passing moment, but you pressed on.

There wasn’t time to rest.

Zayne was nearby, performing triage on the injured, his face as stoic as always. Despite the weight of the situation, he remained calm, moving with precise efficiency. His hands—deft and careful as ever—made sure each patient was stabilized, patched up, and prepped for whatever came next.

You caught his gaze for a fleeting moment, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the concern beneath his composed exterior.

“Still standing, huh?” Zayne said, his voice low as he approached you, eyes scanning over your fatigued form. His tone, as usual, carried a hint of dry amusement despite the serious situation. “Or at least trying to.”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s not like you’ve been up for nearly 24 hours or anything.” He sighed, his lips twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to smile.

You rolled your eyes, brushing off his words. “I’m not the only one working without rest.”

Zayne gave a short nod, acknowledging your point. “True. But there’s a difference between pushing yourself and running yourself into the ground.” He glanced around the ward before turning his full attention back to you. “Come with me. You’ve done enough for now. I’ve got something that might help.”

You hesitated, but Zayne’s insistence was always hard to ignore. “What, now?”

“Yes. Now,” he replied, his tone firm but not without warmth. “I’ll even make sure it doesn’t take long.”

He didn’t give you much room to argue. Without waiting for a reply, he placed a gentle but guiding hand on your arm and led you to a small side ward, one reserved for staff members to take quick breaks. You gave him a quizzical look, but he just waved off your concerns with a simple, “Trust me.”

There, on a nearby table, sat two sealed containers of food. It wasn’t anything extravagant. “Eat,” he said, his voice calm, but there was an underlying firmness that told you he wasn’t asking.

You frowned, stubbornness rising up despite the exhaustion. “I don’t have time to eat, Zayne. There are still—”

“Eat,” he repeated, cutting you off. This time, his gaze softened, a rare show of tenderness slipping through his usually stoic exterior. “You can’t protect anyone if you collapse. This isn’t a negotiation.”

With a sigh, you took the container, too tired to argue further. You sat on one of the nearby beds, picking at the food slowly. Zayne stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching you with what seemed like affection. After a few bites, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you more than ever. You leaned back, letting the exhaustion creep in despite your best efforts to resist it. The bed beneath you was far too comfortable for your sleep-deprived mind to ignore.

You didn’t even notice when Zayne quietly removed the empty container from your hands.

“You’re done,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. His touch was firm but soothing, and you found yourself slipping further into the comfort of the bed. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “I wasn’t planning on resting…”

“Of course not,” he said dryly, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you are now. Doctors orders.”

Before you could protest, Zayne’s hand slid from your shoulder to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a gesture so tender it left you speechless. “And if it gets you to rest, I’ll take a break too.”

Despite your determination, the exhaustion finally won. Zayne’s gentle touch and the warmth of his words lulled you into a peaceful surrender. You felt his presence nearby as your eyes fluttered shut, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comforting sound in the otherwise chaotic hospital. “I’ll be right here,” Zayne added softly, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep overtook you. “Get some rest.”

And with him by your side, for the first time in what felt like forever, you did.

RAFAYEL

You hadn’t seen Rafayel in days—not since your latest string of missions had taken you deep into the conflict with the Wanderers. As much as you tried to keep up with everything, exhaustion was catching up to you. Your movements felt sluggish, but you pushed on, determined not to let fatigue show. After all, you had work to do. Rafayel had a mission for you.

When you finally stepped into Rafayel’s space, his studio, he greeted you with a pout. "Well, look who finally decided to show up." His tone was bratty and haughty. "I was starting to think you forgot about me, Miss Bodyguard. "

You could hear the petulance in his voice, but you knew better. Beneath the teasing, there was always something softer with Rafayel, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He took a slow, deliberate look at you, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was annoyed by what he saw. He noticed your exhaustion.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“I’ve been...occupied,” you replied with a tired smile. “I’m sure you’ve been managing just fine without me.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, turning his head dramatically. “As if I’d need you around to keep me entertained. But—" He paused, his voice dropping into a more playful, roguish tone, "It is terribly boring without you. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback. “So, what’s this mission you’ve dragged me here for?”

Rafayel hesitated for the briefest of moments, but then, with a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed whatever real task had brought you here. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned forward slightly. “Ah, the mission? Well, I’ve decided I need a muse for my next painting,” he said smoothly. “And you, my dear Miss Bodyguard, will do just fine.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you over to a plush chaise lounge, his touch light but insistent as he maneuvered you into place. "Lie down," he ordered in his typical, half-commanding, half-teasing way. "You’re far too stiff to inspire anything worthwhile."

“What? A painting?” you began to object, trying to sit up. "Rafayel, I don’t—"

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and gave you a lazy, charming smile, as if you were the one being unreasonable. "Don’t move. You’ll ruin the masterpiece.”

Despite the flirtatious teasing, there was a strange warmth in his tone that had your heart skipping a beat. He made it impossible to argue, his words dripping with that roguish charm of his. Before you knew it, you were sinking into the softness of the chaise lounge, your limbs too heavy to resist.

"Now stay perfectly still,” he instructed, settling down with his canvas and brushes. “I want to capture you just like this.” His voice was almost a purr, amused by your protests but not letting you get a word in edgewise.

“Rafayel, I don’t have time to—” you tried, but he waved you off with that same infuriatingly relaxed smile.

“Tsk tsk tsk. I’m the artist here, remember? You’re just the subject,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to pretend like this was all part of some grand artistic vision. “Don’t ruin the vibe.”

You couldn’t help but scoff softly at his antics, but your exhaustion was winning. Between his teasing words and the comfortable softness of the chaise, your body was betraying you. The fight to stay awake was quickly becoming a losing battle.

Rafayel's voice was a soft hum in the background as he began to paint, each word drawing you further into a haze of warmth and comfort.

"See? Isn’t this better? I’ve always preferred my muses to be calm...and peaceful.” Lies. He knew it. He glanced up, his lips quirking in a knowing smile as he saw your eyelids drooping. “Don’t worry, Miss Bodyguard. You’re perfect just like this.”

As your consciousness started to slip away, the last thing you felt was Rafayel’s hand brushing against your hair in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. His bratty, teasing nature had softened, just for a moment, as he watched you drift off to sleep.

When you were fully asleep, he set down his brush, a satisfied smirk still on his face. He pulled a soft throw blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over you, his voice low as he spoke to your resting form.

“You really shouldn’t overwork yourself like this, you know?” His tone, for once, was gentle, almost affectionate. “I might not say it, but…I miss you when you’re gone.”

SYLUS

The small town was quiet as you finally made your way back, the distant hum of your motorbike in sight. It had been a grueling week spent battling through the Metaflux high zone and clearing out the Wanderers. The mission had taken its toll—your body was heavy with exhaustion, your muscles aching, but you had pushed through. You always did.

Reaching for your comms, you were about to check the latest updates when you noticed a shadowy figure leaning casually against your bike. The unmistakable silhouette made your pulse quicken. Sylus. He was dressed as sharp and intimidating as ever, his hair tousled just enough to give him that rogue-ish charm. His signature smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was amused by your surprise, but his sharp gaze gave away nothing.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not hiding the confusion in your voice. Even though he wasexactly the type to show up unannounced without a reason. And his reasons were rarely straightforward.

“Business,” he replied vaguely, the smirk never leaving his lips. He made it sound like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Had to deal with something. But… I seem to have found something else worth my attention.”

Before you could react, his hand reached out, gently but firmly taking hold of your wrist. His touch was surprisingly warm but assertive, and with a deft flick of his thumb, he shut off your comms.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, leaving no room for argument.

“Sylus, I don’t have time for—”

But before you could finish the sentence, you felt the familiar tug of his Evol—his will imposing on yours. In a swift, almost effortless move, he guided you onto your motorbike, positioning you behind him as he took control. The engine roared to life under his command.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said over his shoulder, that smug confidence radiating off him as he drove you both away.

The ride was fast and purposeful. You tried to protest, tried to convince him to stop, but he was always a step ahead. His control never faltered, and your words fell flat against the rush of the wind. Sylus didn’t let go of the reins until the bike finally came to a stop in front of a lavish hotel on the outskirts of town.

“Really? A hotel?” you muttered, incredulous.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead using his Evol once again to guide you inside and straight into a large, opulent room. Everything about the space screamed luxury—the soft lighting, the plush velvet furnishings, and the enormous bed that took center stage.

Still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, you tried to stand your ground. “Sylus, I don’t have time for this. I need to get back, there are Wanderers—”

“They’re being handled,” he interrupted smoothly, crossing the room with a lazy, confident stride. “Luke and Kieran are on patrol. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for the past week. It’s time for you to stop.” He gestured toward the bed. "Sit."

“Sylus—” you began, but before you could argue further, you felt that familiar pulse of his Evol, urging you toward the bed. His power wrapped around you, persuasive and unyielding, as if coaxing your tired body to comply with his silent command.

Your legs betrayed you, and you sank down onto the soft mattress, glaring up at him as he stood over you, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of triumph and something more difficult to place.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled.

“Me?” He raised an eyebrow, the smirk finally softening into something closer to amusement. “I’m not the one pretending to be invincible, sweetie. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and we both know it.”

You scowled, but deep down, you knew he was right. The exhaustion clung to your bones, and the idea of resting—even for a moment—was becoming more tempting by the second. Still, giving in to Sylus felt like losing a battle you hadn’t agreed to fight.

“Look,” he said, leaning down, his voice dropping to a softer, more persuasive tone. “Let’s make a deal.”

You eyed him warily. "What kind of deal?"

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly grin. “You rest—just for a little while. Take the next few hours off. In return…” His voice lowered, taking on that smooth, almost dangerous quality he used when he knew he had the upper hand. “I’ll let you decide what you want from me afterward. Something I can’t say no to.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the offer. Sylus never relinquished control easily, and for him to offer anything in return… well, it was enough to give you pause.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, kitten” he replied, his smirk widening just a fraction. “Think of it as a rare moment of generosity. You rest, really rest, and I’ll owe you a favor. Deal?”

You hesitated, trying to weigh your options, but the exhaustion gnawing at you was impossible to ignore. You’d been running on fumes, and Sylus—infuriatingly—was giving you a way out, even if it was wrapped up in his manipulative charm.

Finally, you sighed, giving in. “Fine. Deal.”

He smiled, that smug, triumphant smile that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he moved to the edge of the bed. “Now rest. I’ll make sure nothing happens to this town while you do.”

Before you could protest further, he covered you with a soft blanket, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. His hand brushed against your cheek for a moment, his fingers gentle—almost tender, though he’d never admit it. “You don’t have to play the hero all the time, you know,” he said quietly. “Let someone else handle things for once.”

“You... really owe me a favor?”

He chuckled softly, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “I always keep my promises... especially to you.”

Before you could say anything else, your exhaustion finally overtook you, and the last thing you felt was Sylus’s hand lingering on yours, his thumb tracing a light, almost affectionate circle against your skin. You realized—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind letting Sylus win this one.

Just this once.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[separatetheyolk]

F1 Drivers X Disabled M!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz

ʚɞ how f1 drivers would react to learning you're disabled

ʚɞ notes: there are multiple disabilities in this. I wanted to cover a range of them eventually but I didn't want like 27 posts and I didn't want this time to be repetitive. Some such as tics and hypermobility are also rather broad instead of nailing it down to tourettes or hEDS for inclusivity. This is also a smidge self-indulgent lol

ʚɞ Also sorry for going MIA for like two months, will get to asks next!

ʚɞ requests are open!

Lewis Hamilton - Tics

He didnt even notice it at first. Verbal sounds would fall into the backround and smaller motor tics would often go amiss. It went undetected for about a year as they progressively got worse, eventually drawing Lewis' attention towards you more often despite your job shifting to a one which tics couldn't interrupt. Cars hurling around a track at such high speeds meant there was no room for error. Your tics caused too much error as a mechanic and you sure as hell couldn't be pit crew. A sad reality, but reality none the less.

Once he caught on, there was no judgment. He'd make sure you'd know there was no need to try and suppress them around him, no need to feel embarrassed.

Often times he'd take the fall for noises you'd make or cups you'd knock over. You'd insisted he didn't need to if it brought him embarrassment. He insisted you lived your life in a constant state of it. If he could take that away even just for a second, he would.

By the time you'd gotten together, your tics had gotten to the point of hurting yourself or others. You'd resigned from your job at Mercedes at the end of the 2023 season, but was still a familliar face around the garrage on race weekends. Often times walking around with icepacks to your neck or hands given to you by Lewis before he'd go out for practice, quali or the actual race. Each time coming back, having a quick shower and continuing with his checkups in more detail

He'd often hold open cups for you, your phone too if needed.

He'd give you something to keep you busy if you wanted him to which would help the tics to ease off.

Times where your voice was too shot to talk, Lewis wold be your voice, times where you'd suspected something was broken, Lewis would drop everything and drive you to the nearest accident and emergency, times where you had damaged a hand, Lewis would act as a spare. Help you with anything you needed without any hesitation

You'd frequently walk into the hotel room with a warm bath already drawn to help relax overworked muscles.

Charles Leclerc - Hypermobility

You'd met Charles when you were young in karting before you'd realised there were issues with you joints. Keeping in touch throughout both your careers and even after you had to leave yours unfinished.

By the time you both started dating, you had been travelling with him throughout two seasons. He'd watched your hypermobility grow worse over the years of friendship but being by your side for two years had really shown him how it affected you

He'd done research on your disability late into the night, researched braces and other mobility aids. He'd get braces for you to try (with your permission) and would buy extra of the ones you liked.

When the realisation you needed a cane at twenty four hit, Charles was right by your side. Supporting you with this new change and any breakdowns that occurred. Once you had eventually gotten it, Charles would keep it tucked away in his backpack wherever the two of you went, just incase. Reassuring you that you didn't "look stupid" when you used it and that if you needed to, you should.

He'd often act as a post for you to lean on if your knees or hips began to hurt too much. Or he'd just carry you if you said he could.

Of course, dislocations always scared him. Regardless on whether you were able to fix it yourself or not. He never liked when you'd do it yourself, scared you'd pinch a nerve or cut off circulation but those times where the joint just would not go, he was always the first to voulenteer to drive you to accident and emergency.

When you'd decided that a wheelchair would be beneficial, he would push you around if you couldn't do it yourself for whatever reason and help you transfer in and out if you needed it

He would be incredibly mindful of the fact independance was something you still needed, only stepping into help when you'd ask. Or if you were too stubborn, when absolutely neccesarry.

Carlos Sainz - Autism

He hardly understood it at first. He knew sometmes things would be too loud, but he didnt quite understand just how loud they could be. He also didn't understand the whole texture thing.

But with a lot of research and countless conversations he started to understand.

It began with little things first, keeping wireless headphones in his bag whenever you'd need them. They used to be his. But he'd ultimately decided he preferred earphones so decided to give them to you.

He'd then learned what stimming was. Shaking your hands, rolling back and forth on the balls of your feet, stepping side to side, walking in tight circles. Once that had been discovered, he started to carry around fidget toys.

Oh and then there were times where you'd go nonverbal. While he couldn't constantly have his phone charged to use the notes app, he did steal a notepad from one of the many hotels you'd both stay in during the racing season. Sometimes you'd use it, which did make it easier, sometimes even the feel of pencil on paper was too much input for you so it would be yes or no questions. Harder to work with, but he'd learned which ones to ask eventually.

Then there was the struggle of clothes shopping. Certain textures were too scratchy, or bumpy or just didnt feel right in ways you couldn't describe. Oh and the people. And the lights. And the sound. Carlos had quickly learned that breaking up the shopping into multiple days throughout the week would be easier. So, you both decided that leaving clothes shopping for the breaks inbetween seasons would be better. No pressure to get shopping done in any timeframe and you knew exactly what shops there were and what ones done clothing you liked.

When it came to travelling, Carlos would bring bedsheets he knew you liked from home. Both of you learning very quickly on the first night of the 2024 season that some hotel sheets were just not right. Leaving you both looking for bedsheets you liked wandering around the malls of Bahrain using every coping mechanism you could think of.

There would probably be talks of assistance dogs. If that was a yes, Carlos would search high and low for the best training services out there. And he would probably become more pissed than you if you were denied access due to your assistance dog.

He also learned what safe foods were after questioning why you'd eaten the same food for the last week. He wasn't a fan of the lack of variety but he'd never push you to eat something you weren't comfortable with.

[hairscare]

as someone who has used a cane for over 2 years now ive noticed a really interesting bias against canes by able bodied people in comparison to other mobility aids. when we were at the same college my roommate used forearm crutches and i had my cane, and it became a joke to us how much more helpful and accommodating people were towards him (of course still overall bad- but better). the main example we always talk about is that people would fall over themselves to help him with doors, even to the point that it would get inconvenient (like trying to open the door to the accessible bathroom for him but in the process standing in the bathroom), meanwhile people would let doors shut on me without batting an eye. he started using a cane recently so i asked him about if there was a difference in how people treated him and he said there was a noticable difference and that people were less eager to help him when he was using it in comparison to the crutches. i have a few theories as to why:

1. most canes you see in media being used by someone who isnt elderly are aesthetic canes, and so people dont take it as seriously if a younger person is using one

2. unlike a lot of mobility aids, canes are one handed, which gives the illusion of an extra hand free. what people dont understand is that yes, while i do have an extra hand free, i am using that hand double time since the other one is occupied. also a lot of things require two hands (especially for someone with a disability) so doing everything one handed can be tough. i use my dominant hand to hold my cane since my pain is worse on my left side, which means that the hand i do have free isnt one i can use to type things in or write, so if i need to do that i have to put my cane under my arm and use my right hand

3. canes are taken less seriously as mobility aids since to an able bodied person they dont look as severe, which gives the impression that cane users are more capable than other mobility aid users. while yes, it is true that canes can be a starter mobility aid that will eventually be traded for another type as symptoms progress, that doesnt mean that canes are for Disability Lite. me and my roommate used our mobility aids for similar reasons and have had very similar pain experiences, we just used different aids. canes are also a significantly cheaper option compared to other aids and are easier to find in stores, and so are much more accessible. besides all that though, there shouldnt even be a bar for how disabled a person needs to be to recieve help, which id argue is a very controversial opinion to have anymore

4. canes are still a joke. they are still widely used as a funny prop to indicate that someone is old, incapable and feeble. even on tumblr i still see people utilizing canes in this way in artwork and memes, and thats obviously very alienating. mobility canes arent props, and you probably should not draw someone with one unless you actually intend to have that character need it

in my short 2 years of using a cane i have already faced so much ableism, most of which has come from young left leaning people. of course theres a wider issue of disabled people being the odd group out in the effort to stop bigotry since literally everyone will punch down on us. there are also certainly privileges to using a cane compared to other mobility aids. but its also incredibly strange how invisible they are, like people forget that i have one for a reason

[ruewrote]

ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟.

PAIRING: jesse x fem!reader WARNINGS: men being men, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, comfort SONG INSPIRATION: make you feel my love by adele WORD COUNT: 1.5k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: I GOT CARRIED AWAY, SORRY!!

navigation | ask | jesse masterlist

the creak of the truck’s tires on the dirt path was the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. you sat in the back, hands folded tightly in your lap, thumbs twirling anxiously as you fought to keep the tears at bay. 

your chest tight, a combination of shame, anger, and the residual adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

it had been a rough day. one of the roughest you’d had in months.

the supply run started off like any other. a simple list of necessities. medicine, clean water, and hygiene products, particularly for the women in the group. nothing unusual, just another task to keep the community afloat. 

what made today different, though, was the group you’d been assigned to. they weren’t your usual team, the one that knew you, trusted you. no, this group was different, strangers who looked at you like you didn’t belong before you’d even stepped outside the gates.

they were the type who made no effort to hide their disdain, with sneering comments and dismissive glances. the kind of men who thought women had no place on the front lines, who felt entitled to grunt and laugh when you picked up a weapon or offered strategy.

you’d tried to brush it off. you’d told yourself it didn’t matter. but their constant condescension had worn you down over the course of the day. and then, when it finally happened. when you made that one mistake, their reaction was worse than you could’ve imagined.

you were good at taking out infected. hell, you’d proven it time and time again. clickers, runners, stalkers. you’d faced them all and lived to tell the tale. but today, while climbing through a wrecked pharmacy in search of what you needed, a shelf collapsed under your weight. 

the sound was enough to alert a pair of clickers hiding nearby. your heart had jumped into your throat as you scrambled to draw your knife, but the angle was wrong, and before you could deliver a fatal blow, one of the men had stepped in, firing a shot that brought the creature down.

you’d barely had time to thank him before the yelling started.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” he’d barked, his face a mix of anger and disgust. “can’t even keep quiet? jesus christ, this is exactly why women should stay where they belong, out of the way.”

the others had chimed in, their voices overlapping in a spiral of ridicule. “you’re gonna get us killed,” one sneered.

each word cuts deeper. you wanted to argue, to defend yourself, normally you would but the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you speak. so you’d stayed silent, swallowing your pride and your tears as they finished the run and loaded the truck.

now, as the vehicle bounced along the path back to jackson, you stared at your hands, fighting to hold yourself together. your nails dug into your palms, grounding you as your thoughts raced. you hated how their words lingered, how they made you feel small, like all the progress you’d made since the outbreak didn’t matter. you’d fought so hard to prove yourself, and yet here you were, feeling like you were back at square one.

when the truck finally pulled to a stop inside the gates, you let out a shaky breath, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. the men climbed out first, muttering to each other as they unloaded the supplies. none of them so much as glanced in your direction. you hesitated for a moment before hopping down, your legs shaky as you made your way toward the main building.

you delivered the supplies to the women, forcing a smile as they thanked you and offered warm words of appreciation. their gratitude eased some of the weight on your shoulders, but not enough to get rid of the gnawing in your chest. once everything was squared away, you made your way back to your house, your steps heavy and slow.

as soon as you got back inside, the exhaustion hit you hard. you closed the door behind you, not bothering to lock it. a habit you’d always maintained but now couldn’t gather the energy for. 

stripping off your gear and clothes, you left them in a heap on the floor, not caring about the mess. you didn’t even change into pajamas, just crawled under the covers and let yourself cry.

the sobs came hard and fast, shaking your body as you buried your face in your pillow. you cried until your throat was raw and your eyes burned, until there were no tears left to shed. 

when the sobs did subsided, you laid there staring at the wall, your mind blank but your heart aching. the room grew darker as the sun set, you didn’t move, didn’t even reach for the lamp.

you barely registered the sound of the front door creaking open. you were too in your head about everything, curled on your side with the covers pulled up to your chin, facing the wall. the house was quiet except for the faint sound of footsteps padding cautiously across the floor.

he called out for you. breaking through the stillness, soft. it wasn’t like him to sound unsure, but there was something in his tone, an edge of worry, of gentleness. that tugged at your heart. still, you didn’t move, didn’t respond. you couldn’t. the weight of the day had hollowed you out, leaving no energy for words.

the footsteps grew closer, pausing just outside the doorway to your bedroom. you felt the air shift, the faint creak of the floorboards signaling his arrival. jesse didn’t say anything at first. you could feel his gaze on you, taking in the stillness of your form, the way your shoulders were curled inward as if you were trying to make yourself smaller.

“you didn’t lock the door,” he said softly, a quiet observation rather than a reprimand. you could hear the concern woven into his words, laced with an understanding that this wasn’t like you. 

the faint rustle of fabric followed as he moved closer, feeling the bed dip slightly under his weight.

“you didn’t come see me,” he murmured, quieter this time. there was no frustration in his voice, only a tender kind of confusion, like he couldn’t quite figure out what had gone so wrong. you didn’t reply, your silence stretching thin between you. jesse didn’t push, didn’t demand answers. 

he just waited.

you heard the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor, one after the other. the mattress shifted again as he climbed in behind you, his movements unhurried. a moment later, you felt the warmth of his body against your back, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulled you gently against his chest.

his touch was firm and careful, grounding without overwhelming you, and it was that small act of kindness that broke something loose inside you.

the tears came before you could stop them, silent at first but quickly growing into heavy, shuddering sobs that shook your entire frame. jesse held you tighter, his hand smoothing over your arm in slow, soothing motions. 

he didn’t say anything. didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed. he just stayed there, his presence unwavering as you let it all out.

“i’m here,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, barely more than a whisper. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep you tethered, enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

as the sobs began to subside, your breathing slowed, and the tension in your body began to ease. jesse didn’t pull away, didn’t loosen his grip. he stayed pressed against you, his forehead resting gently against the back of your head.

“you’re okay,” he murmured after a while, his words soft and reassuring. “whatever it is, you’re okay.”

you shifted slightly, pressing back into him in silent acknowledgment. jesse’s arm tightened around you in response, his thumb brushing against your side in a quiet rhythm that matched your breathing.

for the first time all day, the weight pressing down on your chest began to lift. the sting of the men’s words, the shame, the exhaustion. it was still there, but it felt a little less sharp, a little less suffocating with jesse’s warmth surrounding you.

the steady beat of his heart against your back was a quiet reminder that he was with you.

minutes passed, maybe hours. time seemed to blur as you lay there, cocooned in his embrace. he didn’t let go, didn’t shift or fidget. he just stayed.

when your breathing had evened out and the tears had dried, jesse finally spoke again, his voice still soft but a little firmer this time. “you wanna talk about it?”

you hesitated, your throat tight with the aftermath of your sobs. “not yet.” you whisper.

jesse nodded against you, his response a quiet hum of understanding. “that’s okay,” he said. “we’ll lay here as long as you need.”

and you believed him. in the quiet of your room, with his arms wrapped around you and his breath warm against your skin, 

you believed him.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2025.

[chocopriski]

JAYVIK DOMESTIC HEADCANONS!!

Who’s more dominant:

In terms of who takes more effort to soften up: Viktor. Jayce will happily display affection towards Viktor publicly. Whether it's something as simple as holding hands or something like a kiss. Viktor prefers to keep that in the privacy of their home. Snuggling up against Jayce whenever possible. Fixing his hair or just holding his face.

Who’s the cuddler:

Jayce lays himself on top of Viktor like a corpse, resting his head on Viktor's chest until he's asleep (or until Viktor tells him to move because he can't breathe). Viktor will happily return the embrace. Also laying himself over Jayce, most of the time asking Jayce to caress his hair in order to fall asleep quicker.

Who’s the big spoon/little spoon:

Jayce loves to be the little spoon, but they switch. When Viktor gets cold, Jayce has no other choice but to be the big spoon. Sometimes suffocating Viktor with the way he tightens his hold on his partner.

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity:

Cooking together. They might not be the best chefs but they surely do make some great cookies whenever they're bored. Viktor needing to stop Jayce every time from eating the raw cookie batter.

Who uses all the hot water:

Viktor. This guy's muscles ACHE. He deserves all the hot water in the world.

Most trivial thing they fight over:

Jayce moving Viktor's things whenever he cleans the house. Viktor has everything meticulously organized in his pile of chaos. Even though it looks like a mess, he knows exactly where everything is. And whenever Jayce cleans up the house and organizes Viktor's things. Suddenly he can't find anything.

Who does most of the cleaning:

Jayce. He prefers to do the more physically straining chores so Viktor doesn't overwork himself even further.

Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working:

Viktor. Jayce believes he can fix the problem. When, in reality, he either has no clue and does nothing or makes the problem even worse.

Who leaves their stuff around:

Viktor. His 'organized chaos' spreads all throughout the house. The kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. He has stuff everywhere. Weirdly enough, when he explains why he leaves his stuff in such specific places, it makes sense.

Who remembers anniversaries:

Both, but in different ways. Viktor remembers the date. And if he sees that day is today, he'll just remember. Jayce has it on his calendar. Big, red, bold letters, a circle and arrows on the date. Not only yearly but monthly. It's their anniversary every month.

Who cooks normally:

Viktor. While Jayce cleans the house, Viktor cooks. He's somewhat of a good chef. Not the greatest but the grandma kind of good. Home-y.

How often do they fight:

Rarely. And most of the time it's the smallest thing that becomes a huge problem because they both happen to be stressed from work. Apologizing profusely at each other the moment Viktor says "I'll sleep on the couch tonight". Jayce being unable to make his partner sleep on the uncomfortable living room couch.

What do they do when they’re away from each other:

Viktor just works, works and works. Hextech reminds him of Jayce. And he wants to show him all the stuff he's done while Jayce has been away. Also as a means to distract himself.

Jayce mourns like someone just died. The slightest mention of anything remotely related to Viktor? "Oh, I wish he was here". He draws his partner on his notes much more often than usual, which is already pretty often. And if he sees something Viktor might like, he buys it and wraps it nicely, waiting to give it to him when they reunite.

Nicknames for each other:

Jayce to Viktor: V, Vik, sweetheart, honey, love, genius.

Viktor to Jayce: Jay, sweetheart, man of progress (teasingly), handsome. Even though he prefers to just call him by his name.

Who is more likely to pay for dinner:

Jayce 100%. "Oh, I have the money for it." "Oh, I ate more than you, I'll pay." "Oh! Who could've paid already?"

Who steals the covers at night:

Viktor. This guy will wrap himself in a cocoon (no pun intended) of blankets and fabric. Jayce doesn't care at all. He's the type of guy to be in shorts in the middle of December. "Is it hot in here or is it ju-" It's just you, Jayce. Jayce is like a woman going through menopause. And Viktor, aside from his lack of bodily fat making him cold, likes to avoid the cold as much as possible. Since cold makes his joints ache even more than they already do.

What would they get each other for gifts:

Jayce gets gifts at stores. Cool pens he finds, clothes, books... Viktor makes them, whether it's random origami he hands Jayce every once in a while, handwritten notes or small little artifacts.

Who kissed who first:

Viktor. Even though Jayce was the one to lean in. Viktor was the one to close the gap between their lips.

Who made the first move:

Jayce. Once Jayce started liking Viktor, who had been liking Jayce for longer, he started over-analyzing every gesture Viktor made. Eventually coming to the realization that their feelings were mutual. After a long day at work, it was night time. And Jayce, naturally, came into Viktor's lab to plead and beg so Viktor went home and didn't work until passing out. As they chatted while Viktor finished up whatever he had his hands on. Jayce told him something between a giggle "You know? It's funny, I've had people telling me we're like... a couple. Wouldn't that be crazy?". Viktor glanced at him and looked away, not laughing, not even a smirk. It looked almost like embarrassment. That's when Jayce was 100% sure and he made his move: "Would it be crazy to you?"

Who remembers things:

Both and neither. Jayce has his mind on a million different things. And Viktor's head is either foggy from working or from pain. They remember the stuff the other doesn't.

Who started the relationship:

Jayce, he needed to pry the words out of Viktor.

-"Would it be crazy?"

+"..."

-"Viktor?"

+"Maybe"

And after minutes and minutes, Viktor finally confessed. With a lot of work.

Who cusses more:

Jayce and Viktor both don't cuss very frequently. Both when they cut his finger or something like that. Jayce says is out loud, on the other side, Viktor says it under his breath.

What would they do if the other one was hurt:

Anything. ANYTHING. I mean, have you watched the show? Jayce is more used to acting whenever Viktor is hurt though. He worries a lot whenever Viktor shows the slightest sign of discomfort. Overthinking and thinking his condition is worsening.

Who is the dirty talker:

Jayce. He's way less subtle about it. He'll say anything just to get a reaction out of Viktor. He'll say it confidently, a grin on his face and his chest puffed out. On the other side, Viktor says it completely relaxed. Making Jayce wanna go to pound town whenever God enlightens Viktor and makes him talk to Jayce that way.