#she did it always baby never misses | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexiroflife · 7 months ago

Text

jjk men when you aren't feeling well but try to hide it...

"hello! i was wondering if you could write an angst but w comfort fluff headcannon w the jjk men? i was thinking reader has an injury or is sick but she hides it, but they find out. it would be great if you can, but if not i totally understand. your writing is amazing!!!" -anon

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

you know you are the moment you go to pick yourself up from your boyfriend's hardwood kitchen floors and wince in pain in reaction to the pressure in your left ankle.

you hiss, immediately stumbling back to a sitting position. You look over your outstretched foot to find that your ankle is rapidly swelling, and you curse under your breath.

this is so inconvenient. of all times to injure yourself, you of course had to a day before an important mission. you never handle injuries very well. you are always so quick to brush them off, or at least be in denial about them because you can't stand the thought of feeling helpless or incapable.

especially not when satoru gojo is your boyfriend, who unfortunately knows you far too well to overlook something like an injury to your ankle.

damn. what are you supposed to do? satoru will never let you out of his sight, let alone allow you to go on this mission if he finds out about your injury. as much as you love the way he looks after you, you're not in the mood to accept the fact that you may not be able to walk for a few days without his help.

you try to stand again, stubborn with determination. you grip onto the countertop and rise slowly on your able foot, then lean to press your injured foot down slowly. okay... not so bad! Maybe you can add just a little bit more pressure, and-

"fuck," you curse, sharp pain throbbing through your foot the moment you try to walk. You lift your leg immediately and whimper, leaning your body against the counter. "god dammit," you pout.

you should ice it, you think, but icing it will only make the injury more real. maybe it's not so bad, right? maybe if you just sit down for a bit and push it to the back of your head, it will go away?

you know it's not smart, but truthfully, you don't have the time to worry about a stupid ankle. you're sure you only irritated it. with some rest, you'll be fine.

you hop your way up the stairs with your hand gripping the railing tightly to your shared bedroom and ease yourself into bed. you decide you'll take a nap while you wait for satoru to come home, ignoring the simmering pain in your swollen ankle.

"babyyy!"

you wake suddenly to the sound of satoru's voice singing through the house. you jump and immediately hold in a whimper of pain when you accidentally shift your foot beneath the covers. you can tell solely by the lack of mobility in your ankle that it's, unsurprisingly, gotten worse.

you panic, moving quickly to prop your back up against the headboard. you fix yourself in the most normal possible position you can without agitating your foot, and you turn to the door with an innocent expression the second satoru bursts through with a beam.

"hey, pretty," he walks in and immediately crouches over the bed to wrap you up in a hug. you cringe as his lips meet every crook of your face, his body enveloping you in warmth. "missed you so much today," he sighs.

"missed you too, toru," you wrap your arms around his back. "how was your day?"

"same old same old. the higher-ups only get more annoying each day, if that's even possible," he grumbles into your ear, slumping against you. "what are you doing cooped up here all by yourself? you taking a nap?"

"yeah, I just woke up," you tell him with a hefty exhale, his lips meeting the crook of your neck lazily as he nuzzles into you. "you wanna take one with me, you big baby?" you giggle.

"god yes," satoru agrees. "but first, I'm starving. did you eat while I was gone?"

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

"well, you normally cook, baby, I was waiting for you."

you momentarily freeze and he pulls back reluctantly, not before dotting one more kiss to the crook of your jaw. you had completely forgotten about making dinner, but seeing how you couldn't even walk, those cards were off the table.

he looks down at you with his arms propped on either side of your figure on the bed. your ankle continues to throb, and while you try to hide the pain that you are currently in by shifting ever so subtly beneath him, his sapphire eyes catch the twitch in your brow and the motion of your body beneath his blindfold.

"not that I care if you cook or not. obviously you were tired..." he trails off. "you okay?"

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

you nod despite yourself, keeping a soft smile as you brush your fingers over satoru's hair. "yeah, of course. just tired like you said. I'm sorry about dinner, it slipped my mind."

"don't you dare apologize," he ducks down to kiss your cheek loudly. "we can go out to eat. make it a date before your big mission tomorrow, yeah?"

you internally deflate. the idea sounds amazing, but going on a date would mean getting up, getting dressed, and walking out the door. you're unfortunately physically incapable of doing any of the above at the moment.

satoru watches the way your shoulders slump and your lips part as if to protest, and he tilts his head in slight confusion. "...or not..." he says slowly.

"sorry, toru, it's not that I don't wanna go, i just don't have the energy..." you excuse pathetically.

satoru's face tells you that he doesn't buy your words, but he complies nonetheless. "that's no problem, baby, we can order in instead."

you sigh and nod with a gentle smile. "that sounds great."

"someone's feeling real lazy today, huh?" he teases, hooking his finger into his blindfold to peel it from his face, revealing his bright irises gazing curiously down at you. "you sure you're just tired?"

"yeah... why?"

"i'm just askin," he says. his eyes dart over you one more time before he pushes himself up with an exhale and tugging at your arm. "come on, let's go to the living room to order."

why the hell does he want to move around so much?!

"um- why can't we just order here?"

a smile quirks on Satoru's lips as though you've made a joke. "cause, we'll be downstairs once the food gets here," he says.

you pucker your lips slightly and tilt your head. "can't we just eat it up here and you can go get it?"

gojo's eyes are now slim with suspicion as he pulls himself back over to you. "i mean, of course i can but you never eat takeout in bed, we always cuddle downstairs and eat."

"I'm tired, can't i change it up today?"

"you know i have no problem doing what you want and pampering you baby," satoru starts slowly. his eyes dash to your legs, and he suddenly notes that he has not seen you bend them in the few minutes he has been home. in fact, you had been rather stagnant instead of running up to clobber him when he entered the room, whether you were previously asleep or not. "but you're acting a little weird."

"no, I'm not," you deny adamantly. you have always been a poor liar, but in the face of Satoru Gojo, your lack of talent in the arena only proves to be more prominent. "you think too much, you know that?"

"you think so?" he raises a brow at you, a hint of playfulness remaining though it is steadily fleeting the longer he examines you. "you think i'm thinking too much if i feel like you're lying to me?"

you press your lips together tightly. "...yes."

"hm," he nods. "come here for a second, pretty," he requests, stepping back a bit to give you room to stand. "just real quick, then you can lay back down and I'll get us that food."

"why do you want me to stand?"

"i wanna give you a big hug," he opens his arms widely. "c'mon, give your loving boyfriend a hug. you'd never deny me that after such a long day."

"come hug me here, then," you roll your eyes, turning to look the other way as heat overtakes your body.

"i want to hold you and pick you up," he argues, knowingly. "just stand and walk to me for one second."

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

"don't want to or you can't?" he accuses, face falling along with his arms. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside your legs, resting a hand over your uninjured one. "why can't you get up?" he asks, this time a tad more serious.

"i don't feel like it, satoru, god," you murmur in annoyance, growing agitated with his swiftness to notice that something is wrong.

"don't 'satoru' me, baby, you're the one not telling the truth," he says. "what's wrong with your legs?"

"nothing."

"then stand up."

"no, satoru. stop telling me to stand."

"i will if you tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong!" you shrug harshly, crossing your arms and suddenly taking interest in whatever is outside of the bedroom window. satoru stares at you intently for a moment then back down at your covered legs.

he gazes harshly between the two, pondering, before reaching over to rip the comforter upward to reveal your bare feet. you gasp slightly, jerking to stop him, when your swollen ankle is revealed.

his brows immediately angle and he leans to hastily look over it. "(y/n), what the hell?! what happened to your foot?"

you grow embarrassed suddenly, moving to brush his hands away. "it's not that bad, stop," you say, going to move your leg to the side when you hiss sharply.

"not that bad? baby, your ankle's the size of a golfball!"

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

"what happened?" he asks, concerned. "did this happen while I was gone?"

"it's fine, relax."

"(y/n)," satoru begins sternly. you can tell that you've pinched a nerve. "i'm about to lose it if you don't tell me how this happened and why you were trying to hide it from me."

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

you hug your arms around yourself with another meek shrug. "it's humiliating..." you murmur.

satoru softens slightly. "baby, humiliating? i'm worried about you getting hurt."

"yeah, but-" you sigh and close your eyes, your emotions suddenly getting the best of you. you hate feeling small and weak, as though you can't handle yourself, and you swear every time you injure yourself or get sick, it's the worst possible thing that could happen in the entire world. "i don't know. whatever."

"uh uh uh," your white-haired boyfriend tuts, leaning over the smooth his hand over your leg comfortingly. "it's not 'whatever.' i know exactly how you are. you can't fool me. is this about your mission tomorrow?"

"it's not just about the mission, toru, i just don't- i hate it when i can't do stuff on my own."

"you don't have to tell me something i'm already well aware of." you give him a look. "don't look at me like that. i know you like the back of my hand, and i especially know when you're uncomfortable."

"i get it, toru," you frown.

"why the attitude, hm?" he asks, leaning over to prop his elbow on the other side of you, his body resting against your lap as he peers up at you gently. "it's okay to get hurt- well, no, it's not okay for you to get hurt because it makes me wanna die, but you get what I mean."

your lips twitch in amusement momentarily, leading satoru to grin widely.

"there's that pretty smile."

"it's just-" you huff. "it was such a stupid thing... i rolled my ankle stepping down from closing the cabinets and when it started getting worse, i thought it was so dumb that something so small did that to me so i left it alone. now it's probably twisted, and i just feel really..."

"you're not weak," satoru interjects urgently. "if that's what you're saying, which i'm pretty sure you are. you're far from what i would call weak."

"still. it still made me feel weak. and i'm supposed to go on that mission tomorrow, and i don't know what the hell i'm gonna tell yaga-"

"forget the mission."

"...satoru, i can't just-"

"you can and you will. you have an injury, baby. you can't walk. it's okay, i'll talk to yaga and he'll get someone else on the assignment while I take care of you."

"but the fact that you even have to do that because i was clumsy!" you shake your head and look down. "it's so ridiculous. and i knew you were gonna worry..."

"of course i'm gonna worry, (y/n). no less than you'd worry for me."

"but you're you."

"so? do you worry for me any less because of that?"

"i mean... i know you're always gonna be fine, but... yeah, i guess."

"you guess?" satoru scoffs. "to think, my girlfriend doesn't care about me..."

"oh shut up," you nudge his head away. his grin remains, face turning back to you as he captures you in his soft gaze. "obviously I worry."

"then, there you go," satoru says. his free hand runs over your hip. "i know you can handle yourself just fine and that you're strong as hell, but whether you're going on a mission or stubbing your toe, I'm worrying 'cause i love you."

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

"i know," he beams, kissing your thigh. "so stop with that. as if you'd ever be weak for getting a little boo boo."

"yeah, but now you're not gonna let me do anything," you whine.

"is there really such a big problem with that?" satoru smirks. "try hiding an injury from me again, and you really won't be able to do anything. now let me see."

he pushes himself up to round the edge of the bed. he kneels down and cradles your foot in his hand delicately, fingers grazing the area of swelling. his brow angles. "can you move it?"

you shake your head slowly. "not without it hurting."

"in all seriousness, baby, you need to take better care of yourself. why didn't you ice it?"

"...i wanted it to go away."

"and you walked up the stairs after rolling your ankle?!"

"i wanted to get into bed!"

satoru lowers his head. "what am i gonna do with you? you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"it's really not that serious. i just need to rest it a bit and then I'll be fine-"

"i'm gonna go cook you some dinner, okay? then we can eat in bed and cuddle, and then I'll run you a hot bath later."

"satoru, i just said it's not that serious! please don't go burning down the house because of my ankle. we can literally still order food," you try to convince him, but the blue-eyed man is already on his feet, by your side, and kissing your lips.

"not another word. you're practically dying, now, i have to look after you."

"toru-"

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna grab you some ice and a pillow for your foot."

"satoru!"

but when you call him, he's already zooming out of the room and down the stairs. you sigh and plop your head back against the headboard with a soft smile. as humiliating as you find it to be injured, you can never say that gojo doesn't do everything he can, if not excessively more, to look after you when you are.

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

you step into the bathroom for the umpteenth time today to blow your nose, clearing your searing throat as you do so with a groan.

something in you knew this morning that you were coming down with a cold when you woke up to that dreadful scratch in the back of your throat, but the idea of getting sick physically ails you more than actually being sick does.

you're far too busy today to be weighed down by some common cold. you're in between meetings at work as you toss another tissue into the women's trash. You have paperwork to finish filling out by midnight, and you have to pick up the girls later from daycare.

how can you be sick of all things?

you know it's likely because you run yourself ragged more often than you need to, and suguru always tells you to slow down and take a breath, but you rarely listen to him. your life moves at a quick pace, constantly on the run from one task to the next, and you truly do not feel that you have the leisure of giving yourself one second to rest.

you're on the verge of earning a new promotion, and you need the money. you need the opportunities, and the accomplishments to care for the family you've built with geto. just as suguru works tirelessly to manage his cult, you work tirelessly to keep a living for yourself.

you're proud of the work you have done, truly you are, but at times it feels as though you are amounting to nothing, chasing promises of a higher position that have yet to come. despite the haziness of the path ahead, you push harder and harder each day.

suguru hates it, how you drive yourself to the brink of insanity day in and day out, but you can't help but be an overachiever. you can't help but work hard for those who may not even deserve it.

and now, of course, you're sick. you can feel your temperature spiking, your nose is stuffy, and your head is pounding. you want to go home and curl into bed, but you have responsibilities to fulfill. just a few more hours... then you're home with geto, with the girls, safe in bed just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

you jump when your phone suddenly rings in your pocket. you pull it out to see your boyfriend's contact, and you straighten yourself up as best as you can to make it sound as though you aren't struggling to breathe through your nostrils.

"hello?"

"hey, babe, how's work going?" suguru's soothing voice echoes through the phone and you sigh, clinging to the comfort his tone provides. you miss him. you want to go home already.

"it's good," you lie. "i have a few more meetings. then some paperwork to finish, but I'll be able to get mimi and nana on time."

"actually, i called to tell you not to worry about that. i got finished up here with the group pretty early, so i'll be able to get them later."

you're relieved that you won't have to expose the girls to your germs in the car. "okay, thanks for letting me know. you need me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"no, we're gonna make pizzas later. the girls have been dying to try it making it from scratch forever, so i'll take them to the store once i get them."

"...oh. okay..." you nod. "there's nothing else you need me to do then?"

"just to come home in one piece," suguru says. "i'm trying to take some stuff off your plate, (y/n). you've been exhausted, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"sugu, I'm fine," you dismiss him, only to turn your head into your elbow to muffle a cough. you forget to mute the call when you do so.

"what was that? are you okay?" the dark-haired man questions quickly. "you're not sick, are you?"

"no, no," you deny fast, voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat quickly. "something was just- stuck in my throat. but I'm fine. i'm not sick."

suguru's quiet for a moment, and you chew on the inside of your lip while you wait for him to respond. you know it's impossible to fool suguru, especially when it comes to matters regarding you or the girls, but you can't handle him worrying over you right now. his concerns would only bring you back to reality, pulling you from this cycle of overworking you've fallen into. you need to keep going. You can't stop, and if suguru knows you're sick, he will make you stop.

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

"oh yeah, i'm here," he responds rather quickly, and you internally curse yourself. "what time do you get off?"

"uhhh..." you think about it for a moment. it's 3:30 now, and technically you only have an hour and a half left, but since the girls will be picked up by Suguru, you realize you can finish your paperwork in the office. "today's kind of a long day... so I probably won't be home until... 7?"

"(Y/n)."

"i know, i know, but listen, i just have to finish up this paperwork. that's all."

"weren't you just gonna do it at home?"

"well, yeah, but since you're getting the girls, it's kinda easier for me to finish it here..." you start mumbling lowly, knowing that whatever explanation you give is not one that suguru will willingly accept.

"babe, please just come home at a normal time today. you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"i promise it won't be past 7. i swear. just let me get this done, and I'll be home."

suguru releases a hefty sigh, and you can picture him rubbing his thumb against his forehead in stress. "7 o'clock, (y/n). i mean it. if you're so much as five minutes late, i'm coming over there myself with rainbow dragon."

you chuckle softly. "i promise it won't get to that. i'll be fine, alright? i'll text you when I'm headed out."

"okay. I'll see you in a bit."

after your meetings had ended, your cold symptoms grew worse. your coughs were more frequent, a pile of tissues were stacked at your cubicle, and the glare of your computer screen felt as though it was burning a hole into your already aching head.

you feel miserable, and as luck would have it, your boss placed a new stack of papers onto your desk to finish filling out before you went home on his way out of the door.

you're alone in the office now, surrounded by excess assignments, and you can hardly breathe through your nose. you check the time, and its thirty to the time you told suguru you'd be home. you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

you're tired. your bones are aching. you want to be with the girls, you want to be home, you don't want to do this anymore. you're so burned out, it hurts, and you want to cry and collapse face-first onto your desk at the same time.

just then, your phone lights up with a message from suguru. you open it eagerly to be greeted with an image of the girls beaming up at the camera in the kitchen, hands covered in tomato sauce as they display them to the phone. beneath the photo, suguru types.

we miss you :(

you break, placing your phone down and shielding your face in your hands as the tears flow. god, you miss spending time with them. you're hardly home anymore because you've been so busy with work, and you're yearning to be held by your boyfriend, to hear the girls laugh, to sink into the bed combined with your deteriorating physical state makes you feel worse.

you miss having a life.

you don't know how long you spend crying in your empty office before your body shuts down on you completely. the energy you exerted shedding tears in addition to your long days at work send you into a deep sleep. before you know it, you're knocked out with your cheek pressed against one of your unfinished papers.

the second you failed to answer Suguru's text, he knew something was wrong. he calls, and calls, and calls after twenty minutes, but you don't answer. He wastes absolutely no time in calling up manami to look after the girls before trekking out of the house to you with rainbow dragon, just as he promised.

he's prepared to break a window when he sees the janitor leaving the building. he takes the opportunity to swoop in through the doors after grumbling something about his girlfriend being inside, before making his way up to you.

when he reaches your office, he finds you lying in the only occupied cubicle. His eyes go wide as he studies your slumped figure, walking slowly to where you're seated. he notes the tissues and cough drop wrappers crowding your space, then the tears that coat your lashes when he kneels down.

"jesus, (y/n)," he murmurs, swiftly getting to work and clearing your desk of all your trash. when he's done, he crouches by you again and runs a hand over your back. "baby, wake up for me. come on," he coaxes softly.

you stir, face tightening in discomfort. suguru sees the bags under your eyes and his frown deepens. Eventually, you wake with furrowed brows, adjusting your blurry eyes to the sight of suguru gazing down at you worriedly.

"sugu...?" you mumble weakly, only to be interrupted by a few coughs that rack your chest. suguru's heart aches.

"i knew it," he sighs, eyes hardening as his hand strokes over your warm forehead. "why don't you listen?"

"what are you doing here?" you grumble, picking your head up slowly. you're greeted with a retched reminder of your headache, and you wince, pressing your hand to your head.

"we had an agreement, remember?" he reminds you, and you slowly recall. you move to grab your phone and the time reads 7:15. "i wasn't joking."

"suguru..."

"stop," he immediately cuts you off. "look at you, (y/n). you've made yourself sick."

"it's just a- a cough," you murmur, rubbing your irritated eyes harshly.

"that's bullshit, baby," he tells you rather firmly. "i don't know why you're trying to hide this from me when i knew something like this would happen. we're going home."

"no, wait, Suguru, i didn't finish my paperwork yet."

"do you think I give two shits about your paperwork?"

his tone comes off rather harshly, and both of you notice. he blinks his eyes tensely and readjusts himself, attempting to reel in his anger. his anger for you, over your lack of care for your wellbeing, at your fucking boss for letting you work yourself like this.

"you've been killing yourself for weeks, (y/n). i won't let you anymore. this is the last straw."

"hold on," you urge. suguru looks down at you, befuddled. "i really can't just up and leave my work behind like this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"what's more important to you, (y/n)? being healthy or working yourself to death?" he proposes, almost pained by the latter. "if you cared about your well-being, you would have asked for an extension or at least had a conversation with your dick of a boss about doing this another time. anyone can see that you aren't feeling well, and someone who cares will tell you that enough is enough."

"don't make me do this, suguru," you whimper. suguru's face relaxes when he sees your eyes glossing over. "don't make me stop. I can't stop."

"baby," he curls his brows, holding your cheek in his hand as he kneels before you. "why are you doing this to yourself?"

"b-because, I have to..."

"no, you don't. i've been telling you this for years, you don't have to do this."

"but I need to make something of myself. i have to keep going. i can't just quit, because if I do, then what will any of this have meant? why have i been doing this?"

"you're breaking my heart, baby," suguru exhales. "this job doesn't define you. i see how hardworking, smart, and strong you are. i see the effort you put into everything you do. i see the commitment in your heart. i see it everywhere, all the time, and that is one of many reasons why i love you so much."

your lips wobble as you look into his hazel eyes as his voice and words melt you into his palm. you've been moving so fast all this time, you've been trying to prevent yourself from falling into suguru's warmth, which has always had the power to make you do anything he says.

"but I can't stand to watch you make yourself sick because you think there's more you need to do. this isn't good for you. you know it isn't."

you nod, red nose flaring as you sniff. "i know," you admit.

"so please, please take a break. i'm literally begging you. you need to come home and rest. i'll take care of everything else, just come home. lay down. come back to us. to me."

your shoulders jerk as a few tears drop from your eyes. "sugu, i can't do this anymore," you finally give in. "i don't even feel like myself. i just want to go home."

"then let's go baby, come on," he stands and takes you with him in his arms, pressing your body to his as he holds you. you sink into him, your exhaustion and your sickness finally crashing down over you. "i'm gonna fucking kill your boss," he murmurs into your hair.

you laugh weakly against him, closing your eyes. "later. just take me home, now. please."

"yes ma'am," he nods, kneeling down to pick you up into his arms. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest.

"m'gonna get you sick," you mutter.

"we can be sick together," he chuckles. "the girls and I can make you some soup. they've been obsessed with cooking lately," he says, leaning over to shut off your monitor before carrying you off to the elevators.

"that picture of them you sent earlier made me so sad. I miss you guys so much."

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to upset you that much. i was only trying to guilt you a little into coming home early."

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

"i know, i'm sorry," he kisses your head. "gonna get you all better in no time."

kento nanami: (low iron!)

you have always been a little anemic, and of course that never really posed as a terrible challenge for you until you ran out of iron supplements.

it is your responsibility undoubtedly to keep track of when you run out and when you need to restock, but recently, you've found yourself neglecting the habit.

you never did like taking iron pills, or any supplements for that matter. you feel as though they take too much out of your daily life, as though they're a burden to your existence, and the harder you think about it, the less inclined you are to keep track of it.

it's been about three weeks since you last took your iron, and while you would like to say that you have improved significantly, you would be lying.

perhaps the first few days of not taking your supplements was fine, but as time droned on, the symptoms kicked back in rather quickly. you are extremely tired all the time, you feel lighter on your feet as if you are going to pass out at any given moment, and your hands and feet are ridiculously cold though it is now the summertime, and the weather outside thoroughly contrasts your body temperature.

you're in denial about the changes, of course. you want to be able to feel fine without the crutch of your pills, but the reality of the situation is that you don't, and it's crushing you for some reason.

what's crushing you more is that you know how disappointed nanami will be to find out that you haven't been being responsible in stocking up on your supplements. he would normally keep track of when you run out in addition to you, but he's reeled it in a bit over the past few months because you wanted him to trust that you can handle taking care of something that you've managed all of your life, so he did.

and yet, here you are, trying to hide the symptoms of your iron deficiency that are only proving harder to veil. nanami has already asked you a few times if you are feeling okay over the past few weeks, therefore you know that he suspects exactly what is happening, but you brush him off each time.

"i'm good, honey," you'd tell him. "just had a long day. what about you? how are you feeling?"

you feel like shit lying to him, but you're afraid of being truthful for some reason. he would scold you, and you'd have to resort to the aid of your only weakness all over again.

god, why can't you just be normal?

you've even tried to ween off of the strict iron-sufficient diet that you've been on practically all your life because you feel like you have something to prove, especially in this world of jujutsu. how can you be a sorcerer with low iron? how can something so smell render you so weak? it's pathetic.

you don't want to think about it, in truth. you want it all to just go away. you want to be fine, to feel fine without eating certain things constantly or taking those damn pills, and you try to force yourself to, but it only grows worse the longer you hide it.

you stumble into your home after a long day of teaching and press your back to the door with a sigh. you know nanami won't be home for another forty or so minutes, so you kick your shoes off, go grab a water, and plop down on the couch.

you feel so tired. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, leaning back. this is stupid, you think. you're being stupid. just reorder the damn pills.

but something stubborn within you refuses. something within you that must prove you can push past this.

you decide to watch some tv to distract you as you wait for nanami to return home. he suggested cooking for you tonight, so you rest until you hear him walking through the door.

"hi honey," he greets. you turn to smile gently at him as he rounds the corner. your cheeks pinch with happiness, your current turmoil momentarily forgotten when you see your husband approach. you go to stand and walk into his open arms, just like you normally do when he comes home.

you put the remote to the side and shoot up. your mind is occupied only by nanami as you move toward him, but you see his face drop and your vision turns upside down, and suddenly, you're falling.

kento is quick to react, ducking down impressively to catch you in his arms before you can hit the ground. you collapse into him, head dizzy and breath suddenly gone.

"sweetheart?! (y/n) are you alright? are you awake?"

you groan, shifting in his strong arms as they cradle you securely. when your vision regains focus, you're staring up at nanami's worried face, your body resting over his lap. you blink rapidly before realizing what just happened.

"oh shit," you whisper.

"(y/n)," nanami says your name again, caressing your cheek sweetly. "are you here with me now?"

"y-yeah," you nod, moving to sit up and press your hand to his chest. "i'm alright."

"absolutely not," he stops you immediately, pressing against you to lay you back down on his lip. you frown, looking up at him. "don't even try sitting up like that right now."

"kento," you start, growing worried by the tense look on his face. "i'm okay, really. i just sat up too fast."

"i know," he affirms, his thumb still smoothing over your skin. "and care to tell me why that alone is making you pass out?"

you can't find the words to respond as you stare at him, likely as guiltily as you feel. he hums knowingly.

"right," he sighs. "(y/n), how long has it been since you've taken your iron?"

and there it is. the very question you had been dreading.

"...i'm not sure what you're-"

"don't. really, don't," he interjects firmly and you shiver, rather unfamiliar with this side of your doting partner. "i'm still trying to adjust to the fact that you haven't been truthful with me. the least you can do is tell me how long it's been."

your heart drops. "kento..."

"i'm not in the mood for stalling, sweetheart. go on. out with it."

the sternness of his voice hardly matches the way he is holding you and stroking your cheek, but nevertheless, you feel awful. you avert your gaze and shrink into yourself. "three weeks."

"three?" he repeats incredulously, and you nod in shame. "i knew it had been over a week, but three, (y/n)?"

"i know," you mutter.

"why? after you told me not to check after you, to trust that you'd take care of yourself," nanami questions. "this is why i tried to help you. i know it can be a hassle sometimes, and forgetting is one thing, but to deliberately stop taking them when you know how much i worry about it... when you know how important it is for you?"

you bite hard on your lip and look away, brows curling. nanami notices immediately and softens himself, leaning down closer to you.

"my love," he starts. "i don't mean to upset you, but this is very upsetting to me."

"i know. i know, i'm sorry..." you whimper.

"but not because it's about me, (y/n), because it's about you. and you've been hiding this from me, of all things. i don't understand."

"i just didn't wanna take them anymore, ken," you say quietly.

the blonde furrows his brows. "you didn't want to take them? have you not been taking them for years?"

"i have but that's the problem. i'm a sorcerer now, and..." you exhale. "the point of being a sorcerer is to not have anything weighing you down, and this weighs me down."

"if anything, (y/n), not taking the supplements weighs you down more."

"no, i just mean- all of it, the whole iron deficiency, i hate it," you confess. "i'm tired of relying on something to be strong. i'm tired of being tied down to this. i wanted to see if i could overcome it, but i can't. i'll always have this problem, and it sucks, ken," you ramble. "if i could go without taking these pills and still do my job like i always have, then just maybe.... maybe i could be better. and i could prove that i... i don't need those stupid pills, or the extra greens, or the- whatever. just all of it."

nanami looks down at you rather sadly. "i had no idea you felt this way."

"i haven't always felt this way. it's just lately, i don't know, i feel pressured to go beyond."

"darling, your iron-deficiency doesn't make you any less talented than other sorcerers."

"i know. i mean, i should know, but i can't help but feel that way."

nanami presses his lips together, smoothing a knuckle over your cheekbone. "i'm sorry you feel like this."

"it's not your fault, ken. and i shouldn't have kept this from you, i know. i'm sorry. i just felt humiliated by it."

"there's nothing for you to be humiliated by," he reassures you. "your deficiency is no different from any of us having to feed ourselves or drink water in between missions to keep ourselves alive. it's a necessity, and though we are sorcerers, we live off of necessities to keep ourselves physically and mentally able to work. you have a responsibility to yourself. just like the rest of us. just because your iron's a little lower doesn't mean anything about who you are as a sorcerer."

"...i never thought of it like that. i've just been thinking of it as a burden."

"it's only a burden if you view it that way. you are a grade one sorcerer who i have watched climb the ranks effortlessly since we were in high school, all the while with an iron deficiency that you have always taken supplements for. that never stopped you," he says. "the problem comes in when you don't keep up with yourself and take care of those needs. just like how i'd be unable to work if i decided to skip my last few meals and drink less water."

"that makes sense," you mumble, capturing his soft brown eyes with yours.

"good," he nods. "(y/n) you can't neglect your needs like this."

"i know."

"i'm being serious. i'll start checking behind you again if i find out that you're not doing what you need to do to take care of your body."

"i know, ken, i'm sorry, i-" you stop yourself and shake your head. "i just let my insecurities get the best of me."

"then, let me handle taking care of your insecurities. you handle taking your supplements. do we have an agreement?"

you nod slowly. "yeah. we do. i'm sorry for lying again, ken."

"please don't do it again," he sighs, ducking to kiss your forehead. "but i know you wouldn't lie to me about anything else, and that you hiding this was solely out of fear."

you slowly move to sit up, and this time, kento helps you very gradually. he guides you back to sit on the couch and cups your face gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "i'll go order some more iron and then get started on dinner. alright?"

you hum with a soft smile. "alright. i love you, ken."

he returns your loving smile. "i love you more, sweetheart."

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

you should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and at the same time, so should have panda.

it really was an honest mistake. you were standing in the doorway as everyone left the classroom, your fingers clutched around the frame as everyone filed out. you were asking around if anyone had seen your boyfriend, and yuta mentioned that he saw him with yuji earlier that day.

you thanked him, and just as you were about to pull your hand away, panda, who was the last out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him thinking you had already moved out of the way.

but you hadn't.

the door flew into your index and middle fingers and you screamed bloody murder. the cursed corpse as well as his classmates whipped their heads around, and to panda's horror, you were knocking your forehead against the wall with tears in your eyes as your fingers trembled in the doorframe.

"(Y/N), HOLY SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

you hadn't expected panda to actually break one of your fingers, but you give the freak credit for his unnatural strength. you later find out that yuji and choso had gone out to grab food for you when you see a text from your boyfriend pop up asking what flavor ramen you want the second you learn that shoko will not be available until late tonight.

for the time being, you're given a finger splint and pain medicine as though you aren't freaking surrounded by jujutsu sorcery.

and god, did it hurt! like, really, really hurt. your fingers are throbbing, and the one that isn't broken is bruised and stained with some blood. you wish you could be angrier at panda, but his groveling before your feet on his knees eases your frustration a bit. after all, it hadn't been on purpose.

you're sent home and you are given no choice but to wait until choso returns, and you're... nervous. choso never handles the ailment of his loved ones very well. his spiritual and physical connection to his brothers wellbeings' often causes him to lose his mind every time yuji gets accidentally punched in the face during training, and when it comes to you? well, choso is just the same if not somehow worse.

you remember one time you got a papercut and winced when your finger made contact with soap. choso was quick to your side, grasping your wrist and looking over your hand as though it had been severed off.

one thing you have come to know in your relationship with the brunette is that he would (and has) killed someone for the sake of the people closest to him. he does not mess around when it comes to his family, and he certainly doesn't mess around when it comes to you.

and while you think he can be a bit excessive with making sure you're alright when it's hardly necessary, it's first and foremost endearing, and it only makes you realize that he will go ballistic the second he finds out that someone broke your finger.

he doesn't naively think that you can never go unharmed, though he would be incredibly content with the notion if it were plausible. he's familiar with scars, wounds, fights, and battles, and he knows you're in the very center of it just as much as he and his brother are. but still, he hates it when you're hurt. he wants to protect you as best as he can, or to at least prevent you from suffering any more than a sorcerer already has to suffer. he only wants you to be safe.

so to prevent him from having a heart attack, you decide it's better if he doesn't know about the incident. when you answer his texts before heading home, you mention nothing about your poor finger in hopes of him not finding out at least until after you're healed.

that plan of yours, however, fails when choso comes barging through the door three hours earlier than you expected him to return. your eyes go wide from where you sit on the couch, and you have no time to even go to hide your fingers behind your back when choso marches up to you, agitated.

"uh-" you're cut off when he grabs your arm gently and lifts it into the air, your taped crooked finger showcasing itself to him. you press your lips together at how poorly the plan to conceal this from him has failed. "cho-"

"were you gonna tell me about this?" his violet eyes fly to yours in a fury, and you're almost stunned by how aggravated he looks. his voice is calm, low, but his face is wrecked with concern and almost betrayal.

"...i was, but i wanted to wait because i didn't want you to freak out..." you say slowly, watching him softly. "like you are now..?"

"that's not fair, (y/n)," he frowns and you furrow your brows. "that's not fair at all."

"woah, hold on... are you mad at me?"

"i don't know," he answers you honestly, looking between your face and your trembling hand. "i'm... upset."

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

"yuji got a text from yuta," he tells you, moving to sit down on the space beside you with your hand still cradled in his. "he said that panda was begging me not to kill him, and this was after i had talked to you."

"oh..." you sigh. "okay, yeah, i can see how that looks."

"why didn't you tell me you got hurt? and pretty badly too? where's ieiri?"

"she won't be back on campus for another hour," you explain. "i didn't want you to worry, cho, i figured i'd just tell you after it was better, but..."

"why would you try to hide something from me?" he asks you, suddenly sounding hurt. it's clear on his face that he doesn't understand why you would conceal something as important as your health from him, whether it was small or not. you tell each other everything, and that shouldn't have stopped now of all times because you don't want him to worry.

"i didn't know you'd get so upset, cho, honestly," you tell him. "i-" you stop when a sharp pain shoots through your fingers and you gasp. choso's face drops and he gently sets your hand down to his lap, panicked.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes. "shit, you must be in a lot of pain."

"it's nothing i haven't experienced before," you try to reassure him, giving him a tight smile.

"why does that matter?" choso drags his brows together. "pain is pain. i don't like when you feel any of it."

you melt. "i know. i know you don't, i don't like when you feel any of it either."

"so don't... keep stuff like this from me, (y/n)," he says sternly. "please, i need to know. i don't have the same connection to you that i have with my blood brothers, but i'm still connected to you all the same. when you hurt, i hurt."

"i get it cho, i'm sorry," you nod bashfully. "i wasn't trying to make you mad. i just don't like it when you're stressed out."

"i'm always stressed out," he says flatly, and you raise your brows with a halfhearted smile.

"yeah, i know. so why stress you even more?"

"i'd rather be stressed about you if i'm stressing about anything," he says, looking over your face as the hardness in his gaze washes away. "you know you're everything to me."

"i know, baby," you push out your bottom lip, pressing your free hand to the side of his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. his ears burn when you pull away, and he sighs heavily.

"don't offend me by trying to hide stuff like this. it won't work."

"i'm sorryyyy," you giggle and choso grumbles incoherently under his breath.

his gaze goes back to your fingers and his brows curl. "how the hell do you slam a door on someone's hand?" he hisses.

"it was an accident, cho, he didn't mean it."

"i know, and i shouldn't really be angry at him but i can't help but be irritated because you're hurt..." his fingers graze the tape. "how bad does it hurt?"

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

you roll your eyes at his attitude with a soft smile. "it hurts as much as a broken finger would."

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

"you're okay, love, you don't need to apologize."

"i still wish i- nevermind," he refrains himself from discussing how he wanted to be there to protect you from such an unpredictable occurence. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better while we wait? do you need anything?"

"ummm," you try to think. "actually, could you grab a new pack of ice from the freezer? and... the snacks you got me earlier."

the brunette's face brightens slightly with the thought that he can do something to help ease your pain as you wait for shoko to return to the school.

he nods in determination, carefully sliding your hand into your lap and kissing your cheek before hopping up to run to the kitchen. he returns with the items you requested, placing the snacks down beside him and lifting the bag of ice over your hand.

"like this?" he eases the bag down and you wince, nodding.

"mhm. yeah," you strain out. choso watches your face sadly, hating the fact that you're hurting.

"i'm sorry for getting upset," he mumbles. you turn to look at him curiously. "i just love you a lot."

"i love you more, cho," you smile gently, leaning your head against his shoulder. he sighs, resting his chin atop your head as he ices your hand. "and don't worry, i get it. i won't try to hide injuries from you anymore."

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

toji is going to absolutely kill you, and you are dreading the moment he does.

he has always told you not to touch his weapons. even if you see any of them lying around his place because he never bothers to clean up in between jobs. his one rule when you're over is to leave them alone and to let him handle them when he gets back. he doesn't care how much you protest, he doesn't care that you want to help him pick up after himself.

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

and of course... one afternoon when he's out sorting out some finances with shiu and one of his knives is glaring at you from where it lay on the kitchen table, you can't help yourself.

you don't really think anything is going to happen. after all, you're not a baby, nor are you an idiot. you know how to handle a freaking knife and you know where to put it, and yet, somehow, you allow your arrogance with the task to distract you. you're not handling it as carefully as you should be, and the second you hear the keys jingling outside the front door, you panic.

the blade, naturally, fumbles in your grasp, and swipes through the air, over your palm, and to the carpet. you jump, stepping away as quickly as it falls. you feel a sting in your hand and look down to see the fresh gash stretching over your skin. you gape as blood slowly simmers from the wound, befuddled as to how something like this even happened so quickly.

you have no time to clean it when you hear the key inside the lock. you hurriedly pick up the knife with your unwounded hand, place it back on the table where you first saw it, rip a napkin from said table to press to your bleeding palm, and clench it into a fist just as the door opens.

toji immediately greets you with a raised brow, jade eyes eying you oddly as he steps in. "the hell are you gettin' into?" he asks, confused by the way you are standing against the wall when he enters.

you're quick to move into his space to distract him from the vision of his knife and from looking any further downward from your face. you lean up on your tiptoes, normal hand on his forearm as you kiss his scarred lips. "what do you mean?"

"why were you just standing there like that?"

"can't I wait by the door for you to come back?" you bat your eyelashes, and toji grunts, gazing down at you with lidded eyes as his hand comes around the small of your back. "i'm just happy to see you."

"you take a pill or somethin', doll?"

you glare at him. "now why would you ask me that?"

"you're just acting a little too nice, that's all."

you scoff. "i don't know what you're talking about, i'm literally always happy to see you."

"yeah, but i was gone for thirty minutes and you never make a show of it like this."

"why are you making it sound like i don't show you love? you're the one who's mean all the time," you retort sassily.

a smirk captures toji's lips as he ducks down to kiss you again. "that's more like it," he murmurs against you. "still ain't answer my question though."

"i literally did. i told you i was waiting for you."

"sure," he says, unconvinced. his eyes drag down your body and momentarily go to your fist when you swiftly wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips into him once more.

his brows narrow and as you kiss him, and you can feel the blood on your hand seeping through your napkin. you curse internally, lowering your hand back down behind him as he pulls away.

"not that i'm against this," toji starts, voice dangerously low against your mouth. "but it feels like you're tryin' to distract me from something."

"why would i be doing that?" you ask gently, looking up into his piercing eyes. he hums, dragging himself away from you. he grabs your chin softly and tilts your head left and right, looking over your face. "what are you doing?" you ask.

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

shit. it's never a good sign when toji doesn't even try to pretend to believe anything you're saying, and the way he's looking over your face let's you know that he at least suspects you've done something to yourself that he should know about.

you keep your fist to his back as he looks over the rest of your body with a rather relaxed expression, which only means that he doesn't suspect you touching any of his weapons. yet.

you have to keep his attention away from the knife on the table so that he doesn't figure it out.

"can you stop messing around already? i wanna go take a shower," you try to say, but toji doesn't listen.

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

"huh?" he mimics you, looking at you unimpressed. "turn."

you suck your teeth. "i hate when you get like this."

"and i hate when you lie, now turn."

you grimance. you can't turn around with him looking down at your hand, and you're sure by now that the napkin you hold is coated red. your eye twitches in that moment when you feel a line of blood drip down your wrist.

god dammit. you're so dead.

nonetheless, you try to keep your palm facing inward as you slip it from his back and turn over your left shoulder, which connects to the uninjured hand. the second your back is to him, you bring your bloody hand in front of you.

"yeah, no," you hear toji gruffly say. your heart hammers in your throat and you know what's coming next. he moves around you to wrap his hand around your wrist and tug at it.

you cringe, allowing yourself to accept your fate when he pulls forward your balled up hand.

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

you sigh heavily, slowly peeling open your palm to reveal the red-stained napkin balled in it, the line of blood rushing down your inner arm, and the slice that stretches across your hand.

toji's eyes blow wide, and before he asks you anything, he throws his head over his shoulder to locate the knife that sits on the table. "are you fucking kidding me, (y/n)?" he growls, turning back to face you angrily.

"okay, let's not act like this is so crazy!" you immediately defend, throwing your other arm up. "you leave your shit lying around all the time!"

"and every single time, i tell you that i'll take care of it. what the fuck, do i have to go child-proofing the house now because of you?"

"if you would just be more mindful of how you leave your space, you wouldn't even have to worry about shit like this! you shouldn't even have knives lying around in the first place."

"i'm a grown man, (y/n), i know how to avoid cutting myself with the weapons i use daily."

"you're being a prick."

"oh baby, you must not know me because i'm about to be worse," he grunts, eyes heated with fury, and you frown.

"toji, come onnn, it was an accident."

"what do i always say about my weapons, (y/n)?"

"i just wanted to help you put it away, is that so crazy?"

"what. do i say. about my weapons."

you deflate slightly, uneased by the rate at which toji is growing angry with you. "...not to touch them."

"so why the fuck did you touch them?" he growls, picking up the napkin in your palm and tossing it over his shoulder. he looks over your wound and clenches his jaw. "fucking hell, (y/n)."

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

despite his rage, he leads you to the bathoom with surprising care.

when you arrive, he flicks on the light with his free hand and swipes up a cloth from under the sink. he turns to you, pressing it down to your wound to stop the bleeding. once it seems like it's done, he puts the cloth down and turns on the faucet. "put your hand under," he orders, guiding it to the cool water nonetheless.

the water hits your open wound bitterly and you jump, watching the blood run through the drain as toji washes your arm as well.

"sit," he nods over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet.

you oblige mutely, shuffling over and holding out your hand. you sit slowly on the ledge of the tub and watch as toji shuffles through his cupboards for a bottle of peroxide, some bandages, and ointment. you dread what is coming, for you know your hand is gonna sting like a bitch.

toji thuds over to sit hunched on the closed toilet lid, leaning over to grab your hand again. you stretch your fingers out and he sighs, shaking his head. "so fucking hard-headed," he murmurs.

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

"it's gonna hurt all the same, doll," he tells you, and you pout. "you should listen next time, then maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

"shut the fuck up."

toji clicks his tongue, glancing at you momentarily before leaning down and holding the bottle over you, grasping your wrist loosely with your hand above his knee. "keep still."

the peroxide comes flooding out of the bottle and onto your hand, bubbling instantly over your gash. you whimper, tensing your body and scrunching your eyes at the sting.

"i know," toji mumbles, smoothing his thumb gently over your wrist. "you're alright."

your fingers dig into your thigh as it continues to burn. toji leans over to put down the bottle and continues to caress your arm, lowering your hand to his lap. he blows over your palm slightly as the peroxide dries, and you eventually open your eyes.

"not so bad," he tells you. he leans himself back to reach for a new cloth then pats it around the gash, drying your hand and your arm. he reaches back again for the tube of almost empty ointment he found and twists it open, squeezing it over your wound. "shit, hold on," he stops. he lets you lift your hand as he rushes to wash his own before coming to sit back down at hold yours on his leg again, now with bandages in hand.

you watch him gently as he works the bandage over you with such attentiveness, a dip in his brow proving his focus. you suddenly feel guilty for making him worry.

"i'm sorry," you finally say again, this time with more meaning.

toji's green eyes snap up at you amidst his wrapping. "yeah?"

"i really was just trying to help you. didn't mean to stress you out."

toji sighs, pausing his movements to look you in the eye. "you need to be more careful. i tell you not to touch my stuff because it's not your responsibility. obviously i know you can yourself, but some of my shit's really dangerous and i don't want you gettin' hurt," he gestures to your hand. "it could've been a lot worse, but still."

"if you don't want me touching your weapons, toji, you should probably clean them up more," you quirk a brow and he exhales loudly.

"i'm seeing that now, yeah," he says. "i'll be more careful if you are. don't need my doll getting a bunch of scars 'cause of me, now."

you smile softly. "yeah. i won't touch your stuff anymore, i promise."

"...how about instead i just... teach you how to handle 'em the right way?"

you perk up. "really?"

"i don't see why not. i'd rather you know how to use some of it than see you scrape yourself up because you don't know how to hold a knife."

"don't be a smartass."

toji smirks, continuing with his wrapping of your hand. "i mean it. i'll sit down with you sometime to show you."

"...how about after we're done here?"

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

you groan in displeasure, rolling over, slightly discombobulated. it can't be any later than 7 am, but you are boiling hot. you press your hand to your forehead and curse. you're sweating profusely and you feel incredibly lightheaded.

you don't even have the energy to get up, but you know that you need to take your temperature. you shudder, carefully shuffling out of bed and wincing as every brush against your skin feels like the stab of a thousand pins and needles.

you lethargically make your way to your bathroom, the cool air hitting your neck and sending you into a fit of shivers. you cling to yourself, teeth chattering, and reach into your cabinet for a thermometer. with half-open eyes, you pop it under your tongue and make your way back to your bed, bundling up in your blankets and curling into a ball.

it feels like hours before the beep resounds, and you slowly lift it from your mouth to read the little digital numbers.

102.4. perfect.

you shudder in pain, tossing the thermometer to the side and nestling your face in your pillows. you feel like absolute shit, but you can't bring yourself to do much else. you need medicine, water, a cool compress, but none of those things you have access to currently.

you close your eyes as your mind swarms, body throbbing and shuddering with chills though the last thing you need is to be cuddled under the covers. you think maybe it will go away if you get some rest. maybe you just need to relax, to take some time in bed. you'll let sukuna know when-

shit! sukuna.

there's no way in hell or on earth that sukuna will allow you to go untreated if you tell him, but god, you don't feel like letting him know. despite his likely haste to make sure you have everything you need, you can only imagine the snarky comments about your fragility, your strange body, your vulnerability that he''ll spout.

you don't want to hear it. you don't want to hear any of it, because you're sure that if you do, you'll start crying. you're already worn down, clearly, and the last thing you need on top of a fever is your boyfriend joking about your weak state.

you elect to stay in bed and tell sukuna you'll see him another time if he pesters you today.

which of course, he does.

a whirlwind of alarming dreams that you almost thought were hallucinations are disrupted by the persistent buzzing of your phone on your dress. you groan, reaching out a shaky hand to blindly grab the device and answer the call, pressing it to your ear with no knowledge of who you're speaking to.

"yes?" you croak.

"can't answer a telephone call the first time it rings?" sukuna's voice thunders through the mic, and you lift your brows.

"kuna?" you try to say his name normally, despite the constant chatter of your teeth.

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

"jesus, woman, it's 2 in the afternoon. why the hell are you still in bed?"

you reel momentarily at his words. 2 pm? it was just 7 in the morning! have you really been sleeping all this time?

"oh..." is all you can manage to say before a chill wracks your body again. you cringe, curling into yourself and holding the phone away from you.

"oh?" the king of curses repeats. "what is the matter with you?"

"n-nothing," you respond quickly. "i guess i was up late last night. i was c-completely knocked out..." you tremble.

"last night you told me you were going to sleep early because you were tired, you brat."

fuckkkk.

how could you have forgotten about that? you hadn't been feeling well last night, which is likely the reason why you feel so much worse today, so you turned in early. "i- couldn't fall asleep until later, though," you mumble.

"you are attempting to deceive me," sukuna grunts. "care to explain why?"

"m'not, kuna," you sigh halfheartedly.

"what exactly do you take me for?"

you're really not in the mood for this. you're aching at this point, and you can tell your body temperature has only risen. you're so weak. you can barely even process the fact that you're on the phone, and you can't handle sukuna's attitude. not if he's not going to help, which you automatically assume that he won't.

"i'm going back to bed," you say softly.

"what do you mean back to bed?!" sukuna fumes. "seriously, what the hell is the matter with you. you sound ill."

"i'm not i-ill."

"then why do you keep stumbling over your words, woman?" he questions, his voice mellowing out into a steady intensity. "what is it now? your monthly plague? whatever you people call allergies?"

this is exactly why you don't want him to know. he handles these things too crudely, as if it's a burden upon his existence. "y-you ask too many damn questions."

"i wouldn't have to if you answered them. now talk."

"i'm fine, sukuna. i'm just gonna go back to sleep."

"you hang up this phone, i'm at your door in two seconds."

"that's impossible."

"try me."

you know he's serious, but you don't have the energy. you can't stay on the phone with him any longer, trying to speak like nothing's wrong. it's cold. so cold, but you're so hot. you're probably drenched in a pool of your own sweat, but you can't feel it. you want to sleep. you just want him to let you sleep.

your vision grows dizzy as you stare ahead, brows arching in discomfort. you think you press the end call button, but you can still hear his voice picking up in urgency... is he shouting? are you even on the phone anymore? you aren't sure.

your vision suddenly drifts into inky blackness as the phone rests beside you on your pillow. the last thing you are aware of before you slip into unconsciousness again is banging at your front door.

sukuna bursts into your apartment mere minutes after you stopped answering him on the phone. he looks about ready to kill, crimson eyes wide and pupils shrunken as he breathes heavily, looking all over your apartment.

he's stomping to your room and throwing the door open when he sees you laying in the bed. "(y/n)!" he barks, searching for some response from you, but all he recieves or nonsensical murmurs.

he moves quickly to the side of your bed and grabs at your shoulder, turning you over to find your sheets drenched and your face tight with discomfort. he falters, heart jerking at the sight. "...the fuck?"

he presses a hand to your sweat-drenched face and furrows his brows in concern. you're hot. too hot for the temperature of a human being, and you're sweating like crazy, mumbling things under your breath in your sleep he can't even hear.

"the fuck did you do?" he grumbles, starting to internally panic. he scrambles to remember what this could be. he knows of plague, of pestilence, so maybe you're suffering some form of that?

hell, he can't tell. not from a glance. he's not even sure if he knows how to help you. you're entirely too hot for him to brush this off like it's nothing, and you passed out in the middle of speaking to him.

he looks over and sees the thermometer on your sheets and leans over to pick it up. the screen reads a high number, which he assumes is the temperature of your body. curious himself, he prods open your jaw and tucks it into your mouth, pressing the button the way you had shown him when you had the flu to reset the time.

"come the fuck on," he growls as seconds tick by before it beeps, and he pulls it from your lips to read 104.7.

he doesn't know how far it is from your usual temp, but he knows it's high. too high.

he's quick to dial uraume for some more information, and the second he hears that you need immediate medical help, he's picking you up and making a run for it without even thinking that uraume can likely help you.

when you wake, you're blinded by nauseating lights blaring down overhead. "ugh," you groan, feeling light and disoriented. you turn your head to the side and blink, to find sukuna's face staring directly at you rather harshly.

you jump slightly, startled. "what-?" you start, scrunching your eyes to adjust to the sight before you. "sukuna? what are you..." you trail off when you realize that you aren't in your house, nor are you at sukuna's estate. instead, you're in a hospital bed hooked up to a series of fluids.

your eyes go wide as you sit up suddenly, only to be hit with a sudden dizzy spell that sends you leaning back into the bed.

"don't move," he orders, and you turn to him in confusion. never would you have expected to see the day that sukuna sits in a chair beside you in a hospital.

"why are we... what happened?"

"apparently you had a high fever," he answers harshly, fist-propping his chin up over his leg. "too high for you to be seen in my care, and too high for you to be lying in bed as though nothing was wrong."

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

"i had to come bust down your door to make sure you were alive. i put you on an empty roller downstairs because these fucking dumbass doctors can't see me and i had to get their attention so they could notice you. yes, i am serious."

he sounds pissed. and you hardly want to think of what he means by ‘getting their attention.’

"what do you have to say for yourself? for daring to lie to me? for pretending like you weren't on the brink of a much worse fate?"

"...i..."

"you're so lucky you're unwell, girl, because you don't even want to imagine the things i would do to you as punishment for putting yourself in such a ridiculous situation," he growls. "all you had to do was tell me and i would have taken care of it before it got worse."

you blink, almost dumbfounded. you still aren't all there, but you can tell that your fever has gone down significantly. you're no longer sweating and fewer chills wrack your body. "...huh?"

"did that fucking fever scramble your brain or what?" he fumes, eyeing you sharply. "you should have told me."

you part your lips slightly as you look at him. "honestly, sukuna, i didn't think you'd really... i don't know-"

"care?"

"no, not care. i just didn't think you'd handle it well. i didn't even handle it well myself."

"you believe me to be incapable of tending to sickness?"

"no, i just thought you'd like... not take it seriously."

sukuna's eyes darken, and you realize that you may have said the wrong thing. "in what reality would i fail to take any threat to your health seriously, whether you are frail or not?"

"see, that's what i mean. you always have to slip in something about me being frail."

"because you are. as a member of your species. look at where you lay currently," sukuna grimaces. "that is not an insult to you, it's an observation. it's an insult, however, to everyone else who isn't you."

you relax slightly. "then you were actually worried?"

sukuna scoffs. "why the hell do you think i'm sitting in a human hospital with your sick ass right now? i thought we were past you believing i do not concern myself over you."

you suddenly feel foolish, having forced yourself to suffer in your isolation and simultaneously made sukuna, of all people, worry over you.

"hm. feeling foolish, are you?" he says, reading your mind.

"shut up,," you whine, only to clutch your stomach suddenly with a groan. sukuna sighs as he gently eases your head back onto the pillow.

"i told you not to exert yourself. you give me a headache."

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

"to your place," you clarify. "i don't wanna be here. i just want to be with you. want you to hold me."

"you're such a needy thing," he exhales, toying with a strand of your hair as he leans over and gazes gently at you. "you have medications you need to take."

"then bring them with."

"and if you get sick again? you've only been here ten hours."

"ten?!" you exclaim.

"you were very ill, (y/n)."

you groan. "ten is long enough. i hate hospitals. take me home. i feel better anyway, and if i get worse, i’ll just go to uraume."

sukuna sighs, standing slowly. "after i get these tubes out of you without further damaging you, i will take you home," he says, looking over the IVs that you're hooked up to.

you close your eyes tiredly and nod in acceptance. "okay," you murmur.

he grunts. "let me find some damn instructions.”

"kuna," your hand weakly reaches out to catch his wrist and he stops, turning to look down at you.

"what is it?"

you open your eyes to look up at him fondly, exhaustion welling in your gaze. "thank you."

the king of curses clenches his jaw. he smoothes ahead over your now warm forehead and leans over you. "don't do some shit like this again."

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bootycallin · 14 days ago

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B(W)ETTER THAN ME !?

꩜ .ᐟ basically: vi hears from you that it's practically impossible for you to cum without having your clit played with, and guys never seem to find it to begin with. she takes that as a challenge.

cw: female reader with female anatomy. close friend vi. you can read this as modern au if you want, idfk. strap usage. doggy and then into another position idk the name of. manhandling. mentions of edging. petnames (doll, baby, etc.). overstimulation? squirting. very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. no plot just pôrn.

a/n; shoutout to my girls who are literally impossible to please without playing w they clit, we fightin for our lives over here. don’t expect a lot of pretty looking posts like this, i got excited. again, if any stuffs missing, pls tell me!! hope u like it…

NSFW UTC

"oh, really, doll?" it was an innocent conversation at first, you swore it was. you really don't know how it wound up with you bent over, face down ass up in your bed. your dearest friend, vi, right behind you. pounding into you. "it's frustrating," you said. "i can never cum from somebody just fucking me. no guy even knows that the clit exists either." you had been around vi enough to confide in her, even with your most intimate stories and complaints. what you didn't know is that by saying that, you inadvertantly challenged her.

"fuck, vi, wait--" you gasp, hand clumsily reaching behind you, feeling up her hipbone to her hard abs, glistened with sweat. "break. break. break." she had been plowing into you for what felt like hours now. realistically, it might only be a few minutes, but it's far longer than any other dude you had a fling with. for a second you wonder what the fuck she's eating to have this sort of stamina, because it sure as hell isn't human. "hurts?" she asked you, tone way too kind and sweet for the position she had you in. "no," you pant. "just... just gimme a sec--" it didn't hurt. quite the opposite-- it felt amazing. like nirvana except maybe ten times filthier. she was pounding you to cloud nine and back and gods, it felt good, but you still hadn't cum. right, she didn't play with your clit once. because she has to prove a point! she doesn't care how long shes gonna spend plowing into you with this goddamn strap, she wants to give you the best orgasm of your life, clit untouched. right now, for somebody that had never done this-- it was torture. a constant build-up, her tip repeatedly kissing the deepest places inside you until you felt like she was in your guts, rubbing against your slick walls, filling you up so good. it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

you didn't know, but she was being tortured too. she silently vowed to herself the moment she manhandled you onto your bed that she would not cum until you did. so, she's just sorta been edging herself for the past, like, seven minutes. may the higher lords of sex bless doggy, because were you to see her face right now, her ego would be destroyed. sweaty, red, nearly teary-eyed.

"want me to sto-"

"no," you answer just a tad too quickly. she cracks an amused huff at that, hands trailing up and down the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"fuck- just- gh!-"

you didn't have to finish the goddamn sentence, because when you were about to, vi has your wrists in her hands, pulling back and slamming forward into you with a guttural growl. it’s harsher, it’s meaner, and it feels so goddamn good.

you don't even realize what's happening until your back presses against her chest. she pulled you up against her, hands still wrapped tightly together as she rut into you. with the closer proximity, her face buried into the crook of your neck. you could hear her panting, groaning, growling with every smack of her hips against yours. oh, and she could hear every little cry that came from you when she rut into that little spot you always found hard to reach.

oh, vi. shit, fuck, fuck me, yes. oh, she's gonna be dreaming about you for a while after this.

"viii!--" you whine, throwing your head back. there it was again, that heat bubbling in your stomach like a boiling pot, ready to boil over. it was stronger. far stronger. your head was fuzzy with the feeling.

"shit, vi-- fuck, fuck, fuck, i think i-"

"close, doll?" she growled. she just barely gives you the time to respond, shuffling a bit so she could angle her hips up, and oh-

"vi!" found it. head first (literally) ramming into that gooey, sensitive and swollen bundle of nerves, the good old g. bet none of those guys were able to find it, huh, baby?

she growls into your shoulder when she feels your stubby little nails scratch at her lower abdomen, where she held your wrists back tight. you were close, she was close, she could feel it. perfect.

"vi, wait, shiiit!--" you cry out, but she's not stopping. it's too much to process, unlike anything you've ever felt before. you can feel the pressure building exponentially, your abused little cunt spasming around her cock, clenching so tight she nearly finds it hard to move if it weren't for the drippy slick running down your folds. it's strange, and for a second you're worried with the pressure building in your bladder, only to send shocks up to your clit.

"fuck, shit, it's weird, vi--" your head lolls back against her shoulder, jaw hanging open as you let out wanton cries and babbles.

"it's 'right, baby. jus' let go, come on..." she doesn't know if shes talking to you or herself. but she knows it works--

you finally cum with a dragged out whine of her name (that almost sounded like a scream, to be fair. she's surprised your throat isn't hoarse). you swear you black out for a second, vision going white as you feel like you explode into pleasured little pieces. and--

oh. oh.

the splashing of that milky, yet watery liquid, gushing all over her cock. damn, that's fucking hot. you should see yourself from her point of view. not only does she make you cum, she makes you squirt. vi takes that as enough victory to rut into you until she reaches her own orgasm-- which, to be fair, doesn't take too long since she's been on the edge of cumming for the past few minutes. she buries her face into your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. it still steals a few more whimpers and whines from you--and from her too, but she manages to hide them by biting your shoulder with a grunt.

too weak by both of your highs to keep upright, she ends up sitting back down onto the mattress, letting go of your arms only to wrap her own around your waist, cinching you two closer from behind. her strap has long since slipped out of you, leaving you dripping and empty, but ultimately satisfied.

"enjoy yourself?" you need a few minutes to come to and fro, blinking a few times before you see where vi is looking and look towards the direction, only to see the darkened, wet spot of your own making on you sheets. fuck.

"oh shit, that's--" you sound embarrassed, and she's quick to cut you off.

"it's fine, baby. just glad you enjoyed yourself." she chuckled. gods, she's so sweet when she wants to be. she runs her hands over your sides, kissing your nape.

"but you owe it to me, was that not the best orgasm of your life?" she whispers into your ear, her hand trailing down and down and down, until her ring and middle finger press against your twitchy clit, earning a sharp gasp from you.

"imagine what i could do playing with this pretty thing, though?"

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

#╰┈➤BOOTYCALLIN⨾#lesbian #wlw #arcane #arcane smut #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #vi arcane #vi x fem reader #arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x female reader #league of legends x reader #x reader

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sttoru · 9 months ago

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older bf satoru catches you masturbating <3

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). māsturbation. turns into cunnilingus. squirting. reader gets called ‘baby, angel, little girl’

you miss satoru so much. he had left you behind in his apartment after getting a call from a colleague, who needed help defeating a curse nearby. it’s been a few hours since then and you’re bored.

bored and horny.

you’re still riled up from the heated make out session you had with satoru before he departed. the one that got interrupted by that damned phone call. you need him back with you—for his slender fingers to touch you and his mouth to kiss you all over.

all you have of him is his shirt. you’re wearing it whilst laying back in his bed, the fabric seemingly oversized on your body. his scent is making you lightheaded. dizzy, to the point your hand moves down on its own.

“mhhg,” you cover your mouth with your free hand, not wanting to risk anything, even if you’re the only one in this apartment. you waste no time dipping your fingers underneath your panties, circling your clit with your thumb while your index and middle finger rub your moist folds.

all you can do is imagine that it’s satoru pleasuring you. he always does it so well—never once leaving you unsatisfied. you cannot recall the amount of times he’s made you squirt from just rubbing your cunt. you’re so touch deprived and he knows how to take advantage of that.

remembering that one moment where your boyfriend had you seated on his lap on the couch makes you increase the pace of your fingers. how he was so focused on listening to the news whilst gently rubbing your tingly cunt over the material of your panties, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

you recall how your panties were quite literally soaking after three whole orgasms. not once did his fingers directly touch your pussy, and yet he managed to elicit such strong reactions from you.

a frustrated whine in the shape of his name leaves your mouth. you want satoru back, so so badly. you want him to whisper sweet nothings inside of your ears as he makes love to you. that smooth and soothing voice of his makes you weak.

“fuck, angel,” satoru’s voice interrupts your little session. your eyes widen and you immediately pull your fingers out of your aching hole. you stammer and stutter, stumbling over your words as you look at the white-haired man standing at the doorframe of his room.

how do you even explain yourself?

your gaze flickers downwards which grants you the delicious sight of his bulge. his hand is right on top of it, indicating that he’s been touching himself before he decided to make his presence known.

satoru is panting, the sweat already starting to form on his forehead. he walks up to the bed and pries your hands away from your cunt. his cock stirs in his boxer briefs at the sight of you in his shirt. you’re so adorable to the older man. so needy. . .

without a word and like a starved man, satoru spreads your legs and yanks your panties down. your cunt is warm and soppy, the slick trail staining your underwear telling him enough. he doesn’t hesitate before diving his head between your plush thighs.

you feel a rush of warmth go through your body the instant his tongue comes into contact with your pussy. satoru’s nose repeatedly bumps against your clit as he tries to press his entire mouth onto your folds. his tongue lolls out, the tip navigating up and down your slit before pushing through, finding that little hole he can’t wait to devour.

“thank you for preparing my meal f’me while i was away,” satoru hums against your cunt before pulling back to allow his fingers to explore you. he glances up at you with a proud smirk before placing his mouth back where it belongs. he can’t let all the prep you did go to waste after all, “she’s fuckin’ delicious, baby.”

your hands pull at his hair in response, gaining a needy whine from your lover. he nearly chokes on both his spit and your juices. his hands hold onto the back of your knees and he uses that firm grip to push your legs further apart.

you’re nearly seeing stars. you didn’t even have time to register satoru’s sudden appearance. hell, you couldn’t even greet him or welcome him back home. that man wasted zero time in getting between your legs, eating you out like there’s no tomorrow.

you stumble over your own words. no matter how hard you try, not a sentence is able to form. all that leaves your mouth are moans of pure pleasure. your thighs shake and your hips buck against your lover’s mouth. you’re more than desperate for a release.

“c’mon, say my name again,” satoru sighs as he circles his tongue around your wet hole. he prods at it, tongue fucking you to acquire as much of your fluids as possible. your sweet wetness is making him throb in his pants, “mhmmm— my naughty little girl couldn’t wait.”

the older man feels great satisfaction at the thought of you being unable to withstand your pleasures. the sinful sight of you trying to fuck yourself with your little fingers on his bed, with his shirt on, is engraved in his mind forever. the second you moan out his name again, he goes all out.

satoru’s tongue doesn’t stop. even when you squeal and beg him to slow down because you feel like you’re going to cum early. that’s exactly what he wants; having you squirt all over his mouth and face. he needs to be covered with your slick.

you tug at his hair again - thinking that’d make satoru pull away - though the effect is the exact opposite. “nhh, do ‘t again,” he whines and moans against your folds, lapping up all that your pussy gives. the loud slurping noises reverberate throughout the room.

satoru’s eyes are closed, his furrowed brows adding to the concentrated yet content look on his blushing face. his lips, which are usually glossy, glisten even more with the liquid your cunt secretes. his eyes open every now and then to take a peek at you—to see if you’re still enjoying what he does.

“bet your small fingers weren’t enough, hm? y’ need mine?” satoru coos once he finally pulls his head back to breathe. he licks his lips as he stares at you with glazed and half-lidded eyes, totally pussydrunk. you don’t even have to respond to his questions. the answers are obvious by the way you’re trembling and desperately babbling incoherent pleas.

your boyfriend nods in understanding. he pouts at you while his fingers rub up and down your spread pussy lips. the pad of his thumb manoeuvres from your gaping hole to the little bundle of nerves at the top. satoru sticks two fingers in your cunt without warning. your high pitched whimper makes him coo at you, “yeah, i know, baby. let it out.”

the white-haired sorcerer pumps his long fingers in and out of you, a rhythm so addicting that it’s impossible not to give in. your back arches off the mattress. you’re trying your best not to stain satoru’s shirt with your juices, though you have a feeling he’d secretly like that anyway.

“am so close, ‘toruuu—fnngh,” you gasp and instantly feel satoru’s tongue replace his fingers. he wants to taste and feel your tight cunt spasm all around his tongue and mouth while you reach that point of no return. he’s going to try his best not to cum untouched in his pants this time.

satoru holds your hips with his big hands, keeping you down so he could properly eat you out and make you release all that tension. your pussy tingles and throbs, and you truly feel like you’re going to ascend.

it feels way too good. inhumanly good.

“cum on my tongu—“ satoru can’t even finish his sentence. a loud moan slips from between your lips, followed by a grunt from your boyfriend. his eyes roll back as your cunt releases more of its lewd fluids—spraying the liquid all over his mouth and chin.

you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to notice the mess you’ve created on satoru’s face and his sheets; a complete and total mess. the older man doesn’t mind neither. in fact, he enjoys it.

“shitttt, that was fuckin’ hot,” satoru flashes you a wide grin. he’s still somewhat drunk on you, which is visible by the way he’s licking up your mess from both his chin and your body. he cleans your cunt with his tongue—even if it’s overstimulating you.

he’s a greedy man when it comes to you. he wants more, more and more. whatever you’re offering, he will get.

satoru’s hands rub your sides to comfort you. he places soft kisses over your clit and pussy, as if he’s thanking you for the meal he just had the pleasure of devouring. he looks up at you with a cheeky smirk before laying his head against your inner thigh, his tongue peeking out between his glossy lips;

“think you can give me one more?”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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milkymars · 6 months ago

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Everything we know about Bill Cipher's past so far

His home was called Euclydia and it was entirely two dimensional. ("Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams.")

Bill was unique among his people because he had a mutation that allowed him to see the third dimension. This can mean that either a) Euclideans don't have eyes and Bill is the only one who had one or b) if they did have eyes, he literally had a third eye.

Bill's parents were most likely named Scalene and Euclid. Entering either of their names into the computer gives the prompt LIFE FORM NOT FOUND. Bill is stated to only draw red and blue triangles in art therapy, so those were probably their appearances.

From the code JUSTFITIN, you get this colour-coded poem:

Rock a bye billy Please don’t you cry It’s not your fault You have that strange eye Stay safe with mommy You’ll never fall And we’ll always love you Sharp angles and all

Bill says that everyone in Euclydia loved him. However, it's more likely that he was feared because of his mutation and talk of a third dimension. Bill has said numerous times that love and fear are the same, and if you enter WELLWELLWELLBEING into the computer:

Bill's parents took him to a doctor to help suppress his vision of the third dimension. This has been discovered through the codes on the silly straw page:

Fussy eater, baby Billy / Wouldn't drink unless it's silly The doctor says three sips a day / Will make the visions go away Eye doctor of a different kind / Who wants to make his patient blind Twisted out of shape after the kill / The ghosts of his family are haunting him still

Bill is responsible for the Euclidean massacre. Reversed audio on the website says that "the sky is on fire", and when Bill talks about liberating his dimension, his eye shows a fiery landscape too. Though he claims to have liberated them both in Weirdmageddon and the transmission with Time Baby, he is regretful and misses home. If you type in EVENHISLIESARELIES, you get a transcript of one of his sessions in the theraprism.

And from the axolotl's poem in Curse of the Time Pirate's Treasure:

When he tells Ford about his home dimension, he says that it was destroyed by a monster. And when Ford says that he could seek out the monster and get revenge on it, Bill replies: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." Bill also says that if he tries to talk about the day Euclydia was destroyed, there's a loud buzzing in his ears and he blacks out for 30 seconds. Still, he tells others that he freed everyone and that they are grateful for it. Until he gets drunk and starts calling out for his mom, asking her where she went...

#gravity falls #bill cipher #the book of bill #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #i can't believe i'm crying over this demonic dorito #i absolutely am eating all this angst up rn

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dazevi · 1 month ago

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baby, can i? | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ mdni) wc: 6k

synopsis: vi guides you through your first time. | masterlist

content warnings: modern au!, tiniest mention of hockey player!vi, virgin!reader/inexperienced!reader, experienced!vi, soft top!vi, needy vi, nsfw/smut; consent is sexy!!!!!!, kissing/making out, little bit of perverted vi, soft sex, fingering and oral (r!receiving) slight overstim, bit of praise kink for both reader and vi, a little sappy tbh

note: ok wait this actually is really sappy/cheesy/whatver ummm but i hope u like it (also i might be on a writers high a little bit > got a request for bartender!vi andi am very excited to write about it)

It was all innocent at first—a movie you chose playing on the TV in Vi’s apartment, her chin resting lightly on your shoulder, her thumbs gently brushing circles against your sides, and ever so often, her lips grazing the top of your head in fleeting, soft kisses. You were tucked between her legs, your back resting against her chest, and her arms were securely wrapped around your waist possessively, not wanting you to move away from her.

You were watching the movie—or at least, you were trying to.

But Vi wasn’t making it easy.

She’d been unusually affectionate all evening, her hands sneaking under the hem of your sweater to rest directly on your skin. They weren’t wandering; she wasn’t teasing you like she sometimes did.

No, this was different.

Her fingers were just there, pressed against your stomach as if she needed to feel the warmth of you. She was quiet, which wasn’t unusual when she was in one of these soft, clingy moods, but you could feel her every breath against your back, her chest rising and falling steadily. In different minutes, she would shift slightly, her legs tensing around you as if she were adjusting, but really, you knew it was just an excuse to pull you closer.

“Comfy?” she asked after a while, her voice low and soft in your ear.

“Mhm,” you murmured back, turning your head slightly to look at her.

She only smiled.

“What?” You smiled back, a soft giggle falling from your lips.

Vi shook her head, placing a tiny kiss to your shoulder, “Nothing.”

She was so close, her face inches from yours, her eyes glinting in the flickering light of the TV. There was a small smile tugging at her lips, and when she caught you looking at her, she tilted her head, her expression softening in a way that made your heart flutter.

Vi had been head over heels for you from the start, though she’d never admit how fast it all happened.

She prided herself on being smooth, confident, and a little cocky—someone who always knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to make the girls swoon. And it worked for her, for the most part. Vi had never struggled to get attention; her charm, confidence, and maybe sometimes even her muscles, did most of the talking before she even opened her mouth.

But none of that prepared her for you.

When you first started dating, Vi tried to play it cool. She told herself she’d keep it casual, keep things easy. But then you smiled at her like she’d hung the moon, and that was it. Vi fell hard—headfirst, without a parachute—and it terrified her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying every moment you spent together like they were the best scenes in a movie she never wanted to end. Every time you laughed, her chest felt too tight, like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her ribcage just to reach you. She didn’t even realize how deep she was in until one day she caught herself thinking about you in the middle of practice, her teammates yelling her name because she’d missed the puck for the third time.

She told herself it wasn’t a big deal. People fell in love all the time, right?

Right?

And that scared her more than anything. Because Vi wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable. She was used to being in control, to calling the shots, to knowing exactly where she stood. But with you, she felt like she was walking a tightrope, one misstep away from falling so deep she might never recover. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because as much as you terrified her, you also made her feel alive in ways she never thought possible.

And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to admit that someone else had her completely, utterly, helplessly wrapped around their finger.

And, truth be told, you’re not exactly experienced when it came to sex.

The first time you told her, it took Vi by surprise.

She had been getting touchy one day, as she always did when she was around you, teasing you with little brushes of her fingers against your skin, her lips grazing your neck as she whispered something playful in your ear. She could sense the way you tensed up, not in a way that made her think you were uncomfortable, but… uncertain.

“I—uh, I’m not really… experienced with all this,” you had admitted, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, eyes glancing away, as if ashamed to even say it aloud. “I’ve never… done it with someone before.”

Vi froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn’t expected it—hadn’t thought that you might be nervous about something so natural to her. Vi had been with plenty of people, experienced in more ways than one, but she’d never really stopped to think about someone who was new to it all, someone who might feel hesitant or unsure. She paused, but then the softest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at you softly.

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle as she cupped your face with her hand, guiding your gaze back to hers. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, okay? I’m not in a rush. We’ll go at your pace, baby.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your stomach still there, but hearing her words made it feel a little easier to breathe. She didn’t judge you. She didn’t make you feel small for being inexperienced. She understood your vulnerability because, in a way, she felt it too.

“I’m really into you,” Vi had said, her voice soft but sincere. “All I care about is being with you. So, if we go slow—if you need time—then we go slow. I’m not going anywhere.”

She kept her word.

She let you set the pace, kissed you slow and gentle, her hands always asking for permission before they moved anywhere further. When you’d get nervous, when you’d pull back, she’d smile at you, brushing your hair from your face, whispering how beautiful you were, how much she liked being close to you. She was kind of shocked herself. She had the patience to listen, the kind of patience she’d never thought she’d have for anyone, but for you? She’d have it for a lifetime if you needed her to.

But god, sometimes, it was really fucking hard.

She wanted to fuck you so bad.

Vi was, above all else, just a woman—a woman with desires that had been left unchecked for far too long. Everything you did made her heart race, made her head spin. You were so fucking pretty. It was almost unbearable. Vi wanted to get lost in you, wanted to feel her lips all over your skin, wanted to explore every inch of you until she knew you as well as she knew herself.

And she respected your boundaries more than anything. She wanted you to feel safe with her, to feel cherished, to feel like there was no rush.

But god, it was hard.

Every time you turned to her and smiled that soft, shy smile, when your fingers brushed against hers so innocently, it felt like you were silently asking for more—though you weren’t. The way you looked at her sometimes, the way you held her gaze when your lips brushed against hers, made it nearly impossible to keep herself in check.

In different situations, at a party, or even just in her apartment or yours, she’d excuse herself for a moment, retreating to the bathroom or something, just to compose herself. She’d close her eyes and huff a hard and heavy sigh, shamelessly picture it all in her head until it drove her insane. Then, she’d go back to you, a bit more touchy and loving, standing even closer than before, unable to get her eyes to look away from you. She’d smile that charming smile of hers when you turn to look at her and tell you it was nothing—even though it wasn’t nothing. Not when her eyes would keep falling to your soft lips, her hands itching at her sides to touch you in places people aren’t allowed to see, and her jaw clenching at the sight of you in such a pretty dress or whatever outfit you decided to put together that day.

Vi wasn’t perfect. Sometimes, she was just someone who wanted to touch you, to hold you, to feel your body pressed against hers. Every time you looked up at her, those soft eyes that sparkled when they met hers, she couldn’t help but think how much she wanted to kiss you, to make you feel as good as you made her feel.

But she holds herself back every time. And she’s quite proud of herself, actually.

Tonight, though, something felt different.

Vi couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt it deep in her bones. It wasn’t just the heat in the room or the way the soft glow of the TV flickered against your skin. It was the how you’d been leaning into her a little more tonight, just enough for her to notice the subtle shift in your body. And it wasn’t like before, when you’d shift away slightly or look at her with wide, hesitant eyes, unsure of the closeness.

Tonight, you didn’t do that. You leaned in closer.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat as she felt the warmth of your body pressing against hers. Her breath caught, the movie fading into the background as her attention narrowed to you. To the way your body fit so perfectly against hers. Her hand, which had been lazily resting on your waist, hands underneath your sweater, now slid lower, just a little bit—no big deal, just a gentle touch—but the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, made her pulse race. You didn’t look uncomfortable.

In fact, you looked like you were… waiting. Like you wanted her to touch you more.

Vi wasn’t one to back down from anything, but she had always been patient with you. Yet tonight, she felt the urge to push those boundaries just a little. Her fingertips slid from your waist to your hip, feeling the curve of you, the warmth of your skin beneath the soft fabric of your shirt.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you still didn’t pull away. Instead, your back arched just enough for her to notice, and your eyes flickered up to meet hers. That same shy smile of yours tugged at her heartstrings.

You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Vi could swear there was something more in your gaze—something that matched the heat she felt rising inside her.

She could feel her chest tighten with as thoughts of you—only you—filled her mind.

She wanted you. So badly.

Her breath came out in soft, breathless whimpers, and your name—your sweet, simple name—fell from her lips like a prayer.

“Baby…” she whispered against you, closing her eyes and letting out soft sigh.

It was so desperate, so soft.

There was no mistaking the need in her voice, the way her breath quickened, the raw hunger she was trying so hard to control, to be gentle with you, but it was obvious to you now that she was practically using every bone in her body to stay patient.

You could feel it in every inch of her, in the way her hands trembled just slightly, in the way her breath hitched as shelingered just out of reach of the place you both knew she desperately wanted to touch.

She dropped her head to your shoulder, her forehead resting gently against the soft curve of your neck as if she was trying to hide her feelings, to keep herself under control, but you could feel it in the way her body tensed, in the way her hands hovered close to you, shaking with the effort of keeping her restraint. She was trying so hard to stay composed, to be gentle, but it was clear she was on the edge, barely holding it together.

She wanted you. Needed you. And her restraint was slipping away with every passing second.

“Vi…”

At the sound of your voice, so soft and gentle, Vi’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. Her eyes were wide, waiting, like she’d been waiting for this moment, for you to say something—anything—to pull her back in. She looked almost like a puppy, the look on her face soft and eager, her lips slightly parted as if she were holding her breath, waiting for you to speak again.

She searched your eyes desperately, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you wanted, because nothing else mattered more.

“I’m here,” she breathed out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

She wanted you to know she was all in—her mind, her body, her heart. She was yours. And in that moment, it felt like nothing could tear her away from you.

“What do you need, baby?” she asked, the words falling from her lips desperately. “Tell me… please.”

Vi’s breath caught in her throat the moment you turned to face her, your eyes locking with hers as if everything else in the room disappeared. The movie was long forgotten by now and for a split second, Vi forgot how to breathe. God, you were so fucking pretty. She couldn’t help but melt as you reached up to gently brush a strand of her hair from her face.

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to let out a shaky breath as you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in the softest kiss she’d ever felt. It was sweet, but there was something more beneath it—something deeper.

You pulled away just enough for Vi to feel the coldness of the space left between you, and she immediately chased after your lips like a starved thing, her breath coming quicker, hands gripping your waist. Every inch of her body begged for you, aching to feel you pressed against her, to get closer, to melt into you until nothing else existed. She wanted more—needed more.

And then, your voice, soft and quiet, broke through the haze of her thoughts.

“I want you, Vi…” you whispered.

Your words were soft, almost shy, but they sent a wave of heat crashing through Vi’s chest. Her breath hitched at the sound of your voice, her heart racing even faster.

It was all she needed to hear.

She was lost in you, in the way you made her feel. She melted against you, her hands roaming up your sides, pulling you closer, her lips finding yours once again. This time, it was deeper, needier. She wanted you, more than she’d ever wanted anyone before. Every kiss, every touch, felt like it was both too much and not enough. Vi pulled you closer into her lap, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if she never wanted to let go.

“Fuck,” she whispered, voice shaky, a low groan escaping her throat as she pulled you even closer, her hands cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

You could feel it—the heat building low in your stomach, the wetness pooling in your panties, spreading through your body in waves with every touch of Vi’s hands on your skin. Her grip was firm, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist like she was trying to memorize you. You gasped softly as she shifted you higher in her arms. It was impossible not to react to her—the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, the way her voice dropped low and raspy when she whispered your name.

Vi couldn’t focus on anything else but you—your soft breath against her lips, your body pressed so close to hers, the way your fingers brushed against her skin. The movie was nothing but background noise now, and all she could think about how you felt, how you tasted, and how much she wanted you.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Vi pulled you closer, your legs straddling her waist. She could feel the weight of your body, the warmth of your skin, and the softness of your touch. You were everything she wanted and more, and Vi’s breath caught as she watched your eyes flicker with the same heat, the same desire that had been building for what felt like forever.

“Need you…” she whimpered, her voice low and needy, her hands already moving to settle more firmly around your waist.

She didn’t give you a moment to think before she stood up, lifting you with ease, her strong arms, muscles flexing, supporting you as if you weighed nothing, as if she’d done this a thousand times before.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist, your arms around her neck, and the heat of your body pressed against hers, the way you fit perfectly, like you were made to be in her arms. She could feel your pulse against her chest, your body trembling just slightly as she carried you through her apartment, heading toward the one place that she knew would be safe—her bedroom.

Vi’s hands moved carefully as she gently laid you down against her bed, her touch lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary. Her body hovered over yours, but she didn’t lean in right away. She paused instead, pulling back slightly to look at you. And god, the way she looked at you—it was like nothing else existed in the world except for you.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks under her gaze, her eyes roaming your face. Vi wasn’t in a rush now, even if her body ached for you. She could feel her heart pounding, her breath uneven as she just… stared. You looked so fucking pretty, she thought, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Her hands moved absently as she tugged at the hem of her own shirt, a random band tee she got on one of her birthdays, pulling it off in one quick motion and tossing it to the side without a second thought. Her toned body caught your attention immediately, and you felt your breath hitch as your eyes lingered on the taut muscles of her arms and the faint scars across her torso. But Vi didn’t even notice… not when her focus was entirely on you. She leaned back slightly, giving herself just enough room to drink you in.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, like the words weren’t meant for you to hear but spilled out anyway.

She reached for you again, her hands sliding over your waist as her thumbs brushed over your hips, thumbs tugging slightly on your shorts. Her mind was spinning, her heart hammering in her chest as she hovered over you. The reality of the moment hit her hard, making her stomach flip over and over.

Is this really happening? she thought, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on either side of your waist. Her throat tightened as she struggled to process it all. You’re really going to let me do this? You’re really trusting me like this?

She swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as her eyes roamed over your face. You were looking up at her with so much trust, and it was almost too much for her. Her chest ached in the best way, and a nervous, breathless laugh almost bubbled out of her throat. Vi was confident—she always had been—but this? This was something else entirely. This was someone she adored more than she could put into words, giving her something so special, so intimate, that she started to question if she even deserved it.

What did I do to deserve this? she thought, her mind racing. What did I do to deserve her?

Her palms grew clammy, nervous, and for a split second, she wondered if she was going to pass out from sheer excitement. Her head was spinning with a thousand thoughts—how to take her time, how to make it perfect, how to make sure you felt as loved and cherished as you deserved, as you made her feel.

“Vi,” you whispered softly, and she blinked, her trance breaking for just a moment as her eyes locked with yours.

Your breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against her cheek. And as she dipped her head down, her lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, you knew you were ready.

Vi’s fingers trembled slightly as they toyed with the hem of your shirt as she pulled back from the kiss for a moment. Her eyes darted between yours and the fabric she was clutching, her lips parted as though she was trying to find the right words.

Finally, she managed to ask, her voice low and almost shy, “Can I take this off?”

The eagerness in your nod made her breath hitch, and a soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, sounding almost disbelieving.

“Okay,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks pink and her grin wide as she tugged at your shirt gently, pulling it over your head.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent as her hands came to rest gently on your waist again.

And she… stared again. Here eyes traced every curve and dip of your exposed skin. Her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. You blushed hard as the seconds pass, squirming slightly under her gaze, biting your lip as you glanced away, feeling shy.

“Vi… Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, but Vi didn’t listen.

Instead, she laughed, lie and warm, and dropped her head to your shoulder. Her strong arms wrapped around your waist as she held you close, her breath warm against your skin.

“Sorry, baby… Can you blame me?” she murmured, her breath tickling your neck as she continued, “I’ve got the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen… looking up at me… waiting for me…”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile, even as you playfully shoved at her shoulder.

“Shut up,” you teased, though your voice betrayed the way your heart fluttered in your chest.

She smiled cheekily and lifted her head just enough to press a quick kiss to your neck, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. Her hands moved with softly as they slipped to the waistband of your shorts, her fingers brushing against your skin so lightly it sent shivers up your spine. She paused for a moment, as if giving you the chance to stop her, her gaze flickering back up to meet yours.

When you didn’t protest, only nodding softly with a nervous but eager look in your eyes, Vi let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound filled with both excitement and disbelief.

“Wanna make you feel good,” she murmured, more to herself than to you, and then she began to tug your shorts down your legs slowly.

Her calloused fingers grazed against the soft skin of your thighs as she worked them down. She didn’t rush, like she wanted to savor the moment, the sight of you beneath her, the way your breath hitched every time her fingers skimmed too close. She let the fabric fall to the floor before leaning back slightly, taking you in with wide, almost awestruck eyes.

“Perfect,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with emotion. Her hands rested on your knees, gently spreading them apart just enough for her to slip between your legs.

Her breath hitched as her eyes lingered on the damp spot on your panties. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue brushing over them. Her hands trembled just a little as she reached up, fingers grazing the straps of your bra.

“Let me,” she murmured, her voice low and soft.

You nodded, cheeks flushing as Vi carefully unhooked your bra and helped slide it off your shoulders. She tossed it aside, but her focus stayed entirely on you. Her gaze roamed over your tits, her hands smoothing up your sides. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your chest, then another lower, and another, her lips trailing down the valley between your breasts.

“My beautiful girl,” she whispered against your skin, her voice filled with awe and something deeper—something that made your heart race. Her kisses became firmer, needier, and you felt her nose nuzzle against the swell of your tits as she breathed you in, the pads of her thumbs softly rolling over your hard nipples.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, your fingers threading through her short pink hair as her mouth moved lower, leaving hickeys as she went. Vi looked up at you briefly, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as though she was about to say something. But instead, she simply smiled—soft and a little smug—and leaned back in, pressing another kiss to your lips that made your toes curl.

Vi’s voice was barely above a whisper, soft and warm against your skin as her fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.

“Can I?” she asked, her thumbs hooked around the waistband, tugging gently, as though she was testing your reaction before going any further.

Her gaze flicked up to meet yours, her blue eyes searching, waiting for your answer. You nodded slowly, the movement almost shy, and Vi let out a soft, shaky breath, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“Yes, please…”

She smiled and hummed, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. Her fingers moved carefully, sliding your panties down your hips and over your legs, and the moment they were gone, she tossed them aside, her eyes never leaving you.

“I love you…” she murmured so quietly as she leaned back in, her hands settling on your thighs, pushing them apart to get a better look at your pussy. “So pretty…”

She pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, her lips lingering, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands, strong but gentle, rested on your knees as she eased them further apart, creating even more space for herself.

Her lips lingered just above your skin, her warm breath fanning against you as she whispered, “You’ll tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You looked down at her, her face framed by the dim light filtering in, her pink hair tousled and her eyes staring with need and want, waiting for permission.

“I will,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. Your fingers instinctively moved to thread through her hair, pulling her just a little closer. “I trust you, Vi.”

Vi smiled softly at your words, and the sight made your chest tighten.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered, her lips brushing your skin again, and then she kissed you, slow and deep, as her hands moved to hold your thighs, her thumbs tracing lazy circles over your skin.

Her breath hitched as her fingers dipped lower, finally brushing against the wetness that had been teasing her imagination all night. When she felt just how slick you were, her chest rose and fell with a shuddering sigh, her lips parting in awe.

“Fuck…” she whispered, her voice breaking softly as she let the sensation sink in.

Her forehead rested briefly against your thigh, and you could feel the way her breath trembled, betraying just how much she’d been holding back. You squirmed beneath her touch, your breath catching at the slow pressure of her fingers as she explored you. She looked up at you then, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“You’re so wet,” she whispered.

Her fingers teased along your folds, and when she finally slid one inside, the quiet, shaky groan that escaped her lips sent a jolt of heat through you. Your soft moan filled the room, and it sent a shiver straight down Vi’s spine. The way you reacted to her touch, the way your body seemed to move with hers—it was intoxicating. She couldn’t stop herself from curling her finger inside of your pussy, and the sound you made in response nearly undid her completely.

“Tell me how it feels,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours as her finger moved slowly, her thumb grazing over your skin. “I wanna know… everything.”

Your voice came out in a shaky breath, soft and airy as you tried to keep up with the overwhelming sensations.

“F-feels good, Vi—” you managed to whisper, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

Vi’s breath hitched at your words, a flicker of pride and hunger lighting in her chest. She wanted to do good. For you. She paused only for a moment, her eyes never leaving your face as she carefully added another finger. The stretch was new, different, and it made you gasp sharply, your body tensing for just a second before melting into her bedsheets.

“Yeah?” Vi asked, her voice low and raspier now, almost shaking with how much she wanted to do this right, to make you feel good.

Her lips brush over the soft skin of your inner thigh as she fucked her fingers deeper into your pussy, curling just right. Your moans spilled out, filling the room, and Vi felt her entire body tremble with excitement.

“God, you’re so tight,” she groaned, her movements growing a little more confident as she found a pace that made your hips buck and your head fall back.

She quickened her pace, completely entranced by you. The way your face twisted in pleasure—cheeks flushed, mouth parted with those soft moans—sent a bolt of heat straight through her. She couldn’t look away.

She whimpered softly as her thumb circled your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from you that sent a wave of pride through her. But what really did her in was how fucking wet you were, the way it coated her fingers, the lewd squelching sounds filling the room with every thrust. Her mouth went dry, and her stomach flipped as she watched her fingers disappear inside you over and over again.

“Oh, fuck,” Vi murmured, her voice husky and low, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You’re so—so wet… baby, I—”

She cut herself off with a groan, unable to even form a coherent sentence, too lost in how good you felt clenching around her fingers. Her thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your back arching and your hands clawing at the sheets.

You looked so fucking pretty, it made her head spin.

Vi’s breath was shaky as she moved her fingers faster, desperate to pull you over the edge. Her thumb never faltered, pressing and circling your clit with just the right pressure.

She leaned closer, her forehead brushing yours, her voice soft but needy as she whimpered, “Tell me how good it feels, baby. Please… I need to hear you.”

Your moans spilled from your lips like music to her ears. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t slow down—not when she felt the way your wet pussy fluttered around her fingers, not when she could see how close you were.

“It’s so good, Vi—oh my god, it feels so good,” you managed to gasp, your voice breaking as your hips bucked against her hand.

Her focus entirely fixated on you, on the way your body responded to her touch. Her biceps flexed with every thrust into your pussy, the veins in her arms standing out as she poured herself into the task of making you fall apart. She groaned softly as she watched her fingers disappear into you, only to reappear glistening and slick before plunging back inside. The sound of it—the wet squelch—had her nearly delirious.

“So fucking pretty like this, baby.”

Her pace quickened, her fingers curling with precision, hitting that spot that had your back arching off the mattress. Your moans grew louder, less controlled, and Vi swore she could feel your body trembling as your thighs quivered against her.

“V-Vi! I-I’m gonna… cum! Gonna cum—“

“That’s it, pretty girl,” she rasped, her lips parted as she leaned closer, her forehead brushing against your stomach. She looked up briefly, her eyes dark as she took in the sight of you. “You’re so close—I can feel it. Cum for me, yeah? Please, I need to feel you.”

And then it happened.

Your body arched, your moans spilling out in broken cries as you clenched tightly around her fingers. Vi groaned loudly, the sound guttural and needy, as she felt you come undone around her. But she didn’t stop—not yet. Her fingers kept moving, her thumb circling your clit as she worked you through every wave of pleasure, desperate to draw it out for as long as she could.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she whispered, her voice shaky and reverent. “You’re so good for me, baby. So, so good.”

Vi let out a breath, a soft sigh of disbelief, as she pulled her fingers from you slowly after she let you ride out your high, her gaze never leaving your face. Her fingers were glistening with your cum, and she couldn’t help but stare in awe. The way you looked—completely undone, lost in pleasure—had her feeling like she was floating, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in.

Blue eyes traced the curve of your body, watching the way your skin glistened with sweat. She couldn’t help it—her mind blanked, a single thought echoing through her: God, she’s so fucking pretty. She was overwhelmed, feeling like she could never get enough of you, of the way your body responded to her, how perfect you were in her eyes, like you were made just for this. Every movement, every little breath, it was all just… mesmerizing.

She brought her fingers up and slid slowly them into her mouth, her gaze never leaving you as she savored the taste of you on her tongue. Oh, fuck! She needed more. Without thinking, her hands moved quickly, spreading your thighs further apart and her voice came out in a soft, needy whisper.

“Gotta taste you… just real quick,” she murmured so quietly, you barely heard it.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could process anything else, your body already reacting before your mind caught up. Instinctively, your fingers tangled in the strands of Vi’s pink hair, pulling hard, making her groan right into your wet pussy.

This was when you learned that Violet was a messy eater.

Her tongue pressed against folds, inside of you, occasionally sucking around your clit, the feeling of her mouth, wet and needy, sent a shiver through you. You couldn’t help but notice how she lost herself, her sounds louder and messier than you’d expected—like she was devouring you. She slurped everything up and you could feel yourself dripping and soaking her bedsheets beneath you.

God, her tongue felt so fucking good. It was almost too good. Fuck, she’s so good at this.

“V-Vi—” you cried out, your voice trembling, but she didn’t seem to hear you.

You tugged at her hair to let her know you were close, that you were going to cum again, and she didn’t slow down. If anything, it only spurred her on, her mouth sucking and slurping more and more, faster and harder. You cried out, the tension building in your lower body, and before you could even process it, she quickened her pace, her hands shifting from your thighs to intertwine with yours. The way she gripped your hand made you feel like she was holding you in place, ensuring you couldn’t pull away, even if you tried.

“I-I’m cumming again—Fuck—Vi-Violet!”

With a final gasp, your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing over you. The wave hit you all at once, and you came right on her tongue, your breath ragged, moans slipping from your lips uncontrollably. Vi held you through it, her grip on your hand tightening, her tongue slowing down on your pussy.

After a while, she finally lifted her head up and looked at you, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with exhaustion, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her face was flushed, her skin slick with sweat, and her chin glistened with your cum, like she was wearing it with pride.

She moved slowly, her lips trailing up your body. Her kisses were gentle at first, but the further she traveled, the more urgent they became, each one pressing deeper against your skin, right over each mark and hickey are left behind earlier. She kissed your stomach, your ribs, each kiss a little firmer, a little more hungry, until she reached your chest, her breath mingling with the heat of your skin.

When she finally reached your neck, she paused, her breath shaky against your skin, and you felt the faintest tremor under her fingertips. Then, without warning, she was kissing you again, her lips pressing against yours with a hunger that mirrored the one she’d just left between your legs, whimpering and moaning right into your mouth. You could taste yourself on her lips, a faint sweetness that made your pulse quicken all over again.

When the kiss broke, both of you were breathless, your lips swollen and tingling. Vi pulled back slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded, a soft smile playing on her lips as she gazed down at you.

“I love you,” she said.

You barely caught your breath, the lingering aftershocks from everything that had just passed through your body.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say, the words coming out breathlessly.

Her smile softened, her gaze melting into something tender as she stared down at you.

She bit her lower lip nervously before asking, “Did I do okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile lovingly at her, your heart swelling with affection. Without a word, your hands reached up to brush the mess of pink hair from her face, the softness of the gesture grounding you both in the moment. Her hair was tangled, strands sticking to her skin, but she was beautiful—more than beautiful, especially in this moment where everything felt real and raw.

“It felt… so good, Violet… You were perfect,” you whispered.

She held your gaze, her eyes flickering relief and pride. You leaned up slightly, brushing your lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, as if to reinforce what you’d just said. Perfect. In every way.

Vi’s lips curled into a smug, satisfied smile as she heard you, and you couldn’t help but notice the gleam in her eyes—proud, almost playful, like she knew exactly what she had just done to you. Without missing a beat, she leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck. She let herself collapse on top of you, her body heavy and warm, her muscles wrapping around you firmly. She nuzzled her face into your neck, her breath warm against your skin, close to your ear.

“I… I’m gonna let you rest, but…” Her voice was quiet, almost shy. She paused, just for a moment, before continuing, her words sending a thrill through you, “I wanna go again...“

You looked up at her, eyes widening slightly as you tried to catch your breath. Your arms wrapped around her loosely around her neck, your fingers brushing the hairs at the back of her head. Vi sighed at the feeling, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again to look at you, to plead with her eyes.

“Can we?”

That playful, confident side of her was back again, and you knew then, with absolute certainty, that you were in for a very long night.

thank u for reading :) | masterlist

#b’s writings #vi <3 #vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane x reader #league of legends #fanfic

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 months ago

Note

rafe having no boundaries and grabbing his girlfriend's ass in front of family during a family trip

A little Rafe and Sarah being siblings

—

‘’Can you not do that here?’’ Sarah grimaced after Rafe wandered in and smacked your ass on his way to the fridge. ‘’We’re cooking. That’s gross.’’

You and Sarah had woken up earlier than everyone else and decided to whip some pancake batter. They were coming along nicely, slowly piling up on a plate.

Rafe rolled his eyes in response and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘’Chill out, Sarah. I’m just saying ‘good morning’ to my girl.’’

Sarah scoffed, giving him a glare as you flipped out the pancake in the pan. ‘’Well, keep your 'good mornings' to yourself until after breakfast and when I’m not around, alright? I’ve seen and heard enough things I didn’t want to.’’

Your cheeks turned red and you kept your eyes on the pan, embarrassed as memories of Sarah catching you topless in their pool and all the times she heard you through the walls of Tannyhill before Rafe got his own place. You’ll never apologize to her enough.

‘’Stop acting like a prude. I’ve heard you on the phone with that pogue you’re seeing. Ahh, John B., I wish your fingers were inside me. I’m so close, I need to—’’

Sarah grabbed a blueberry and threw it at her brother, her face burning hot at his mockery. If eyes could kill, Rafe would be a dead man. She looked murderous.

Rafe smirked, unfazed by the blueberry that was thrown his way. He crossed his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement. ‘’These walls are old. Did you think I couldn’t hear you?’’

To avoid a Sarah vs Rafe duel from happening, you asked Rafe if he wanted chocolate chips or blueberries in his pancakes. You already knew the answer, but you needed to defuse the bomb before it would explode.

‘’Blueberries. You know how I like my pancakes, baby,’’ he said, pushing himself off the counter and closing the distance between you and him in a few strides.

Sarah shot a glare in his direction, her eyes narrowing, but Rafe chose to ignore her and kiss your shoulder, standing right behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back and resting his chin above your shoulder.

‘’Rafe, you’re distracting me,’’ you warned, pouring batter in the pan and adding some blueberries.

Rafe laughed lowly, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips lingering on your skin for a few seconds. ‘’These look good. Think we can take the pancakes to bed after you’re done?’’

Breakfast in bed, away from everyone else, sounded tempting. You've had breakfast with the Camerons since you arrived, sticking to the polite routine. You missed being alone with Rafe in the morning, taking it slow and engaging in non-PG activities.

Before you answered, Sarah cleared her throat beside you, a disapproving look on her face. Rafe thought he was subtle and sleek when he had his hand wander under your robe.

He lifted his head and gave her a cocky grin. ''What?''

‘’In case you forgot, I’m still here,'' the blonde recalled, taking a few plates from the cupboards and deciding to set the table. ‘’And Wheezie and Dad and Rose are gonna come down soon.’’

‘’I know,'' Rafe replied, stepping back and letting you finish the pancakes. ''If you had not been here, I would have her bent over the counter already.’’

His words should have shocked you, but you were used to his bluntness by now. Rafe never held back, always saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter how outrageous. No matter the audience. You thought he would behave and tone it down with Wheezie in the house, but he didn’t.

Thankfully, her young ears were not around.

You looked over your shoulder, failing at hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lip.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina@eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx@sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc @pedrosprincess @mikaelsonsstuff @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @madelynie @loverofdrewstarkey @radiant-whore @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696 @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius @buckyswhxre @emerald-09 @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey @ynmunson @riddle18 @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron obx

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robinsgrl · 2 months ago

Text

toxic baby daddy rafe does something to me. no soft rafe (only with his girls and only sometimes). he’s abrasive and harsh. even more when someone messes with you. yooo where my panties at

mdni 18+

It’s been three months. Three months without Rafe as your boyfriend. Three months of his only title in your life being your baby daddy. There were days where you would refuse to even call him that.

In high school, you loved the sound of his voice. You loved how the palm of his hand felt at the small of your back. You loved that being around him brought you a sense of peace.

Now, all you two do is argue. About everything and anything. Even if you do start half of them. Not now, though.

“What I do in my spare time is none of your business!” Luckily, Samara’s in the living room, her noise cancelling headphones on as she watches some YouTube show, giggling when something funny comes up. You’d usually try and pay attention to her screen time but you can’t when Rafe is in your home and bitching at you.

“So you’re whoring it up when Samara’s with me?” His words are harsh, spitting them at you.

Your eyes are wide and bewildered as you look up at him, chest rising and falling from the intense match you’re having. “Listen to yourself! Whoring it up? Are you from the fifties? Women can have sex without being called a whore nowadays!”

“So you are fucking someone? Who is he.” It’s not a question. It’s a goddamn demand and you hate the way it makes your knees feel weak.

You scoff loudly, rolling your eyes. “I’m not fucking anyone.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, ___, Topper fucking saw you.”

“Topper’s your dick rider.” You spit back out. It comes without warning. His big hand falls on your neck, tightening around you. Your back pushes up against the wall, eyes wide and up on his as he stares down at you angrily.

His face nears yours, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. A shudder runs through your body and you want to shut your legs to help ease the sensation between them but he forces his knee to you. “I’ll kill any man who gets near you, do you fucking hear me?” His words are low and menacing. From anyone else, it’d be scary. It’d drive you away and straight to goddamn police station. But from him? You can’t deny how good it feels.

Rafe’s always been protective of you. Since you two met, he’s hovered around you like a scary dog, growling at anyone who came your way. It grew when you got knocked up in your senior year of high school. And it grew tenfold when your baby girl was born. But it got to be suffocating. You broke it off with him and it took him two weeks to realize you were being serious.

You would never admit that you made a mistake. Not ever. Admitting that you miss him only lets him win. It gives him a point. And yes, you should be mature enough to realize this isn’t a game but he’s so damn cocky about it. The last thing you need from Rafe is a bigger ego.

“Who is he?”

“Eric. Eric Jones.” You admit easily, breath shaky and full of a need for him.

“Did he fuck you?”

You can’t answer. He repeats himself.

“Did he fuck you?”

You nod, hands falling to his arm as his hand tightens on your neck. His eyes won’t leave your face, taking you in completely. You can see it all. The anger. The jealousy. The twinge of hurt. He pulls his hand from your neck and pulls away from you. “Call your mother. Tell her to pick Samara up.”

“What?”

“Just fucking do it.” And you do. Like always, you do as told and Samara’s off with her grandma for the night.

“He can’t fuck you like I can.” You’re a drooling mess as he pounds into you from behind, the sound of skin on skin meeting fills the room. His hand is in your hair, forcing your head back. “Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

The moans and whimpers coming from you won’t stop. You try to form words as he keeps shattering your world but it won’t come out. “Fucking slut. Answer me.” His hands trail down to your neck, pushing you up slightly to sit as he keeps fucking into you. Your back arches up against him, toes curling as you feel the building ache in the bottom of your belly.

He groans loudly as he feels your walls clench down on him as you curse out loud, grinding down on him to reach that peak you want so badly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight. He couldn’t even fuck you right, could he? My poor girl, getting fucked by amateurs.” His fingers trail down to your freed tits, pinching at your pebbled nipples. “I don’t care what break you think we’re on, when you need a good fucking, come to me. No one can ever make you this cock drunk.”

You’re nodding frantically, “yes, yes, fuck, Rafe! Rafe! Oh, fuck!” You come undone when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing at your sensitive and pulsing bundle of nerves.

At this very moment, you’re grateful for the house that Rafe bought you instead of cooping up in the one bedroom apartment you wanted when you moved out of his place. You had hated the power he had for giving you such a nice place but you’re grateful now as you moan and yell his name, body convulsing as his fingers keep working against you.

“Raaaafe, fuck!” He’s pushing deep and deeper as he pushes your front side back onto the bed. The overstimulation is making you writhe beneath him, pretty whimpers leaving your swollen and reddened lips. You can tell he’s reaching his own end when his thrusts become harder and longer, momentum slowing.

One pump. Two pumps. Three. Four. And he’s groaning in your ear, his front pressed up against your back as he comes inside of you from behind, your cunt fluttering around him at the full feeling of his load.

—

You awaken hours later to the bed dipping beside you. You had fallen asleep in Rafe’s arms after he had cleaned you up and whispered soothing and sweet nothings into your ear.

“Rafe?” You sit up tiredly, rubbing at your eyes to wipe the sleep away. His back is turned to you, the most relaxed you’d seen him in a while.

You scooch closer to him, pinched eyes trying to take a look at him. A small gasp leaves you as you see his bloodied and scarred hands. “Go back to sleep, baby.” His polo is covered in dribbles of blood, some drops of it drying up on his face.

You want to ask questions. You want to clean him up. But you can’t. You’re not a very good liar and the last time the police came around asking for your help, you almost broke, but Rafe was always thinking of you, his lawyer cleaning up the mess you made with the police. He had kissed and soothed you down from your teary apologies that night for being weak.

You nod, yawning softly, “okay… just… put the shirt in the wash.” It’s his turn to nod, a soft smile on his face as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe thoughts #rafe drabble #rafe cameron drabble #outer banks smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #yall I haven’t written smut in a while #hope i did well lol

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shycoconutt · 3 months ago

Text

“S–hic–so full, Ken,” you whimper as the last ropes of his cum spill out into your insides. You have never felt a sensation like this before, being absolutely filled to the brim with all of what Nanami Kento has to offer.

You feel the deep hum Nanami lets out in response everywhere–his overwhelming being currently consuming your own. Currently mounted over you, he holds you up by the plush of your ass so your hips are lifted to meet his thrusts. Your body is so contorted that your knees fall and press against your shoulders with every piston of his cock. How the hell did you even end up in this position?

“Oh darling, fuck, I missed you so much,” he moans as he languidly pushes his cock in and out of your sopping wet pussy. You watch as his abdomen flexes with every thrust, and you can’t help but marvel at how the low light of your bedroom reflects on his glistening, sweat-slicked skin. Eyes trailing upward, you soak in the constellation of freckles on his shoulders, the swell of his deltoid muscles, the way his damp hair falls forward, messy and unkempt after rounds of orgasms.

Another one of his moans snaps you out of your trance, and you focus your eyes to meet his blown-out, lust-filled gaze. Instinctually, your walls clench at the sight, and your eyes widen in horror when you realize it’s too late.

“Tsk,” he smirks as he breaks his gaze from your own to down where you’re both connected, “she’s so greedy, begging for more after all I’ve given her.”

One of his hands leaves your ass to swipe a thumb against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and clench again. “Should I give her what she wants, sweetheart?”

“I-I don’t think there’s any more room, Ken, you’ve filled me up so much,” you mewl.

His eyes flick up again as your words trail off, and you can’t help but notice how the intention behind them has changed, looking as if he has been given a new life–a new meaning. Reaching somewhere behind him, he fiddles around until he finds what he’s looking for–his phone.

Slowly, he shifts backwards to release himself from your gushing heat, being careful to not let any of his seed spill from your folds. He groans as his tip finally slips out and quickly grabs your hand to press against your opening.

“Yeah, just like that, hold it all in for me,” he praises.

You feel your heartbeat quicken, curious and interested. Climbing off the bed, he stands off to the side and holds out his hand, beckoning you to join him, which you do without question.

“There we go, pretty girl, stand right here for me.”

Following his request, you stand before him with your hand still pressed up against yourself. You feel yourself tremble, not in worry, but in anticipation of what’s to come. Nanami must have taken note, because he is now grazing his fingers up and down the skin of your shoulder.

Leaning in close, lips ghosting over your own, he whispers, “Do you trust me?”

“Always, Ken.”

Your heart flutters as he smiles and kisses you, tongue slipping from his parted mouth to swipe your lower lip. With one final peck, he keeps eye contact with you as he kneels, light pooling into the room from the flashlight of his phone.

You hear a little ding, signaling that he is recording.

“Do you remember what you said to me, baby?” he murmurs, voice filled with love and adoration as he points the camera up to you while his other hand rests against your lower tummy.

“W-what I said?” you stutter, mind trying to think back to moments ago.

“Yes.”

You try to think, mind still in a daze. What you said?

Oh.

Ah.

So this is what he wants.

Looking at the camera, eyes blinded by the light, you pout, “I don’t think there’s any more room, Ken, you’ve filled me up sooo much.”

You hear a soft groan, and the light moves down your body to your lower half.

“Show me.”

Slowly, you remove your hand from your core, a mix of your cum and his already pooling at your fingertips, to place your hand above his own on your abdomen. You don’t have to look down to confirm–hot liquid is already dripping down your thighs at an intense rate.

You jolt and gasp when you feel his firm hand pressing into your body, a fresh new wave of semen spilling from your insides. There’s so much–maybe too much–as it trickles past your knees. There’s another groan that escapes from Nanami’s lips.

“Good girl.”

Your body is trembling, your pussy fluttering around nothing, just wanting so badly to be filled again and again. Would it be so bad to ask for more?

a/n: well, well, well, here we are again. what can I say? nanami kento is always on my mind. hope you enjoy! ੈ♡˳

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fushitoru · 2 months ago

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all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

#aashi writes #gojo x reader #Gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo Satoru x you #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo Satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo Satoru #gojo

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velvetydream · 1 year ago

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꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x reader #x you #x reader #imagine #imagines #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine

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jjk4isen · 5 months ago

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ꗃ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 .

❝ answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and holding me— was she the one on your mind? ❞

summary: it's hard knowing you aren't really the person in toji's heart but loving him was something you still did regardless. as for toji, he thinks he's ready to give you his all.

desc: 2.8k words, f!reader (referred to as ‘mama’), canon compliant i think, takes place after mamaguro's death and before toji’s, age gap (early 20s reader, early 30s toji), baby gumi ahhhhh, sfw, angst to fluff to angst again lol, intended lowercase, think you're tsumiki’s mom but without tsumiki bc the relations would be too complicated and also the second wife erasure in the canon storyline?? yeah it's reserved specifically for this fic, not proof read i fear but pls read it's really interesting i can swear by it lmaoqhdhns

dating a widowed man with a son wasn't easy especially when the said man is still in love with his former wife, or rather, his wife who had died.

love is often beautiful but sometimes it's unfair. it can also be cruel. what other reason would make you still stay despite knowing you'll never measure upto the person who had been here before you?

and you've heard stories about her. she was sweet, so beautiful— not just in her appearance but her entire being was beautiful. there always was an ache in your heart upon just the mention of her name.

so how much more would it have ached for toji?

“mama” the spiky haired boy, barely two years old calls you and you realise the silence in the room. “not mama, i’m nana okay?” sick.

nana. not mama but close enough. it doesn't matter anyway, n and m are just letters and next to each other so how much difference would that make? you're the one that's here after all, are you not?

if there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears, you force yourself to ignore.

“okay nana” megumi nuzzles his face into your chest, slowly drifting away to sleep. the boy always liked cuddling with you and it melts your heart immensely.

your hands strand through his dark hair. people always said he's the carbon copy of his dad but you'd like to differ. megumi has his mother's eyes and his hair resembled hers more than it did his dad's.

the thought sends another ache in your chest but you push it away– as you always have.

you recall the last time toji had heard megumi call you “mama”. you had never seen toji that livid. he was never a gentle man to begin with but that night, there was nothing else you've been more scared of.

was he like that to his wife? maybe not.

does that matter though? it's not like toji treats you badly. he's decent and loves you an enough amount. you weren't crazy enough to stay when you're not wanted so that must mean you were something to him right?

you also recall the whispers of pity and condemnation thrown at you for just being with toji. him being a brute is one thing but the difference in age is what people seem to have a problem with. you're so much younger than him and have your whole life ahead of you so why are you entrapping yourself this way?

you disagree though. love doesn't know any age and you definitely aren't naive to be head over heels over a guy just because he's relatively older. no, this was real and genuine.

a faint knock disrupts your train of thoughts. “he sleepin’?” toji nods towards the small boy in your arms and you nod back in return.

taking care not to wake the sleeping kid, you slowly pry his hands away from you and pull over a blanket to cover his small body.

when you make your way towards toji, he wastes no time in pulling you closer “missed you” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your forehead and suddenly all thoughts plaguing your mind disappears. that's all you could ask for, even if it was just for a moment.

“i missed you more” you whisper back, he only huffs out an amused chuckle.

“got bad news though” a frown finds itself on his lips, decorated by a single scar next to it.

“did you lose all your money again?” toji was a gambling addict, another thing you forced yourself to tolerate just for him.

“sorry, doll. thought i’d win this time” he rubs small circles on your back comfortingly and it makes you a bit uneasy to know that he has his way with you so easily.

“it's alright. i’ll just find another part time job”

“so good to me” toji pulls you into his chest and you let out a sigh— of exhaustion? relief? you couldn't really tell but that's not important, toji had you in his arms.

“i’ll try and think of something too. don't worry your pretty little head too much” he lifts you up with ease. while you're in his arms, you feel the safest.

toji really felt bad this time. he was confident he would win but that stupid horse had to trip and lose its lead, ending up last of all places. he knows luck never favoured him but that's didn't stop him from trying again and again and again.

he also knows how you didn't say anything more than necessary about it but he isn't that much of an idiot either. he sees how your expression falters and your shoulders slump a little more when he comes home with another news of his gambling loss.

this is also why he tries, or rather, tried to quit — one too many times, unbeknownst to you. however, old habits die hard and most of the time (everytime) toji gives into his urge and loses yet again. the cycle keeps happening.

maybe this isn't just about gambling.

with the way you're asleep so soundly next to him after putting his son to sleep and taking care of him too, he is overcomed with yet another feeling to be better for you and megumi alike.

toji isn't a gentle man; everyone knows that, you do too — even more than anybody else but he can't help the familiar pool of warm feelings surging through him the longer he stares at your peaceful state.

he remembers the last time he felt it, with another person. it felt like a lifetime ago.

he also remembers how painful it was when he lost it — the person, the feeling altogether. his hands that were making their way to caress your face stops mid air.

toji knows you deserve so much better. you've been nothing but patient to him, so amazing, so perfect to him. still, he just can't do it yet, just not yet.

he will eventually, he hopes you stay until then.

toji wakes up to an empty bed and his heart sinks a little but the creases and wrinkles on the sheets serve as a reminder that you were really here.

he makes his way towards the kitchen, only finding megumi sitting on a chair next to the dining table.

“hey kid, where's your mama?”

toji freezes. it came out so naturally he didn't realise he said it himself and almost thinks he didn't but megumi's wide eyes prove that he actually did.

“m…mama?” megumi says hesitantly and toji nods this time. “yes, your mama”.

“potty potty!” megumi points to the bathroom and giggles, toji follows suit. the man crouches to his son's eye level and pats his head.

“you love your mama, kid?” toji sees megumi's eyes sparkle as the boy nods enthusiastically “very very much!!”

“yeah? i love your mama too.”

toji smiles to himself, he can't wait to tell that to you.

the next time toji got his pay, he finds himself hesitating. instead of heading towards the race tracks, his feet takes him to a jewellery store.

instead of picking out a slot and testing his luck, he picks out a ring. it's not fancy by any means but he thinks it would be the most beautiful band of metal to exist if it slides into your ring finger.

the tiny ring carries all the heavy feelings he has for you.

──

it was one particular evening when you saw an old man lingering by the front gate. its particular because the warm sunset and the soft cool breeze contrasted the ground breaking truth you find out.

“can i help you?” you ask the old man who looks at you up and down, not making an attempt to hide his distaste of your sight.

“is this where toji zenin lives?” he stares down at you with his scrutinising gaze; it makes you feel small.

“zenin?” you ask, confused. is he referring to toji? but his last name is fushiguro is it not?

“yes toji zenin. i heard he has a son as well. you're not the mother are you?”

is it that obvious? you wonder how the old man figured it out. regardless, you're not about to give him his answers so you stood your ground.

“i’m sorry i don't know what you're talking about.” you turn around, about to head inside when his words make you stop short.

“are you fushiguro?”

that's toji’s last name isn't it? not zenin or whatever he called it. so why is he asking you that? is he implying that you're married to toji?

“no. you have the wrong person.”

“why? did he say not to get involved with anyone from his clan?” the old man draws closer, chucking to himself. you're just there unmoving, trying to comprehend the situation and the words coming from his mouth.

“or did he not tell you that either? did he tell you anything at all?” he stands tall in front of you, tearing away bits of yourself with every word he says.

“when he returns, tell him the clan wants to propose him an offer. you can do that much at least won't you?”

…

and when toji comes home that night with the ring cluched tightly in his fist and inside the pocket of his white pants, the world stills.

he finds you in a state he has never seen you before. you look completely and utterly defeated.

“hey, what's wrong?” his hands come to caress your face so effortlessly, the ring and prior nervousness long forgotten.

“talk to me what's going on?” he looks around and the house seems emptier than usual. your laundry that were usually hanging with his were gone.

your small trinkets you placed around the house to “make it more lively” were nowhere to be found.

and there's a bag in the corner of the room which toji prays and hopes he isn't what he thinks it is.

your hands push away his own that were cupping your face. you're not even looking at him.

“say something damn it!”

you flinch and toji takes a step back. he recalls the last time you trembled in fear — when he got mad megumi called you his mom. he punishes himself for it.

“im sorry. please talk to me.” he isn't touching you now but he wants to. he wants to reach out and pull you close, as he always had done. but now there's an unbearable silence and the small distance between you both felt like lightyears away.

“who's zenin” your voice was meek, barely a whisper but toji's eyes widen. how did you find out about that?

no fuck that, he was supposed to be the one telling you. in his own time.

“i can explain” was all that came out of him. he's nervous, he doesn't know where to start. there's a lot of information to unpack and he's not sure how to do it without hurting you too much.

when he doesn't elaborate, you ask another “who's fushiguro then?” your voice falters a bit and toji curses himself for it.

but he's done running away and keeping things from you. “my… my late wife” he says wryly.

your eyes close and a shaky breath leaves your body, as if he just confirmed your worst suspicions. damn life is so funny isn't it? everything you thought you knew apparently wasn't what it seemed to be after all.

opening them again, your vision blurs and you realise tears were escaping your eyes. fuck you didn't want to cry now of all times but they won't stop.

and the way toji was looking at you, it makes you want to throw up.

“i must've been so stupid to you” you let out a humourless chuckle. “did you pretend im her?”

your gaze was sharp and so were your words. maybe all your bottled up feelings were resurfacing. it doesn't make you feel better about it but that doesn't stop you though.

“answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and when you're holding me, was she the one on your mind??” your voice was loud now. you should be afraid of waking up megumi who you cradled to sleep just a few hours ago but no, your thoughts are too clouded right now.

toji sighs. he has no excuse.

“i used to” he actually looks ashamed as if he wasn't the one who did it purely out of his will.

your scoff makes him wince “but not anymore.”

his words fall on deaf ears “you know… i knew you did. but i stayed regardless because i thought there would be a chance that maybe one day, you could open up your heart to me. im not even asking for all of it, just a little… i thought you'd let me in.”

you're blabbering and honestly, so distraught.

“but not a moment was there when it was me isn't it? it was always her in the first place.”

now toji should have said something, anything but he stays there planted in place. and maybe that was your breaking point.

you turn around, grabbing your bag and brushing past him towards the door. instead of holding onto you and stopping you, toji clutches the small box containing the ring — your ring in his pocket, almost crushing it in the process, as he hears the door slam.

you think it's funny how toji did not reach out after what happened. it's poetic even. very fitting of him, till the very end, he did not give two shits about you.

so then, why were you back here?

it's been four long years since the trajectory of your life changed. you still don't know if it was for the better or for the worse.

saying it has been hard would be an understatement. it took you a long time just to get back onto your own feet but you did it regardless. however, you left a part of you here long ago and now, you're here to take it back.

that and you missed megumi dearly. perhaps it was an excuse too because you won't deny a part of you still missed toji, despite everything that happened.

standing a few feet away from the place you used to call home, you hesitate.

maybe this was a bad idea. oh this was definitely a bad idea. you'll see them, and then what? what comes after that?

closure? don't make yourself laugh. you’ll just be reminded of how you couldn't be that person for toji— how you'll always come second. and what if they moved?? there's no reason they'd still be here right?

forget this, you don't need to do this. why must you still be the one who put effort? to reach out? four long years passed and still no news means they clearly moved on... right?

you were convinced enough and was about to go back when you saw little megumi carrying a backpack on his back, seemingly coming home from school.

your feet wouldn't move and your eyes wouldn't blink. he grew up so well.

the world pauses as your gaze follows the kid you used to consider your own, now as good as a stranger.

“do you know that kid?” a voice at your back makes you whip your head around. life really is full of surprises and this time, the surprise was in the form of a tall man, no a tall kid with white hair, looking at you curiously through his round tinted glasses.

“... no i don't” well you weren't exactly lying. you don't know the megumi you see now. perhaps if he asked whether you raised him since he was a baby till he was two, then your answer would've been different.

“oh okay” the boy shrugs. “poor guy though”

“why? whats up with him?” you turn to look at megumi again who was minding his business walking home and your heart aches a little.

“I'm here to recruit him. his dad died you see so he's–”

“wait what was that??”

“his dad. he's dead” the amused boy in front of you chuckles and you stare at him, horrified.

“what happened to him?” your voice was shaky and doesn't sound like your own. he leans down to meet your eye level and smirks “why? i thought you don't know that kid. why does that matter to you?”

your stomach churns as you stare at him, not even knowing what to say— the smug expression on his face only widens.

“so you do know him.”

'know' would be a weak word to use when it comes to toji. you knew of his habits, the simple things he does and also of the more complex ones — like the exact place his scar decorated his lips and how it felt to kiss it.

then again, you don't really know anything about him and maybe you never will.

and maybe that's really, the closure you needed.

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