#trips and this spills out of my pocket

[steveshairychest]

"Love is a curse."

His mother had spat the words down into her glass of wine when Steve was 14, just after he admitted to having a crush on a girl in his class. He never mentioned loving her. He'd only spoken to her a few times and he thought the way she smiled and twirled her hair was cute. He'd hoped his mother would share in his excitement; it was his first real crush, after all.

But she wouldn't even look at him. She scowled down into her emptying glass and said. "Don't waste your time, Steven."

Steve should have expected as much from her, she's always been a bitter, sad woman. Every night she stumbled around the house, glass of wine in one hand, a cigarette in the other, as she listed off all the things she could be doing if she hadn't fallen in love with his dad, if she hadn't of had Steve.

"Love ruined me." She'd wail and whine, the sound echoing around the house and reaching Steve in his room.

He never understood how she could hate love so much.

All the stories he's read and movies he's watched all depict love as this bright, wondrous thing, not as the dark, soul crushing beast his mother depicts it as. Love is supposed to be soft and sweet, it's supposed to be gentle touches and shy smiles, it's first dates and first kisses. It's everything Steve wants.

He wants so badly to be in love, to be loved, to prove his mother wrong.

He knows that when he finally falls in love, it will be the best thing that's ever happened to him and he'll be able to look his mother in the eye and say, "You were wrong."

Except, years later, Steve finally learns that she wasn't wrong. It is a curse. It sinks its dark claws into you and rips you apart when you least expect it.

Steve comes to realise this in the upside down. He finally understands that love hurts. It rips you apart and leaves you dry heaving up parts of your heart. It makes you cradle someone you love, someone you thought you would have a life with, in your arms as they bleed out everywhere. "Eddie, no, please." His heart is in sharp little pieces as he rocks Eddie's lifeless body, bits of his broken heart stab him from within and cause him to scream and shout and beg whatever god that was listening to fix this, to bring his friend, his love, back. But no one is listening.

He never thought love would hurt like this, never thought he'd feel the ache his mother wailed about.

Never thought he'd agree with her.

But he whispers the same words she'd spat at him all those years ago to himself days later as he watches the empty coffin slowly lower into the ground.

"Love is a curse."

[xamaxenta]

I’m normal about him

[faemytho]

um. oops (starts shipping timekeeper and abyss monarch)

[snazzy-suit]

Resident Evil 4 (2023)

Chapter 3

[disastersteps]

theres something about looking at 2019 anita and noticing the change over the years since i first created them-

sidestep!anita in 2019 did have that hair- they still go nonbinary but there wasn't a thought of them being trans masc at all. they were much more softer and sweeter iirc, i used to view them as the baby of the team.

sidestep!anita in 2023 (this year) have me grab them and rattles them nowadays. they're still nonbinary and they're still a lesbian- but i gave them being trans masc and so recently they're on T which is probably why they looks so much more masc and frankly im happy with the current design!! and they're more a little shit, was pretty chatty (especially after they achieved getting a deep pitch they want). OH and i gave them circular glasses which had became their signature in this verse (and in other universes sdgmsmd)

only thing that doesn't change is their love for the world that is stolen away by trauma(s) <3 (outsider scar babeee lets gooo)

[blackwaxidol]

scrawling lengthy tangents about Valin and his Behaviours on my other blog...

[405blazeitt]

i should post something that isn't me making fun of a random right wing twitter user so that anyone who stumbles across my blog before i wake up tomorrow doesn't miss the irony and think i'm a red-pilled sigma incel trad whatever the hell

[wild-jackalope]

First time having sex is awkward!

pairing :: Virgin!Megumi x Virgin!Reader

warning :: college/university AU, awkward sex, safe sex (finally), lingerie stuff, fingering, slight overstim, very soft, would you hate me if I said this wasn’t rly proof read, need this out of my drafts asap

note :: very inspired by @sonotpattismith fic Hold Me And Explore Me, here’s the link!

For the years you’ve been friends with Megumi you’ve never ever known him to discuss a single intimate topic. For the five months you’ve been in a relationship with him, that fact never changed.

Megumi was a prude, basically.

It wasn’t as though you were one to spill secrets about your personal moments either. Occasionally you’d let the odd story slip when drunk (mainly letting loose some poor experiences being felt up during your younger years of dating), but other than that, you kept your mouth shut.

So when Maki asked you a completely out of pocket question, both you and your boyfriend turned to ice.

“Have the two of you even fucked yet?”

No. Of course you haven’t. You hadn’t even come close! Despite the air being thickened by everyone’s collective drunkenness, you felt a small part of you would resent Maki for the rest of your life after putting you in this situation.

Your jaw slacked open and you took in a breath. The truth lilting on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t ask personal questions like that.” Megumi cut, to everyone’s collective disappointment, they groaned. Somewhat tipsy himself, Megumi still had the clarity to get the others off your scent and thankfully his harsh words had sent them on another chatting spree devoid of your sex life.

Maki, keen gaze still locked on both you and Megumi, muttered a swift. “Guess you haven’t put that set to use, huh.” Before taking a sip of her vodka mix.

You flushed immediately, embarrassment mixing with the warm alcohol in your bloodstream, coating your cheeks a deep plum colour. Mortification filling your wide eyes, you glanced at Megumi who held an unbothered expression, one of boredom and calm.

But for a split second, his dark blues swiped over you and you caught the slightest hint of curiosity in his narrow gaze. What set?

You snapped your head forward, neck aching from the whiplash.

The ‘set’ Maki was referring to, was bought during a shopping trip Nobara invited both of you to. She needed a refill on her skincare items, Maki needed a new set of sports bras and you needed an excuse to leave your dorm room.

Maki’s chosen store was the closest, so the three of you headed there first. Inside, your eyes caught on the walls covered with expensive underwear made of lace and silk hanging on thin mannequins.

“I should get a new bra, too, my favourites are getting worn out.” Nobara mumbled, looking at the odd racks assembled by colour and size.

A particularly captivating bodysuit grabbed your attention; a smooth ivory piece decorated with straps and shining gemstones, having tuffs of silk peak out of the sides like a skirt and wings. The shiny fabric called to rest comfortably against your skin. It was the most expensive, being shown off at the front of the store to lure young women who wanted to wrap their pretty bodies and show off to their boyfriends. Just like you.

“That one’s too cutesy.” Nobara uttered, following your tranced gaze. “Lingerie is a scam anyway, truth is men don’t even care. They just take it off.”

That was right, Nobara had had sex. Unlike you.

“Would you… help me pick something nice out?” You asked, a gentle and shy invitation.

Despite her previous slander of lingerie, her cheeks glowed in excitement. “Sure. For you and Fushiguro, right?”

“I guess so.” You kindly but nervously replied. Nobara lead you deeper into the store, coming to a back wall with more designs, all notably darker with plenty more lace.

She gazed over the options. “What do you usually like to wear?” She asked.

“I don’t know— nothing?” You responded, awkward hand lifting to fiddle with a purple bralet.

Nobara side eyed you, giving a suspicious look before she asked— much too casually. “First time?”

“Yes.” You nodded, the fabric of the bralet suddenly becoming very interesting!

“First time with Fushiguro, or?” Her trail lilted delicately, hopefully displaying herself as a safe person to spill your secrets to.

“First, first time.” You uttered quietly.

In a quick swish, Nobara grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to her. “Seriously?” She asked.

“Yes, seriously. Is it hard to believe?” You frowned, too mortified for her questioning.

She nodded. “Yes! You’re a total catch.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.” You added, hands defensively rising to your chest. “I’ve been in relationships before, I’ve—” you lowered your voice. “I’ve fooled around.”

“Oh I bet you have.” She added, grin replacing her surprised gape.

“Stop it, you’re so embarrassing.” You pushed against her shoulder, freeing yourself from her death grip.

“Okay, first set, first set.” Mind now back to the mission, she returned to the racks of bras and thongs. “You should have something simple, but sexy. Black, too.”

“Why black?” Plenty of other colours filled the store.

“Fushiguro likes dark things, so he’ll like black on you.” The sensible explanation left her with a shrug.

Would that really be the case? Would Megumi look at your body being cupped by expensive black fabric and yearn for you? You could hardly imagine it. Megumi was never eager for anything, he was the type of guy to react to things with tame calmness. Would he blush? Reach to touch you? Kiss you?

Nobara handed you a neat, black matching bra and thong. “Go try this on.” She instructed, offering you an encouraging smile.

Face to face with your lewdly dressed body and flushed expression in the dressing room only made your anxiousness grow. Nobara had picked a beautiful set, a nicely patterned lace bra broken up by thick black straps pushed up your boobs, coined by a gemstone hanging off the middle. Small ripples of black sheer peaked from the supportive boning, similarly decorating the thin black straps curving around your hips holding up the lacy thong which too, had a gemstone hanging off the centre.

Fuck, Nobara had good taste.

But despite the fact you bought the matching underwear a month ago, nothing came of it. You’d worn it every single time you saw Megumi; a casual date at the park, an afternoon out at the movies, a night in lounging around. Just in case, you had thought, just in case something happens.

And because you wore them everytime you saw Megumi, they clung to your body now, at the very party Maki judged you for not having shown them off yet.

You sipped at your bitter alcohol mix, avoiding both the stares of your boyfriend and your friend. Nobara’s chanting became a welcome distraction, telling Yuji to ‘drink drink drink!’ Down his can of rum. Everyone cheered at his final gulp, including you.

Megumi, however, remained silent.

When the night came to a tired end (at about two in the morning), Megumi and yourself walked to your dorm in a sobering stumbled.

Arms around his neck, you brought Megumi into the plush bed with you, planting messy kisses along his hairline and laughing about the mischief of the night. “Itadori is going to be so hungover.” You muttered.

“Hm.” He thoughtlessly replied, craning his head so your lips made contact with his instead. He leaned over you, slowly letting his body sink into yours and sandwiching you between the bed and him.

In these moments of privacy you felt closest to Megumi. He’d unabashedly pull you in, kiss you and hold you tight.

You hummed against his lips, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his hair, a trick you knew would immediately cause him to go soft against you, and he did, waist falling between your legs and hands twitching against your sides. He groaned softly and you wished you could record the sound and add it to a private playlist.

Chasing the mild heat in your abdomen, you furthered the kisses shared, moving into making out instead of peppery pecks. He followed you, daring to nip at your bottom lip (a habit he’d picked up from the one time you did it to him).

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his warmth in closer. That shift was what made both your clothed sexes connect. Jolted by the feeling, Megumi slipped from your lips to your ear, whispering a breathy command.

“Show me your set.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking, but he had an idea, a lewd idea. He knew he needed to know what Maki was talking about, what she knew about his girlfriend that he didn’t.

You gulped, an audible squeak catching in your throat. “You really want to see?” You asked.

He nodded silently, watching your every move as you hesitantly lifted your shirt up and over your head. His narrow eyes grew wide at the sight of your tits cupped by the stunning black garment. You hid in the pillow behind you, digging half your face into the plush at his bewildered expression.

Megumi’s hand had already began moving without him thinking. In what seemed like slow motion, his large palm came to fit around your boob. His thumb rubbed over the soft lace and because of its thin fabric, you gasped as it tickled your sensitive middle.

The noise sobered Megumi from his drunk, tranced state and he pulled his hand away like it had acted on its own free will. He sat up, eyes concentrated on your flushed, messy figure. Fuck, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“I should go.” He uttered softly, pressing a curt kiss to your head.

“What? But—” You babbled something, voice cracking.

“This isn’t a good time, it’s late, you’re drunk.” He reassured your rejection with another kiss.

“You won’t stay?” You asked, leaving you as more of a plea.

“Not tonight.” He finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were then left empty and cold, and despite wrapping yourself in layers of blankets, you felt as naked as ever. The question what was wrong with you? Pulling you into a drunkenly tear filled sleep.

The next morning, the barking of your third alarm pulled you from your slumber. You smacked at the screen of your phone, lifting your now throbbing head from the sweet embrace of your pillow.

Almost immediately Megumi’s rejection of you last night reminded you why your eyes were so crusty with dried tears. However, you didn’t have much time to linger on it, already being late for your morning lecture.

Lunch was when you saw Megumi next. You were reading over your papers in the yard with a furrowed brow, your phone to your ear.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You asked.

“I mean I don’t know! You’ve know Fushiguro pretty much the same amount of time I have, why don’t you know if he’s had sex?” Nobara snapped back, voice slightly fuzzy through your phone. “Oh, let’s not forget the fact you’re also his girlfriend!”

“I know, I just— ugh. Why is this so complicated?” You huffed.

“It really isn’t, girl. You’re just making it complicated.” She added back, unfiltered judgment in her tone.

“I know, I know.” You were weak before her unwavering moral superiority.

“Talk to him. Neither of you did anything wrong, he was probably still drunk and didn’t want to show you he had whisky dick or maybe he is a virgin and was just too nervous to fuck you.” You wondered for a brief moment who Nobara was around that could hear her talk about your (lack of) sex life.

“I doubt it.” You murmured. Finally your eyes caught the tall shadow that was Megumi and you fiddle to catch your phone as it dropped from your hand. “I gotta go, he’s here. Bye!”

One hand deep in his pocket and the other carrying a bag bloated with book, Megumi walked to you, standing tall over your sitting self.

“Nobara?” He asked, head jutting towards your phone.

“Yup, she uh— just won’t stop calling me.” You breathily laughed, stupidly covering the fact you had been the one calling her nonstop.

His careful eyes surveyed you, immediately grabbing something was amiss. “Hungover?”

Lord knew you weren’t going to bring up last night if he didn’t. You’d rather let it die in the past. “I was this morning, but I’m alright now.” You offered a kind, but forced smile. “You okay?” You returned, gazing up at him.

With the baggy top you’d hurriedly put on this morning, Megumi could see past the collar, eyes catching the familiar black bra. You were so rushed this morning, you didn’t have time to change it. His heart squeezed painfully, hand twitching as it recalled the feeling of the fabric. The same hand that fucked his dick until he came thinking of you once he was alone. Fuck, he was pathetic. “I’m fine.” He gritted. Even through the drunk haze of the prior night, that memory of you below him was as clear as day in his mind.

“You’ve got baseball this afternoon, right? Do you want to come over afterwards?” You asked.

“I can, why?” So you could show him more of your gorgeous body?

“Just to hangout, n’ chat.” You added, as casually as possible. Technically you weren’t lying.

“I’ll come.” He assured. His hands lifted to touch you, but Megumi decided better, shoving it back into his pocket. “Will I see you at practice?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled.

You’d watched Megumi play baseball since he was young, having been one of his biggest supporters (besides Gojo, of course) since you two became friends. You’d love to watch him play, sitting on a nearby bench with a book to read or your computer to finish an assignment.

Megumi had never admitted it out loud, but before each swing of his bat, he’d gaze out into the empty audience chairs to catch a glimpse of you. You were always there, always looking at him.

It never failed to make his heart swell, even after the two of you began dating, seeing you sit there just for him was the kind of loyalty that made Megumi obsessed with you.

Today, though, it seemed Megumi had more on his mind than he usually did. It was so obvious in the way he played. He was distracted.

On the walk back to your dorm, you could tell he was clearly unimpressed by himself.

Once inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to freshen up.

Reflecting from your mirror like a ghost haunting you, hung your cleanly washed thong. Now dry and ready to be worn. Maybe, just maybe, finally ready to be seen. The old habit still clawed you, just in case, you thought, just in case something happens.

You slipped out of the bathroom, a sudden nervousness taking you. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked, finding a seat next to Megumi on your bed.

His furrowed expression disappeared the moment he heard your tone and his eyes lifted to you expectantly. You inhaled.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You stated, voice wavering despite your desire to sound sure.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a virgin.” You finally uttered.

“Oh, okay.” You could hear in his voice, the slightest hint of bewilderment. Mostly at the suddenness.

“I’ve never had a dick in me, okay? So I’m nervous.” You let the words out like Megumi had you tied up, forcing a confession out of you. A tight pause filled the air as you let the weight of your secret fill the room.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I’ve had sex, either.” Megumi’s narrow eyes squinted at his furrowed brow. His cheeks tinted pink, clearly out of his comfort zone to admit this.

“You haven’t?” You felt free of an imaginary weight that lifted from your chest.

“Yes? You’ve been my only girlfriend, I assumed you would’ve just guessed.”

“So nothing? No hookups or anything?”

“Not my thing.”

Your chest bubbled with a freeing excitement. You’d have to thank Nobara later and let her know she’s the goddess of advice. “Thank God, I was so worried.” You exhaled.

“Worried?” His hand came to grasp your arm. Had he seriously done something to make you worry?

“When you left last night, I thought I did something wrong or—”

Fuck. Of course. “No, you didn’t.” He squeezed your arm. He was just an idiot, a drunk, horny idiot. “It was the alcohol, I didn’t think it was a good idea. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.” His eyes avoided you, cheeks growing darker.

Was he embarrassed? You kissed his jaw, eagerly planting a peck free of doubt.

The kiss seemed to break him from his mumbling as he adjusted your aim, pulling your chin up and kissing your lips. He kissed you again, and you could feel it in his affection too, an excitement to explore you, be the first to learn your body.

To reach his lips better, you moved to straddle Megumi, planting yourself on his lap and letting yourself be enveloped by his affection.

He pulled you down with him as his back fell into the mattress and as you rocked on his lap, you felt the line of his dick through his pants.

Then reality hit you. You two were going to do it. You sat up, blinking at the boy beneath you.

“…Hey.” You peeped, a stupid joking tone wrapping your words.

“Hey.” Megumi replied, his own words threaded with dull awkwardness.

“Do you.. come here often?” You continued, hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, amused. “I do.”

“Same.” You nodded slowly. Another flustered moment of silence passed over you.

Megumi’s mind seemed clouded and unbothered by the pause, eyes becoming focused on your shirt. You could guess what he was thinking about.

“I’m wearing it again.” You muttered. His eyes flickered to you, holding an intense gaze you’d only seen him have in serious situations of concentration. “Do you want to see?”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

You offered your shirt to him, prompting him to be the one to take it off you. His thick hands took the fabric, slowly pulling it up and over your head. His eyes caught on the black set again. Now, his gaze weakened, still tense but clouded by a soft desire.

Finally letting in to what he really wanted to do to you the previous night, Megumi sat up, cradling your abdomen to keep you stilled on top of him as he pressed a kiss to the skin that spilled out of your bra. He lightly sucked, no doubt hoping to leave a red mark.

“Megumi.” You softly murmured. The sound pricked his ears like a melody. He continued, more driven kissing and sucking up until he reached your collar bone and cheek.

Face just below your own, Megumi gazed up at you with his usually bored eyes, but currently they were anything but, holding a softness for you that could only be explained away by love. Riddle in the blue of his irises held the deep specks of lust. You wanted more, wanted to see his eyes flutter from pleasure.

Megumi’s thoughts similarly danced along the same trail as your own but despite his somewhat tame expression they were nasty compared to your own. Mostly, they lingered south. His fingers hooked the sides of your pants.

“I want to see the bottom pair.” He murmured, fierce eyes pinning you to his command.

“O-Okay.” You shyly huffed, moving back so Megumi could undress you with more ease. His eyes lingered on your own as he slid off your bottoms, like a boy closing his eyes as he opened his birthday gift so he could be more surprised by the reveal of it fully unwrapped in front of him. As much as you wanted to shy from his gaze, you couldn’t.

Finally your pants were off, tossed off the bed with your shirt. You watched his gaze flicker to your thong, and you shivered at the exposure. He leaned in, hands resting on your knees in an attempt to let you know he wanted them open, you didn’t comply, far too embarrassed. “Pretty.” He muttered. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

One of his hands snaked down your thigh, coming to grasp the gemstone hanging from the front strap. He twisted it between his thumb and index finger, and you badly wished it he’d play with your clit like that.

Then, his hand dragged over the lace fabric, so dangerously close to your bundle of nerves that your legs creaked opened on pure instinct. Megumi huffed at your bodies desire to be touched, taking the moment of weakness to slip himself between your legs.

Lower now, his fingers dared to slide over your clit. You gasped and his hand stunted.

“Feel okay?” He breathed, lust kissed eyes glowering at you. Don’t make him stop, not yet. Not when he was finally able to feel you.

“Feels good.” You murmured. Megumi’s jaw slacked and he panted a suppressed grunt at your pathetic words. Almost immediately he continued the motion, familiarising himself with what spots of your cunt would made you hiccup and your tummy twitch. “M-Megumi.” You whined with no real purpose behind your plea.

Hot, it was becoming too hot. He left your pussy for a second, pulling off his shirt and tossing it like he had your pants. Your cheeks blazed at his thin but muscled body. You’d only ever caught sight of his abs on a windy day, never had you seen his bare chest before. His skin was so smooth and light, your fingers begged to memories each curve and bump.

He closed the space between you, coming to press messy pecks on your lips whilst his hand returned to your cunt. Your hands rested against his thudding chest, letting yourself fall into the bedding.

“I can feel your heart beat.” You huffed, somewhat excited by the rapid pace. “Nervous?” You asked, a teasing prod.

“Eager.” He corrected, collecting your lips in another kiss.

His ring and index calmly slid up and down, the tips of his fingers daring over the patch of wet forming around your sex. You wanted to do the same, wanted so desperately to feel more of his body, but your nails stilled, dug into his chest waiting for some kind of permission you couldn’t even ask for.

And Megumi, the utter mind reader, took your wrist with his free hand and led you on a trail down his abdomen. He must’ve felt your hesitancy and made the move for you, that, or he was desperate to feel your hands wander over his body.

And your featherlight fingers curved over the dips of his abs. In reaction to your sweet touch, you felt his rubbing become messy and he pressed hard against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping against his tight stomach and his jaw clenched tight, swallowing a grunt.

“More, Megs, please.” You blurted, hole dripping and utterly prepped for whatever Megumi wanted to stuff inside you.

He remained somewhat levelheaded, thinking that if he fucked you now, he’d cum too quick and this would be all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied. So despite his aching cock, his fingers dipped under your thong and circled your weeping cunt. He was going to savour every single second.

Slowly, he pushed past the rings of your wet chasm. And fuck. His fingers and dick must’ve been connected, because he could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of your inside around him just like they were around his fingers.

His cock twitched, leaking a fat blob of precum. “Shit.” The way your pussy jumped at his curse didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh God— Megumi, hng.” Your legs weakened, turning to jelly at the feeling of his warm fingers pressing against your tight, sensitive walls. Megumi’s two digits were thicker and rugged from gripping a bat all his life, the perfect size and texture against your trembling insides and otherworldly compared to your own.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yea— mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut, hands hesitating over Megumi’s torso until they gripped his tensed arms.

His mouth hung open, too distracted by massaging your insides to dedicate his lips to you. Hot pants filled your mouth as you desperately kissed him, each breath of his slowly filling with grunts to the symphony of your whines. Each moan from you battered his dick, making it pulse painfully for you.

His fingers chased your twitching hips, pushing in deeper each time you squirmed from the sensation. Until the tips of his fingers slid against the spongey sweet spot inside of you that was hidden in the curve of your chasm.

“Right there!” You squealed, the hight of your voice surprising both of you. “Curl your fingers— Mh! just like that.”

He did so, pushing his digits against the sweet spot, lightly pressing and smoothing over the area. You trembled beneath him, clinging to his body like he was your life support.

Megumi loved every second of it, watching your body contort from just his fingers. He just wanted to watch you like this, utterly drunk on pleasure, for forever.

He wanted to make cum so badly it was driving him mad.

“Ohh, please don’t stop.” How could he? Your pussy had just begun clenching around him so gorgeously, tightening like the building orgasm inside you.

Megumi had only realised you’d cum after you yelped his name and your walls sucked on his fingers, trying to milk them of cum. He wanted so badly to feel the sensation around his cock.

“Hng— thank you, thank you.” You babbled embarrassingly, kissing along Megumi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the lack of you around his dick, uncomfortably he palmed his boxers, trying to adjusted his blood filled cock.

The trance of afterglow seemed to subside as you gazed over Megumi’s frustration. Although you were undone, you still craved more of him inside your fuzzy chasm. “More?” You asked, an invitation.

Megumi nodded, thanking the heavens you weren’t done with him. His hand dug into the wallet in his pant pocket, digging out a condom. He pulled it out, half pruned fingers covered in your slick attempting to tear it open.

It was like you’d been slapped in the face with the curt realisation that he had prepared for this. Just as you went to buy lingerie, Megumi had gone and bought condoms. He must’ve thought it could’ve happened at any moment to keep one in his wallet.

He brought the wrapper to his teeth, being frustrated with his inability to open it and tore it open with his clenched teeth. You sucked in a breath at his flimsy eagerness.

The bashfulness that came with revealing himself seemed to skip Megumi’s mind, as he pulled down his baggy pants to let his leaking cock free of the fabric.

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling, needing to look elsewhere as you heard him slide on the plastic birth control. From the glimpse you did catch you could tell he was thin and long. Your attention dived back down once you left a gentle hand rest on your hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone.

His eyes, once you met them, held a simple question; are you ready?

You nodded, closing your eyelids and bracing for his length. However the feeling never came, only his lips as they trailed from your tummy, over your bra and up to your lips.

Your hands cradled his head, nails dragging across his scalp and he grunted. This felt familiar, the feeling of his body softening against yours as you pressed simple kisses onto one another’s lips. Through the intimacy, you felt Megumi readjust, pulling your underwear to the side and lining his tip against your sopping sex.

Closer now, you hugged him through the stress. He slowly sunk into you, the plastic of the condom feeling cool against your hot insides. “Fuck.” He hissed, nipping at your bottom lip.

You sobbed, letting the sensation of being filled by your boyfriend feed your mouth with curses.

He entered slowly, just as much for you as it was for him. His face, flushed red and eyes fluttering in pleasure. You not far from the same, mouth agape with lewd noises spewing out.

He bottomed out when your hips met, taking a brief minute to calm your collective gasps. You gazed down, drowsily taking in the enrapturing sight of you two being connected. Megumi moaned weakly at your smitten stare, feeling himself fall apart from inside you.

“S’okay?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, you can move.” You permitted desperately.

He drawled his hips out carefully, rolling inwards again. Your insides still buzzed from his fingers, raw and sensitive to his filling cock. He could feel you spasm around him, forcing friction when he desperately needed you to be still so he didn’t cum prematurely.

Another breathless curse left him as his length dived back into you. “Oh fuck— I love you.” You gaped at the words, wondering suddenly was that the first time he’s ever said that?

He rolled his hips again, breaking up your quick declaration. “Love— mh— you.”

He cradled you, pulling your body in with his unlikely strength as he fucked you gently. You’d never felt so close to another person before, having him so deep within you, filling your body with pleasure.

Megumi had lost most of his composure, becoming a vocal mess as he humped into your heavenly insides.

“So tight.” He uttered into your skin. “S’perfect.” He kissed your skin, sucking hard hickies into your chest and neck.

“Mnh— love you, hng.” You repeated, too cock drunk to babble anything else.

Messier now, his hip rolls became somewhat frantic, chasing the building mountain of his orgasm. “S-Shit— I’m gonna cum.” The statement rolled off his tongue in a pathetic whine, another crack from his usual composure.

“Don’t s-stop! Please, Gumi ahh.” You were already being worked to your second orgasm, you couldn’t bare to be emptied of him before you reached your high. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping Megumi in.

“Ngh— fffuck.” He plowed harder now, his cock tip perfectly fucking against your sweet spot. Suddenly his tame thrusts became a stuttering mess as he muffled your name into your shoulder.

You could feel him orgasm, feel his cock jerk, feel his cum bloat the tip of the condom inside you.

Noticing him slow, you rolled your hips, desperately fucking yourself onto his mid-orgasm dick.

His hands smack at your sides, attempting you to pull you off his overstimulated dick.

“Almost almost almost—” You pleaded.

With what he had left in him, Megumi took your hips and helped you grind yourself on his cock. He bit your shoulder, muffling the pained moans leaving him.

“Fuck!” You squeaked, his dick slid over your g-spot again, finally bringing you to your spine tingling orgasm. Your insides spasmed around Megumi’s dick, and he whined at the feeling, growing painfully hard again.

Your body went limp, as did the tight hold you had on Megumi. Both your bodies sat panting, utterly fucked out and glistening with sweat.

Raising from you, Megumi looked over your flushed, messy state, his cock still warm fitted inside you. He savoured the sight, thinking that if he could take a photo of this, he’d keep it in his wallet.

“We should shower.” He murmured, painting kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded.

Fuzzy insides retracting as Megumi slipped from you, you sighed longingly, whilst he grunted, disappointed he couldn’t live inside you.

You groggily sat up, kissing him before attempting to move off the bed but Megumi kept you back, hooking a finger around the strap of your bra.

“How much was the set?” He asked.

“Uhm, not much, Nobara helped me pay for it so—”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The heat that had just left your cheeks suddenly returned.

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」

Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?

Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?

Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.

In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be? 

And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…

Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.

You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic. 

ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy. 

Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.

“What’s this?”

You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.

His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.

The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.

“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.

Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.

You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?

You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.

Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley. 

The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?

Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.

They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals. 

When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.

As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.

You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.

If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one. 

The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.

Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?

Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.

Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.

Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this? 

That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”

This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.

“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”

Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.

Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.

“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”

You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins. 

“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”

Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?

“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”

Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.

You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.

The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.

It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:

Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.

The man.

The man you shot with Mania.

“Welcome to th-,”

You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”

He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?

“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.

“What?”

“Would you like-,” he began.

You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.

A horror. Hell was full of horrors.

He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.

If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.

But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?

He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?

“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.

We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.

“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?

“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.

“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.

“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”

“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”

“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.

“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.

If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.

Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.

He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.

“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.

“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”

“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone. 

“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.

“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.

“Peripherally.”

Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color. 

“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”

Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling. 

He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.

You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.

“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.

A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded. 

He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”

You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.

When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.

It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns? 

Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.

You thought you saw his eye twitch.

With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”

He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.

Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”

When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.

You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.

You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day. 

“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”

As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-

“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.  

“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.

“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front. 

Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.

You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud. 

You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.

After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom. 

“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position. 

Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected.  Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy. 

“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you. 

“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.

“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process. 

The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.

The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort. 

Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell. 

You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there. 

As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.

“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”

Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”

You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did. 

“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming. 

“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.” 

“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”

“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”

A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”

“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered. 

You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?

“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”

A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side. 

You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby. 

No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom. 

It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.

Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your  pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”

You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.

The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.

The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.

He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.

“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.

“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”

Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.

You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.

A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”

His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.

His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.

“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.

Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.

He took your silence as an answer.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.

He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?

“May I help you get dressed?”

You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.

To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.

You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.

Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.

Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.

But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.

“Good?” 

He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.

A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath. 

“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm. 

You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids. 

“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.

“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”

You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt. 

“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”

“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”

His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.

“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice. 

Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him. 

“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.

“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.

It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”

A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.” 

Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.

“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”

Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall. 

Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you. 

No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.

The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.

Deja vu.

Oh.

What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not. 

No. Obviously not.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

[heich0e]

little!miya gets sick and single dad!osamu is in over his head. the little boy's fever is raging and he's inconsolable, refusing any of the care his papa is desperately trying to offer him.

he's only asking for you.

"W-WHERE'S BABE? I want my ba-aaaaabe," the four year old wails, his cheeks flushed scarlet and snot dripping from his nose as the tears continue.

"babe's at home, buddy. you'll see her tomorrow once ya get some sleep, alright?" osamu wipes at his son's nose as he tries to comfort him but it doesn't help much. the little boy clutches tighter at the plush toy tucked under his arm—one you bought for him on a trip to the aquarium, one of the first days the three of you spent together—and turns his head away from his father petulantly.

"I ONLY WANT BABE."

samu sighs, raking a hand through his greasy hair. he's exhausted. it's been hours of this, and his son is showing no signs of relenting.

finally he cracks, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

"he's asleep now."

the bedroom door closes behind you with a soft click.

samu is slumped against the wall in the hallway, his knees spread and head hanging, having been banished from the room by his own flesh and blood the minute you showed up half an hour prior.

"thanks fer this," samu says quietly, keeping his voice low as you crouch down on the floor in front of him. "i'm sorry to call so late."

you press a hand to his cheek, running your thumb over the shadow of fatigue inking under his eye. it's darker than usual, and you understand why.

"call me anytime, samu," you reassure him. "you know i'd do anything for you two."

"ya shouldn't have to do this, though," samu mumbles, struggling to meet your gaze that feels too tender—too comforting and familiar and pitying—right now.

"i barely did anything," you argue, a bit indignantly. "i just read him a story and helped him take off his pyjama top so he could 'wear his jammies like papa.'"

samu laughs tiredly at that, a short, wry breath of air through his nose.

"and i didn't have to do it," you add again after a moment, taking both of his cheeks in your hands and forcing him to look at you properly. "i wanted to, because i love you both very much."

samu's eyes are burning. he knows it's because he's overtired. hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he caught whatever virus his son brought home from school. but regardless of the why, the tears are flooding up inside his chest and threatening to spill over.

"love you," samu says, the words all breath and unequivocal truth. "'m glad yer here."

he leans forward and tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and you wrap your arms around him as you welcome it.

you hold him there, on the floor outside his four year old son's bedroom, for as long as he needs you to.

finally, osamu feels a bit more himself, and is ready to pull away. you brush a few strands of his hair out of his gaze once he's extricated himself from your embrace. there's a little twinkle of mischief behind your eyes. "you should go get cleaned up and ready for bed, and i'll go grab that ice cream i hid in the back of the freezer behind the broccoli."

samu smiles, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth.

"i love you," he says, speaking the words against your welcoming lips.

"you already said that," you tease him, tilting your head so that your reply meets the centre of his own.

"i mean it, though," samu replies, inching back only far enough that he can see both your eyes, the ends of your noses brushing as he watches your lashes flutter. "so, wanna marry me?"

[cxtori]

Satoru Gojo ✭ Kiss Me Back

wc: basically 5k… it wasn’t meant to be lmao

summary: based off of this thought i posted a while ago

genre: angst, fluff, drunk “confession” but it gets misunderstood, friends to lovers, silly drunk Gojo

warnings: n/a

tori’s note: I finished this fic after having it in my drafts for almost a year. I kinda strayed from how my original prompt went lol. Idk how I feel about the second half of this, I’m not a huge fan of it but y’know, it be what it be. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Gojo doesn’t drink often. In fact, it’s more accurate to say he never drinks. He hates alcohol. The way it tastes, the way it burns, and especially how quickly it affects his system.

He’s always been a lightweight, it only taking a few shots before he was intoxicated. But for some reason, Shoko’s teasing pressure to get him to drink got to him a lot more tonight than usual. 

It was supposed to be only one shot, then just one more. But now, here he is, a couple hours later and 6 shots down, drunk and stumbling, leaning against you for support.

You grunt as you struggle to keep the tall man vertical and walk him down the street to your car. 

“You are amazing, Y/n,” Gojo slurs, wrapping his arm tighter around your neck. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that 3 times already,” you laugh lightly. Gojo trips over his own foot, causing you to stumble and almost fall. Thankfully, you catch yourself and keep the two of you from crashing into the concrete. 

“Jeez, Toru! Are you serious?” You ask, unbelieving that he was so intoxicated that he really couldn’t walk straight. Gojo only moans miserably in response. “We’re almost there,” you sigh.

You knew how much he hated the repercussions of drinking and tried to stop him before it was too late. But he seemed to be feeling a little self-destructive tonight, so your warnings fell on deaf ears, much to your annoyance. Even so, you still felt empathetic enough to take him home yourself, turning down Nanami’s kind offer to do so.

After another block of walking and stumbling, you finally make it to your car, opening the passenger side and awkwardly shuffling around as you try to help Gojo into the seat. It felt like he was purposefully doing everything he could to make this simple task as complicated as possible. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past him. 

You eventually get him and his lanky limbs into the vehicle and hold back a laugh when he groans and dramatically drapes himself over your center console, arms spilling into the driver’s seat. You walk around to the other side of the car, moving his arms carefully before sitting down and pushing him to lean against the window. 

“Okay, tough guy. You still have the water Nanami gave you?” You ask. Gojo clumsily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the water bottle he somehow managed to fit in there. Damn men’s pocket sizes.

“Good, I want it empty by the time I make it to your place,” you state, turning on the car and pulling into the street.

“The whole thing?” Gojo whines. You laugh breathily, finding amusement in his drunk demeanor.

“Yes, the whole thing. Gotta stay hydrated so drink up!” You encourage. 

The white-haired man mutters a complaint as he cracks open the bottle, and you watch dumbfounded as he drains it in seconds. 

“I didn’t mean drink it all at once…” you say. Gojo shrugs and sinks further into his seat. 

You drive in silence for a few minutes, the pale, orange street lights whizzing by and the soft, white noise of the tires rolling on the pavement making the ride a peaceful, comforting experience. At least it would be if Gojo wasn’t staring holes into the side of your face. 

In his drunkenness, he’d somehow managed to misplace his glasses and blindfold, much to your dismay. You adore those brilliant blue eyes, but damn, if they weren’t intimidating as hell when they were staring you down. You do your best to ignore it, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. 

You feel your heart skip a beat when a cold, calloused finger presses gently against your temple before tracing your hairline, sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty,” Gojo whispers, his words barely audible. Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. 

“O-oh, umm… I- th-thank you,” you stutter horribly. Gojo hums softly as though he’s satisfied with your reaction before laughing lightly. His hand leaves your quickly heating face as he turns back to the window, slumping against the cool glass. 

After what couldn’t have possibly even been a minute, you hear the faintest snore come from the man. You poke his arm, expecting some kind of reaction. But nope, he’s out.

You take a deep breath and start blasting the AC. It suddenly feels really stuffy in here.

You soon reach his house and pull into the driveway before parking the car and climbing out. You open the passenger door, being careful to not let Gojo dump out onto the ground. You shake his shoulders, whispering to him that he was home and needed to wake up. After some gentle-turned-vigorous shaking, the man wakes up bleary eyed and a bit confused. 

“Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” You tease, taking his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. He grunts, reluctantly swinging his feet out of the car and onto the ground. The moment he stands, he leans back against the car, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“Shhhhit, why did I do that?” He slurs, the alcohol still screwing with his brain. At least he’s more coherent than 30 minutes ago. 

“Not to be like that, but I did try to stop you,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he groans. His eyes open and meet with yours, but instead of holding the annoyed glare you were expecting, they were soft, appreciative. His typically pale complexion was still dusted pink, though not nearly as flushed as earlier, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile to accompany it. 

He leans against you, his arms snaking around your waist in a loose hug, and his head resting heavily on your shoulder as he sighs. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you thank me when I’ve gotten you inside!” You laugh awkwardly, pushing the large man off of you. 

Gojo pouts, his soft, pink lips protruding in a way that could only be described as borderline sensual. You tear your eyes away from him and link your arm in his to walk him into the house with much less stumbling this time.

You make it inside, Gojo dragging down the hall to his room while you dig in his kitchen cabinets in search of ibuprofen. Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, you grab a glass and fill it with water before making your way to Gojo’s room.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing through the cold, empty hallway. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears and you open the door. 

You step in and your eyes land on a half-naked Gojo sitting on his bed, stopping you in your tracks. He did say to come in, didn’t he?

He looks at you, a questioning expression written on his face. With everything he’s done this evening, it’s beginning to be hard to believe he’s not purposefully trying to fluster you.

You draw in a breath and walk over to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

“Here, for the potential hangover,” you say, handing him the pills and water. He takes it gratefully, downing the meds and water quickly. He sets the glass on the nightstand with a soft thunk, and an odd silence follows after. 

“Well, I’m gonna head home now. G’night, Toru,” you say, turning on your heels and heading to the door. Your hand barely touches the doorknob when Gojo says your name.

“Y/n,” he calls quietly. You stop and turn to him with a questioning hum, but he doesn’t give any response back other than a waving hand, signaling for you to come back to him. You shuffle awkwardly to stand in front of him, confused about what he wants. 

He stands up, his chest almost bumping against yours as he does so. You begin to take a step back, but before you can, his hands are on your waist, holding you in place. You look up at him to ask what he’s doing, but the words get stuck in your throat the moment your eyes meet his.

Those bright, cerulean eyes that were so often hidden from the world, were looking at you with such care and fondness that it made your chest tighten. 

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, his warm, soft lips are pressing tenderly against yours. 

Your tense muscles relax and eyes flutter shut as your lips push back against his. His hands grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him before one lifts the back of your shirt, fingers dragging slowly over your skin. 

You sigh into him, your own hands traveling up his arms, to his neck, eventually finding home in his silky hair. His other hand moves from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss. 

His tongue darts out and sweeps across your lips and the faintest lingering taste of bitter alcohol bites your tastebuds, snapping you back to reality. It’s only then that you remember who you’re kissing, where you are, and how you got there. 

Your eyes fly open and hands move to his chest, pushing him away from you harshly. Gojo loses his balance, landing back into a sitting position on his bed, his once peaceful expression now shocked and confused. 

Your hand covers your mouth, surprised by your own actions. It’s only a second or two that you stay there, staring at each other before you decide that you should definitely leave.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you say, wasting no time in leaving his room and ignoring his calls for you. You jump into your car and start the engine before your door is even closed.

What were you thinking? He’s the drunkest he’s been in ages, how could you let that happen? You curse yourself as you drive home, frustrated that you allowed such a thing when your friend was in such a vulnerable state.

 You make it home and park in the driveway, but you don’t leave. You sit in your car and stare blankly at the steering wheel as the full weight of regret begins to sink in. 

You’ve desperately wanted that man to kiss you for years now. But not like this! Not when he was intoxicated and most likely not thinking straight. You wanted a genuine kiss; one he gave you because he truly wanted to. Not because his drunk-self just wanted attention.

How are you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps after this?

You’ll just have to lie. You’ll tell him that it was just a slip up, that you were caught off guard. That he kissed you and- dammit, you kissed him back! And not only that, you were wrapping your arms around him. You can’t play off your feelings for him when you kissed him like that!

You groan painfully as you open your door and force yourself into your house, trudging your way to your room. You change your clothes and crawl into bed before plugging your phone in. The screen lights up with the red battery, which disappears quickly, revealing a missed call and several texts from Gojo.

I’m sorry Y/n. Can we please talk?

It wasn’t what you think

Y/n?

Hello?

He almost never texts you, let alone several times in a row. But you can’t find it in you to respond. You turn off your phone and stare at your ceiling for what feels like an eternity, the moment replaying in your mind on repeat. 

It wasn’t what you think? What is he assuming you think?

You raise a finger to your mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours as you trace over them. 

It was so warm, so sweet. The way he held you close to him, so strong yet gentle. The way his thumb stroked over your face so tenderly. Maybe… it was real.

No. You can’t allow yourself to believe it was genuine and get your hopes up, you can’t.

You roll over onto your side just as your screen lights up once more. You take a glance at it and find another text from Gojo. 

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.

A new wave of anxiety washes over you when you realize you’ll have to see him tomorrow. You do work at the same school after all. You don’t have a few days to process this or even find a way to respond. 

You wrap tighter into yourself and painful tears fill your eyes, not taking long before they’re streaming down your face and soaking into your pillow. You just want the earth to open and swallow you. 

Your only comfort is in the slim possibility that he was still drunk enough to have a chance of not having clear memories the next day. Maybe he’d wake up, see the messages he’d sent you and not even remember what it was about. 

You know it’s a foolish hope. He wasn’t drunk enough during that kiss to have no recollection of it. Even so, it’s the only thought that calms you down enough to fall asleep. 

Okay, all you have to do is file a couple reports, meet with Ijichi and Nitta, and check in with Shoko on a new corpse. You don’t even have to be on campus the whole day, just do your few tasks and leave. 

You were not going to talk to Gojo today. You’re not sure your heart can handle it right now. You’ve barely even processed what happened last night. It’s like your mind is trying to convince you it was a dream. But the unanswered texts still sitting in your inbox say otherwise. 

You decided you would do your best to avoid the inevitable conversation. You’re sure that when he sees you, he’ll likely confront you about it. But, if you were with others, you knew he’d keep his mouth shut. You can’t hide from him, but you make damn sure he can’t catch you alone.

You know you’ll have to talk about it eventually, just not today. And maybe not tomorrow. Or the day after that.

You take a deep breath as you walk into the school and head for Yaga’s office. You’re not too worried about bumping into Gojo here as he usually avoids this part of the school simply because he’s afraid of running into Yaga and being asked to do something he doesn’t want to. 

You make it there without incident and knock on Yaga’s door before entering. Thankfully, your meeting doesn’t last long as you just have to turn in your reports and give him a quick rundown of your past week’s assignments.

Next was finding Ijichi and Nitta. Which meant going to the more common areas of the school. Which meant risking running into Gojo.

At this point, you were just hoping he decided to go MIA today as he typically did. Or maybe he’d be too hung over to even bother getting out of bed. Whatever the case may be, you just hoped he wouldn’t be behind the door to which you are about to enter.

You turn the doorknob quietly and poke your head in, finding no one but Ijichi sitting at a desk looking over a stack of papers, and you feel relieved. You step inside and Ijichi looks up, a small smile appearing once he sees it’s you.

“Ahh, Y/n. You’re a bit early,” he greets kindly. 

“Haha, yeah. My meeting with Yaga didn’t take as long as expected,” you laugh softly as you walk over to the desk and take a seat across from the man. “Where’s Nitta?”

“She’s currently out with the first years. They were sent to investigate the disturbance you reported a few days ago. Turns out it was just a few Grade 3 curses roaming around.” Ijichi replies.

He shuffles the papers spread out on the desk into a few separate piles before picking up each one, shaking them into neat stacks and paper clipping them together.

“Oh, that’s good to know,” you say with a smile. “So, you said you and Nitta needed something?”

“Oh, yes. We wanted your opinion on-”

“Gooood morning!” A familiar voice calls happily as the door swings open. You hunch over in your chair and glue your eyes to the papers in front of you, not daring to look at the man. You didn’t think you would run into him this soon.

“Oh, goodmorning, Gojo,” Ijichi says.

“Ijichi,” Gojo greets and nods to his co-worker.

He turns to you, your eyes still studying the reports laying in front of you. It was obvious you weren’t reading them though, considering they were upside down to you. “Y/n,” he says quietly.

You still refuse to look at him, mumbling a barely audible “good morning” in return.

Ijichi, sensing some tension, clears his throat and returns to the matter that brought you here in the first place. He only had a few questions, wanting your opinion on which recent cases should be assigned to which students. It wasn’t long before you had fulfilled your need and could leave.

You say your goodbyes, stand from the desk and make your way to the door, still having not spared Gojo, who was leaning against one of the couches, even a glance.

Despite hiding his eyes behind that dark blindfold of his, you could tell he’d been staring at you the whole time. You could practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin. But, just as you expected, he didn’t dare bring up anything about the previous night with Ijichi in the room.

You walk out the door, thankfully leaving Gojo behind it. But you weren’t sure how long he’d stay there. You make your way quickly through the halls as you head towards the morgue. You open the door and step inside, the cold air making your body shake with a chill. 

You walk through, but find no sign of Shoko. Deciding that she must be in the office, you turn and start making your way over, it being just a couple doors down the hall. 

You step outside of the morgue and about jump out of your skin when you’re met with blinding white hair. Gojo. Of course. You should’ve known he would catch up to you. 

You stand there for a moment, him standing in the doorway and therefore blocking your exit. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, not really, only giving him quick glances. It must be so easy for him to make “eye contact” when he doesn’t really have to.

“Can we talk?” He says, his voice taking on an unusually shaky and serious tone, and you suppress a sigh. Any hope you had of him not remembering last night shattered with those three words.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quietly, desperately wanting to avoid the impending conversation. 

“Y/n,” he says, his large hand reaching carefully for your arm. You move quickly, avoiding his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say and push past him, making it through the doorway. You speed walk down the hallway to the morgue office, thankful that it’s just a few doors down. Gojo begins to say something but before he can, you’re knocking on the door, shutting him up quickly.

Shoko opens the door only a moment after you’ve knocked, silently stepping aside to let you in once she sees it’s you. Her neutral expression breaks a bit when she sees who’s behind you.

“Gojo, wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she says, referring to the rough condition he was in last night.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckles. He looks at you as he says this and you feel your face grow warm. Shoko walks over to her desk and shuffles through the various items in search of something.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t had that many drinks in a long time,” She asks curiously.

“I feel great actually. Y/n is a pretty good caretaker,” he says, once again looking over at you. “She’s the reason I’m not hungover.”

Yep, you certainly were. Maybe you should’ve skipped the water and ibuprofen. But that was before what happened. Past you had no idea that future you would be cursing that decision.

“He wasn’t too much trouble was he? Gojo’s always annoying when he’s drunk.” Like he’s not annoying when he isn’t drunk.

“He was fine,” you say plainly, wanting to move on from the topic.

“Fine is one way to put it,” Gojo says, an obnoxiously flirty smirk on his face. What happened to the serious and borderline nervous Gojo you had just a moment ago? Bring him back please.

“Maybe I should’ve let Nanami take you when he’d offered,” you mutter. Shoko turns back around to you, confused by the comments being made.

“Is that really what you would’ve wanted?” Gojo asks. 

“If it means we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, then yes.”

Shoko looks between the two of you, reading the looks on your faces and expertly deciphering that this was not a conversation she needed (or wanted) to be a part of.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shoko mutters as she collects her things and quickly leaves the room, abandoning you in this anxiety-inducing situation. “We can meet later, Y/n.”

“Ah! Wait, Shoko!” You call, but she ignores you and walks out the door. Well, this certainly isn’t what you wanted to happen. Now you had no excuse to leave and apparently didn’t have anyone to have your back. You knew Shoko saw your plea for help in your eyes and she actively ignored it. But, it is Shoko. She always avoids getting involved in things that don’t concern her.

The silence that follows Shoko’s leaving is so incredibly deafening and you hope the ground will open up beneath you. You debate leaving, but you know that Gojo will just follow you. There was no escaping it now. Dammit, and you were so close to getting out without speaking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the desk, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Y/n,” Gojo speaks softly. You refuse to look at him. You can’t. You don’t know what will happen if you do. “Y/n.” He steps closer to you and you sink further into yourself, feeling your throat tighten. “Let me explai-”

“What did you mean?” You close your eyes, finding yourself talking before you can even comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“What?” Gojo says, confused. You sigh, annoyed with yourself now for having said anything.

“Your text. You said it wasn’t what I thought it was. What did you mean?” Gojo looks at you. Well, you assume he’s looking at you. He could be looking at the wall behind you for all you knew.

“I…” Gojo starts but doesn’t finish. He sighs quietly and leans against the chair in front of you. He doesn’t attempt to speak again for a long moment and you begin to wonder if he even plans to. And you’re right, he doesn’t speak. But instead, his hand reaches for the dark blindfold hiding his eyes, and he pulls it down around his neck, his snow white hair falling into his face.

You tear your eyes away as soon as he does, not able to bear even the thought of looking at him directly in those blue irises. Luckily, you’re not tempted to as he keeps his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from your view.

“I remember everything from last night,” the man says finally. You feel your heart sink. You knew he remembered, but for some reason, hearing him say so only made your anxiety worsen. “You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye last night,” he says with a mild, teasing tone, though it was made with minimal effort, the tension in the room making it hard to joke playfully.

Your arms tighten around you and your throat burns, your eyes remaining focused on everything but him. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be leaving in such a hurry either,” you say, risking your voice breaking into tears. Gojo chuckles.

“I thought you’d stay for a bit longer after the way you were kissing me,” He jokes, and this time it has his usual lightheartedness to it. Despite that, you feel your blood run hot through your body and for a moment you forget that you’re avoiding looking at him. Your eyes whip over to see him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Wha- you kissed me!” You whisper yell, afraid that someone outside may hear you. You can’t believe him. HE made a move on YOU, and yet he wants to talk about the way you were kissing HIM?

“Buuut, you kissed me back!” He says accusingly but airily. You close your mouth at this. He’s right, you did. And this is just what you were afraid of, him realizing that you kissing him back meant you actually enjoyed it if only a little. You couldn’t hide it.

“And I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You turn your gaze away just in time to miss the way Gojo’s face twitches and his smile drops. Before you can’t stop yourself, you continue to speak, the coil in your throat snapping and the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me to begin with. But please, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I know you were drunk and it was a mistake just… Please, don’t tell me that.” 

The silence that follows your statement is so quiet that you can hear Gojo’s uneven breaths alongside your own. You feel the urge to run, to walk out the doors and never turn back. To find a hole somewhere to bury yourself in, never to resurface.

“You think I made a mistake?” Gojo’s words barely reach your ears, his voice so soft you almost have to strain to hear it. He looks at you, completely dejected. “Even if I did feel that way, do you think I’d come here to mock you for it? Do you think I’d be that cruel?” The hurt in his voice is so obvious that you can feel it yourself.

“I… I don’t know.” Truthfully, you did know. You knew he wouldn’t do something like that. He may be annoying, but he’s not cruel. It was out of your own fear of the outcome that you were avoiding this conversation. But then, two words in his statement stand out to you. 

Even if. 

Meaning even if it was a mistake. Meaning he didn’t think it was?

The tears welling in your eyes begin to fall when you dare to look up at him, his own already on you. But you don’t look away this time.

“Would you have kissed me if you were sober?” You ask quietly. Gojo’s shoulders slump and his face grows longer at your words. He takes a cautious step towards you, testing to see if you’ll back away. And you don’t.

“Y/n, I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. He takes another step forward, this time reaching out a hand to place on your arm, and you don’t pull away.

“That’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t what you thought. I knew you figured it was an alcohol-influenced choice. And while the alcohol admittedly may have had something to do with it, that wasn’t why I did it.” Your vision blurs as you begin to cry, your tears feeling like rivers of fire as they flow down your cheeks.

“I did it because I wanted to, Y/n,” he admits. He lifts a hand to your face, wiping your tears as he strokes your cheek with his knuckles.  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. And one I don’t regret.”

You close your eyes, not being able to see with them open anyway. His other hand moves from your arm to swipe at your tears, both hands now cupping your face tenderly.

“I don’t know what to say,” you mumble. You raise your hands to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your thumbs stroking over the back of his hands. You open your eyes, your vision clear enough to see him looking at you fondly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His soft lips that, in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking about all morning.

Your gaze must have lingered on his mouth for a moment too long as his smile widens. He comes closer to you, his head towering over yours and his hands guide your face to continue looking at him.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. But.” He leans his face to yours, his warm breath against your lips. “I would like to kiss you again. And I hope you won’t run away this time.” His voice lilts in that familiar, teasing tone and your heart twists.

“I won’t,” you say with a breathless laugh. 

His large hands continue to hold your head as he moves forward, wasting no time in putting his lips against yours in a passionate but tender kiss.

And this time, you let yourself kiss him back.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[fanaticsnail]

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.” 

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.” 

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier. 

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances. 

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship. 

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair. 

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship. 

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral. 

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was. 

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain. 

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him. 

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists. 

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain. 

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder. 

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed. 

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher. 

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him. 

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature. 

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue. 

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets. 

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head. 

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked. 

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over. 

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper. 

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face. 

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. 

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

[nana-au]

Best Friends Know Best

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your trip to the mall stresses Suguru out, so you treat him to some head when you two get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: possessiveness, praising, immodest clothes in public, toxic ideology from geto, oral m! receiving, slight slut shaming, throat fucking, dirty talking (did i miss anything.. lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ an: this is sorta an extension off of my fic Best Friends Forever! (also sorry for not posting in a while i’m working on longer fics while also struggling to keep up with life lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

He doesn't really understand why you insist on dressing up to go to the mall. You were there to buy new clothes, does it matter what you have on? Typically he would never complain about your fashion choices – You look darling in your girly little outfits. 

But today? He cursed himself for not making you change while he still had the chance. He didn't want to be cruel, you were so excited to wear your new dress. It was a pink gingham number – it was so you. What he didn't like was how your chest spilled out of the low neckline and how anytime you shifted in just the right way your sheer panties were on display. He wanted to cry upon noticing how see-through your panties were – there was no mistaking the outline of your plump cheeks. Did you not know how many creeps there were in this world? Did he protect you so well that you were blissfully unaware of the dangers of looking this good? Tempting any man that is so fortunate to breathe the same air as you. 

All throughout the day Geto followed closely behind you, shielding what he could of your body while trying not to make it obvious. You didn’t really notice what he had been doing until his hand reached to cover your chest from the employee at your check-out lane when you bent over; looking at the cute bracelets set up on the counter in front of you. You slowly stood up straight, giving him an odd look as he pocketed his credit card and grabbed your bag of items from the clerk. “What was that about?” you asked him while walking out of the store. 

“Nothing baby,” he said from close behind you, your multiple bags in his arms, “Let’s go get you a latte.”

“Ooo that sounds good,” you mused, daydreaming which flavor syrup you wanted before you quickly snapped out of it, “Don’t change the subject! Why did you cover my chest? Is it really that noticeable?” You ask, looking down to see your cleavage spilling out the top of your dress. “It’s not that bad…” An exasperated sigh left his lips, seemingly exhausted by spending the whole day trying to keep you modest. “Geto? Does my dress upset you?” you stopped in the middle of the mall, turning around to meet his dead eyes. Your brows furrowed, noticing just how tense Geto was compared to when you first arrived. “Do you not like my dress?” your voice is drenched in worry.

“No baby, your dress is very pretty,” he meant it, your dress looked amazing on you. But that was just the problem he was having. “You look good… Just a little too good, y’know?” he forced a chuckle, trying to convince you that he was less upset than he really was. The two of you had been there for three hours, and for three hours he was at war with every guy’s wandering eyes. He had endured three hours of men checking you out, some were so indiscreet about it that the handles of your shopping bags were barely managing to keep the straps under his tight grasp. “Let’s get you a drink and head home, hmm?” he said, pulling together all of his energy to sound fine.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Even after a couple of hours went by at your shared place, Suguru still looked as wound up as he did at the mall. He sat on the couch, drinking a beer and staring at the show on the tv, obviously not really watching it. His grip on the beer bottle was loose, only sipping it when he remembered it was in his hand. 

You grew more and more worried as time passed. You lost the outfit as soon as you got home, opting for pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt – hoping that he would forget about whatever issue he had with your dress if he no longer had to look at it. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

“Sugu?” you barely said above a whisper, “Is everything okay?” he only hummed at you, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Do you want to talk about it?” you meekly asked. His head shook while he took another lazy sip of his beer. You bit your lip in thought, taking in his still tensed figure that leaned back into the couch. He never changed out of his jeans and black tee, opting to prioritize drinking over unwinding for the day in his usual sweatpants attire. An idea came to you while your eyes trailed his figure, and you hesitated before speaking. “Do you want your cock in my mouth, Suguru?”

He nearly choked on his beer hearing your words, turning to see your face. You looked desperate to hear his response, so eager to hear you can please him. “Of course,” was his response to you, he could never turn that down. You crawled down from the couch and placed yourself between his legs. He sat up, moving to the edge to make it easier for you to reach. He pitched a tent almost immediately seeing you between his thighs. You began to undo his belt, working slowly as he watched with bated breath. 

“Will this be a good apology, Sugu?” your doe eyes met his and you can see him melt at your words. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting patiently as you pull down his zipper. He lifts his hips off the couch, helping you slide his pants all the way off. You rub his cock over his briefs, slowly stroking it and watching the fabric grow a wet patch. You decide it best not to tease for too long, so you pull his cock out and run your thumb across his wet tip. 

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his hips following you as you began to stroke his cock. You twisted your wrist as you slid your hand up his length, teasing the head with your thumb each time you reached the top. He watched you behind his lidded eyes, waiting to feel the warmth of your throat. He dropped his beer onto the end table, preferring to stroke your hair as your wet tongue reached out to lick a fat stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. He groaned at the feeling, leaning back as your mouth finally took him in. You started slow, only taking him halfway and stroking the half that was left out with your hand. It wasn’t long before Suguru started his usual dirty talk that made you squirm. “You feel so good, princess,” he grunted, “This is what I deserved after a long day of putting up with you, hmm?” His hips bucked up, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth. “Having to keep you safe because you wanted to dress like a slut,” his other hand reached down to pull up his shirt, exposing his toned stomach that flexed every time you showed his tip extra attention. You licked the slit, pulling back just to spit all over it and using your hand to guide the lubricant down. He shuddered as you took more of him into your mouth, massaging his length with your tongue as his tip neared further down your throat. “Just couldn’t help showing yourself off,” he let loose his frustrations while his dick was stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking back. “Gotta suck my cock to make it up to me, princess,” he snickered. “You’ll do a good job? Hmm? Take me all the way?” it was your turn to react to the pleasure he was giving you. The way he talked to you always riled you up, his words always going straight to your clit. You shifted on your knees, desperately trying to give yourself any form of relief. As if he knew, his foot reached out for you and you took it, rubbing your clit shamelessly against the spot where his ankle and foot met. He laughed darkly at you, completely in awe as he watched you hump his foot while you drooled around his cock. “Look at you baby,” he purred at you, “Getting off to sucking my cock…” his Adam apple bobbed in his throat while he tried to collect himself before he came too soon. Your tight shorts were already growing wet as you rutted into him, sucking him even more feverishly. You took all of him, your eyes watering at the heavy feeling against your tongue and in your throat. “Fuck your throat feels so good. S’warm and wet,” he was moaning now, not capable of keeping it back anymore. “Almost as good as your little pussy… too bad she doesn’t deserve my cock right now…” you whined at his words, causing you to gag against his cock. You pulled back, coughing and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Am I too big for you, princess? Can’t take it?” he teased and you shook your head, readying yourself to go back down. Instead he guides you back, standing up and pulling his briefs completely off. “Gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” he asks you and you nod, moving in to take him back in your mouth. As soon as his tip hits your tongue he is pushing himself all the way in, gripping your hair and shoving his cock down your throat at a brutal pace. You feel his trimmed hair tickle your nose with each thrust of his hips. Your cheeks were covered in tears and drool seeped from your lips and onto your chin. “You’re so good t’me,” he moaned out, throwing his head back as he used your throat. His hips stuttered and you felt his dick twitch in your throat, you could tell he was close. “You’re gonna swallow it all… else you’re gonna have to try again until you get it right. Fuckkk, can’t waste a drop,” you dug your nails into his thighs, waiting eagerly for him to reach his peak. Eager to taste his salty cum. 

When he finally came you did as you were told, cleaning up anything that spilled out with your fingers, before popping it back into your mouth. “Such a good girl,” he murmured to you, smoothing out the hair he roughed up previously. “So beautiful,” his dark eyes showed nothing but adoration for you, kissing your forehead as he spoke, “A little too beautiful…”

[fraugwinska]

I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

[hymnoeides]

I just discovered your blog and DAM I love your art, your designs for the Gods are awesome! I don’t know if you’ve finished watching those Hades gameplays and it really depends if the person you were watching chose any of the romance options, but would you hypotheticallyyyy ship Thanzag (Thanatos and Zagreus)?

ALSO YES, FELLOW PISISTRATUS FAN, FINALLY!

AUUU TYSM!!! 🥹🥹 I’m so glad,,, I’m so happy knowing people enjoy my stuff … PISISTRATUS FANS UNITE I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!/p

Thanzag? What’s that? Never heard of th//trips and spills out my pockets

Eehhehe take some of the sketches I have 🥺🫶

[molabuddy]

i dont have a favourite deep cut member tho i promi- *trips and this spills out of my pocket*

ah fuck