#← not sure if its actually Called something but im using that for my own tagging system for now because its funny

[guzmawife]

🍓: he had no job when i met him but now he works at a high school as an errand boy / security (his children attend said school). hes the guy they call in when a real teacher needs to use the bathroom so he can watch the class. or to retrieve some papers from the printer. go get me that thing boy.

🍒: probably just chilling at home with snacks and movies and fast food. or chillen at the beach. 🏝️

🍎: tapu cocoa.. we all know dis.. hot sweet drinks…

🍉: hes not religious other than believing that a higher power exists. hi arceus..

🍑: totally more comfortable giving gifts. hes used to taking care of others so it’s pretty natural for him to be giving. he has no issue receiving but its not rlly a priority since he didnt come from much so hes used to not rlly asking for much.

🍊: i make him peel it. he knows my paws and claws have to stay clean… he’s comfortable with getting dirty and i am not!

🥭: no i domt think so. his dad was a prick and said shit like. Youre not a woman so you dont need those. fuckkkk that guy.

🍍: probably him being mentally manipulated and abused! 😿 killing all the people that taught him he wasn’t anything and made him feel like he had to act out in order to prove himself to others. hhhggffg. he deserves to be loved.

🍌: he likes to be in the dark. das it. no specific reason why.

🍋: he would probably change his hothead nature bc he doesn’t like how quickly he gets upset and makes bad decisions. and his hairline.

🍋‍🟩: he tells people if you squish bugs more will keep showing up. as a joke. heehe. sorry im gonna squish them still im a pussy.. thats probably why they keep showing up though. i have an actual curse. maybe he’s right man…

🍈: he thinks fate is bogus and if you want something to happen you have to make it happen.

🍏: hes bisexual and questioning demisexuality, he learned of his bisexuality through being in denial of liking the same sex and being like. This is ruining my tough guy personality. This can’t be. but then it kept happening and he was like man fuck this whatever. what the hell sure. he became normal. he’s still figuring out the demisexuality, to put it simply he just doesnt want to engage in sexual acts with anyone unless he has a genuine connection to them. it also just feels better for him. sorry for airing out your business Anywayyyyyy. Anyway.

🍐: he’s a nail biter its kinda gross sorry man. his nails are short always so i make him do short nail tasks since my nails are usually pretty long. i think he bounces his legs sometimes too. he knows i hate that shit thou so he tries not to. usually i just leave so he can shake all he wants. then hes like what wait no….

🥝: he would totally let me do his makeup. we’re both pretty lazy when it comes to makeup so we don’t so anything complex. i just do mascara and corner highlights and SOMETIMES lipstick and that’s it. #autistic i cant stand having too much shit ok my face. this isn’t even about me brah. he does simple makeup too since he’s just not super experienced. he just tries things sometimes but he’s not a professional. he just wants to look cool.

🫒: he’s a big hugger he squeezes too tight but it feels good though…. (´ ω `♡) he likes to be hugged too! yey!

🫐: definitely more of an artist he actually keeps a sketchbook. right brained yeah.

🍇: if we never met i think he might still be getting himself into some trouble tbh. he’s pretty stubborn.

🥥: he draws he plays games. he works out. he cooks. i think he would want to get into gardening but his location doesn’t allow for it since it’s always fucking raining.

🍅: i think he would get me testosterone or something that i can’t possibly get safely right now. or like. my own living space. or some rare pokemon card / plush that costs more than an organ online. sigh. or probably 1 billion dollars. muhehw.

🌶️: he drinks ginger ale. ginger ale the ultra cure.

🫚: hes not picky. he cant eat beans bc hes allergic to them. but i dont think hes picky since he has to make sure his kids eat first. so he eats whatevers left from them. leftover amalgamation.

🥕: he didnt like them but he ate them anyway bc his parents were mean :(

🧅: he cries when hes angry like super fuming. and when hes thinking about his past. hes just mad at himself for what happened and how he handled things. Basically. getting manipulated and taken advantage of makes him upset and he cries. he doesnt cry at movies unless he relates to them.

🌽: does bugs counts as animal. He likes dogs. and isopods. and other sea creatures.

🥦: pet peeves are getting called ‘boy’ or ‘kid’. i used to call him boy all the time just by habit and he would Not like that. “I’m not a boy. I’m a man. stop callin me dat…” okaaayyy whatevar. he doesnt have an issue with me calling him dude tho. despite being his lover. which is a little funny. um what else. people not knocking before entering. leaving empty cartons and stuff in the fridge or cabinet. ppl telling him he looks tired. or people calling him old. not that he has an issue with old people (😽) but its like. How did you even reach that conclusion.

🥒: hes afraid of ultra beasts a little.. specifically uh whats its name. nihilego. that bird that i hate. middle finger emoji. hes like. a little more hesitant with UBs than regular mons. he’s also got a fear of getting lost.

🥬: beige flags auumm i hate his ugly fucking sunglasses. and when he says. ya boy (pinches the space between my brows). peeing with the door open. he does that thing where u can feel him looking at you waiting to turn around during the movie so he can kiss you. theres probably more. im very good at complaining.

🫛: he loves to think of new pet names for me to see how i will react. he’d be like. “goodnight honeypie” and id be like “oh…. yeah… 😽” he also likes them too but most of the time i just call him musham or guzma bc i like saying his name. then he’s like. Why dont you call me anything else…. (sad puppy eyes). he likes when i call him mumu or honey. i calll him princess sometimes but its rare. princess is like his top pet name for me. meeooww. sometimes i call him Boss. thats For when. Im teasing Him. That one Makes his Ears turn Red. For special Occasions. meow.

🫑: he’s had a number of near death experiences so he’s pretty afraid of death. he has no lofty life goals. he just wants his family safe. wants to travel too and have good genuine relationships.

🥑: not super niche but cosmetics and nail art. he also likes cooking and insects and drawing. just things he grew to like from being around his family. or trying to distract himself from his own issues.

🍠: he likes to go to the beach and sit listening to the waves (same). he also likes to paint his or others nails when he’s bored. “gimme yer hands i wanna try sumn”. yknow.

🍆: favorite scent is meeeeeee… i kid i kid. probably like. Ugh. baked goods. Sugar smell. Rain smell 👎🏾 i hate rain smell but he likes it. i don’t think he has any specific least favorite smells other than the usual like peepee and caca yknow.

🧄: allergic to beans

🥔: he makes japanese curry a lot. easy to make in large portions for his 75million children. i like rice so he usually makes rice dishes for me. i don’t cook very often but when i do its cultural foods since he doesn’t know those recipes. he likes those. yom. he wants to learn baking but just hasn’t had the chance or motivation.

🍄‍🟫: i think he would wanna be a mewtwo or something. super strong and cool nonchalant. if we’re talking irl mytho creatures, cerberus. that guy cool as shit. #swagger.

this took me three whole days to answer. enjoyable experience rlly made me think. sorry for any typos i used swipe typing for parts of this 😿.

@sylvie-wants-your-dogs hi : )

the ULTIMATE f/o infodumping ask game!

(this is gonna be a long one...)

🍓 - disregarding the career your f/o currently has, what other career would they consider going into, if given the chance?

🍒 - if your f/o and you spend a day doing anything, anything at all, what would they do and why?

🍎 - what's your f/o's favorite drink? any drink, alcoholic or non alcoholic!

🍉 - is your f/o religious? what's their opinion on religion or spirituality?

🍑 - is your f/o more comfortable giving or receiving gifts? why? do they have any preferences on gifts they like receiving?

🍊 - if you asked your f/o to peel an orange for you, what would they do?

🥭 - did your f/o have stuffed animals growing up? do they still have stuffed animals? do they have a favorite?

🍍 - if you could change any one thing about your f/os backstory/character, what would you change? why?

🍌 - does your f/o have a vendetta against The Big Light™? what kind of lighting do they prefer?

🍋 - if your f/o could change one thing about themselves, what would they change and why?

🍋‍🟩 - is your f/o superstitious? is there any habits they follow or quirks they have to follow said superstitions? like not opening umbrellas indoors to avoid back luck?

🍈 - does your f/o believe in fate? do they thing everything is preplanned out by the universe or a higher power, or do they think that the idea of fate is bogus? why?

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer?

🍐 - does your f/o have any nervous ticks or idle quirks they do? like mindlessly tapping on a desk or fiddling with their hair when they're stressed?

🥝 - would your f/o ever let you do their make-up? what does their make-up process look like? is it simple? complex?

🫒 - what kind of hugger is your f/o? do they give good hugs? do they like hugs? do they like receiving hugs?

🫐 - is your f/o more of a writer or an artist? would you say your f/o is more left or right brained?

🍇 - if you and your f/o never met, what do you think your f/o would be doing right now?

🥥 - what hobbies does your f/o have? is there any hobby they would like to get into that they haven't tried out yet? what is it?

🍅 - if your f/o could buy you any gift in the world, whether it exists or not, what would they buy you? or, if they could make you something, what would it be?

🌶️ - does your f/o have any remedies they follow when they get sick? like taking a shot of whiskey to get rid of a fever?

🫚 - is your f/o a picky eater? is there any foods they will not under any circumstances, gun to their head, eat?

🥕 - when your f/o was little, did they dislike vegetables? do they still dislike them?

🧅 - what makes your f/o cry? do they get emotional at sad movies or books? do they only get emotional under very rare circumstances?

🌽 - does your f/o have a favorite animal? what is it? are they scared of any animals?

🥦 - does your f/o have any pet peeves? things that just really really get on their nerves? what are they and why?

🥒 - what's your f/o afraid of? do they have any phobias? anything minor they're scared of?

🥬 - what are some beige flags your f/o has? so, not bad, but not nessecarily good either. just. "oh. you do This."

🫛 - how does your f/o feel about pet names or nicknames? do they like them? hate them? what are their favorites and least favorites to be called and to use?

🫑 - how does your f/o feel about death? are they afraid of it? is there anything specific they'd like to do before they die?

🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them?

🍠 - what are a few of your f/os favorite pastimes or things that they do when they're bored?

🍆 - does your f/o have a favorite scent? why is it their favorite? do they have a least favorite scent?

🧄 - does your f/o have any allergies? food or otherwise?

🥔 - does your f/o have any food dishes they make often? is there any foods you make for your f/o that they enjoy?

🍄‍🟫 - if your f/o could be any mythological species, what would they be? if your f/o is already a mythological species, would they ever want to be human?

I recommend practicing reblog karma ! people love infodumping about their f/os :) I also recommend sending more than one emoji at a time,,, there are Many here...!!!

[lacesoflove]

guess who’s back on tumblr after trying to unalive themselves 😍 i don’t really wanna talk about my absence and go into the depths of the reasoning why, so i’ll just talk about why this account was made - which was for hamzah and slushy noobz. i want to have my own little thinkpiece on the match as well as my place in the slushy community moving forward

i want to say the match and the production is the reason why i love them soo much. they have such an ability of creating cinema with their videos, hence why one of my favourite video from them is the camping video (i tend to watch this video more for comfort rather than for humour though) – and there’s an immense amount of payoff as a viewer watching their content, you can see all the layered inside iokes (i.e having aldo, and nettspend’s producers) and internet jokes culminate in something so carefully crafted (like the way chase’s commentary was genuinely good??). and then the obvious reasons as to why i liked it, hamzah looked so damn good, and he knows it too (i also find martin attractive too, i’d just prefer not to talk about it too much in respect to his relationship). there’s something so beautifully boyish about their content that i can’t find something else (as much as i love them and before anyone says it, no - the dancing gamers cannot replace hamzah and martin and that’s okay!)

however this video kind of cemented why i don’t think i’ll continue regularly engaging with their content. this video kind of felt like a bittersweet ending to one of my favourite eras in my life (watching them). and before i proceed, ik the reddit fans are gonna be annoying - on a side note of the reddit fans i feel like the reddit community is so pedantic over small stuff and because of the few, genuine bad eggs in the community, they over correct and just get so bitter and mad about everything (i.e them being so cruel to fanfic writers) and call everyone chronically online whilst they use the same old “*insert trending braintrot joke* 💜”. i feel so aged out in a fandom even though i’m 18 - i can’t imagine how the slushies who are actually around hamzah and martin’s age feel when their fandom is so reminiscent and full of the same 14 year olds that i’m convinced are the reincarnations of the 2021 14 year old dsmp fans. definitely more sane, i’ll give them that. but community aside, at least reddit community, i want to talk about something another one of my mutuals mentioned recently in their own post and it’s how money hungry they seem. two things can exist at once, let’s get that straight - hamzah and martin don’t get a lot of sponsorships but also being upset that so much of this well awaited come back was heavy promotion for the patreon which, mind you, had a decent amount of members subscribed (i do commend hamzah for encouraging people to unsubscribe over the break!) and also they get money off of ad revenue. i just personally find it egregious that their hoodies, the out of character ones, which are at least unique designs unlike them literally reselling temu shirts like the “find x” shirts, are the same price, in my currency, to the essentials fear of god hoodies.

for any south africans here, it was around like R900 for a hoodie! which is gross im sorry :)

there are also other reasons im distanced from them, and its their associations with chase and claire - i made a, now deleted, post about this before but chase has this annoying tendency i notice in white ‘queer’ (i think he’s queer lmao) men where they speak in blaccents, which was heavily highlighted to me when he was a commentator and he was able to speak in a ‘normal’ white accent, and claire made weird ass comments about black women. as well as having fucking idubzz (who im not sure why was even invited when like sm people are like “who even is he??”) who literally had to make an apology about the fact he created a racist culture with his platform, years after the damage was done. i also have other smaller issues with them that would definitely actually get me cancelled (not even over on the reddit but here). but idfk, what are yalls thoughts?

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

i actually dont even gaf. i dont care if this is old news idc if everyone already noticed it idc if im late on pointing it out idc!!! ive been brainrotting about this for 3 days now and i'm gonna talk about it because oh my god THE IMPLICATIONS I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THEM

Okay so TBOB, great book, canonized billf*rd, "stanley couldve made her laugh" and "but then he crossed the line" yadda yadda, we're all here because stan and bill, the two closest people to ford both call him sixer and are thematic narrative parallels and hey thats pretty god damn brocon of you stanford pines to fuck a triangle that parallels your brother in the story and also calls you the childhood nickname your brother and only your brother calls you. and like thats pretty god damn damning enough

why does he go out of his way to write his and bill's conversations using two different scripts

and why does he write bill's dialogue like that when bill's handwriting looks like this

"maybe its just because ford just wants to give bill a unique handwriting when he writes their conversations it doesnt have to match bill's" yeah sure okay

but it sure as hell isnt unique when he's copying stan's handwriting down cold to the god damn letter

BUT HE DOES.

WHY DOES HE DO THAT. why on earth does he do that. is it subconcious. why does he write bill's dialogue (and i DO mean only bill— he never quotes fiddleford directly in tbob, and uses terms like "he explained" whenever fiddleford tells him something) in STAN'S handwriting. his brothers handwriting. for all this flirty ass exchanges, ford is writing it in his own and his brothers handwriting.

they really, REALLY couldve just easily used bill's personal handwriting for this— wouldve been romantic as hell for ford to get bill's handwriting down in all honesty. but its not its his brothers handwriting. ford is writing all that in STANS handwriting. like is that not fucking crazy

like lets not even cover the fact that in universe he knows how to copy stan's handwriting AT ALL and thats counting the fact that atp hes estranged from stan by about a whole decade. like. HELLO? Stanford pines you obsessive freak brocon you are beyond insane

(and for extra reference, mabel and dipper's handwriting + ford not giving fiddleford any unique dialogue and special handwriting.)

[mothwithapencil]

Alright gang what do we think about The Decepticule

[dawnthefluffyduck]

New game interest unlocked

(crow in bottom right belongs to @patchwork-crow-writes)

[bsotted]

ok well. unfortunate news: sometimes ur niche is so niche u've already niched the niche. this is exactly the same as the feeling of hitting the end of ur ship tag in ao3 🥲

*edit: sorry i accidentally named like every character ever in the tags so ppl are Seeing this post who dont have the benefit of so much as a single crumb of context. if i accidentally namedropped ur blorbo its bc of this post:

anyway. i was excited for recs bc i also enjoy this genre of fictional character. unfortunately as above the niche is niched, it turns out. at least for me, content enjoyer georg, who has apparently already seen or read everything anyone else has already seen or read except for a small handful of specific media properties that i do not wish to see or read for various personal reasons and also not literally everything ever... just the same things as everyone else has already seen and read... u get the idea. ok thnks 👍🏻

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

just a little personal anecdote/ thought dump in the tags..

[pears-trinkets]

.

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body. 

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. “But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He’s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued.  Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

 "JJ!"

 "That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

 "Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey. 

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

*

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

*

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim. 

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

[norikuna]

GREEDY — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → pretty, prodigal, and teasing. how far can you push your former teacher before he snaps? gojo's about this 🤏 close from releasing a hollow purple on the world.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. màstúrbation (m.) and rough sèx, creaḿpie. some angst/doubt. angsty love confession before gojo póunds reader into the mattress. incorrect use of reversed curse technique. arguments and stuff. description of injuries. def mean!gojo a bit and he's got vampire tendencies.

reader is of legal age (implied to be 19-20) and gojo is 28 so age gap!romance. obsessed!gojo and popular girl!reader trope. gojo is absolutely a mess in this, and reader is described as wearing short skirts, and wearing makeup.

rather questionable ethics and dynamics (teacher/former student) but rest assured its clear that his feelings are pretty recent. reader has him twirled and whipped around her fingers. reader is also def a baddie and ambiguously bi.

word count. 8.7k words im mad actually. this was meant to be headcanons song inspiration. greedy — tate mcrae

a/n. this is was gonna be from reader's pov but i thought it would be more fun from gojo's 🙂‍↔️

mp3. i see you eyeing me down, but you'll never know much past my name. or how i'm running this room, but i'm still half your age. yeah, you're looking at me like i'm some sweet escape 😛

gojo satoru was not a weak man, no. he knew that he was an anomaly of nature, an unstoppable power that could reduce enemies to dust and make entire clans crumble with nothing more than a flick of his wrists.

so how was it, that when it came to you, his resolve was paper-thin?

every time your open gaze met his, every time you brushed past him, every time your presence filled the space around his infinity, gojo felt something inside him unravel. his breath would be caught in his chest, leaving his pulse to quicken and suddenly, all that strength and control would slip through his fingers.

gojo cursed himself for this, you see. he had never been one to lose control, but he was not quite sure when his entire body has started to betray him.

but no, fuck that, and he did his utter best to run his focus back onto the lesson at hand. unfortunately, the lesson at hand was with you. standing in front of him, arms slightly raised, palms out, and raising your brow as boredom passed over your face.

gojo cleared his throat, "your stance is good, but your cursed energy is all over the place. focus, breathe. centre yourself is what i'm saying," he instructed, but the words felt hollow as they passed through his lips.

unfairly, you're weren't the problem. he was. and now this was getting ridiculous. you had graduated not two, three years past? it would have been a disservice to still call you his student, but even as a mentee, you were still under his tutelage. and as recent as this immature infatuation was, this felt wrong.

but now you were frowning, starting to waver and the sharp, staccato tap of your heeled boot punctuated the wooden floor, click, click!

gojo looked to the sky, briefly, if to pray for patience and a calm of some sorts. he stepped forwards towards you, placing a hand on your waist to guide you into a better stance, and trying to ignore the way your skin felt warm underneath his fingers.

focus.

"don't let your body twist like that when you utilise your own cursed energy. keep it straight, balanced," he muttered, adjusting your posture slightly, hand on your spine — the heel of his palm pressing into a dent. a deity from the sky must have struck him with a cursed arrow, for his whole body was on fire.

because there you were, standing right in front of him, so close that gojo could feel the soft heat of your breath, the faint scent of a sweet perfume wafting off your skin, vanilla?

"you're not focused," gojo grimaced, though he wasn't sure if the rebuke was at himself, or at you — whose eyes widened briefly, and gojo tried not to recognise the curiosity and challenge that flashed across your face.

look at how she's staring at me. and gojo felt utterly ridiculous, and exposed, she knows. but instead of pulling away, you shifted ever so slightly towards him, your body arching as the barest brush of your breasts against his forearm had heat pulling through his body.

would you taste as sweet as you smelt? would you lean more into him if he asked?

he cleared his throat, "okay. relax, not every stance or position works for an individual. perhaps, you'll be able to focus better like this," and with his hand still on your waist, he pulled you into a swift spin. one that left your back pressed against the hard planes of the chest, and you facing the other wall.

you hummed, this time not in the way he wanted. your lips were lightly parted, and there was that soft sheen of gloss catching the light, making your lips look impossibly soft. gojo caught himself staring, wandering what it would be like to press his own mouth to yours, and whether you would squeal or moan.

still, if there was anything that gojo was good at, it was deflecting like a champ, "i think you're distracted," he laughed, low and amused, "is something making you lose focus?"

you tilted your head, and gojo didn't miss (nor did his heart or groin) that your gaze flickered to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his eyes again, feigning innocence, "don't tell me you're underestimating me, sensei. because i'd hate to think you can't keep up?"

gojo bit back a grin at the obvious bait, "careful," brushing strands of white hair that had fallen into his face away, "if you get too cocky, you tend to miss danger. you start to ignore things that should be noticed."

your voice dropped to a droll whisper, eyes glinting, "you think i don't notice things? i'm aware of plenty."

gojo forced himself to focus, to ignore the way that your lashes flutter with unshakable composure. trying to regain control, or some semblance of mind, he started counting each individual lash painted dark with mascara, lingering on the outermost curls that framed your sharp eyes.

after a beat, he forced himself to break eye contact, "alright," he said, stepping back with a casual shrug that he hoped conveyed just how nonchalant he was, "we’ll call it a day here and continue training tomorrow."

"backing out already?" you teased, leaning in just a little, making him tense at the closeness.

gojo chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "for your sake. you may be powerful, but you have to pace yourself."

you shrugged, nodding, "i'm going out anyway this evening," you said, hopping back a step before bending down to gather your things. gojo politely averted his gaze, his heart hammering from your previous proximity, and desperately hoping to avoid a...reaction, that would be quite inconvenient, as wide and loose as his martial pants were. like a fuckin' school boy with a crush. gross.

but as you slung your pastel bag over your shoulder and straightened up, he couldn't help a quick glance, catching the small, coy glimmer in your eyes as you turned to leave.

gojo sighed, pulling up his blindfold once more, "have fun," he half-heartedly offered, but you were already out the door.

the corridors were now empty, the clang of metal and chatter now silent, replaced with a quiet hum of the air conditioning. gojo wiped his face with the towel wrapped around his neck, the damp fabric clinging to his skin and the muscles in his arms and chest still warm from the intensity of training. his arms and chest glistened, the muscles warm and taut as he stretched, rolling his shoulders back with a low groan. exhaustion settled into him like a weight, each movement of his tired, bare torso slow and deliberate.

"oh, you're still here, sensei?"

gojo's eyes snapped open, drawn to the sound of your inquisitive voice. you stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway, and he immediately felt a rush of heat flood his chest.

well, fuck, now his mouth was dry. clearly, your previous iteration of 'going out' was a bit more glamorous than you had led on, and he was certain his wandering eyes betrayed him as it flickered over your figure. it took a titan's strength to keep his eyes from trailing down your long legs, the way your dress hugged the swell of your chest, or over your glistening neck. there was a faint shimmer, a glitter of some sort? it coated your skin, and gojo wanted to lick it off with his tongue.

what? no. who said that?

he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his composure.

you scowled at his reaction, clearly mistaking his silence for distaste. "what? i did say i was going somewhere," you retorted, your tone sharp but amused. "i’m more than allowed to leave the campus grounds.”

"of course,” he replied, voice outstandingly steady but his mind still trailing after every curve, every detail that made you look...well...dangerous in the best way, "don't let me stop you. who's the lucky guy?"

you arched a brow, folding your arms over your chest, and now, gojo really did have to look away and pretend that he was busy with retying a dark piece of cloth over his eyes, "who said it was a guy?"

gojo thickly swallowed, wondering if he'd just made a colossal blunder with no return, "that's not what i meant." the words 'my bad' stuck in his throat as you laughed and sighed.

"joking, sorry. it's a guy, this time." now you were fiddling with your long nails, with a satisfying clack as they ran across each other.

"i hope he shows you a great time then," he offered, half-hearted, blasé.

you took a step into the room, and gojo didn't even need six eyes to know that your eyes were raking over his chest, "i'm sure he will," all sweetness and sugar, "i've been training so hard, i deserve it, don't i?"

the words hit him harder than he expected, and he had to remind himself — she's not yours, satoru. but that didn't stop the gruff irritation bubbling up.

"a real man should be taking you out on a date like this,” he said, his voice a bit too rough for his liking. "not some guy who’s probably just looking for a good time."

you scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. "are you saying that there's someone else out there who can do a better job?" your tone was playful, but there was a challenge in it — an edge that made his heart skip once more, "sadly, there just aren't many who've handled me well."

he ignored your immature, faux pout, and ran a hand through damp, icy hair — ignoring how his temper flared, rearing its ugly head.

was this all on purpose? to toy with him?

"you want to be handled, sweetheart?" gojo's voice dropped a little lower, indulging your teasing, "i've seen you lose focus easily, you could easily break."

your lips creased up, painted a tempting shade of dried-blood red (what the fuck was wrong with him? was he now just a horny vampire?) as you purred, "i'd need some help testing out that theory." your expression was open just enough for him to see the tiniest flicker of something in your eyes — something that told him you were enjoying this far more than you should.

an invitation of sorts, he wondered. did you want him to move? to make a move? it wasn’t a secret that you had always been a popular student practically a legend, rumours swirling around you like wildfire — whispers of broken hearts and sweetened smiles that could captivate anyone in your path. he had never paid attention of course, gossip always ran wild among students and he discouraged such whispers of who-did-what, for a grade 1 curse would never indulge such behaviour before they would get torn to shreds.

and even now, long after graduation as you worked around your old alma mater, men and women — everyone swooned at the chance to speak with you, and yet, here you were, playing this dangerous game with him.

gojo scowled, trying to push past the desire building inside him, the urge to have you underneath him, right on this mat in the training room. "well, don’t hang around too long," he said, his tone sharp as a blade. "i’m sure your date is waiting. go have a good time."

invitation declined. the morally right thing to do. right?

he didn’t need to look to see the small sneer that curled at the corner of your lips, or the way it turned into a fleeting expression of annoyance. he could hear the click of your heels echo down the hallway as you sashayed out.

what the everlasting fuck was wrong with him?

lo and behold, the great gojo satoru often found himself alone in his own private rooms. for 'the strongest' rarely had time to accommodate some other forms of company.

and frankly, he had no desire to do so now regardless. not when the echoes of your clicking heels still reverberated in his mind. the silence that echoed around him was heavy, suffocating and he was sure he looked erratic.

gojo ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the thought of you. but it was useless. his body was still on fire, the heat of jealousy smouldering in his chest, coiling in his gut like something alive, something dangerous. he had walked to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, his legs splayed wide apart as his shoulders slumped under the soft, amber glow of the setting sun that streamed through the windows. the sorcerer let his head fall back against the chair, eyes closed.

how absolutely ridiculous, he thought, running his fingers through his tousled hair. no, he just couldn't stop it. couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted you. wanted you to want him too. and now, with the way you’d left, with that knowing smile on your lips, all he could imagine was the man you were with now, the man who’d be holding the door open for you, who’d be pulling out your chair, whoever the hell he was.

maybe even a casual, non-sorcerer. some random guy that you had indulged because he was no threat. but he wouldn't be able to touch you, not in the way that you demanded. the man would laugh at your jokes, brush his hand against yours, but wouldn't be able to let a real smile bubble from your lips like satoru could.

and what would that man do next?

would he try to take you back to his place? some small poorly-lit apartment where he'd try to kiss you, to claim your lips without even pulling away for air. would you kiss him back, curling into his frame?

before gojo's even registered what he's doing, his own hand has found his hard cock. despite the tattle of assistance, and dreamy-eyed mongers, pleasure is rare for him. relief, even less so. his schedule just doesn't allow it, and so he oft find himself chasing some distant contentment like this, alone in his rooms.

but he squeezes at the wide hilt, at his base, pulling his hands up, upwards as his brows furrow under blindfold, and he tugs the offending fabric off, away from him, as laden balls smack against his wrist.

maybe the man would then trail his lips down your neck, maybe he'd try to slowly sink his teeth into delicate flesh, leaving blooming purple marks that wouldn't fade, not when gojo saw you tomorrow.

he's running his curled hand up towards the fat mushroom tip, almost glowing pink with heat and pre-cum that's leaving his hand slicked with faint moisture, "shit, that's it."

then what? he can imagine your teasing smile as you decide to take your pleasure as you see fit. how you'd suddenly push this faceless man off, and move so you're straddling him, letting his hands wander around the curve of your hips, digging into plush flesh.

now he's starting to pant, open-mouthed, "ah - fuck! wish i had you here, right here." gojo must be a madman, breathing out to the empty, open air.

but in his mind's eye, you're reaching behind your back to undo the zipper on your outstandingly tight dress, giving the faceless man a coy smile as you push the fabric of your dress down, letting your plentiful tits spill out and against the man's chest.

his wrist is moving faster now, and there's a cramp starting to build up as he pistons his hand over his stretched shaft, and one arm is thrown over his face — the soft hairs on his thick forearm tickling his face as he tries not to gasp or whine too loudly, but he's bucking his ups now, pretending that it's not his hand that he's spilling into, but your tight cunt. and later, he shudders and tenses up, with apologies whispered into the air, "look, look - shit, i'm sorry - i'm sorry. couldn't help it, fuck." and gojo's bitten his lips so hard that he's certain he's drawn blood, vibrant red blooming on pale, creamy skin.

and a lamp had exploded as he came. damn, he'd have to replace that.

you don't deserve someone like him, no. not when he's sitting here, absolutely filthy with thick, white seed entirely over his tense abdominal muscles and stiff hand. not when he's trying to catch his breath after imagining how snug your pussy would feel around him, and how you'd beg for him to give it to you harder.

you didn't deserve someone so messed up with guilt, with mistakes, with the kind of weight that made him too much for anyone, let alone someone like you. didn't you deserve better than a tortured man who couldn't control himself, better than an overzealous mentor who was supposed to keep his distance, to do what was right.

but that didn’t stop his thoughts from swirling, as he separated damp, thick thighs from the smooth surface of the chair, reaching for a tissue. he couldn’t help it. and it made him feel like a damn fool.

the meeting room buzzed with tension, voices rising in sharp, clipped exchanges — some angry, some demanding and others clueless and questioning. gojo had woken up in a foul mood that morning, with some ill-gotten storm brewing beneath his chest. perhaps it was the thoughts of you that lingered from the night before, a gnawing jealously that left him feeling too tight in the stiffness of the uniform dress pants.

but he had forced himself to be dragged through this meeting, plastering a snarky light-hearted grin over his face as he leaned against the wall, letting the higher-ups argue themselves into oblivion.

amidst the storm of words, gojo's focus was nowhere near the mission being discussed. no, his attention was fixated entirely on you. you stood at the far end of the table, eyes flashing with ire as you tore into some pompous old fool who’d dared question your power. the others in the room shifted uncomfortably, deferring to you, as they often did, despite your youth. you had that rare combination of presence and bite that made people recoil back when you sunk your teeth into them, and this was not a knot gojo was interested in unraveling.

kojiro, one of the bumbling administrators, had turned his babbling attention to gojo, "you're still planning to face that curse head-on, gojo-san?" the poor man is wringing his hands at gojo's flat look (made all the more unreadable through a blindfold, satoru would wager), "don't you think it would be well - unwise? instead of expending your time and energy on one cursed spirit, you could handle five lesser ones. efficiency, you see."

gojo's gaze briefly flickers back to you, standing with your arms crossed as one hand fiddles with the end of your braid as your petal-pink lips scowl at some other official with words that don't fit his stature. your other hands keeps reaching around your neck, adjusting a plaid scarf over and over, like you're desparate to hide something under the fabric . well, fuck that.

"i'm aware of the risks," gojo turns his attention back to the matter, "but no one here has time for hesitation. if the curse is special grade, don't you at least think that delaying with lead to more destruction?"

"is it really the cursed spirit you’re worried about, takumi-san?" you asked, your voice low, the kind of voice that could make someone forget their own name.

gojo's gaze snapped to you from under the blindfold, but you weren’t looking at him, not even speaking at him. instead, you were locking eyes with one of the other sorcerers — takumi, a grade two with a shaggy mop of golden hair, one who had been a student alongside you and hardly subtle in his admiration for you.

gojo tries to hide a scoff at how takumi's eyes are wandering over you, ignoring the newpapers that have been flattened on the meeting table, with bold inked letters reading doom-portents such as 'unexplained explosion, 4 dead and 12 injured."

time and place, man.

"you don't think i can handle this mission. if you're worried about me, just say so," takumi's now leaning into you, even as gojo tries to train his ear on kojiro's economic-obsessed babble instead.

gojo can see your eyes flicker to the dastardly newspapers as well, clearly curling your lips at the dour news and takami's disastrous attempt at getting his hands under your skirt. but he also knows that sharp glint in your eyes, the one when you toy with those around you, to pull them in without ever committing to anything. clearly, you've decided to indulge this game.

"takumi," and you draw out the younger man's name, "shouldn't you bring more strength to the table? of course, i'm worried about a friend getting hurt. but even if you were stronger, or the strongest, a special grade curse could do some real damage."

and your eyes have flicked right towards gojo, raking over his frame leaning against the pale cream walls. he's glad for the blindfold, so you can't see how he scowls and furrows his thin brows at you, at your blatant hopes for a reaction from him. were you so unobservant that you did not know how much you bothered him?

the pointed sharpness in your words made takumi pause, and for just a moment, gojo could see the man’s grin falter. it was clear that you weren’t impressed by his attention, you had no need for his slimy attempts.

there was no mistake about it — this wasn’t just a flirtation. this was a game you played, and gojo was not only aware of it; he was caught in it. he tries not to feel irrationally angry, fuck, so much of his life revolves around his work, his job and now he can't even do that properly without feeling like you're using your long nails to dangle something in front of him, wanting to snap his teeth out and snatch it.

so you wanted him to see this. you wanted to claim that you could unravel the strongest sorcerer from the heavens to the earth below, to make him lose his composure. gojo feels as if there is crackling ozone in the air, and wonders dimly if the weather forecast predicted a rain storm for later today.

takumi, sensing the shift, finally backed off with a huff, but not before giving all around him a lingering look, as if it was their fault that you weren't interested.

"enough distractions," kojiro's interjected, raking a finger through a beard streaked with gray, and he's shooting a pointed look at you, snapping rose-pink gum, and takumi, shuffling with his hands in his pockets. "we're here to discuss the mission, not flirt." and then, he's off mumbling something about how this was why he hated having younger sorcerers join the meeting rooms.

his ire only grew. gojo stood with his back against the wall, outside the meeting room, once everyone had left with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. you stood in front of him, your eyes flashing with anger, your chest rising and falling with each sharp breath.

"absolutely not," gojo stood his ground firmly, "no-one will let you go on this mission."

you stomped on the floor, once as your heels snapped an echo, "they will if you say so."

gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, "who said that i would also allow you?"

you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, mimicking his previous stance but with a clear defiance in your posture. "and why the hell not? i'm more than capable of handling it. it's my fucking choice, and how can extra help hurt?"

"enough!" gojo snapped, feeling a tense pain in between his eyes, "it's too dangerous. and you're too young -"

"too young!" you've interrupted him, "i'm not some helpless child, sensei. i'm a grade 1 sorcerer! one of the best, i don't need to be treated like i can't handle a mission."

"grade 1. not special-grade."

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. gojo could see the fury in your eyes, but there was something else there, something deeper, a vulnerability that he had seen before in students, some desire to prove themselves and be heaped with praise. he knew you were good, better than most — hell, better than many of the adults he’d seen. but this cursed spirit was unlike anything you’d faced before. and yet, here you were, challenging him, pushing him, daring him to stop you.

"you don’t get it," he muttered, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. you're too reckless."

"reckless!" now you had taken a step towards him, narrowing the space between you both. your eyes were fierce now, but there was something else in them — a spark of hurt that made his chest tighten, and gojo began to wander where this would start spiral. "i’m not reckless. i know exactly what i’m doing. the only reckless thing here is you thinking you have the right to control my every move."

"i'm the one in charge here," he said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "and i'm telling you now, you’re not going. you’re not ready for this. don't involve the higher-ups in this."

you were so close now, just inches apart. his eyes flicked to your lips, with the arch of a blooming flower kissed by the sun, for a brief moment, and then back up to your face, where anger and frustration mixed with something else — a challenge.

"maybe that’s the problem," you said, your voice quieter now, but still holding an edge. "you think i'm still some child who needs you to tell me what to do. maybe you just don’t want me to outshine you."

the words are ridiculous, and he can see by the mild quiver as your throat bobs that you don't mean what you say. it takes a rare type of courage to tell the first person in four hundred years to be born with limitless and six eyes, that he could be outshined. but satoru doesn't say a word to rebuke your obvious and false bait.

your body is so close now that gojo could feel the heat of your skin, your breath brushing against his. he could smell the faint sweetness of vanilla again in the air mingled with fresh, crisp apples, could see the subtle shine of your lip gloss catching the light. it was a testament to his spirit, he thinks, that he did not lean in straight away and touch his mouth to yours in this scenario that certainly did not warrant it.

"you want me to stop you that badly?" he hissed, his voice a mix of frustration and something darker, that had not yet snapped. "is that what this is? a game? a way for you to get my attention? to see how far you can push me before i do snap?"

now he's got your tongue, and your expression has flickered for a brief moment before schooling into an impassive mask, and gojo briefly wanders if he's crossed an awful line and misinterpreted everything. if they're gonna stick a white dunce hat on his head and parade him through the streets of outer tokyo for being an assuming fool.

but then you've stepped even closer, your breath coming faster, the weight of your chest almost pressed against his, and gojo doesn't move and he's briefly aware that he's let his infinity down.

"partly, you know it's not just about you though. i do want to go on this mission, but -" you tilt your head and look right up at him, and the older man's head starts to reel from the fact that he was right all along, "i do want to see how far you can go before you snap."

his heart pounded, and for a moment, everything went still. all the tension, all the heat, the anger, and the desire — everything seemed to converge in the space between you. gojo's hand twitched, aching to touch you, but he held himself back, his muscles straining with the effort.

"stop,” he rasped, barely able to get the word out. "you don’t know what you’re doing, or what you're asking for."

he's never felt quite like this before, breathless as if the air has been punched out of his lungs. all gojo could think was how much he wanted to pull you closer, to kiss you until there was nothing left between you.

but he couldn’t.

he puts his hands on your shoulders, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of your top, and gently pushes you away.

"my decision is final. don't make this harder than this, you're forbidden from the mission."

how sick and twisted, that you've fled with embarrassed tears pricking at your eyes, and he's stuck with a raging erection.

well, he had seen worse. but it didn't make this curse any less vicious. it was ancient, he could presume, and maddening. its cursed energy was warping the night air like a violent storm. but again, not the worst thing that he had encountered in his twenty-eight years, and with the right timing, he'd been able to calculate every strike and counter.

but then he saw you.

at first, he thought it was a blur — a trick of the light. but then, there you were, standing at the edge of the pavement, your figure framed by the chaotic crackle of cursed energy. fuck your stubborn nature.

this is not what is meant to happen. gojo's heart has skipped a beat, and he's not sure what he's more furious with. you, for defying his concern for your safety. or himself, for getting so distracted in. a battle.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?"

yes, he knows you're good. good enough to move with precision against a special-grade curse, your stance instantly and suspiciously better than the other day in the training rooms. it's only through his six eyes that gojo has been able to keep a track of your movements as your jujutsu is able to dodge the creature's brutal force.

impressive. but reckless.

and that never lasts.

you had moved to cast your own cursed technique, but the curse was intelligent enough to anticipate it. with a sudden lash of its tail, the creature swung its power straight at you, knocking you off balance. you stumbled, your footing lost, and before you could react, a flash of dark energy slicing across your shoulder.

a scream had torn from your lips as you fell to the ground, blood spurting from the deep cut.

and briefly, just for a flicker of time, gojo sees a dark-haired man in violet robes leaning against a brick wall, with his shoulder torn off, 'at least curse me one last time.'

blood rushing in his ears, before he even realised it, he was on top of you, his body hovering over yours, his jujutsu flaring as he shoved the cursed spirit back with a brutal force that made the earth tremble, an exorcism that will not take long. he kneeled beside you, his breath ragged, eyes locked on the wound on your shoulder. the blood was already soaking your clothes, darkening the fabric as you winced, your breath shallow and unsteady.

"you —” gojo isn't sure if his hand isn't shaking from how irate he is, "what the hell were you thinking? fuck, don't move."

your eyes were unfocused for a moment, but when they snapped to him, there was defiance there — even in this moment (get a grip!), as you gritted your teeth against the pain.

"save it, it's fine," you spat, your voice weak but vexed, "that bitch is still there."

"what did i tell you! what did i say would happen?" he cursed under his breath, focusing his reversed cursed technique as he tried to heal you, but the moment felt like an eternity as bright red blood moved too fast for him to seize it.

an assassin's blade in his throat, his arteries giving way and bubbling out and up.

now you don't answer, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. gojo's gaze darted to the cursed spirit, which was now advancing again, enraged by the interruption.

it won’t touch you again.

he stood, pulling you away from him, your body slumping slightly out of his arms. he could feel the heat of your blood soaking through his sleeve, but he had no time to dwell on it. the curse roared in fury, and gojo's infinity flared up around him again, a shield of pure energy blocking its path.

"stay down,” he growled, and all he received was a weak, "fuck, you think that's funny?"

it's only later when he's pulling you back up, that he realises that his reversed cursed energy has done enough to stem the bleeding, but not enough to leave you unharmed as your breath is shallow, your face taking on a more sickly pallor.

"don’t you ever — ever —do that again," he snarled, his voice raw and he wonders when something (or someone) has ever undone him so much. but the anger in his voice doesn't carry to his touch as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, tracing the lines of your jaw.

the sterile walls of your room did nothing to soften the tension in gojo's chest as he stood by your bed, his eyes tracing the curve of your sullen form beneath the sheets. your shoulder was bandaged, with red seeping slowly through the white strips.

"you really are unbelievable," he snapped, his voice sharp as he paced around the room, every step heavy with frustration. "i told you it was too dangerous. i told you not to fucking go."

you lay there, your eyes half-closed, as though you weren’t even listening, but the twitching frown on your lips is sign enough that you're not as sorry. his fingers flexed at his sides, itching to do something — anything — to release the tension building in him.

"are you even listening to me?" he know he sounds bitter, over-reactionary, angry as he moved towards the edge of your bed.

you blinked slowly, your gaze still infuriatingly calm, "i'm fine, now. save the lecture."

he doesn't want to start sputtering so he settles for crossing his arms over his chest, but your voice breaks the silence again.

"you know i want to be a special grade sorcerer, right?"

gojo only looks down, not wanting to indulge an excuse and he studies the tight grip of his knuckles on his slender fingers, "well, i don't know why. the pay isn't that good." it's a weak attempt at a joke, but you're smiling.

"i was told i could only become one if i was the one to exorcise that special grade."

"by who? the higher-ups?" and you nod, wincing as you do.

what a fucking surprise. the way that the jujutsu world works is no surprise to gojo by now, having been surrounded by it his entire life. but the harshness of their reality still shocks him, old and doddering officials who cling to their silk robes are prone to sending out younger sorcerers (those who are still green, barely out of school) to do their dirty work for them, and the cemetery outside of jujutsu tech is ever growing.

he ground his teeth together, his chest tightening as he stared down at you. the bandages, the damp skin, the stillness of your body — it made him want to tear something apart. "fine! if they were giving you a hard time, why didn't you just come to me then?" he repeated harshly.

"would you go ask someone to help you, for something like this? if you were asked to prove yourself?"

gojo runs his tongue behind his teeth, "i'm the strongest, princess. i don't need to ask for help."

you groan, turning your head away from him, but a faint smile dances upon your lips.

he inhales sharply, his fingers digging into the edge of the bed. "you think this is a joke?"

"all four limbs are attached and i'm living and breathing. okay, so fine. my bad. i won't do it again. will you stop snapping at me now, at everything -" and gojo wonders if there's really some hurt colouring your voice, "what's going on?"

the words slip out, rough and unrestrained. "what’s going on is that you’re driving me insane. you act like this doesn’t matter, like i can just stand by and let you throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing — like you don’t matter — but you do. you do matter."

his chest was heaving now, his hands shaking as he reached out and grabbed your wrist. his thumb brushed over your pulse, the tiny fluttering beneath your skin driving him wild. "i can’t — i can’t just stand there and watch you get hurt," he continued, his voice hoarse. "you don’t get to do whatever you want without consequences, damn it. you don’t get to make me feel this way, and then pretend like it doesn’t matter."

for a moment, there was silence. gojo's pulse was hammering in his ears, his body coiled with the intensity of everything he was trying to say. everything he was trying not to say. everything he wanted to act upon.

and then, with a slow, almost lazy smile, you turned towards him, "i didn't know the great gojo satoru was like this. who would have thought?"

his breath hitched in his throat. gojo wanted to say something, to snap at you again, to maintain that distance — but the truth was that the distance between the two of you had disappeared these past few weeks. his chest tightened, his hands trembling as they slid to your face, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, and he relished how your facade almost cracked and you lightly shivered.

at least, he hoped you were shivering because of his touch. and not, like, a fever building up from your injuries.

fuck it.

and then, before he could stop himself, gojo was leaning down, his lips crashing into yours with all the force he could muster, desparate and hungry and that frustration and fear that he had been holding onto. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you towards him with a force that made your breath catch, as you responded with a soft gasp.

had he misstepped? no, for you kissed him back, tentatively at first, as if you were testing the waters, but then building up to a sudden urgency that mirrored his own. your hands slid to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pushed yourself closer to him, before crying out.

"ah! fuck, my shoulder."

small beads of blood surfaced where your collarbone met your shoulder, each one glistening like tiny rubies against your warm skin. they gathered slowly, delicate droplets that clung to you before tracing faint, uneven lines downward. the red stood out, vivid and fresh, dotting your skin in a stark, almost mesmorising gojo as they welled up and began to trick in thin, crimson trails.

"stay still," gojo rasped, his voice low and rough as he leaned in, pressing closer. his mouth met the fresh blood pooling on your skin, tongue tracing over the small rivulets that had seeped from beneath the bandage.

he lingered, almost savouring the taste, his eyes darkening as the sharp tang of iron lingered on his tongue, smacking his lips slightly as he drew back, gaze fixed intently on you, on your heavy breathing as he stole away another kiss from you.

gojo's lips left yours briefly, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, his eyes wild underneath the blindfold, gasping as your nails reached up to hook the fabric down so his hair loosened, falling around his face.

you were staring back at him, breathless and wide-eyed, and in that moment, gojo knew — he couldn’t stay away from you. no matter how much he tried.

your lips were soft, so soft, but there was fire behind the way you kissed him back, your hands landing on his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. he groaned, deep in his throat, and his fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer.

his mouth moved urgently over yours as he shifted to stand beside the bed, his body hovering over you, every muscle tense, straining with the desire that he had tried so hard to ignore. gojo just couldn't think about anything else.

and your lips broke apart only briefly, and you let out a soft laugh, that damn, dangerous laugh of yours. "you're greedy, you know that."

his chest heaved, and his heart pounded in his ears, and blood was now pounding to his nether regions. he wasn’t sure if it was the previous anger or the ache between his ribs, but he couldn’t stop himself as he threaded his fingers through your soft hair, "i am greedy. greedy for you. only you - mmph! shit!"

you had run your long, painted nails (with the little painted charms on the end) down his neck before pressing them, hard enough to cause a sharp sting.

"you wanted to put me through hell," he whispered harshly, and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, "until i realised i liked it. until i realised i wanted you, all of you."

his hands moved down to your waist, squeezing gently as his lips found the tender spot beneath your ear, trailing kisses there, letting his teeth sink in, to see small bruises appear. gojo's breath was ragged as he fought to keep control, and something deeper inside of him roared with the need to claim you completely.

"you’re mine," he growled against your skin, the words hot and possessive. "i don't care what happens. you’re mine now."

you tilted your head, still smiling, but this time there was something different in your eyes — something that burned with the same intensity. "if i'm yours, what are you going to do about it? hmm, satoru?"

and that final thread, that last remnant of honour that he had been nurturing and holding onto, snapped.

"is this what you want, princess?" he draws out the nickname, letting it roll off his tongue, as you suddenly inhale sharply. his hands are all over you now, large hands exploring and kneading at your torso, and before he can even let you blink, they're under your top.

he's pressing his hot mouth to your sternum, wet and open-mouthed, and he wonders what sort of effect you have on him. what force in the world leave him panting like this, desparate as his hands find their way behind your back, to unclip whatever's holding your tits in place — just so he can reach back and run his palms over your hard nipples, flicking them and rolling them in between his fingers.

and faintly, in the back of his mind, he's aware that his reversed cursed technique must be working overtime, because suddenly you're rolling forward into him with no care in the world for your previously injured shoulder, as your own hands trail down the front of body, right over his bulge.

but he slaps your hand away, pressing you flat against the mattress, "fuck, not yet. you think i'm just going to let you get away with all this," and as you mewl a soft yes, followed by a please, he rolls his eyes, "wait. behave and i'll give you what you want."

and then, softer, "need to make sure you're ready first."

his arms are caging both sides of your head, and he's got one hand on the headboard (although, you will marvel at the burnt imprint that he's left, later) and the other is tearing your top off, just so he can lean down and let his canines press into the soft fat of your chest, so he can slip a pointed nipple into his mouth and tug it, ever so gently.

but gojo needs to continue lower, and his hand squeezes at the waistband of your short skirt, snapping the elastic twice as you heave your bare chest, "please, please, satoru!"

it's heaven down here for him, and gojo's dizzy at how outstandingly wet you are, with just a single swipe of his fingers in the soft, damp fabric of your underwear.

your clear, sticky arousal clung to his fingers, stretching in thin, glistening threads as he spread your thighs apart, knocking your knees to either side so he could slot himself in between them. your slick shimmered slightly under the light, translucent and tacky and he just couldn't help himself, bringing them up to his mouth to slowly taste.

"shit, princess. you taste so good, can't believe this is what i've been missing out on."

he's playing an instrument, he thinks. gliding his fingers along sodden folds, twirling his index finger past a thick wad of skin and pressing right over your clit in hot, tight circles that have you bucking your hips, "hnngh, right - ah, right there 'toru!"

'toru.

as a reward, he plunges his middle finger straight into your gaping heat, your tight wall of ringed muscles that had been fluttering in light pulses for his attention. fuck, he almost reaches his own climax by feeling how you squirm and writhe, moan and mewl as he starts pushing his finger in, and then out.

in, and then out. in, once more. and out, again. and then, another finger.

his fingers sank into your soft, damp pussy — which yielded easily enough with a soft pssh! as the digits pressed in. gojo pulled his hand back out from your thighs, enjoying the tight resistance and suction as your cunt has resisted being empty once more, leaving a cool moistness on his skin.

but now your hands gently cup his face, and he isn't sure how to not crumble with how you look at him, eyes wide and glossy, "wan' more, want your cock, 'toru."

now, gojo feels as though he's truly ascended, gone onto some higher plane of existence. because how can he resist when your hands are weakly pawing at his belt, at his waistband and he's letting you pull his thick shaft out.

it's hot, and already weeping angry tears of pre-cum, and he just loves how your eyes widen at the sheer size and girth.

"yeah, princess was sooo brave earlier, wasn't she? wanted my cock, ah! shit - did she?" and he's letting the wide tip lay heavy against your clit, knocking it once, and then twice, through your heavenly folds.

you've reached a leg up, and around his waist, pulling him closer and gojo has to pierce his lip with his teeth to not let out a gutteral groan from his cock sliding through the your folds, "i don't - don't care, i really don't fucking care if it's too big. just put it in now, m' so wet, i'm wet enough."

your babble is endearing, and he marvels at how easily he has you cock-drunk without even being in you right now. he jostles further, until the tip is right at your flittering entrance, pressing forward and slipping through the heated, slick gummy texture in a way that has the strongest's head spinning.

"easy, princess. oh fuck, you're too tight. way too tight, i'm gonna -" and gojo inhales, steadying himself, as the wet heat enveloped him as he moved, each slide through the soft walls of your pussy leaving him acutely aware of every inch, the warmth coating him further until your slick was dampening the white, stray hairs of his groin.

he pulls your lips close again, one hand coming up to gently cradle your head, and his fingers weaving slowly through your hair.

"you're so deep in me, 'toru! so - hnngh," and your words are cut off by a staccato thrust of his hips, and your teeth clack around a moan that gojo gladly swallows.

"hey, i'm right here. i've got you, yeah? got you so good, just hold onto me."

and he keeps a steady pace, plunging into molten silk, with a sensation so intense and so enveloping that it left him breathless, with a rush of heat that made his head spin.

he's toying with your tits, pressing his face into the shadow that lies between your mounds, and gojo's certain that he could die a happy man like this, exactly like this.

he realises that the faint laugh is coming from him, so distant is he in his pussy-drunk reverie, that he realises he must look and sound like a madman, "pretty pussy is so tight, so fucking tight. haah, i think i'm gonna have to fill you up, gorgeous?" and he must be blathering, "want me to fill you up? shit- want me to stuff... ah! stuff you so full of cum that we just hafta stay in this bed all day then?"

he had his fingers now moving in circles over your throbbing clit, exerting a gentle pressure that had you so beautifully keening and bucking your hips up, jolting right into his pelvis. and gojo bit back as a groan as his heavy balls started to smack, and smack! over and over again, right onto your dampened skin.

"she must be close right, pretty little pussy must be almost tired now," and gojo's now slapping your clit, lifting three fingers up and bringing them down with enough force to not harm you, but make you jolt, "she. must. be. so. close." and each word is punctuated by the slippery spank of his fingers bouncing right off your mound.

"makes me want to have you - you and her," and gojo's revelling in the slick of your pussy, now throwing his head back without shame.

and when your walls start to flutter, when you start writhing in his grasp, pressed right against his chest with your legs knocked back as far as they reach on other side of his broad frame, he feels himself unravel. feels the rhythmic quake of your tight cunt literally milk him dry, letting pools of thick, white seed plug within you, and he almost shakes and tears up himself, at the idea of claiming you like this.

later, he has you resting against his chest and the knot in his chest, that nasty plague that sent him afoul has disappeared, and gojo feels as though he's about to start purring, from the feeling of your nails trailing little shapes over his skin (little hearts, perhaps?) and how soft your hair feels under his own hands. he can't resist himself from pressing his lips softly to your forehead, "happy?"

you laugh, a genuine, soft sound that erupts from your chest as you press your bare body into him, "you have no idea."

[genderkoolaid]

expand on ur "mental asylum Marxism shit" thing about children & grief?? from what you've said im pretty sure i will relate from my own experiences as a grieving child. also it sounds interesting!!

so i was thinking about how weird it is that, when a child has to deal with the death of a loved one, they say something like "no child should have to go through this! no child should have to even think about death!" which strikes me as weird because i was a child who dealt with the deaths of multiple close family members, very close together. the first was my great-grandmother, who i lived with and who was my best friend. death was never foreign to me (my mom has always been very death-positive on top of all that). grief was just part of my life like everything else was.

but i realized that its because people think childhood should not have any flaws. you should be 100% happy and fulfilled all the time. any time a child experiences anything painful, its bad. not "children should have access to love and support," but "children should not have basic life experiences because the idea of childhood being anything other than fluffy purity scares me."

because children in society are fundamentally not people. especially in a society structured around christian beliefs in natural law theory, that what is natural = what is good, healthy, and Divinely commanded. so on top of children being the property of adults, they are also forced to be the symbols of Nature. whatever is the most useful to whoever needs them. which means we built up this idea of children as tabula rasas, pureness incarnate. like a magic mirror where if we look into it, we'll be able to catch a glimpse of the true face of humanity. every single thing children do can be scrutinized for some grand truth about humans as a whole. and then, the ways children are treated also reflect how we think humanity should interact with its own nature.

example: the idea of humanity as inherently sinful and wicked, with that urge needing to be suppressed through state violence (hello hobbes) = the idea that children are annoying and shitty on purpose and need to be forced via punishment into being Good Citizens.

this is also why children cannot be trans, even though all trans people must prove that we were trans children. being queer must be unnatural; and even if not, its inherently sexual, and sexuality is dirty and bad. so children can't be trans, and they also can't read books on puberty until their parents decide when and what exactly they are allowed to learn. child victims of sexual assault only matter to the extent that they can be used as a symbol of a cultural threat; calling Jewish or trans people pedophiles means saying that they are foreigners attacking basic human nature, and indirectly, Divine command. if you aren't the right kind of victim, or when you inevitably reveal yourself to be A Person with complicated experiences and opinions, you are no longer of use to the agenda.

it sucks that bad things happen to anyone. aspects of youth can exacerbate the pain sometimes, but sometimes it does the reverse: I wish I could have spent more time with the family members I lost, but I know other people who are glad they loss family members young, because they weren't really hurt by it. I think the main thing is that, even sometimes when we talk about our past selves, we project this cultural idea of Child As Purity and ignore the actual person having the experience. when we "empathize" with children by projecting Purity onto them, we aren't actually connecting with them.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

the woobification of the lords is something ill never be able to wrap my head around 😭 its insane to me how people can have such a horrible interpretation of events and characters based off of what we have in the actual game

let me start off by saying that ALL FOUR LORDS DID HORRIBLE THINGS (INCLUDING THE DIMITRESCU DAUGHTERS) !

lady dimitrescu isnt some gentle giant who only hates men and loves women and treats them like queens and she just loves living a quiet life with her daughters, she kills and tortures people 😭😭 she like actively killed her maids and drank their blood 😭 they have a basement that has so much blood in it that it goes up to ethans THIGHS

they are muderous and SADISTIC, including the daughters

the woobfication of the dimitrescu daughters is always the most confusing to me. their faces are literally covered in BLOOD 😭😭 they chase ethan around and stab him will laughing and giggling, cassandra literally calls it a HUNT, it is fun to them and they enjoy it

people always try to frame it as ethan breaking into their homes while they are scared and afraid 😭 i can assure you that nobody is afraid of him at first 😭 they dont think hes an actual threat, thats why they toy with him. and dont act like they were unaware of what he wanted. they were all present at the family meeting with miranda, they were all present when they JARRED rosemary 😭 they know what ethan wants, they know who ethan is, to frame them as "minding their own business" is the most absurd interpreation you could make of them

they were all involved, they all knew what he wanted, and they all HAD what he wanted

you can feel sympathy for lady D, when she cries for her daughters with tears in her eyes, she loved them, they were her family, but you cannot deny the hypocrisy. "how can you kill my daughters for your own!" you have his daughters head in a pickle jar! her daughters werent innocent defenless babies who were scared of big ol ethan stomping around in their house, they have weapons! they wanted to hurt him, and they did, and when he fought back he won

i cannot stress enough that in every single fight, ethan is not the first to strike. he is either backed into a corner where its either his life or theirs, or he is literally being tortured/ chased around, what do you want him to do? these people have pieces of his baby, should he have lied down and died?? 😭

whenever ethan is in a situation where the other person isnt stabbing him in the abdomen 100 times he tries to HELP them 😭 he tries to help absoulute strangers of a village he doesnt even know while he knows his own daughter is missing, even when the stranger is also a jerk to him 😭 he wants allies, he isnt actively trying to make enemys, and before you cry "karl heisenberg!" im getting there...

the thing that bothers me with how people treat donna is that although she isnt the WORST she gets woobfied the MOST imo, like she is the ONLY lord (other than karl but hes a outlier because he wanted ethan to come over so they could make out on his bed) who actively lures ethan in, miss dimitrescus, yeah sure u could say that he trespassed, same with moreau, but donna literally LURES HIM IN with hallucinations of his DEAD WIFE, then OPENS THE DOOR for him and TAKES HIM DOWN THE ELEVATOR

she is literally one of the people who ACTIVELY leads him to where she is

she also uses psychological puzzles , like making ethan perform surgery on a wooden doll of his wife and making him run away from a monster that cries like a baby and calls him "dada" 😭 she did not need to do any of that... like at all 😭 she did it because she wanted to 😭 she is by no means innocent at all

she toyed with him for literally no reason other than her own desire and then ethan doesnt even intentionally kill her. he is in a situation where is his trapped in the house and has to find angie, the doll, to avoid being attacked by dolls with like 100 knives stapled onto them

its only when he defeats angie its revealed that he had actually stabbed DONNA. he didnt even intentionally kill her 😭

then moreau... poor moreau... 😭

moreau in my opinion is one of the more sympathetic lords. whoever he was in his life pre cadou has no influence or impact on his life post cadou, the cadou just wrecked his brain functions

all he is is just mirandas minion at this point, he only wants to please her and doesnt really think about anything else for himself 😭

i dont have much to say about moreau because theres not really many people who woobfiy him or pay him any attention really 😭 though i will say he was very unabashedly evil 😭 he did horrible things, such as eating the fishermen and his experiments with the cadou on the villagers, he did it for mirandas approval but its not a excuse for it, hes still a villian 😭 now we are onto karl.... this guy... the woobification of him is insane 😭 first of all, something i dont see people acknowledge is that he actually HAS killed villagers! no he doesnt just use dead bodies (which btw isnt really a step up 😭 some of u set the bar too low man) the lycan gauntlet that he made ethan run through? yeah, he used that before! he has an entire PA system set up in it! he has lights and huge spikey metal death traps! he did not make all of that just for ethan just to "play appearances" for miranda. there were other people who went through that. and they DIED!

their deceased bodies are still in there! karl is messed up and eccentric 😭 it makes him fun, let him be messed up and evil 😭 and yes, karl used DEAD bodies instead of killing people who were alive, so surely that makes him far less evil right?

WRONG! 😭

HE CONSIDERED USING LIVE BODIES FOR THE SOLDATS 😭

karl really isnt a good person, he has reasons for the things he does, he wants to take down miranda and i dont think hed be creating undead zombies in the first place if it werent for her ruining his life but that isnt justification, its just an explanation for why he does what he does. he has a sympathetic back story and motives but you cant erase what he did, hes a villain! he tries to use a baby as a weapon!!! all 4 of the lords are villains, and instead of making other characters worse to uplift your favorite character that did something bad, you can just accept that the character you like did bad things 😭 they are all fictional, if i like moreau it does not mean i endorse eating fishermen 😭 you can like a character that is flawed, or evil, or did insanely messed up things because its RESIDENT EVIL. they are EVIL! they do bad things! like im sorry! but if your fave has a villains wiki it probably means they did some bad things! 😭

i wish people would be able to enjoy a character without entirely dismissing the bad things they did. its okay to like a character that does bad things, its ok to find them interesting and fun! but you cant deny what actually happens in games to try and make them appear as innocent. you dont have to justify every little thing that they do, just accept them as a whole!

of course this doesnt apply to AUs or just posting for fun. you can change media to be what you want to make it more fun. im going to draw lady dimitrescu treating ethan like a unwanted family pet. does that mean that i think she would really do that in canon? no! she would bite him and then tie him up like a pinata and give her daughters blindfolds and bats!

but people need to be able to recognize that fanon is NOT canon.

this post is about canon interpretations,

this is just addressing people who genuinely believe that those kinds of portrayals of the character is an ACCURATE portrayal, because its not.

[creptolli]

Pet names from the entire CoD ensemble (TF141, Los vaqueros, Graves, Alex & Farah, Hadir, Valeria..)

because it’s actually painful when I see someone use one that I could not imagine hearing from them (no hate it’s my problem not anyone else’s 😭🙏)

A/N: y’all I’m not from any of the character’s countries meaning idk standard terms of endearment in their countries/languages (о´∀`о) - especially the Arabic ones

Also, I may do another one with Makarov, Nolan, König (ew), Horangi and anyone else y’all want!

@medic--main for you :33

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

MY BABY (anywho)

- definitely uses ‘Love, Lovey, Babe, Baby’

- could hear him possibly saying ‘Darling’

- maybe ‘Sweetheart’

- honestly probably wouldn’t use his lover’s name as much to their face. More while referring to them.

- If you ever got married, he would 100% jokingly yell “HUSBAND/WIFE!!” Whenever someone wanted to speak to you.

Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra

- y’all idk Spanish but if you have any ideas for pet names in Spanish then yes.

- ‘Amor, Corazón, Cariño’ [Love, Heart, Darling]

- ‘Darling’ is something that could be heard at points in time but likely not when dating, more married.

- would interchange between ‘Amor/Love’ in conversations.

- Would use your first name a lot, especially when other people are around. It’s not that he’s insecure or anything, he just prefers using your name.

Phillip Graves

- ‘Sweetheart’ violent screaming

- ‘Darling’ more violent screaming

- Could at times use ‘Baby, Love’

- rarely says ‘Babe’ instead of ‘Baby’

- ‘Honey’ <33

- ‘Doll’ or ‘Dolly’

RHAJGDISHDUAUDHSB IM GOING INSANE

- honestly wouldn’t use your name a lot, sure sometimes when he’s in conversation with others, but even then he just says ‘the missus/mister’ or ‘my sweetheart’

- would sometimes tease you when you’re dating by using your last name rather than your first name when wanting your attention. Idk it’s an authority thing. 😏

John Price

- ‘Darling, Love, Sweetheart’ melts

- again, before you took his last name (or he takes yours), he would call you by your last name.

- ‘Lovey’ when he wants to be a pain tease

- in marriage he would often say ‘Sweetie’

- sometimes uses ‘Honey’ or ‘Hon’

- sometimes he would use your first name.

Alex Keller

RAHHH MY LOVE <333

- ‘Babe, Baby’ an insane amount.

- Sometimes, but not often, ‘Love’

- probably uses stupid names or inside jokes that no one else understands.

- if you speak another language, he 100% try’s to learn it and use names from it (he’s absolutely terrible to the point of it being painful, but he’s adorable in trying nonetheless).

- used your first name a lot, sometimes used your last name as a joke.

Farah Karim

- ‘My Love’ is her go to <33

- never ‘Babe’ but sometimes (rarely) ‘Baby’

- ‘Honey’ or ‘Hon’ especially.

the next ones I got straight off of Google so I apologise in advance if they’re wrong (´；Д；`)

- ‘habib albi’ This term of affection means “love of my heart” - حبيب/حبيبة قلبي

- ‘ya hayati’ “my life” - يا حياتي

I would put more but that fucked up my keyboard and took about 10 minutes (copy and paste was a pain in the ass)

Hadir Karim

- said ‘Babe’ once and immediately regretted it, he thought it sounded stupid. It did

- never ‘Baby’

- sometimes he says ‘Love’ or ‘My Love’

- Has a lot of inside jokes that he uses to make fun of you (he means it in good fun).

- Any of the Arabic words from Farah’s list (I’m aware that Uzikstan has its own language.. because I searched it up.. but they also speak Arabic - it’s just not as well spoken)

- sometimes try’s out ‘Sweetie’ or ‘My Sweet’

More Arabic below ⬇️ (again I’m so sorry if it’s wrong it’s from Google I know absolutely nothing about the language, please correct anything if you do know🧍‍♂️)

- ‘ya helo’ “my beautiful” - يا حلو/حلوة

- ‘ya amar’ “my moon” - يا قمر

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

- ‘Hen’ & ‘Honey’ for sure

- Often also uses ‘Sweetheart’ and ‘Sweetie’

- probably uses ‘Bonnie’ if he’s with a femme partner (idk much about Scottish slang)

- loves to yell ‘WIFE/HUSBAND’ if y’all ever get married.

- Would probably jokingly say ‘Dear’ or ‘Darling’ to sound fancy (it sounds so weird with his accent that it always makes you giggle)

- ‘Doll’ and ‘Dolly’ while dating, not as much during marriage.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

- ‘Dear’ when married, also uses ‘Darling’ a lot when married but plays (teases) when dating.

- he sometimes, but it’s usually rarely, ‘Sweetie’ or ‘Sweetheart’

- apparently ‘Duck’ is a British term of endearment? Idk it says older gentlemen use it and he seems like he would say it. Old man soul

- sometimes says ‘Love’ or ‘Lovey’ when he’s sleepy.

- uses your first name a lot, not as much your last name.

- unless you get married, in which he uses your last name all the time (whether you take his last name or he takes yours)

Alejandro Vargas

- He uses a lot more English than Spanish around you unless your first language is also Spanish.

- He loves to tease you with inside jokes and all sorts of complicated Spanish compliments if you don’t speak the language.

- ‘Cariño’ & ‘Amor’ a lot.

- Doesn’t usually use ‘Corazón’ but it will rarely slip.

- ‘Cielo’ [Sky] sometimes, but again, not so much.

- sometimes says ‘Babe’ or ‘Baby’

Valeria Garza

Gods there aren’t enough women

- lovesss calling you ‘Corazón’ and ‘Cielo’ especially right next to your ear while holding you from behind, pushing her body weight onto you.

- ‘Mi Vida’ [My Life] sometimes

- ‘Mi Rey/Reina’ [My King/Queen] a lot, especially if she’s treating you to dinner/luxury.

- Doesn’t often use English pet names, but when she does she favours ‘Love’ or ‘My Heart’ (she often translates Spanish names directly into English)

Nikolai

- I honestly could imagine him saying ‘baby’ or ‘babygirl’ and I don’t know if it would be as a joke or not.. that’s up for interpretation.

- When you two just started dating, he jokingly called you ‘comrade’ to his and your friends to confuse the shit out of people.

- ‘котёнок “kotyonok” [kitten] also as a joke (maybe not.. up for interpretation again…

- ‘Жизнь моя’ “zhizn moya” [my life] as an actual name he uses for you.

- he doesn’t use a lot of pet names in public, mostly when it’s just you two.

- Солнце (solntsye) / солнышко (solnishka) - [sunshine].

@pillowwarzone I added Nikolai ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Here’s the website I used (for mainly Arabic) ⬇️

[quintinh43]

Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change  of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n,"  he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?"  Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?"  Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God"  both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Because you are my partner | Jun-ho x Fem!Detective!Reader

Warnings: Takes place after the end of S1 - Some events from S2 - Does not follow canon events in order - Angst - Guns - Unspoked feelings -

The first thing Jun-ho never expected to listen when he woke up at the hospital after being shot by his brother no less were cries and insults.

Insults that were for him.

"You stubborn idiot! Why did you not tell me, why did you go alone, look at you now. Fucker if you dont wake up im killing you myself, you little-"

"I thought you would be more worried" Jun-ho said, voice hoarse since he havent drank any water in a long time. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he could locate your voice anywhere.

"You! YOU ARE ALIVE!!" You revealed your red face from crying and went to hug him, trying not to hurt him. "Never do something like that again"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Time passed, Jun-ho got demoted from detective, even when you, the second best in the division besides him, you had threated to leave as well, but In-ho insisted you not to. He knew how much you had worked for this position, he would not let you fall behind cause of him.

"Its not fair" You said one night at his aparment being a bit drunk "Yeah, what you said its kind of crazy and you have no proof but..."

"(Y/N) stop it, its pointless"

"But you would never make a lie like that. You dont like crime, you hate it. Since your brother went missing...no you would never play with something like that" You said convinced taking a big gulp of your beer.

"I think you had enough beer for tonight" Jun-ho went to take the beer can from you but you held his hand.

"I believe you, I dont care how crazy it sounds I believe you Jun-ho"

Like that, he felt less lonely.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"I think I told you this was not something you should keep doing" Jun-ho told you as you passed iced coffee to his fellow companion and him. "We are not allowed to drink when working..."

"Then take a dam breath, its summer. The streets feels like they are on fire" You told him on a stern tone taking a sip from your own drink

"Should you not be at the sitation?" He asked

"You wont believe how much criminals like to do nothing when its as hot as today. We mostly get calls at night. Nothing like, well nothing like what you are looking for" You added in a quiet voice

"I told you, I left that behind"

"Yeah sure you did, you dont give up that easily, always has been like that. Since we were at the police school. And, you cant lie to me. Im your partner, remember ?"

"Actually-"

"Shut up and drink the dam ice coffee your cheecks are red as a fruit"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

One year went on. You were assigned anothet partner but you were being a bit childish and did not like working with him.

It was not his fault, you were just so used to Jun-ho that any other person just felt....wrong.

"(Y/N) you need to stop it" Jun-ho said while you two ate some lunch

"I know, but can you blame me? I cant work well with him, he is too-"

He is not you. Thats what you wanted to say but you had to bite your tongue.

"Is he misstreating you?" Jun-ho asked getting protective, he knew you had pass for hard situations during your training just because you were a women.

He would be on your side during these moments, both when you faked feeling strong and when you needed to vent out and cry.

"No. He is...different. I just need to get used to him"

"It has been almost a year..."

"I know just- give me some more time. Also I want to meet that captain that saved you. Maybe we can go and fish together.

Jun-ho went silent after it. He was reclutant to do so, since he had been looking for the island he was in, but he had told you he had long stopped, he did not want to put you at risk.

"Maybe tomorrow..." He said in a low voice, knowing that you would kept insisting. And maybe he would be able to keep the lie.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Things have been good so far, In-ho managed to convince you to meet him and the captain at a near restaurant.

The three were drinking in just enjoying the time. Sharing stories, jokes, just having a good time.

"Thanks for saving his ass, he can be quiet a pain" You said to the older men who just smiled.

"Dont say it Lass, he still has me looking around for that dam island..."

And the good time shattered, your eyes turned cold as you looked at him.

"Is he? Please tell me more captain"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"You told me you had stopped" You said angry at him. "Told me to stop looking into details at the deparment, do you know how much I did risk!"

"Yes! I know, thats why I told you to stop. I did not want you to put your career in danger"

"When will you understand ? You dont have to do this alone. Im your friend! Fuck we have know each other for years, if I want to help you and put my career at risk, then let me do it. Im an adult I know what im doing.

"No, I could never ask you for something like that. You know the story, these peopel are dangerous and well prepared if something would happen to you..."

"Do you think it was easy? For me? When you dissapear? There was no way on finding you, some told me to move on. But I never stopped beliving in you, knowing that you would not leave like that"

Of course not, I would never leave you.

"Listen, I understand. Really, but you cant stop me. I want to help you, and I will do so. Let me lend you a hand. Maybe this time you will catch them"

Jun-ho was conflicted, he knew having some backup would help him. But he did not want you at risk, why if you ended like him? Trapped there ? Or worse ?

But he also knew you were a hard one. Someone who once they had set their mind on something were not easy to give up. Maybe it would be better that way, making sure on having you at his side while he worked and looked for information.

"Alright, no more secrets. We will work on this together, but if something seems to be just a little bit dangerous you are out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

And like that another year went by. Both looking to find that island and whatever information (Y/N) could get from the station.

"Most are peopel with big debts" Jun-ho said one afternoon, the cold of the winter hitting their noses leaving them red. "Maybe some have criminal record"

"Yeah but their families would have to denounce then as lost. If these peopel just vanish some would think they ran away because of their debts. I will still check on the records..."

Jun-ho nodded grateful to have her working with him.

"You dont remember any name? Or face?" (Y/N) asked him, making him stop. He did remember his brother shooting him but he could never say it out loud. "The players used numbers..." Still him mind was working like he was missing something...

And then it clicked

"Wait...I may know someone"

"Really? You can tell me their name and I will look into it"

"Seong Gi-hun, thats the name"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure he is here?" Jun-ho asked a faint blush on his cheecks as both of you looked up from inside the car.

"Yes, I asked a friend from another work to look up, he owns this place and has no direction of a current home. Maybe he manages the place or lives here..."

"Well, last time I saw him he did not look like someone who would manage a love hotel" Jun-ho said, voice trying to hide his nerves.

His mind wondering to things, like you. You two on a date, that would end with something more. He would be a gentlemen during all it. And he would take you to his home and do it on his bed, not a meaningless place like a love hotel.

And he would do that and more because he...

"Hey look!! That one, is not him?" You asked seeing a man getting from a car and going inside the hotel.

"It is. Stay here" Jun-ho ordered but before he could get out from the car you held his arm back.

"What? No!" You said not beliving his words "Im going in with you, we are a team, get it in that tick skull of yours"

"Listen (Y/N) I saw these games, if he is here then its because he won. He murdered peopel. He cant be trusted"

"These are just more reasons for me to go in with you" You declared, "You have my back and I have yours, thats how this relationship works"

Jun-ho looked to the side to hide his blush and recluntantly nodded "Alright..."

Unkown to them Gi-hun had been checking the cameras and had spotted their car. He held his gun not knowing who they were.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Reunions are never easy. Even less when its with peopel you dont trust.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

And less when guns are involved.

Maybe Jun-ho had lost his touch, his day giving out speed tickets have passed him consequences. Otherwise he would never have let himself be jumped and have a gun pressed against his head.

"Im a police officer, I just want to talk" Jun-ho said trying to ease the situation but only got Gi-hun to press the gun harder.

"How do I know you are not with them?"

"Cause we have been looking for them too" You said gun raised at Gi-hun who looked suprised for a moment but did not move. "Drop the gun Seong Gi-hun we are aiming for the same goal"

"Yeah? How can I trust any of you? Or what you said?"

"We want to stop the games too" Jun-ho said from beneath him "Thats why we have been following you, you are our only lead"

Slowly Gi-hun removed his gun and let Jun-ho get on his feet.

"I never said a thing about games..."

"Yeah...thats why we have been looking for you. Jun-ho here was in but doing kind of a double agent work. Without help"

Gi-hun had to supress a smile at your stern tone.

"Wait, you are the police who asked me about it. During that time.."

"Im, and this is (Y/N) a fellow police officer and the person I trust the most to end this"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Train stations? A Man in a suit? Ddakji and getting slapped?" You asked while counting with your fingers the major things Gi-hun and told you and Jun-ho.

He had a big map of the stations with lots of marks and points. He was indeed looking for someone.

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but its like that. You get a card with a number, you call it and then you are part of the games" He said serving three coffees "It has been two years and i havent been able to find him"

"Well, now you have two more peopel to count with" You said smiling a bit "We can ignore the criminals that are working for you..."

"(Y/N)...." Jun-ho said but you cut him off.

"What? More peopel means more eyes and less space to cover. Besides its not like we have proof that they do something bad, and you know with. Without proof theres nothing you can do"

Gi-hun had departed both of you. Giving one of his many phone numbers and warning that these peopel were dangerous.

But deep down he was grateful, grateful that there was someone else out here who had seen the same.

"Dont worry, we will catch them" You shaked his hand noticing how he seemed to be sad and stressed, you could only imagine how bad things have been for him.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"What do you think?" Jun-ho asked as he drove back to your aparment.

"I think he is being honest and will accept our help. Besides no one does so much without a reason" You said having take note of his deep search for that man, the multiple guns he had and the cameras around. "He is scared too"

"Well...he does have a reason to be" Jun-ho softly said stopping outside your complex "I never asked you, why help me so much? I know we are friends but this is a big league, worse than any case you had ever seen"

Because I love you. I have been in love with you for so long. I cant seem to live knowing you put your life at risk without any help. I dont want to repeat the time when you vanish and I see my life with you in it-

"Cause you are my partner, and...I care for you" You said and left the car before he could respond to hide your blushing face

"Wait!! (Y/N)" Jun-ho screamed pulling the window down. You stopped looking over your shoulder "I- I care for you too"

He started the car leaving the window down, too nervous, he could track down dangerous criminals and be undercover for the worse criminal gangs, but confessing his feelings to you...

He was not ready, at least not yet.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You went into your aparment, heart beating fast as you went in. The darkness welcomed you, just as you turned for the lights you hear a click.

A gun click.

"Well, you must be (Y/N)...I must admit you are more beautiful than what the photos show"

You turned around one hand ready to go for your own gun. Before you stood a man, tall dark hair, and black eyes, wearing a expensive suit.

"I recommend you to not try anything stupid. I just want to talk. And maybe we can play game"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: *evil laught*

[for-ests]

Hi! This is a request for sukuna x concubine! reader, sorry if it's a bit all over the place - it's just a silly idea jdjsjajsk

Sukuna calls a shy concubine for the first time. She's nervous, but upon entering his chambers, a book about astronomy catches her eye (since he has many books and scrolls). He notices her interest and is intrigued, perhaps because his concubines are raised to have no interests other than pleasing Sukuna

tysm for the request ^^ im not sure if u wanted this to be NSFW or not, but I wanted to attempt Sukuna fluff. (never thought I would say that) but, I hope you enjoy! (I am so not used to writing a shy reader or something this short so bear with me) <3 requests are still open! wc: 1.5k warnings: none!

The first time Sukuna called you to his chambers should have excited you beyond belief, but instead, it made you incredibly nervous. 

You were adorned in your best Kimono, perfectly painted makeup, and hair styled to accentuate your alluring features. You felt beautiful, and you knew you looked the part. Hours had been spent on your appearance the second your servant caught wind of Sukuna’s request. 

And now that you were standing at his door, your heart was pounding. You knew your purpose; you knew your place. But what if you failed to please your master? Instinctively, you shied away from his advances, opting to serve him in other ways. Surprisingly, there were many tasks and chores to complete daily as a concubine, which you weren’t aware of before Sukuna selected you among the other noble women from your faction. 

This was the first time you would be utterly alone with the King of Curses, and it made your stomach twist into knots. 

“You requested me, Sukuna-Sama?” you squeaked, already blushing from the intensity of his gaze. 

A long silence stretched between you, but all he did was stare, taking in all you had to offer. 

“I realized I still have yet to spend a night alone with you, “ he finally replied. 

Sukuna loathed the meek. You seemed to be the only woman he bothered to tolerate, and he didn’t know why. If anything, it just made you cute because he knew you weren’t dumb. You followed your orders, you served him with grace, and the way you danced was unlike the rest. On the stage, you were a completely different woman. 

But off the stage, you were as shy as they came. 

His eyes were ravenous as he watched you approach his bookshelf. Despite his own desires and your intended purpose, something about you intrigued him—notably, that curious glint in your eyes with the desperation to discover more. 

“I was not aware you kept so many records." Your voice was almost a whisper, partly out of respect and awe.

“Taken from my conquests.” 

“As expected,” you replied somewhat meekly, eyes drifting back to the wall of books and scrolls. One in particular caught your eyes, the binding resembling a constellation you were familiar with. 

Hesitantly, you glanced at him, waiting for permission to tug the book from its rightful place amongst the rest. 

Sukuna nodded, sighing deeply before leaning back into the corner of his room, legs, and arms crossed as he watched you explore. 

The intended cushion for you still remained empty. You could feel it, and Sukuna's bloodlust calling for you to at least join him. With the book in your hand, flipping the first page, you gave in and sat across from him, knees perfectly tucked in like you were taught from a young age. 

The book lay halfway open on the floor between the two of you. And finally, you gained the courage to meet his eyes, pleading for permission. 

“Astrology?” The King of Curses bemused, reaching for a sip of his sake. If that’s what you wanted, he would grant it. There was no harm in having his concubines be somewhat knowledgable about something, despite what other kings and lords agreed, despite what they claimed about him. 

There was a reason why he had so many women flocking to him despite his appearance and dominance. They actually enjoyed his protection and offerings. It was the best place in the country for a curious woman like you to explore and indulge. As long as you excited him, of course. But, he enjoyed the variety, and you undoubtedly provided him with that. 

“Can you read?” he asked from your silence and timid glances. You were so incredibly meek it astonished him, so much so he couldn’t tell if you were waiting for permission or for him to explain the words to you. 

“Yes, my Lord.” You bowed your head slightly, managing to peek at him through your eyelashes. 

“Finish it,” he paused as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “And it’s yours.” 

There was no way to stop the way your mouth dropped open. The surprise was evident in how your eyes widened, your loss for words, and the sudden bashfulness that etched into your expression. 

“Do wish for my body in exchan—”

“No,” Sukuna interrupted, exhaling as if he anticipated your question. “Despite any rumors you may have heard, I’m not fond of forcing a woman to be with me.” 

You could not hide your astonishment. It was like you could feel your timidity fading away into the nighttime breeze that wafted through the door to his private garden. 

“It bores me," he sighed. “If you’re not ready, that is fine.” 

“My Lord,” you rushed, the honorific rolling off your tongue with a hint of approval and submission you didn’t expect to find tonight. The surprise of it all made you lose your train of thought and all your responses to it. 

“Out with it,” he rolled his eyes. 

You chose your words carefully this time, unable to look at him until after your sentence was finished. “Are you claiming that aquiring knowledge is more important than sex?” 

“I never said that,” he replied quickly but smirked. “If you wish, you can visit me to read instead, until you are ready for more.” 

Sukuna didn’t need to dominate his concubines every single night. A companion would be appreciated for the days he wished for peace and quiet—which was rare but still happened occasionally. The way you danced was enough to entertain him. And there were plenty of other women who could satiate his hunger differently. 

For your own comfort, along with his amusement, he felt an introductory offer was needed. Of course, he wanted you; he wanted everything about you and your submission. But what Sukuna learned over the years was very important—it wasn’t just about his pleasure. He could easily kill you, and he knew it, but the human part of him also wanted you to crave him in the same way. 

And if that took granting you access to his literature, so be it.

Biting your lip, you reached for the sake bottle and filled his empty glass as a thank you. You were there to serve him, and it was comical how miserably you failed to provide him the requested service. But there was no use in denying how excited you were. The last thing you expected was this. It wasn’t just permission he gave you; it was respect. Even in its slightest form, it was enough. 

“Once you learn about the stars, you must teach them to me.” 

Once he took his first satisfactory sip, you replied, “Do you not know the stars, Sukuna-Sama?” 

His boisterous chuckle surprised you and made you flinch in surprise. You couldn’t recall a moment where he had ever laughed, let alone smirk devilishly so. But perhaps he reserved this side of him for late-night discussions. The thought of him teasing you hardly mattered; what mattered was that he was listening to you. 

“Of course I do, concubine.” Sukuna took another sip. “But I wouldn’t mind testing you for my enjoyment.” 

“That only makes me want to study more.” 

“Good. For every question you get wrong, I get to claim a piece of you.” 

The most vigorous flush of emotions you’d ever felt rushed through you, appearing on your cheeks despite how your face was painted with makeup. Any attempt to mask was futile. It may be beneficial to just be yourself, as he already seemed tolerant enough. 

“I would appreciate that.” 

Sukuna laughed again, watching as your body relaxed. Shifting your legs to emerge from your Kimono and onto your side, you flipped back to the first page, scanning over the first page of documentation. It was exhilarating, and you didn’t want to stop. 

Sukuna’s hands reached out, guiding yours to the first page of information, scribbles, and many mystifying illustrations. “Start here, woman.” 

“My apologies.” 

Rolling his eyes once again, Sukuna took another swing of his liquor and leaned back to a more comfortable position. “Eventually, you will let me have you,” he started, relishing in the sake burning down his throat. Undoubtedly, he would need bottles of it to keep his hands off of you. “You’re too interesting to waste.” 

“That was never out of the question, my Lord.” 

Appreciative of your constant honorifics, he nodded at you. “Now, sit there and read to me. I’m too tired for anything else.”  

And that was what you did until he moved to rest his head in your lap, eyes finally closing in response to your lullaby, the softness of your voice beckoning him to tranquility. Eventually, uneven breaths filled your ears, and his head slacked entierly against you.

Did you make the King of Curses fall asleep from your voice alone?

Technically, you were trapped under his weight but didn't mind. Not when he was this peaceful, this handsome. And when your curiosity got the best of you, he only sighed in admission to the faint touch of your fingers tracing over his facial tattoos.  

A cycle that repeated itself for months until it became your secret tradition.