#[insert loading screen]

[ghxst-bird]

He once made the mistake of joking about taking a dive into a lake because he’d been craving fish, saying he’d give anything for one right then.

Sukuna didn’t even pause before jumping right in. And only then did Yuji find out that the boy didn’t even know how to swim.

He can still feel the sharp, visceral terror of seeing those flailing limbs going under without a sound, the stream of bubbles rising to the surface as he’d stared, dumbfounded, before realizing that Sukuna wasn’t coming back up.

Yuji cried so hard after fishing the boy out of the water that Sukuna awkwardly started patting his head in consolation.

— sneak peek of “Fragilely, Gradually”, pt ii of the Ouroboros verse ✨

[strrykais]

(❤︎) ── “ i couldn’t help myself ”

its not seungmins’ fault he finds you so attractive, its also not his fault that you promised him you would let him do this. and it’s especially not his fault you turned him on right before he was gonna start a match.

𐀔𓂃 kais note: hi! this can totally be read as a stand alone or if you have prior knowledge to CAL ! heres that extra i promised you!

warnings : fingering, cockwarming, unprotected sex, and anything else i missed. not proof read… 1.5k words

back to library | control alt + love masterlist

‘ill be home in 30 minutes, hyunjin had to use the bathroom’

you stared down at your phone replying back a quick ‘ok’ to jeongin, walking down the stairs hoping to find your boyfriend, since he wasn't in his room. seungmin was sitting in his gaming chair, staring at the loading screen. seungmin must've heard you walking behind him as he slowly turns his body smiling at you.

“well don’t you look pretty. are you still hanging out with hyunjin and jeongin?” seungmin leans on his arm rest taking in the cute top and skirt combo you were in.

“yes, hyunjin wants to go to this galla and he has extra tickets, though i'm third wheeling. unless you wanna come with us.” you put on your best puppy eyes in hope that you can convince him, stepping in between his legs. 

“cant today baby. i'm teaming up with atz today. we wanted to try out that new support character.” he places the palm of his hands on the back of your thighs, rubbing them softly. he leans forward placing a kiss on the small sliver of skin peeking from under your shirt. 

you place one of your hands on his shoulder as the other wraps around to the back of his head, softly playing with his hair. 

“do you wanna help me?” he mummers against your skin, as his hands travel up your thighs landing on your ass, giving it a squeeze. 

“i don’t really want to play, plus jeongin is gonna be here in thirty and i dont wanna afk.” seungmin wasn't really paying attention after he asked that question. he was more focused on how pretty you looked in this skirt, so much so that he started to feel his dick harden in his sweats. you slightly jump when you feel his fingers reach out and rub against your slit over your panties.

“seungmin, we can’t.” you grip tighter at the back of his hair, as you feel his fingers dip in your panties lightly playing with your clit. you softly moan as you feel him entering his finger in you. your head falls back when he slowly drags it against your walls, inserting another one.

as we start rocking your hips in the rhythm of his finger thrust seungmin leans back pulling his fingers out of you. 

“oh my game is starting.” he gives a smirk at the face you are giving him, in absolute disbelief. “come here baby.” seungmin quickly pulls his sweats down letting his hard cock spring free, slapping against his shirt. you start to go down when he stops you, shaking his head with a soft smile. “no baby, i need to be in you. right now. this instant.” he helps you slide your panties to the side, and helps you slowly sit down.

you slowly make your way down his dick, completely filling you up, both of you letting out a moan when you sink all the way to the bottom. you slowly start to grind against him, when you see his hands reach around you grabbing his headset and putting it on. 

“you arent seriously gonna game right now with your dick in me?” you stop your hips, turning back to see his beautiful smile looking at you. he places a quick kiss on your nose, “you promised me remember?” he then kissed you on your lips.

“promised what?” feeling the ache in between your legs from the lack of movement. which only makes you grind against him more.

“i just need you to sit here and look pretty, my love. don't move, it defeats the purpose.” 

“what purpose?” you were starting to get irritated with this little game he was playing.

“cockwarming baby, now don’t make any noise you know these mics pick everything.” was all seungmin says before he reaches around you, his hands on his keyboard already talking to one of the guys in the party. 

you hold in your voice from the small movements seungmin is unintentionally doing mind completely on the game in front of him. but as for you, you felt like your skin was on fire. you felt extremely turned on with seungmins dick in you, you could feel it twitch every now and then. beckoning you to bounce on it. you lay your hands on the edge of the desk in front of you, letting its cold touch try to get your mind off the need to move. 

seungmin thrust his hips up, loving the way your hands completely flew up over your mouth to stop you from being heard. seungmin turns off his mic, “you okay baby?” he places kisses on the inside of your neck, his eyes and hands never leaving the game. 

“baby please, i can't.” you pant out, losing every strand of self control. you needed him to fuck you, and you need it bad. 

“just a few more minutes baby, seonghwa just has to level up and then i can fuck you my love.” you moan at his voice gently rubs your ear. you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, you continued to sit on him scared to move, because you knew if you did he wasn't gonna be happy. 

your eyes were shut completely, focusing on your breathing you feel seungmin pull you up, bending you down over the desk careful to not ruin the setup. 

“since you have been such a good girl for me, let me give you a treat. especially since hyunjin and jeongin should be here any minute.” with the thought of your friend walking in on you, you moan out. 

“oh does my pretty baby want to be seen taking my cock like the little whore she is?” seungmin was giving you a chance to reply as he pounds into you from the back. pushing up your skirt to get a better view of his dick getting lost in you. seungmin was in pure bliss letting the moans and noises coming out of his mouth. you loved when seungmin was vocal, it always made your heart swell knowing he was getting off to this as much as you were.

“fuckkk.. baby.. you feel so good. god..” he pants in between, you turn your head to glance at him from behind. to see his head leaned back, eyes screwed shut taking in the way you are so warm and wet for him. 

you feel seungmin softly rub the top of your ass before he lets out a loud smack right on it, forcing out a moan from you. seungmin leans over right in your ear. “i feel you baby, i feel you about to cum.” you whimper out, turning to capture his lips on yours. seungmin pulls back, kissing your cheek, before going back to his original position and plowing straight into you. 

“god , if you keep squeezing me like that, i might just cum in you.” you couldn’t help but feel yourself squeezing even hard on him, in hopes he got the idea to actually do it. 

you could feel your legs getting numb and your high getting higher, seungmin could feel it too as he started to pull you back into him. 

“min.. im .. gonna. i'm gonna cum.”

“do it baby. let's cum together.” 

it didn't take much after that, you could feel seungmin releasing into you. while he could feel you fluttering around him. seungmin pulls you down to sit back on top of him, kissing at shoulder and whatever he could get his lips on. “i love you min.”

“i love you too baby.” he wraps his arms around your waist basking in your warmth not ready to pull out yet.

the swinging of the door pulled you both back to reality. “yo yo yo! dude sorry we took forever, jeongin drives like a grandma.” hyunjin's voice echoed across the room. you quickly jump off of seungmin as he lets out a hiss from his dick being so sensitive. you pull your panties back to where they were, slowly feeling seungmins and your cum pool at your panties making you cross your legs to try to stop it from leaking . seungmin wasn't in any rush to put himself back in his sweats until he started to hear jeongin's voice ring out.

“sorry i abide by the traffic rules, you know every 3,700 people die everyday due to road accidents?” 

“when the fuck did i start dating google? you ready babes? oh your blush looks so good, new placement?” hyunjin looks at you as seungmin smirks, going back to his game.

“yeah.. new placement. let's go!” you place a kiss on seungmin saying a quick i love you, walk out the doors before hyunjin and jeongin could gather what just went down a few minutes ago. 

“the communal space is for the community, captain. not for you to practice exhibitionism with her.” jeongin groans, turning back from your disappearing figure to see seungmin laughing.

“shes just so pretty i couldn't help myself.”

hyunjin gags and jeongin groans as they follow after you unknowingly about to get teased like no tomorrow.

© strrykais ⋅

cal tags: @onlyhyunjin @chenlesfavorite @hippopotamusdreamer @vegetablesarefuntables @soondoongdoriii @jeonginplsholdmyhand @nappynapnaps @sincerely-sun @staytinyluv @kimseungminpabo @seungzsmin @sweetasmarie @hinanitiram @tricky-ritz @ayyonoona @hanniemylovelyquokka @toplinehyunjin @missystay @binniesbabe @tirena1 @jihoons-kitten @skz-ot8-stay @darlingz99 @khandzilla @icouldntcareless22 @rihaee @thatshroomiegirl @sillyhal @livixcore @dazzlingjade @h0rnyp0t @drewsandsebastianswife @jabmastersupriseee @flaminghotyourmom @velvetmoonlght @mihoonz @jazziwritesthings @thisrandombitch @vixensss @galbiirocher @skzstannie @babrieeee @ladybeautiful18 @hyeon-yi @lknosemole @night-storm7 @spearbinnie0327 @goldenmellow @jisungs-iced-americano @charlieg1rl @seungminsteddybear @sskzlover @abbiestearsricochet @isaenme @dreamerwasfound @ihrtlix

reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks!

[stove-top96]

Wicked Game

Ch. 03

Y Batfam x Gn Reader

Featuring Platonic: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Damian Al-Ghul Wayne

2.6k words

Ch. 02 <- Ch. 03 -> Ch. 04

Class schedule

1st period - Art

2nd period - Maths

12:00 - 1:00 Lunch

3rd period - Biology

4th period - English

3:50 Dismissal

4:00 - 6:00 - Basketball practice.

“You know they’re gonna flip when they wake up,” Dick muttered, arms crossed as he stared down at your limp body.

You looked peaceful for once. That constant tension in your shoulders had finally eased, the nervous twitch in your fingers stilled. Even that crease between your brows—the one that would show up whenever you were thinking too hard or worrying too much—had softened. Sleep smoothed over all the sharp edges life had carved into you.

“They’ll understand eventually,” Bruce said, dismissive but gentle, his voice quieter now.

He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face with a touch far softer than anyone would expect from Batman. Moments like this were rare—when he could just be a father, taking care of his kid.

Without a word, he lifted you from the desk you’d passed out on, cradling you like something fragile. The rest of the family fell into step behind him as he carried you to the Batcave.

"You sure they won’t notice?" Steph asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She lingered near your side, eyes flicking from your face to your arm, then back again.

“There may be some discomfort,” Damian replied coolly, “but it’ll fade. They won’t even realize it’s there.”

His confidence was unsettling—but it worked. Steph nodded and stepped back.

You’d been running yourself ragged for weeks—missing meals, taking late night shifts, throwing yourself headfirst into practice after practice. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. They were worried. Terrified, even. Gotham was dangerous and they couldn’t protect you if they didn’t know where you were.

So they decided to make sure they always would.

In the Medbay, Bruce laid you down gently on the table. For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. You looked so small there, so still. Alfred was the first to break the silence, rolling in a tray of neatly arranged medical instruments.

He cleaned your forearm methodically, the antiseptic smell sharp in the air. The needle was thin, almost invisible. It wouldn’t scar.

As he inserted the tracker beneath your skin, the family watched in silence. A mix of relief and guilt weighed heavy on the room.

They weren’t taking your freedom. Not really. They weren’t locking you in, or chaining you down. For now they’re making sure you were never completely out of reach.

It was the only compromise they could live with, for now.

Once the procedure was done, Bruce carried you again—this time to one of the manor’s guest rooms. He laid you in bed, pulling the covers up with surprising tenderness. He lingered for a second longer than he meant to, brushing his fingers across your temple.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

—————

Jason knew life wasn’t fair.

He was born into the world already losing, already clawing just to stay above the surface.

So maybe that’s why it was almost funny—in a cosmic, messed-up kind of way—that he’s the only one you haven’t met.

Jason Todd. Bruce’s second son. The one who died.

If you’d seen him tonight, you probably would’ve screamed. Or passed out. Or just left Gotham entirely.

And yet, it still doesn’t feel fair.

He should get to meet you. Know you. Love you.

He deserves that much.

With a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, the strands curling under his fingers. He pulls on his jacket, straps his gear in place. The routine helps. Keeps him grounded.

The guns are loaded. The helmet’s clean.

His phone buzzes.

A message from Dick.

<Dick>

it’s done.

Jason stares at it for a moment. Then opens the app.

A single, pulsing red dot glows softly on the screen—your location.

The manor. Safe.

His lips curve into a smile.

You’ll probably never understand why they have to do this. Why it has to be this way.

But that’s okay.

Jason has a different plan—his plan. One the others don’t know about. One that won’t hurt you if you ever find out.

One that keeps you close.

—

The warehouse near the coast was cold, damp, and smelled like rust and salt. Penguin was rumored to be getting another shipment in tonight.

Another bust. Another patrol.

But for Jason, it felt different.

Worse.

There was a brightness to the team tonight. A lightness in the way they moved, spoke, even fought.

Even Bruce and Damian seemed lighter.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

They’d spent time with you. You all Shared dinner, talked, and spent time together.

Jason’s nails dug into his palms, teeth clenched behind his helmet. He didn’t realize how tightly he was holding his fists until a familiar voice snapped him out of it.

“Oh—they were so nervous,” Dick said with a laugh. “It was adorable.”

Jason’s jaw tensed.

“Is that so?” His modulated voice came out low, hiding his frustration.

“They appeared stressed,” Damian added casually, “but with a few more meals, they will grow comfortable.”

Jason wanted to shove Damian into the nearest crate.

Their voices were like nails on a chalkboard.

Why was he stuck on patrol with them tonight?

“You should’ve seen them, Jason,” Dick added, voice all too smug. “You’d have melted.”

That was it.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

The roar of engines echoed through the warehouse walls—Penguin’s men were arriving.

Before Dick or Damian could say another word, Jason launched himself forward.

No plan. No warning. Just rage.

Guns disarmed. Bones broken. Metal clashed and bodies dropped.

Jason tore through them like a storm.

By the time the last thug hit the floor, his chest was heaving, breaths sharp and uneven.

He stood over Penguin, battered and unconscious, fists still clenched at his sides.

Behind him, footsteps.

“Temper much?” Damian drawled, cocky as ever. “You better get that under control before you see Y/N.”

Jason didn’t turn around.

Didn’t speak.

Just stared down at the man on the ground, eyes burning behind his helmet.

It’s not fair.

They got dinners, conversations, memories.

And him?

Nothing.

But they didn’t know everything.

Jason just remembered his plan. A way in they hadn’t seen.

Soon, he thought, as a slow smile tugged at his lips.

Soon, he’ll be closer to you than any of them.

—————

Your eyes flutter open, still fuzzy from sleep. Exhausted from your late night, you instinctively roll over to go back to sleep.

But something’s wrong.

This isn’t your room.

Your blood grows cold, then panic races through your chest.

You rip the sheets off and scramble to your feet, but white dots cloud your vision. You collapse to your knees before you can even reach the door.

Your head pounds, each beat like a hammer inside your skull.

You try to lift a hand to your temple—but you can’t. Your arm feels like it's on fire.

The door slams open, but you barely register it. Tears blur your vision as you cradle your useless arm.

Someone's hands grab your shoulders.

You flinch, looking up—

Dick. Kneeling in front of you, blue eyes full of something like concern.

Damian looms in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Dick asks softly, voice laced with concern. He holds your gaze, waiting.

You look between him, Damian, and your arm. It doesn’t look broken, but the pain is unbearable.

"I—w-why am I here?" you choke out.

Dick smiles. Calm. Reassuring. Too perfect.

"You fell asleep at Tim’s desk," he says, voice smooth. "We tried to wake you, but you wouldn't budge. So we moved you to the guest room."

You want to believe him.

God, you want to.

But you know you would never fall asleep here. Not with them.

"...No..." you whisper. Tears stream down your face.

"No?" Damian's voice snaps like a whip. He steps forward, anger flashing in his eyes.

Dick shoots him a sharp glare, silently telling him to back off.

"I wouldn’t do that," you sniffle, meeting Dick’s gaze.

He just smiles again. That boyish smile.

"Then you must’ve been really tired," he chuckles.

Liar.

"Then why do I hurt so much?" you mutter, voice shaking with anger.

Dick freezes—only for half a second—before smoothing his expression again.

"What do you mean?" he asks, dripping with concern.

"My arm," you grit out. Tears blur your vision again. "Why can’t I move my arm?"

Dick blinks, looking almost genuinely puzzled.

"I have no idea. Maybe you hurt it during your game yesterday?"

You stand, backing toward the bed. Every instinct in you screams run.

"Why did I just pass out at Tim’s desk and wake up in agony?" you hiss.

Tim got your number without permission.

He lied to you.

They fed you and 45 minutes later you just conveniently passed out.

There’s no way any of that is a coincidence?

"How are we supposed to know?" Damian snaps, stepping up beside Dick. His glare sharpens, like he’s offended you’re questioning them.

"What did you do?" you hiss, backing up another step. Your hand fumbles on the nightstand until you find your phone, quickly shoving it into your pocket.

"We didn’t do anything," Dick insists, still with that fake calm. "You’re overthinking this."

"Then how did Tim get my number?" you shout, voice cracking.

Dick opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

"I know he didn’t get it from Brandi. He lied to me."

They freeze.

Share a glance.

You don’t miss it.

Caught.

"What was that?" you shout, pointing at them. "I know you did something!"

"I’m going home."

You shove past them, but Damian’s hand shoots out—gripping your wrist.

Pain explodes up your arm.

You scream, jerking back. Damian’s eyes widen as he instantly lets go, staring at his hand like he can't believe he hurt you.

You don’t wait. You run.

Dick calls after you:

"It’s okay, Y/N! I’m sure if you just let Tim explain—!"

You don’t care.

You don’t need an explanation.

You just need to get the hell out.

Twisting and turning through the endless halls of Wayne Manor, you pray you don’t run into anyone else.

Somehow, you make it to the front door.

You slip on your shoes with one hand, heart hammering, and bolt.

It’s still only 10:00 a.m. You’ll have the whole day to hide. To think. To breathe.

The subway ride is a paranoid blur—you keep glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to see one of the Waynes stalking you.

But no one follows.

When you get home, you barely make it to your bed before collapsing, curling into yourself, trying to sleep off the pain and the fear.

Trying to pretend today never happened.

—————

You wake up to the screeching of your alarm. With a sigh you roll over and shut it off.

You dreaded going to school today, the thought of seeing Tim again made you sick. Your arm throbbed, your eyes stung from crying, and your stomach felt ill. but you couldn’t afford to miss a class.

You wonder if the GCPD found Tim’s attackers yet, you silently prayed they didn’t.

With a grown you got out of bed and haphazardly got ready for school.

Looking in the mirror your eyes were so puffy from crying all weekend and your hair was a mess. You splash cold water on your face hoping to ease the swelling, and run a brush through your hair to somewhat reduce your rats' nests. As you finish up the rest of your morning routine you glance at yourself in the mirror— still a mess.

You skipped breakfast today, you haven't been able to keep much food down this weekend.

The subway to school is agonizing. All you are able to think about is bio class, and what will happen when you see Tim again.

You just focus on your breathing the whole ride to school. You don’t have to see Tim tell 1 O'clock today, until then you’ll just have to manage.

Your first two classes fly by, it’s only until Mr Snyder hands you back your Math test.

See me after class. Written in bright red sharpie.

you groan and sink back into your chair.

You were so sure you nailed that test.

You spent the rest of class numb, staring at the clock until it finally rang.

Dragging your feet to Mr. Snyder’s desk, you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

“You wanted to see me?”

He gave you a look full of pity you didn’t want.

“Y/N… I know math isn’t for everyone, but after last week’s test, you’re sitting at a 53. You need at least a 65 to keep your scholarship spot.”

The words barely registered.

Basketball was everything.

Without it, you had nothing keeping you here. Nothing at all.

“You have four weeks to raise it,” he added gently. “Plenty of time.”

You nodded numbly.

Maybe Brandi could help. Maybe you could pull it off.

You had to.

”thank you” you mumble before making your way to Lunch.

Lunch with Brandi flys by, it’s clear she wanted to know all about your time at The Wayne Manor, not noticing the way you stifinined when the topic was brought up. You kept your answers short and vague, avoiding most details.

Brandi had enough stress in her life. And although you two were friends your friendship was still fresh— you’ve only known her for a few weeks, you didn’t want to scare her.

Besides, would she even believe you if you told her? Would anyone?

That’s probably what they wanted, to continue to torment you and have no one believe it.

Did they enjoy tormenting people? Making their lives miserable? Especially when there was a clear power dynamic?

The thought made you shiver.

Before you could think about it for too long the warning bell rang. You froze. Biology was next. You would have to see him.

As you slowly stumbled over to your class you grew more and more nauseous, your legs felt like led, and your bag became heavier. As you rounded the corner and stepped through the door you saw him.

Tim Drake.

He glanced up from his phone and smiled directly at you. His smile was like any other smile you’d give your friend. It was so casual, so normal, it was like Saturday never happened.

You were going to be sick.

You turned around and rushed to the bathroom as fast as you could and emptied your stomach.

After flushing the toilet and rinsing your mouth out you stared at yourself in the mirror.

What do you do?

Mrs. Young hasn’t seen you yet, you could just go home, email coach saying you're sick.

Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your bag and left.

The ride home was much more relaxing than the one to school. You emailed coach saying you were sick and would see him tomorrow, before plugging in your headphones and listening to music the rest of the way home.

When you got to your building, you noticed cardboard boxes littering the hallway.

Someone was moving in.

You snorted to yourself. Who the hell would choose to live here?

You made it to your door just as a man lugged another box toward the unit next to yours.

He caught your eye and smiled.

“I’m Jason Smith,” he said.

Something about his smile made your skin crawl. Like he knew something you didn’t.

But you forced a polite nod. No reason to be rude.

“Cool. I’m Y/N. See you around.”

You turned to unlock your door, feeling his eyes linger on you just a little too long.

He chuckled under his breath.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Looking forward to it.”

Taglist: @jjsmeowthie @crazycaoticsimp @lilyalone @shycreatorreview @caged-birdies-blog @shrip-collector-of-fixations @wizzerreblogs @c4xcocoa @cxcilla @staarflowerr @itzpeachts @roseytheteacup @nervousalpacalady @buckturd @cat-lover-over-9000 @vampire-oc-lover @00hellohello00 @jsprien213 @endaculi @vanilliona @br0ke-b1tch @tsuniio @hearts4mica

Hey y’all I’m back. I had to get surgery from when I broke my wrist snowboarding and I applied to so many scholarships for collage, I also got diagnosed with dyslexia and dyscalculia which kinda hindered my motivation to write but than I got over it cause I love writing so much, plus i had like 3 drafts that somehow got deleted, i lost a request from an anon which sucks. But I’ve outsourced, now I’m writing on docs than just copy and pasting it. I dont wanna make promises about when I’ll be posting but it should be a lot more frequent now!! Also some of the tags dont work so y’all might have to fix that in your settings.

If y’all have any one shot ideas please lmk I need more inspo!!!

[squoxle]

HIIEUSI WAS WHHEE HI SIS I WAS WONDERING U COULD DO ARCADE FF WITH HEESEUNG ?

Omg girl I haven’t had time to write a damn thing yet and my drafts are piling up. But moots take TOP priority and I try to respond to asks as fast as possible. Anywaysss here you go and I hope u enjoy 🩷

Ride Me ~ L.HS

pairing: Heeseung!bf x Reader!gf| wc: 1k | summary: Things take a steamy turn after your boyfriend shows you his new at-home arcade setup. | cw: 🔞MDNI!! unprotected sex, cumshots, fingering, clit stimulation, pet names [daddy, good girl, baby] <- 100% Heeseung coded [porn with a plot] Enjoy :)

“Well babe, what do you think?” Heeseung asked as he uncovered your eyes revealing the mass gaming setup. “I figured I’d use this more than the theater room,” he ruffled his hands through his hair, anxiously waiting for you to respond.

“It looks great, but I’m gonna miss our little movie nights under the blankets,” you smiled as you walked up to one of the machines.

You clicked a few of the large buttons, anticipating a pixelated image to flash across the screen. “Umm, how do you turn this thing on?” You asked as nothing seemed to work.

Heeseung placed his hand on the edge beside you, trapping you beneath him as he reached down to flick a power switch. You felt his weight slightly press you against the machine as he did this.

“I must’ve forgotten to turn this one on,” he met your eyes through his shaggy hair. Something about that state felt off, but maybe it was just you so you brushed off the feeling and proceeded to look at the other games he had.

A zombie survival simulator that came with 4 guns.

A claw machine filled with plushes.

A retro fighting game.

And a two player motorcycle game.

Eager to try this one out, you climbed onto the bike.

“Of all the stuff you just saw, im surprised this is the one you wanted to play,” Heeseung tilted his head.

“Yeah, well, I like racing games. Stuff like MarioKart, y’know,” Heeseung watched as you struggled to reach the coin slot from your seat. The opening sat just out of your reach.

Your tits pressed up against the leather as your cheek meshed with cold material.

"Let me help you," Heeseung whispered in your ear as he reached over to insert the coin. You felt him pushing himself up against you from behind which sent butterflies through your stomach.

You went to the loading screen and customized your bike, "If you wanna play, there's another bike," you said as you noticed your boyfriend was still straddled on the bike behind you. His hands gripped the back of the seat as he sat there with his legs spread open.

You had a bad habit of staring at the print in his pants, didn't matter if he was hard or soft. You craved to feel him inside of you.

"I know, but I wanna see how you ride," he smirked as he grabbed your hips, quickly jerking your hips backward.

Feeling the heat rush to your face you continued to start up the game. You chose a Tokyo map because of the neon cityscape terrain at night time. Though you tried your best to stay focused you couldn't shake the feeling of Heeseung sitting behind you like this.

"San, ni, ichi...sutato," the automated female voice called out as tri-colored traffic lights flashed across the screen. The aggressive rumble from the bike startled you as it took off.

You felt as Heeseung squeezed your hips again before leaning against you. You nearly crashed as his touch caught you off guard.

"Be careful baby," he said before placing a kiss on your neck.

"I-I'm trying. But you keep distracting me," you stuttered.

"Am I really that distracting," he asked as he slipped his hands around your thighs, squeezing and pulling at the flesh.

"Ngh," you groaned. "Yes, you are."

"Oh, but you like it when I touch you like this. Don't you?" Heeseung grinded his hips against you.

"Mmm," you moaned as you felt his budge pressing into you. "H-heeseung," you said letting out a soft breath.

"Keep driving baby. If you come in first place, I'll give you a little treat," he hummed as he reached his fingers in between your folds. Your growing wetness slowly seeped through the fabric of your panties.

"Ngh!" you huffed as he massaged your clit through your shorts.

He continued to tease you as you struggled to finish the race, barely coming in first after finding a shortcut.

As the gold star shot across the screen, Heeseung hummed a raspy "Good girl," in your ear before helping you out of your shorts.

At this point, you were only wearing your hot pink thong--something you knew Heeseung loved to use. "Show me that pretty little pussy of yours," he bit his lip as you pulled the small fabric to the side, exposing your wet folds.

He smiled as he palmed himself before pulling his veiny cock out only to glide it between your slimy lips and tease your sensitive bead with his tip.

You whimpered as you began pushing yourself against his hard dick, eagerly trying to force it inside.

He halted your movements by gripping the inside of your thighs, spreading your legs more, before telling you to "ride Daddy's dick like the good girl I know you are."

Immediately after he said those words, he shoved his dick deep inside of you, causing you to let out a sharp groan. "Fuck," he winced. "You're still so fucking tight," he said slowly pumping his cock into you. "Ngh," he moaned before leaning forward to kiss your neck as your ragged breathing filled his ear. "You sound so fucking sexy when you're taking my dick like this," he pecked your cheek as you finally adjusted to his length.

You started to grind into your boyfriend, stuffing his cock deeper into you as he held you from your waist. "That's it, baby, just like that," his words encouraged you to pick up the speed as he pulled your lips into his, gripping your throat.

He turned you over and fucked you from the back as your tits pressed up against the leather. You clenched around him as he let out a groan. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he gritted through his teeth before 3 long, hard thrusts. You felt his warm seed spill into you and drip out as you came with him. Fortunately, your panties caught the majority of the spill.

Exhausted, you laid across the bike as Heeseung kissed your shoulders.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @mimikittysblog @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @hynjinnn1 @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

[ozzgin]

The Yanderes and their jealousy: Monster Edition

You just got a new fictional obsession. Whether it's TikTok thirst traps, reader insert stories or shameless fanart, you've been glued to your phone for the past days and the yanderes have certainly noticed. Featuring my monster OCs (with links to their stories) Content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

Zzy [Yandere!Demon x Gloomy!Reader]

The goat rascal is fuming, clacking his hooves back and forth against the ceiling, grimacing every time he stares at your dumb expression. What're you gawking at? You have the Demon Lord himself at your feet, the one and only horned charmer who slept with half the Devils in Hell.

"What're ya blushing at, dumb human? I could fuck you ten times better in this very moment", he barks with an envious frown.

Depending on how long you plan on ignoring him, he might just rip that phone out of your hands and drag you to the nearest surface to slam you on. See if you still care about that nonsense when you're fucked dumb.

Daos [Yandere!Werewolf x Reader]

Mysterious. Usually you'll curl up in his lap whenever he's reading his evening book, yet for the past few days you've been off, giggling at your phone from the other side of the sofa.

Fictional crushes don't bother him much. If anything, he's mildly amused by your focused gaze and dreamy state. Why should he concern himself with hypothetical scenarios? As it currently stands, you're his, and nothing could ever change that.

Tonight, he tucks you in bed and kisses your forehead. You admit, embarrassed, that you've been a little scatterbrained lately.

"Oh, I may have just the cure for it", he suggests with a knowing grin, sliding his large, clawed hand between your legs.

Digital Monster [Yandere!Internet Monster x Reader]

Nuh uh, strictly forbidden. It won't even happen to begin with. Whatever improper video you may plan on watching will be swiftly erased from your sight.

"What the...why won't the page load?" you whine, refreshing every few seconds and angrily tapping your phone.

A static voice erupts from your speakers, startling you.

"Utterly illogical, (Y/N). I have all the means to satisfy you myself. All you need to do is ask."

Monster Author [Yandere!Monster Author x Reader]

Sacrilege! Oh, the humiliation. What are you even doing, reading someone else's cheap fiction. No, no, no, absolutely not. If you were in the mood to read erotic literature, you should've just asked him. He could write a better story on the spot, without any effort.

"Have you forgotten who you're dealing with, (Y/N)?", he laments, pointing his monstrous appendages towards the shelves filled with trophies and awards.

Even better, he can show you, first hand. You don't need to flip any page for that kind of experience.

Demon King [Yandere!Demon King x Reader]

"Are you not enjoying yourself, Sir?" one servant meekly asks, glancing at his master.

They've conquered yet another world, and its inhabitants presently squirm and burn before their eyes. Normally he would take great pleasure in observing their torment, yet the King is distracted.

"Pathetic", the grand Duke suddenly exclaims, his deep voice rumbling across the hills. He pulls out a small device - a human invention, seemingly - and tilts it towards the beastly butler. It's a video edit of a fictional character, playing on repeat on the small phone screen.

"What's there of such entertainment?" he asks, defeated. "(Y/N) has been obsessing over this pest for an entire week. I'm at my wit's end. I cannot destroy what does not exist."

A pressing dilemma indeed. How does one obliterate an enemy from the realm of imagination?

Asylum Spider [Yandere!Asylum Spider x Reader]

The poor creature has no idea what's happening. He smiles, oblivious, lounging above your relaxed body, suspended from his spider appendages. He cannot see whatever has you squirming in delight.

"Is nice?" he mumbles between the sharp teeth, trying to join your activity.

"Oh, it's..." you stop yourself, glancing up. "...It's just a funny video."

You don't have the heart to be honest. You audibly tap your legs, and the creature lowers itself into your embrace. If you're happy, he's happy.

As long as you don't leave him.

[Monster Masterlist]

[snail-day]

Anxiety

Inspired by Doechii’s song - I just love the vibe.

Yandere! Insert x Reader

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Online Predation/Stalking, Manipulation, Drugging, Noncon/Dubcon, Somnophilia, Horror themes.

WC: 2.2k

Omegle is one of those sleepover staples - the kind of reckless, giddy indulgence that thrives on a mix of boredom and cheap rosé. A laptop perched on someone’s lap, the glow of the screen painting your faces in artificial blue light. The click of the Next button, over and over, sifting through a sea of faceless strangers, dodging the inevitable perverts with their hands sloppily buried beneath their waists.

Mindless fun. Harmless, even.

Until the screen loads him.

A figure bathed in dim, crimson light. A red room. The air around him is thick, suffocating, pressing against the grainy pixels. You can’t quite make out his face - just the vague shape of a man, shadowed and distant, yet present in a way that sets your teeth on edge.

Then he speaks.

"What are you lovely ladies up to tonight?" a voice that is rich in velvet, curling through the speakers like slow-burning embers. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t just speak but pulls, ensnaring something primal deep in your chest, forming heat on your cheeks. It drags down your spine, coiling in the pit of your stomach. Your friends giggle, but a strange unease presses into your ribs, spreading like ink. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the heat creeping up your neck because, even through the distortion, you can almost see the sharp angles of a handsome face.

"Ever hear of the dark web?"

Your body tenses instinctively. Of course, you have. Who hasn’t? The dark web is whispered about in internet horror stories, in late-night Reddit threads meant to keep thrill-seekers up at night. It isn’t illegal to access, only the things that happen there are. But the way he says it, a slow purr, a drawl of sorts as if you're all children listening to horror stories at the camp fire and he's trying to see who squirms first. The conversation shifts, turning into something colder, heavier. He begins to explain what a red room really is. A place where live torture is broadcasted. A digital coliseum where faceless crowds pay to watch strangers suffer. A world where death is nothing more than entertainment, where pain is a currency traded in cryptocurrency.

His voice, still smooth as honey, lingers too long on every word- Indulgent. Like he’s savoring the explanation, rolling it over his tongue like a delicacy. Your skin prickles with something beyond fear,

"I think we should skip this one," you murmur to your friends, barely moving your lips. "He’s giving me the creeps."

They laugh. Call you paranoid. Say it’s just a spooky story. That it's hard to get a hot guy like him on Omegle. Even he agrees, though there’s something almost teasing in the way he exhales, voice lowering into something impossibly gentle.

"You scared, little dove?"

The nickname sinks into you, far too intimate for your anxiety.

Hours pass.

Somewhere in the blur of the night, one of your friends - drunk on wine and adrenaline - got his number. Sent him a text.

No response.

You assume that’s the end of it.

The party dwindles, sleep creeping in, and you sink into the stiff, lumpy embrace of your friend’s broken couch. A stuffy apartment, filled with the residual warmth of too many bodies and the distant hum of the fridge kicking on in the kitchen. Your eyelids droop, but the unease remains, needling at the edges of your consciousness.

He had a red room.

But morning comes, and the sun filters in through the blinds, scattering gold across the floor. You wake up. Your heart is still beating. Your skin is still unbroken. You suppose it really was just a spooky story. You suppose he really was harmless.

Keeping your head down as you walk home, the rain slicking your hair to your forehead, turning the pavement into a mirrored sheen of distorted streetlights. Each step feels heavier than the last, a slow, dragging weight pressing against your spine. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Or maybe it’s the echo of his voice still curling in the back of your mind, like smoke refusing to dissipate.

"You scared, little dove?"

The words slither through you, unbidden, curling around your ribs like thorny vines, pricking at your skin. You shake your head, as if you can physically dislodge the thought. It’s nothing. A stranger in a red-lit room. A stupid story. A glitchy connection that made him seem more ominous than he actually was. Still, you walk faster. By the time you reach your apartment, your clothes are damp, the cold pressing into your skin like a second layer. The key trembles slightly in your grasp as you shove it into the lock, twisting it with more force than necessary. The door swings open, the darkness of your empty space yawning before you. Safe.

Yet, as you step inside, a whisper of paranoia clings to you. The air is thick, too still, the silence too absolute. You don’t remember leaving the lights off, but the place is shrouded in shadow, the only illumination coming from the streetlamp outside, its glow filtering through your curtains.

You close the door. Lock it. Once. Twice.

The anxiety should ease, but it doesn’t. Must be the hangover. The questionable Chinese food. Perhaps you're just weak to horror.

You're fine.

With a breath, you move to your bedroom, peeling off your damp clothes and tossing them into the hamper. The exhaustion pulls at you, yet when you collapse onto the mattress, your body refuses to relax.

Your laptop sits on your desk, the black screen reflecting the dim light. The cursor blinks expectantly when you open it, your fingers hesitating over the keys.

Don’t be stupid. You should sleep. You should forget.

But your fingers move before you can stop them, typing Red Room Dark Web into the search bar. The results are predictable - articles debunking myths, forums filled with speculation, cautionary tales of users claiming they’ve seen one, claiming they’ve barely escaped.

A chill ripples down your spine. You shouldn’t be doing this. Yet, before you can convince yourself to stop, a notification pops up. A single, unread message.

Unknown: Still feeling ignorant, little dove?

Your pulse hammers, an erratic rhythm against your ribs. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. You must've just picked up a virus. Your friend works in tech, she must be messing with you.

You force a laugh, but it sounds weak, brittle.

Then another message.

Unknown: You looked so lovely in the rain. Wish you hadn’t walked home alone.

Ice floods your veins. Your head whips toward the window. The pale curtains are drawn, but you swear you feel something - a presence lingering just beyond the glass. Watching. Waiting. The rain drums against the glass in relentless, hollow beats.

That's silly, you're on the third floor. You're safe.

You do the only thing you can think of to cure your anxiety. Clear the browsing data, clear the weird messages, and turn off your laptop. And pray that ignorance truly is bliss.

Yet, after that night, your dreams shift - warped, sultry, laced with an undercurrent of something dark, something forbidden. They are not just lewd; they are visceral, consuming. Heat coils deep in your core, an unbearable, molten ache spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. A ghostly touch slithers over your thighs, fingers tracing invisible patterns against your fevered skin.

You dream of hands - strong, commanding, fingers digging into your flesh with an intimacy that feels earned. A hand muffles your moans, palm pressing against your parted lips, smothering the sweet, desperate sounds escaping your throat. The other hand - oh, the other - grips your hips, forcing you to take more, to stretch around something thick, something impossibly deep. The pleasure is suffocating, overwhelming, drowning you in wave after wave of raw sensation.

A voice - low, velvety, dripping with amusement - whispers against your ear.

"You take me so well, little dove."

The words reverberate through your bones, sinful and possessive, curling like smoke in your mind. Your body trembles, teeters on the edge. You wake with a sharp inhale, your sheets damp, your skin flushed and dewy with sweat. Your pulse flutters wildly beneath your ribs, your thighs still trembling with phantom pleasure. Yet, there is no trace of your dream lover, no proof of his touch - except for the unmistakable wet patch on your panties, sticky with your own arousal.

Your stomach clenches. This isn’t normal. You must be ovulating. That’s all it is. Just a silly little rut, a needy, desperate craving clawing its way through your veins. Nothing more. And what do silly, desperate college girls do when their bodies betray them?

They fix it.

So, with a flick of your thumb, you download Tinder.

The screen glows in the dimness of your bedroom as you scroll, eyes scanning profiles with detached efficiency. A few swipes. A few teasing messages. You’re not looking for love - just release. Just someone to fuck this unbearable heat out of your system.

And then - you find him. A man sculpted by the gods, as if chiseled from marble itself. Sharp jawline, piercing eye, a mature man. A man who promises a good fuck. That smirk of his dripping with sin, with promises of pleasure so deliciously depraved it makes something low in your stomach tighten. His confidence oozes through the screen, his words smooth, teasing, effortlessly seductive.

Perfect.

This should be easy. But as your gaze lingers on his face, on the sharpness of his cheekbones, the familiar curve of his lips - unease prickles at the base of your spine.

Why does he feel… familiar?

A strange déjà vu claws at the edges of your mind, elusive and taunting. No. You’re just anxious.

That man was probably dozens of miles away. You’re just horny - needy and restless with an ache you don’t care to analyze too deeply. Put on your big girl panties, send your location to a friend, and go get this insatiable heat fucked out of your system.

So you do.

His apartment is pristine, a blend of modern luxury and something deeper - something curated. The air is rich with the scent of leather and faint spice, like cologne that lingers long after someone leaves a room. Dim lighting, warm, casting golden shadows over his immaculate furniture.

He’s charming. Handsome. A man sculpted from sin, his presence intoxicating before he even lays a hand on you.

"Wine?" His voice is a soft purr, rolling over you like smoke. "I have this vintage red from my travels."

There’s a teasing lilt beneath the words, something indulgent, like he’s savoring this moment as much as he plans to savor you. Your legs press together as you sink onto his couch, fingers toying with the hem of your dress. A strange warmth spreads through your chest, an anxious energy you can’t quite place.

"You're a bit older than your profile," you murmur, watching his muscles as he pulls the cork from the bottle with an effortless twist. "You said you were twenty-one."

He hums, low and thoughtful.

"Just a few years older. That’s not a problem, is it?" He tilts the bottle, the wine slipping into a delicate crystal glass - deep red, almost black under the dim light. "Now, wine or no?"

Then, a chuckle - low, velvety, teasing.

"You’ll be tasting it on my lips anyway, little dove. I just thought it’d help calm your nerves."

Little dove.

The words curl around your throat like an unseen hand, a phantom touch pressing into your chest. Your fingers tighten slightly against your thigh, a cold sensation trickling down your spine despite the warmth of the room.

That name.

That exact name. Like an echo from another life, a thread connecting something unseen. It's just a coincidence. It's a common pet name. A common pet name older men use.

The glass is cool against your fingertips as you take it from him, willing the thought away, willing yourself to lean into the heat, the distraction. The first sip is unexpected - sickeningly sweet, cloying in a way vintage wine should never be. There’s a fizz on your tongue, fleeting but noticeable, dissolving into something warm that spreads slowly through your limbs.

It doesn’t matter.

Because the moment the glass leaves your lips, so do his.

His mouth claims yours - slow, intoxicating, coaxing rather than taking. His lips part against yours, the taste of wine mixing with something deeper, something familiar. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling into the soft strands as he pulls you against him, large hands sliding down your spine, gripping, exploring as he pulls you onto his lap, a hardness pressing against your heat.

A breathless moan escapes you as he tugs- gently at first, then firmer - tilting your head, exposing your throat to him. His lips trace along your jaw, down your neck, a slow, teasing descent that sends shivers skittering through your body.

The room feels warmer.

No, hotter. The air thickens, viscous and cloying, pressing into your skin, sinking beneath it. Your mind wavers, distant like a detuned radio caught between stations, static buzzing at the edges of your thoughts.

A soft click.

The atmosphere shifts.

The golden glow of the room vanishes, swallowed whole, replaced by something darker.

A deep, pulsing red.

The breath stutters in your throat, as his tongue claims the struggled sound escaping your lips.

Red room.

Your body stiffens, muscles coiling tight, but the warmth laced through your limbs makes it slow, sluggish, like fighting through water. A slow dread bleeds into the haze of pleasure, creeping, insidious. Your heart pounds against your ribs, but your limbs feel heavy. His lips ghost over your ear, voice dipping into something silkier.

"We’re going to have a lot more fun, little dove."

A tremor ripples through you, a grotesque tangle of heat and dread, sinking deep. His grip tightens around your waist, his fingers sinking in deeper, bruising to the skin.

"Just couldn’t get you out of my mind, little dove. And now that I have you..." His breath is warm against your skin, the words a whisper, a promise, a noose tightening around your fate. "I don’t plan to let you go."

Characters: JJK: Geto, Toji, Sukuna, Kenjaku AOT: Zeke, Eren, Kenny HxH: Chrollo, Hisoka, Illumi

[mellowwillowy]

So I was watching my favorite local streamer playing Homicipher and right in the Mr. Scarletella event where we have to give him our name (I think it's ep 5), it fucking glitched.

Glitched to the point the player was kicked out of the game. So now I'm gonna write something based on this (hehe, it happened twice with Mr. Scarletella (Idk about others but it also glitched with Mr. Crawling during the moment Mr. Stitch hid us iirc, angry Mr Crawling…!)

Yan! Scarletella x GN! Streamer Reader

You knew Homicipher had been a hot shot even before it was released and a month later after the game was released, you decided to stream your playthrough. This had been your third stream and you were only trying to explore more endings for more lore and by the time Mr Scarletella appeared again, the stream chat went crazy for him.

"Give him a fake name? Let's try that." You input a fake name and Mr Scarletella repeated after you before realizing you lied. His face glitched closer to your screen, his eyes staring eerily at you. You've always found his gaze unnerving but since Homicipher wasn't a very textbook horror game, it didn't budge you.

'teach/tell name?'

Until your screen glitched horribly. Black dots appear and disappear, his eyes still staring at you. You questioned the glitch to your viewers and all of them roared in laughs and light-hearted horror, commenting on how Mr Scarletella is really coming to get you. You input another false name and he knew it was a lie.

Another box for you to input the name appeared and just before you could insert the name, the screen glitched terribly and kicked you, and forced you out of the game, leaving you with a blank white window screen. Just before you were kicked out of the game, you could see Mr. Scarletella's eye glitch closer to the screen. One of the viewers commented that it might have been the little update error and you decided to trust them, re-opening the game and loading it from one of the save data.

Once you reach the same event again, you give him another false name. The second time he asked again, it glitched before you could even give him your name. His eye glitched closer to you before it turned black from the glitch again.

'Have your name?'

He appeared again, almost giving you and your viewers a seizure from the amount of glitches. It turned black for a moment before it glitched back again with him still asking for your name.

'Have your name?'

It glitched again and the whole game turned black. You looked at the chat, the viewers all laughing at how Mr. Scarletella was ready to take you into the game with the amount of time the game glitched. You joked with them as you waited until the bug was fixed, unaware of the fact that Mr Scarletella was really trying to pull you into his world.

Bonus: The same thing happened to Mr Crawling albeit just a little bit of glitches. Mr Stitch was hiding with us under the bed and Mr Crawling was looking for us.

'you go?'

The screen glitched for a moment though not as bad as Mr Scarletella's was.

"Is he going to fucking stand?"

[fandoms--fluff]

If possible could you do a No Humanity Hope Mikaelson x Fem Reader smut where reader and hope are out at a restaurant for a date night and hope decides to give reader a "gift" and crawls underneath the table and eats reader out

Glorious Thought

Female vampire reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: f/f oral, that's it I'm pretty sure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's going on in your head?" You raise your eyebrow. Hope is sitting across the table from you. You guys are on a date in a secluded area of a restaurant.

You haven't been on a date that hadn't ended in bloodshed in a long time. So you guys stopped at a charming restaurant you guys came along, ready for a break. Even with no humanity, you guys still get tired of killing people once in a while and want to have a good time.

"A glorious thought" Hope answers, a playful glint in her eyes.

She looks around, and when she's sure no one is in sight (not that she would exactly mind), she sinks down to the floor and crawls underneath the tablecloth and under the table.

Before you could ask any questions, Hope is already kneeling in front of your legs. You feel her hands traveling up your bare legs and to your thighs and keep going underneath your short black leather skirt.

You pick up your martini and take a sip, trying to act inconspicuous as your girlfriend starts to feel you up under the table.

She hooks a finger through your panties and moves it to over to one side before bringing her head down. She sticks out her tongue and licks one streak up your pussy.

Hope then proceeds to kitten lick at your clit, wanting to get you worked up.

You stifle your facial expressions as you feel Hope's tongue against your sensitive nerves.

She starts to hum, making you let out a small gasp. In return, you squeeze her head between your thighs. She lets out a happy groan as she explores you with her tongue. You taste euphoric, she wants to ravish you all night long.

Too bad you're in a restaurant.

Her tongue moves between your walls so fast you can feel an orgasm coming on fast. So of course, this is the time when the waitress decides to come over to the table.

"Alright, here's the machine" The teenage girl hands over the credit card machine. You pick your card up from the table, smiling as if your girlfriend isn't under the table getting you so close to cumming right in front of this poor waitress.

You insert the card into the machine and quickly put in your pin. You watch as the screen loads for an annoyingly long time to then the check mark and the receipt print out.

The girl hands you your copy before putting the restaurant in her apron pocket.

Hope smirks, hearing the waitress. Smugly, she brings up her hand and moves it up to your clit, rubbing it in circles.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asks you.

You almost let out a whimper before catching it. "That's all, thanks" you give the girl a tight-lipped smile.

Thirty seconds after the waitress turns the corner, your climax hits you at a hundred percent. You bite your lip to make sure you make no sound and squeeze her head tighter.

After your high, you release your legs from the sides of Hope's head. She moves your underwear back in place and pulls your skirt back down the little amount it can. She crawls over to her chair and exits from under the table.

Hope licks her lip as she sits down, "Mmm, delicious. Thanks for dessert" she smirks.

"Oh, you have no idea what waits for you when we get back to the hotel" You smirk right back at her. Her eyes widen before a glint of curiousness sets in. "Can't wait."

[ebolagranola]

Just had some straight up creepypasta shit happen. Computer suddenly bluescreens and it boot loops a few times. It takes forever, but it loads up again. The windows 10 background is old, and something feels off. I type my password. Doesn't work.

That's okay, it's long, I mess it up a few times. But eventually I take it slower. More deliberately. Making absolutely sure I get every single letter and symbol correct. Doesn't work. I do it again. Doesn't work. There's this desperate panic. I was watching malware videos before this happened, and had recently downloaded a lot of game mods I really didn't know much about. I put in security questions for my windows installation, but they weren't coming up when I requested to reset my password. Just a strange pop up asking to insert a password reset usb.

Then, I realize. The name displayed for the windows profile is different. It's… Older. I made the name of my new windows installation "Grace" just for convenience with recording for ChainmailChasers, but my old laptop drive installation was named Ebola. Uncertainty clouds my mind. Nervously, I type in my old password. Due to faded memories, my first attempt is the wrong password. But the second… Works.

It buffers just a little too long, just like the previous failed password attempts did, pausing as if the computer itself wasn't sure if the password was correct or not. But the desktop loads. My old desktop. It's so laggy from the drivers being incompatible that most of my mouse clicks aren't registering. My other drives showed up out of order in the file explorer, meaning they weren't wiped, but were blocked from access by windows. I didn't have authorization.

Google searches only pull up Blue Screen of Death results. No one is talking about my issue. I hit control alt delete and I only have two options: Shut Down and Restart. I shut down. It refuses to. I have to hold the power button. I load the bios, and wander around until I find the boot priority. Something so simple but specific that it felt deliberate. The crash had somehow swapped the boot priority from my SSD to my old laptop drive which is connected by SATA to USB. I swap it. It works.

Powershell /sfc scannow (a built-in windows utility that detects and automatically repairs damaged windows installation files) finds nothing. MalwareBytes detects nothing. My computer runs flawlessly again. All my accounts are untouched. But still, I'm left with this lingering feeling. Seeing that old desktop again, after a year… It was like seeing a ghost. Also, if this all sounded fairly circumstantial, imagining dealing with all of this high.

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: He was busy at work when his phone buzzed—her name glowing on the screen.

There is no part 2 ★ __________________________________________________________________________________

The air was thick with tension. He had been working, as usual—calm, controlled, with nothing seeming out of place. But something gnawed at the back of his mind, a primal instinct that told him something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t paranoia; it was simply the awareness he had cultivated over years of being in dangerous situations. And now, it had turned into a cold certainty.

He could feel their presence before he even saw them. They had been following him for a while—two men, keeping their distance, blending in with the crowds but never truly leaving his side. They weren’t doing anything overtly suspicious, but the fact that they were walking in step behind him for blocks wasn’t coincidental. They were following him.

He didn’t break his stride. He knew better than to confront them too soon. He continued walking, letting them think he hadn't noticed, His eyes narrowed as he turned a corner, carefully making sure they stayed in his peripheral vision. He could tell they were amateurs, trying to make him feel nervous or suspicious, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with.

He led them on for several blocks, purposefully allowing them to follow, until he reached a dimly lit alleyway, tucked away from prying eyes. A perfect place for what he had in mind.

The first man made a move—reaching into his coat, likely going for a weapon. But he was too slow. The Salesman grabbed his wrist in a blur of motion, twisting it until the sound of bone cracking echoed in the quiet alley. The man’s breath hitched in shock, but before he could scream, the Salesman shoved him hard against the brick wall.

The second man, now aware of the danger, rushed forward in a panic, but his efforts were futile. The Salesman was faster, more efficient. A quick strike to his gut left him gasping for air, unable to move as the first man crumpled to the ground.

He dragged them to one of his many houses, one that was used for moments like this—places where business could be handled without any interruptions. He tied them to chairs in the dimly lit room, their heads still spinning from the beating. They were too disoriented to speak, too frightened to resist.

He stood before them, his face cold, devoid of any emotion.

"Let's play a game," he said in a calm, almost bored voice, pulling a gun from his belt.

"Only one of you can win."

He loaded the gun slowly, savoring the tension in the air. The men stared at him in horror.

"The name of the game is: rock, paper, scissors. I believe both of you know the rules," he continued, his voice smooth and steady.

He inserted a single bullet into the chamber, spun the barrel with a practiced flick of his wrist, then held the gun up to his head. His finger hovered over the trigger, his expression unreadable. "Let's see what happens next," he murmured.

The first pull of the trigger echoed through the room—but nothing. No shot.

He let out a whistle, lowering the gun as he smiled at them. "See? Easy."

The men sat frozen, terrified. It wasn’t relief they felt—no, it was only fear. They knew what would happen if they lost.

They could sense that their lives were no longer in their own hands.

"Now let’s play," the salesman said again, his voice turning cold as he placed the gun in the center of their sickening game.

"Rock. Paper. Scissors."

The game began. Each man took their turn. The tension thickened. Each time, the salesman put the gun to the loser’s head, pulled the trigger... and again, nothing.

"Lucky, aren’t we?" he said with a smirk.

"Let’s continue."

Another round. More anticipation. The men were a mess, their eyes wide with fear, barely able to breathe as the salesman continued his twisted game.

"again."

The man on the left lost. The fear in his eyes was evident, his chest rising and falling rapidly as panic set in. The Salesman raised the gun once more, his expression still unreadable, and placed it gently on the man’s temple.

“Please,” the man begged, his voice a quiver of desperation, but the Salesman didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed the trigger again.

Click.

Nothing.

The man was shaking now, his hands bound to the chair, his whole body trembling. The Salesman stepped back, his smile growing, savoring the fear that radiated off the man.

“Lucky, aren’t we?” the Salesman said, a twisted amusement in his voice. “Let’s continue.”

Another round. Rock, paper, scissors.

Gun to the head. Pressing the trigger.

Click.

Still nothing. The tension was mounting now, palpable in the air. The game had become more than just a game. It had become a test, a cruel reminder of how easily their lives could be snuffed out.

“This is getting boring,” the Salesman said after a moment. He took a deep breath, almost sighing, before adding, “Let’s add more, shall we?”

He slid three bullets into the revolver, taking his time, savoring the moment. The men were sweating now, unable to break free of their restraints, their bodies still trembling from the terror they had endured so far.

Rock, paper, scissors.

He raised the gun again, this time pointing it directly at the man’s head, the pressure of the trigger heavy under his finger. He was about to pull it when—

His phone rang.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze.

The sound of the ringing phone filled the silence, cutting through the tension like a knife. The Salesman’s eyes flicked to the screen, and for a brief moment, his expression softened. The number on the display was unmistakable.

It was his wife.

His heart dropped. The two men in front of him suddenly seemed insignificant. They could wait.

He glanced back at the two men, his gaze dark and threatening, warning them without words not to make a sound. The men, still bound and vulnerable, froze in terror.

he answered the phone. "Yes, my dear?" His voice, though he tried to control it, had softened when he spoke to her.

The voice on the other end was weak, strained. “Hey, dear... so this morning, I kind of fell out and hurt my knee. It’s nothing serious, but it’s starting to hurt, and... I was just wondering when you’ll be coming home?”

The Salesman’s heart skipped a beat. His world shifted for a moment, the coldness of the room fading into something else entirely. His thoughts were no longer on the men before him but on her—the one person who still had the power to make him feel human.

His chest tightened. He felt the coldness of the room press against him. He immediately switched gears, his protective instincts flaring. How? When? Where did it happen? he asked urgently, his eyes never leaving the two men in front of him.

"I’ll be back soon, my dear. Don’t move too much, okay?"

He spoke softly into the phone, trying not to let his rising panic show. The men before him were still tied up, sweating, watching him closely as he silently threatened them with just his gaze.

"Alright, and I’m sorry for calling you while you’re working..."

His heart skipped. He could hear the guilt in her voice, and it made him want to rush home even faster. He had to fight the rising concern flooding his chest.

"Oh, darling, don’t say that. You can call me anytime, you know that. I’m always here for you." He paused, his voice more tender now, his words laced with affection. "I love you."

And just like that, everything else faded away. His heart ached, his thoughts consumed with her safety.

After a moment, he ended the call, throwing the phone onto the table with a soft clatter.

“Looks like we have to finish this quickly,” he said, his voice ice-cold once more.

“I have no interest in wasting my time here.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova @preppyfella @mskiabbs @muchwita

[heehoonieluvs]

Video games + NSFW Link ‼️

You would always sit on your bf’s lap whenever he played online with his friends. He loved having you so close and looking so cute as he carried out his favourite hobby. You would sit quietly and press the odd few kisses to his neck or cheek whenever you were kind of bored, but for the most part, you were both content with it. However one day, you got bored and asked if he could teach you how to play. Because he loved you so much, he obviously agreed and even let you use his account, not caring if you’d make him go down in ranks.

You would be a bit rusty as you weren’t much of a gamer, but he would be patient in teaching you. Even when you successfully changed items without help, he’d hype you up and give you a load of kisses. But as you started to get better, he’d start admiring how delicious you looked as you stared at the screen with concentration and your tongue slightly poking out

You could feel him grip your waist tighter and start to rock you on his crotch. Despite his distraction, you were still doing well so he thought that there would be no harm in having some entertainment of his own. You were slightly confused as he lightly pushed you to stand but he carried on rutting into you from behind as you both stood up. He was so glad that you were just wearing a crop top and panties, so he pulled your underwear down and started to lightly stoke over your pussy.

His fingers ghosted the outline of your lips, and then rubbed on your clit. You’d let out a moan and drop you head, but he’d tut at you and say

“Uh uh baby. Carry on playing while I play with you”

He wouldn’t stop alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit till you drench his veiny hands. And once he helps you to ride out your orgasm, he’d pump his throbbing cock and insert it into you to give you the fuck of a lifetime 😮‍💨

LINK

NSFW Masterlist

[nondidd]

Cuteee!!! Thankfully with Ruggie there they’ll be more likely to back off (U__U)b

Joining @nondidd 's open collab!! I couldn't miss this opportunity ^^

And little of self-insert because, why not?

¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[blessedbucky]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀

pairing: satosugu/reader

word count: 8k (oops)

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, suguru has depression, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant sex, vaginal sex, anal play, you and satoru are gonna rizz suguru with the 'tism, uhhh let me know if there's something else i need to add!

comments: once again it's just pure self-indulgence! we need more autistic reader inserts! and more autistic satoru! this is also posted on Ao3!

Story Masterlist

[PROLOGUE]

No.

Yes?

As you tap the pencil against the table irritably, you squint down at the sketchbook. You twirl the pencil around and move to erase the bottom portion of the sketch but hesitate. Did it…? Ugh! Why are you like this? You’d been so keen to soak in all the distinct details to remember those that you completely missed the basic. Did this damned cursed spirit have legs or not? The rest of it had been so floaty. Surely, it wouldn’t have any use of them. Right? Then again, the forms of curses sometimes make no sense at all.

Hmm, alright. There had been a ripped, worn cloak. Red and blue ribbons that could easily be mistaken as toilet paper to a panicked non-sorcerer. Unkempt hair and bald spots. There’d been a mask, but the curse sensed no hostility or prey, so it didn’t reveal what was underneath. You debated on calling a sorcerer in to lure the spirit in to a fight, but you don’t have the energy to deal with strangers and anyone close would snitch.

You tap on the screen of your phone, flicking away the text that you’ve already read. There is someone that could collect that curse for you…but then he would wonder why you know about the exact location in the first place. No, no. Best not to tempt fate like that. Besides, if you have to sit here and debate whether it had legs or not, isn’t that some indication that there had to be something there in the first place?

About twenty minutes later, the front door opens, and you’re finishing sharpening the colored pencils. A shame that you can’t color this particular sketch, you think as you flip back to the front, but your much less non-threatening sketch of Nue needs to be colored, anyway.

“I’m home!”

There’s a noticeable crinkle of bags that gets closer and closer to the kitchen. Many of them. Perhaps it’s your humble upbringing or it’s inherently you, but this inclination of his for spoiling you will never not fluster you. These days, you can let it slide a little more since it’s not only you that’s being spoiled anymore. Or maybe, after nearly a decade of knowing him, you understand that this is a way he communicates.

When you look over your shoulder, you can’t help but smile at the sight of him in the doorway. Sure enough, he’s loaded up with bags. Some are plastic ones from the konbini, some a little nicer and prettier, and some are outright designer bags. Those ones, you note, are not for you.

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

Satoru hesitates before he tosses all the bags away from his arms and throws himself at you with what can only be described as a manly squeal. “Waa! I have the cutest wife!” You’re prepared for a full body attack, but Satoru only plasters himself across your back, and wraps you up in his arms. He’s unbearably gentle about it. “How are my babies, hmm?” His hands flick away some pencil shavings before they rest on your belly. “Ugh, I could kill those geezers for keeping me away for so long. You’re so big now!”

You tilt your head back, deadpanning his upside-down face. “You’re so lucky that you’re married to me. I think other women would think you’re calling them fat.”

“Would they?”

“It’s like you don’t pay attention to people at all.”

“I only pay attention to the ones I like!”

You pat the tops of his hands. “I know, darling. I know.” It’s then that you notice a little something. You turn around in his arms so you can study him fully, specifically his neck. “Speaking of people you like…” Curiously, you reach up to touch the bruise just barely peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. Satoru tenses at your touch, smile faltering, but relaxes when you only ask, “Why on earth did they call for Suguru?”

“Eh. You know the protocol when there’s more than two Semi-Grade 1’s.”

Your eyes light up. “There was more than one?! How many?! What did they look like?!”

“Why yes, dearest, we’re both fine. Thank you so much for asking, dearest. Oh, no, dearest, don’t be so concerned since you’re oozing with it right now.”

You wave away the sarcasm. “Shut up. Did one of the spirits have a technique to switch bodies? Because you don’t know how much you sounded like Suguru just then.” Satoru snorts. You won’t let him interrupt your very important research. Vibrating with excitement, you spin around to snatch your sketchbook from the counter and start flipping for the next open blank page. You don’t have many pages left, though. You need a new sketchbook. “You got sweets, right? Describe the spirits while we taste-test them!”

From over your shoulder, a hand slaps down on your sketchbook so hard that you squeak. “Darling,” comes Satoru’s sing-song voice. Shit. “My most beloved Sketch,” he goes on to croon. He’s pressing you against the counter to block your escape. You wonder if you wiggle your ass if that could distract him. If he’s still got hickeys, it hasn’t been too long since Suguru fucked him, but Satoru seems like he’s having a good day, and his libido is sky-high on those days. “Mother of my child,” he stresses. “What is that?”

Oh, you’re definitely sweating now. You could try to lie…or you could play dirty. Yes. That one. You pull on the perpetuate restlessness that’s set in since you were benched and that puts tears in your eyes. Once again, you’re turning around in his arms and looking up at him.

“It was Aka Manto, Satoru!” You fist your hands in the front of his jacket. “Aka Manto!” The way that he tilts his head back and slaps a hand over his eyes means you’re successfully hitting him below the belt. “How could I resist? That would be like putting Agumon, here and in the flesh, right in front of you and expecting you to walk away!”

“Agumon?” Abort! You shouldn’t have invoked his special interest! “Okay, if I was you and I was pregnant and Greymon was the one in front of me then you’d have a case! You risked your life for an Agumon-level spirit? I don’t know whether to be mad or disappointed! You could’ve totally resisted that!”

“I couldn’t! I heard those teenagers gossiping and heard them talk about the red and blue toilet paper and all the possibilities started running through my head!” You blindly slap a hand against the sketch. “This is a good thing! I can keep myself busy with researching! I have to figure out if it’s a true vengeful cursed spirit or an imaginary vengeful cursed spirit before I register it!”

“Register?” Oh. Oh, no. You’ve done it now. “Register implies Special Grade.” You know you’re in serious trouble when he slips his blindfold off. Damn your empathy! You should’ve made sure every single light in the apartment was on before he got home! Satoru is one of the few people that you can stand eye contact with, but not so much now. You don’t want to make him angrier, though, so you look at his forehead instead to give the appearance of eye contact. “I know my super intelligent wife wouldn’t put herself alone with a Special Grade.”

“Never,” you chirp nervously. “On a totally unrelated note, did you know that those geezers are super pissed right now? They had to fork over a ridiculous amount of money to reward Mei-Mei for capturing a Special Grade. Heh…heh…”

Then, Satoru…disappears.

The sudden loss of his support makes you stumble, and you have to catch yourself on the counter. The gust of wind from his warping sends colored pencils rolling off the counter. Just as you’re crouching down to pick them up, Satoru is back, and he’s not alone.

“Oh. Hello, Sugu—”

“Talk some sense into your stupid best friend!” Satoru demands of a flustered Suguru who is trying to recover from being warped so suddenly. To everyone but Satoru, warping is jarring.

“Isn’t that you?” Both you and Suguru intone at the same time.

Satoru harrumphs before he’s stomping off to pick up all his shopping bags and leave the kitchen. Knowing him, he’s going to sit on the couch and aggressively eat his haul until he makes himself sick. This temper tantrum is starting to get under your skin, especially when you think about him getting crumbs on the couch. Just the thought of sitting on the couch and getting bombarded with them makes you want to claw at your skin already.

Suguru touches your shoulder in warning before he slips it under your arm. “Let me do that,” he insists before he helps you up on your feet. Then, he crouches down to gather up all your colored pencils, examining the ends on your behalf. He separates out the ones that will need to be re-sharpened. “What have you done now, Squid?”

“Sketch, Squid—can you two come up with cooler, more original nicknames for me?”

“Those are original,” he replies with a smirk. “You have no one to blame but yourself. It’s not my fault that you were torturing a squid spirit when we first met.”

“I was six, Suguru.”

“And have you changed at all since then, Squid?” You refuse to answer that. Suguru, though, has known you longer than anyone else. “That’s what he’s angry about, right? That’s the only reason he drags me into your fights. As if I’ve ever been able to stop you from doing what you want.”

“I have a cursed technique!” You announce loudly enough that Satoru can hear you from the couch. “Have you both forgotten that the whole point of my technique is to not be seen by spirits? I can pacify them! If I actually thought that I was in danger, I wouldn’t have gone near it!”

Suguru sighs softly before he raises up to his feet. “You know that you have a tendency for tunnel vision when you’re excited.”

“It was Aka Manto,” you whine.

“Aka Manto is Special Grade?” His nose crinkles in disgust. “Ew.”

“Just based off a preliminary search, the legend has been around since the thirties, at least. It could be longer. So, it’s had time to establish itself and accumulate power. I’m surprised it’s gone so long without being exorcised, but a spirit that haunts bathrooms is probably something that sorcerers think are beneath them—”

Suguru interrupts your hypothesizing with a finger to your lips. “This isn’t only about you anymore, okay?”

“No one cared about this before I got knocked up,” you snap.

“They did,” he sings. “You don’t want to admit it because you’re trying to be manipulative right now.” The accusation has your jaw dropping. “You’ve always been a non-combatant sorcerer, Squid. Just like Shoko, hmm? When you’re on a mission, you’re paired with an active sorcerer. Does that sound like no one caring?”

You try to dismiss the point with a snide, “They only care about me like a prized scientist, same as Shoko. I’ve dedicated all this time to studying and researching cursed spirits out in the field. I can categorize them and seal them better than any other sorcerer can.”

“The higher-ups only see you as that, but Satoru and I don’t. There are others, of course. Most of the auxiliary managers adore you. More importantly, there’s Nanamin, Shoko, Nanako, Mimiko, Tsumiki, Megumi—”

As quickly as your temper flared up, all that wind leaves your sails. “Alright, Suguru, I get it. You don’t have to keep adding salt to the wound.” You shuffle past him to plop down in a chair. ���It’s just…hard.” And since you know that Satoru can and is listening to this conversation, you add, “Imagine Satoru being completely cut off from anything Digimon for nine months. This is my Digimon. Cursed spirits are my thing, y’know?”

Suguru follows after you, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you forward. You bury your face against his belly, practically purring when he starts lightly scratching his nails against your scalp. “I’m really proud of how well you’ve been dealing with all these changes. I know that is even harder. The unexpected pregnancy, the…what do Americans call it? Shotgun wedding?”

“Changes are easier when I have you and Satoru,” you mumble against his shirt.

Suguru’s hands momentarily still. “You make things so hard on me, Squid.”

“I know.”

“It’s not for the reason you think.”

“What’s the reason, then?”

“Nothing that I can talk about.” Your brows furrowing, you tilt your head up, digging your chin against his stomach hard. With how toned it is, you doubt that he can feel it. Cryptic asshole. “Why don’t I start collecting curses again, hmm? It’s safer when they’re under my control.”

“No.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Who is treating who like glass now? Don’t you know? I’m Special Grade sorcerer, Geto Suguru. I can handle swallowing some cursed spirits—”

“I said no.”

As if you would add to his burden like that. As if you’d add fuel to the fire. Suguru doesn’t think that you and Satoru can’t see he’s in an episode right now. If he hadn’t been forcefully called out on that mission, you aren’t sure how long he’d go on with locking himself away from the outside world. The girls help bring a piece of the world to him, keep him afloat when he blocks you and Satoru out, and give you updates on how he’s doing.

It’s a slippery slope, the curse consumption. It’s like rot. Too much and it can fester inside him. It could be something else like the loss of a student. Sometimes, it’s reminders of that fateful day during second year of high school or that night that he found the twins.

Whatever the trigger, his episode always starts the same. Sleepless nights that leave him sleeping throughout the day to make up for it, though nothing ever helps ease that overwhelming exhaustion. Teaching drains what little energy he has. Parenting doesn’t help, either, because he always tries to put on the best face that he can in front of the girls despite how much he’s fraying at the edges.

So, a normally punctual Suguru begins to be late to work. The circles under his eyes grow darker. His lack of attention can almost match Satoru’s. Conversations are forgotten, plans are dropped. It builds. It’s when he starts missing meals, not only for himself but also for the girls, that his self-loathing gets bad. They know how to cook for themselves, but you always tell them to call you or Satoru immediately if they have to do it more often in a week than not.

“I’ll deal with it,” you insist. “I need a new hobby, anyway.” You lock your arms around him, squeezing tight. “I’ve had to watch a bunch of documentaries to help me sleep. Sharks are really cool.”

“We’ll take the kids to an aquarium, then,” he whispers.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Your eyes meet his. “Do you mean that? Are you done ignoring me and Satoru?”

Suguru closes his eyes, sighing softly. Then, he smiles, taking being called out in stride. And, by stride, you mean simply avoiding the conversation. “Shall I bring the girls to stay the night with us?”

“Please.”

“You’re so spoiled, Squid. You’re no better than Satoru.”

“You’d be spoiled, too, if you let us.”

“I’m already spoiled enough as it is.”

“How?”

Suguru gives you one last scritch on the scalp before he steps away and calls out, “Satoru, would you like to take me home so I can pick up the girls? Do you think we should stop for Megumi and Tsumiki?”

Pregnant lady privileges give you access to the shower first.

Throughout said shower, you can hear the raised voices of competitive children and Satoru as they all have a tournament on the old 64. It’s a welcome distraction since you got so scatterbrained that you forgot to bring clothes with you and have to sneak back to your bedroom.

There’s a hoodie on your side of the bed, one that you’ve never seen. Your expression softens at the sight of it. The bag off to the side tells you that this is something Satoru bought for you, and this is also his way of reaching out after your earlier argument. It’s both an olive branch and a warning that he wants to talk, that he’ll do it in good faith, and that if his natural bluntness comes off as rude or out of pocket then it’s unintentional.

You shove your face against the hoodie after you pick it up, rubbing your face against it like a cat because the material is so soft and feels so good. It’s thin, too, so it won’t leave you sweltering since your temperature is running hotter these days. It’s two-sizes too big, so even Satoru can fit in it. You wonder how far his sweetness goes—if he got it so big so that he could wear it because he likes how it feels or because he’ll leave his scent on it for you? It’s probably both.

“Kitten.”

Keeping the hoodie pressed against your cheek, you turn your head to pout at Suguru. “You’re meaner today than usual.”

“Giving you cute nicknames is mean?”

“How is squid cute? Octopi are the cutest cephalopod.”

Suguru merely hums and leaves it at that. You don’t miss the click of the lock behind him before he saunters over to stand beside you. “Earlier, you asked me how I’m spoiled,” he starts as he drops down on the edge of the mattress. “I had an answer, but it wasn’t an appropriate time to give it.” He glances up at you from under those thick lashes, with those violet eyes, acting so damn coy. “Do you want to hear it now?”

“Does it have to do with all those hickeys on Satoru’s neck?”

“It does.” You slide between his legs spread so wide that it’s obscene. The gesture, along with reaching out to grip his shoulders, is enough to tell him that you’re okay being touched today. You think you are, but then his hands brush along the side of your bump as he’s going to place his hands on your hips, and you flinch away from the touch with your whole body. “Shit. Sorry. I read you wrong—”

You check yourself. It wasn’t so much the touch, you think, as it was the reminder that Suguru has been…avoiding you a lot more than he does Satoru. “No. Um…” You rein it back in and stop touching him. “I want to make sure I’m not reading you wrong. We haven’t…y’know…since before I got knocked up. Well, before I started showing, anyway.” You wave a hand over your bump. “If this bothers you, I can go get Satoru.”

Suguru breathes out your name. “I don’t want him right now. I want you.” His gaze darts away, looking guilty. “I’m sorry. After you made the announcement, I didn’t want to cause you more stress.”

“When have I ever held back from telling you that I’m not up to it on any given day? Isn’t that how this whole thing between us three started? For the days when my libido and Satoru’s can’t synch up?”

Jujutsu sorcerers like to fuck.

When you live your life in such a bleak and deadly world, you cope however you can. It’s mostly through smoking, drinking, and sex. You, Satoru, and Suguru are no exception. Satoru may be the worst, though, because he never really has the chance to go all-out in the field. Most of the time, if he’s not overstimulated or mentally drained, then he’s buzzing with physical and mental energy. So, when he is home, he fucks like a stallion.

In your role, you work with people a lot. You may meet with the higher-ups more often than Satoru does to report on research or answer their questions after an incident. The more stressed you are, the easier it is for you to get overstimulated, and you don’t like to be touched when the world is screaming at you from every angle.

You don’t even remember how the idea came up…

Oh, it might’ve been you and Satoru making dirty jokes about sore wrists. After you and Satoru complained to Suguru about how old touching yourselves was getting, he offered himself up. It’s a win-win, he reasoned, because he’d been on too long a dry spell that he wanted to break, and you and Satoru could get your needs taken care of without one or the other feeling guilty or having your hands or fingers falling off.

Greedy you, greedy Satoru…how could you both turn that down?

“You’ve had a lot more to worry about the past five months than sucking my dick.”

“You ever think that sucking your dick makes me worry less?”

Suguru laughs and holds out a hand. “Come here, Squid.”

That’s how you end up where you are now. Face down, ass up, pillow tucked under your tummy, and Suguru doing his best to be quiet as he pounds into you in case any little ears are up against the door. You’re biting down on your chew necklace because it’ll be a cold day in hell before you willingly bite down on cloth for an extended amount of time. You don’t know how Satoru does it, but he doesn’t know how you can handle rolling around in wet sheets. If he forgives you now, he’ll be pissed again when he hears you dropped your towel and jumped Suguru’s bones.

The second trimester saw you getting hit by the horny truck. It hasn’t even been that long since he got his cock inside you, but you’re a fucking livewire these days. You exist on a low burn and you’re always on a hair trigger. Your nipples are off limits because the first trimester tenderness still has a chokehold on you, so he’s keeping his hands busy by spreading your cheeks and watching the slide of his cock in and out of you.

Suguru, who can get a little mean in bed, thumbs at your asshole, and that sends you over the edge. You catch yourself before you give the game away to the damn kids, throwing your head forward to bury your face and your moans in the mattress. Your entire body trembles and Suguru’s hips slow to a crawl, letting you come down without sensitivity, groaning quietly as your pussy tries to milk him for all he’s worth.

He hunches over, back bowed over yours, leaning until his breath is hot on the shell of your ear. “This is how you spoil me,” he husks as he reaches down between your legs. You hiss when his fingers quickly glide over your clit. “You and this perfect little pussy.” You roll your face against the sheets, moaning because if he doesn’t shut the fuck up, you might come again. “I can’t believe you thought that I wouldn’t want this.”

Panting, you turn your head to the side and spit out the gem-shaped silicone in your mouth. “Sorry for thinking that pregnancy doesn’t look good on me.”

“You should be sorry. It looks beautiful on you.” Your hand flies back, digging fingers into his ass, trying to keep him inside you when he slides out. You whine at the loss. “Impatient,” he chides. “On your back. Let me see that gorgeous body.” Heat crawls up the back of your neck, the tips of your ears.

“Stop it. You know I’m bad with sarcasm,” you grumble. You do as he says, though, and roll over. The pillow, previously under your stomach, is now in the small of your back and you sigh in relief. Your back has been aching something fierce lately. “Ugh, Suguru!” You cover your face with your hands because he’s staring at you. Gaze sweeping over your body, fingers following along with his eyes. “Stop looking! Leave that for Satoru.”

“It’s not sarcasm. Pregnancy looks so good on you.” You squeak when he grabs your hips, roughly hauling you down to settle the backs of your thighs over his. You’re not looking, but he slaps his cock against your pussy, making you squirm. You do dig a heel against his ass, trying to hurry him up. “It may have been an accident, but knowing that Satoru came inside you…” He slides back inside your pussy. “Knowing that it stuck…” His hands cup the sides of your bump. “You have no idea how jealous of him I’ve been.”

Your hands fall away from your face. “Okay.” Shyly, you reach down and lace your fingers through his. “Next time, I’ll let you accidentally knock me up.”

“It’s not an accident if it’s planned.”

The two of you snort and grin and you just start giggling. “You’re such an asshole.” You throw your arms over your eyes. You think you might cry. You’re a whirlwind of emotions—horniness and happiness with a shit-ton of longing. “Can you just let me say I wanna have your baby?”

I love you.

Would Satoru be mad if you said it now?

“A married woman saying things like that?” Finally, Suguru starts moving. It helps distract you from the words stuck in your teeth. “How lewd.”

“Pregnant Married Woman Begs for New Daddy—how’s that for a JAV title?” Suguru can’t hide the hitch in his breath, the way his fingers dig harder into your skin, how his thrusts pick up speed. You lift your arm up, peering at him, grinning in sadistic delight when you see how red his cheeks are. “Do you wanna be our daddy, Suguru?”

Suguru can talk all that sexy shit but can’t take it? Because he reaches down to start rubbing slow circles around your clit, knowing that letting your orgasm build slowly makes your brain leak out through your ears. Sure enough, the heat starts in your toes, and pleasure rushes through your veins.

“You first,” you breathe out as you clutch at his wrist. “Want that come inside me when I go off.”

“Whatever you want, darling.”

You’re not sure how long you doze after you and Suguru were done. He’d wiped you down because you hate your skin to be sticky, same as Satoru. Which, speaking of, he’s in bed with you when you wake up—propped back against the headboard, shirtless, and on the 3DS. You shuffle closer, putting your head in his lap, and listen to the familiar sounds of Ocarina of Time 3D.

“I can’t wait until the new Animal Crossing in November,” Satoru gripes.

“Just play Pokémon. Did you know that there’s this challenge that’s spreading around on the internet? It’s called Nuzlocke and it’s supposed to be super hard. It’s up your alley.” His thumbs briefly pause. You know the challenge entices him. “You’re not betraying Digimon by playing Pokémon, I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He snaps the 3DS shut, not even bothering to save his progress.

You lean forward to kiss his tummy, right over the scar that runs from his neck down along the upper half of his body. The day that he got this scar…it was and still is such a stark reminder that, no matter what, all sorcerers share the same fate. Just because Aka Manto didn’t notice you doesn’t mean another spirit won’t. “I’m sorry, Satoru,” you apologize quietly. “I really did fuck up with this. It’s so easy for me to forget that these aren’t pets or even comparable with wild animals.”

“I get it, I guess. Well, not really. It’s like me cutting myself off from sweets and I don’t think I can do that. So, I don’t get what it feels like when you can’t be around your thing. Ugh. Why did we ever get in a relationship? Talking about feelings sucks.”

You giggle. “You’re doing well.”

“You’re not being sarcastic, are you? Because I’m kinda freaking out. I’ve got four months to get my shit together.” He digs the heels of his palms against his eyes, groaning with frustration. “Yeah, sure, I can handle teenagers or those kids out there.” He means the twins and Fushiguro siblings. “They’re not babies, though. What the fuck do I do with a baby? And, let’s be honest, those kids are all pretty fucked up already, but the thought that I can fuck a kid up?”

You raise up on an elbow, watching him. “Satoru…”

“Oh, Christ. I’m having an existential crisis, Sketch. I’m a walking cliché right now. What if I become my old man? Are you gonna end up resenting me, too? Holy fuck, what if we turn into my parents? I have a horrible personality. I’m so selfish and conceited. I’m going to hurt this kid. I—”

Oh, okay. Has Satoru ever had a panic attack? Because you think he might be having one. “Satoru,” you call out as you press your hand against his chest. Under the skin, his heart is beating like crazy. “Hey, Satoru, I need you to look at me.” He does as you ask, sparkling blue eyes a little crazed with his dread. “Why isn’t Infinity on?”

“Huh?” He blinks out of the haze and looks down at where you’re touching him. “What? Why the fuck would Infinity be on right now? You’re touching me.”

“Right, but you’re scared right now. Infinity is your defense mechanism. Sometimes, you don’t even realize it’s flaring up when you get overstimulated. It usually blocks everything out.”

He squints at you before he repeats, “You’re touching me.”

“If you were selfish, your body wouldn’t care that it’s me, right? You’re not even thinking about it consciously. Keeping me safe, even from yourself, is instinct.”

“You might be reaching…”

“You could’ve let the Zen’in clan take Megumi,” you point out. “You took in the children of the only man that’s ever gotten close to killing you.” You lift up from the mattress completely, yanking the sheets up and over your bare shoulders. “You actively participate in the system you hate because you want to rework it from the inside-out, top-down. You want to protect kids, so why wouldn’t that extend to your own?”

“Fine, I won’t actively hurt the kid and I’ll make sure they don’t get physically hurt. That doesn’t mean—”

The pieces start to add up. Suguru isn’t the only one that’s been spiraling. “Were you doing retail therapy? Is that what all the bags are for? Don’t answer. I already know.” No wonder he’s been so snippy lately. “We got shoved into this. I’m doing okay right now, but I’ve lost my shit sometimes when you’re not around. I’m scared shitless that I’ll end up exactly like my parents, too. But…if I keep thinking about it then I will end up like them. I’ll get so lost in my head that I ignore this baby.”

“You’ve lost your shit and didn’t tell me?”

“That’s what you’re focused on?” You shake your head, chuckling in disbelief. “Yes, I did. Because I’m pretty sure that having a mental breakdown is a rite of passage for soon-to-be parents.” Lacing your fingers through his, you give a reassuring squeeze. “I know how terrifying this is. This might not help calm you down because you’re a little bit of a control freak, but you need to get it in your head now that we’re never gonna have all the answers and we’re gonna fuck up. All we can do is apologize and try to do better.”

Satoru’s cheeks puff out and his bottom lip juts out. “I hate unknowns.”

“Like I said—control freak.”

“Shut up.” He tugs at your hand. “Hey, come here. Sit in my lap.”

“Yes, yes.”

Satoru holds out his other hand, letting you use them as support while you climb up to straddle his waist. He tilts his head forward, shoving his face right between your breasts, and sighs happily like the little pervert he is. You only encourage the behavior with your quiet giggling.

“Sorry for being a bitch earlier,” comes a muffled apology.

“You weren’t being a bitch. Dare I say…you were actually mature about it.” He digs his fingers into your ticklish side, making you squawk. “I’m being serious! You knew you didn’t have a level head and couldn’t handle it sensitively, so you went to get help.”

“Ha!” He leans away from your chest. “You’re definitely overthinking my actions. It boiled down to me not wanting to deal with you anymore.” Yeah, right. What a fucking liar. “And what good did it do me to get that asshole? He leaves me to babysit his kids while he fucks my pregnant wife.”

“Joke is on you because you’re into sloppy seconds.”

“Heh! Fuck yeah, I am.” He sighs sadly. “I wanna fuck you so bad right now. I wish I had the mental energy to get it up.”

“We’ll cuddle tonight and have really gross, lovey-dovey morning sex. Sound good?”

Satoru bats those big, stupidly blue eyes at you. This drama queen somehow has tears in them and his bottom lip wobbles as he asks, “Can I suck on your nipples? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“We’ll see.” You run your fingers through his hair. “You did really good today. If they’re too sore, I’ll make you chocolate chip waffles, okay?”

“Best wife ever.”

In the morning, you spoil Satoru.

You’re in his lap, on his dick, and his mouth never leaves your tits.

It hurt when he first put his mouth on them, you’ll admit, but it’s not enough pain to overload your brain. It’s that addicting pain, like how good it feels to stretch out a sore muscle. If it was a bad day, you wouldn’t want to deal with the confliction. That’s how you know today will be a good one.

And why wouldn’t it be a good day?

It’s a full house. All your favorite people are here. Suguru is curled up in the guest bed, Nanako and Tsumiki on either side of him while Mimiko is sprawled out and drooling on his chest. Megumi is out on the couch. You only hope that you can convince them all to stay longer. It’s the weekend, so no school. You’re not above bribery.

You and Satoru slowly rock. His huge hands are on your ass, guiding your movements, doing more work than you are at lifting yourself up and down on his cock. The grip he’s got on your ass gets rougher as he gets closer to coming, so it spreads your cheeks apart. Gentle as it is, sweat still lines your skin and his, so he has to sometimes readjust his grip. That’s all to say that his fingers are getting close to your asshole. Just the memory has you quickening the pace.

“Want him here so bad,” you whine.

Satoru knows immediately who you mean. Talking about Suguru in bed isn’t new for you and Satoru. “Fuck, I know. He blew my back out yesterday. Hey, wanna hear a story?” He reaches down, thumbing at your clit. “Didn’t really jerk off until I got in high school. First fantasy? Fucking your sweet little pussy while he’s plowing my ass.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down to muffle your moan. “Yeah? You want that? One day, baby. Not now because no way I can be gentle when that’s going down.”

You pant against his neck. “We have to tell him.”

“We will,” Satoru swears. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, and he swears. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Yeah, we’re gonna fucking tell him. We’re putting a ring on that bastard’s finger.” You nod along deliriously, chanting your agreement. “We’ll romance the fuck out of him. I swear that this kid is gonna have three parents—aw, fuck, ‘m coming!”

Satoru licks his come out of you before it has the chance to drip down your thighs. After he’s done, he flops behind you, and winds his spindly limbs with yours. You didn’t even realize how early it is until Satoru’s phone flashes in the pre-dawn light and flaunts the time. There’s a little time before you two have to roll out of bed. Chocolate chip waffles with strawberries and whipped cream actually sound really good right now. You’ll make Satoru help so that the food will be done when everyone wakes up.

“Were you serious about it?” You hum in question. Satoru goes on to elaborate. “Were you coming or were you agreeing with me about telling him before the baby is born?”

“Both,” you answer bluntly. He snorts in amusement. “I’ve been thinking about how we can confess.”

“No way! Me, too!”

“I don’t even want to imagine what your idea is.”

“Rude,” he bites your shoulder in rebuke. “We can take him on a date night. Serenade him with some fine dining. Finish the night in a nice hotel—”

“I will never do fine dining ever again, Gojo Satoru.” Just the memory of the plates rotating in and out of the table with so many varying, awful textures…you gag. Your teeth start to hurt. “I don’t know how you’ve put up with that for your entire life.”

Satoru laughs. “They bribed me with desserts to put up with it.”

What a stark reminder that you and Satoru are two sides of the same coin. Whether it’s your parents telling you to starve for the night if you refused to eat something because you hated the texture or his parents bribing him to force himself to grin and bear it, it’s all the same. Even after you were diagnosed, your parents still forced you to eat whatever they made because they refused to make two dinners. You had to learn to not let the discomfort and disgust show because they’d make the same thing again, over and over until you liked it.

Filled with a sudden and fierce protectiveness, you roll over and face Satoru head on. He raises a brow at your sudden change of mood. “Infinity doesn’t recognize me as a threat,” you remind him. “So, I want you to know that I could rip your balls off, no problem. If our baby doesn’t like a food or the way something feels, no one is going to force them to put up with it. End of story.”

Satoru blinks, processing your threat. Then, slowly, he looks down between your bodies. “Oh.” His cheeks are flushed when he raises his head back up. “I’m hard.”

Somehow, you’ve been banished to the couch while Suguru and Satoru take charge of breakfast.

“Mister and Mister Control Freak,” you mutter under your breath as you shuffle out of the kitchen.

The couch is big enough that you don’t even touch Megumi when you sit down on the other side. You silently play a game on your own 3DS, trying not to wake him prematurely, but he starts to stir not soon after the smell of waffles fills the air. You reason that the girls won’t be far behind.

It’s cute, watching Megumi slowly lift up, spiky hair even wilder, blinking blearily. He harrumphs, so put upon by the waking world. You expect him to crawl off the couch and rummage around in his overnight bag to find a book to read, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he scoots closer to you, almost touching you. His eyes droop and he starts slumping in your direction. Just before he presses against your side, he remembers himself.

Voice rough with sleep, he asks, “Can I?” It makes you gooey on the inside. Makes you want to give him shit, too. Because he can pretend to be the cool and stoic type all he wants, but he’s stupidly protective of his sister and he does sweet things like never forgetting to ask for permission to touch you.

“Yes,” you answer warmly. “Thank you for asking.”

Megumi grunts, slumps against you, puts his head on your shoulder, and yanks his blanket up over himself. You bump your cheek against his head affectionately. It’s not long of watching you game before he’s dozed off again.

Not long after, the girls emerge from the guest bedroom all at once.

Three sets of feet go running. You’re certain they’ll be lured to the kitchen by the aroma of breakfast, but they bypass it entirely, and sprint to where you are on the couch. Megumi is startled awake, and you cringe at the sound of three high-pitched voices calling out your name.

Your relationship with touch is…complicated. You’re starved for it, but you only want it from people you know. Even with them, you have to prepare for it. You try to reason with your brain that the girls are excited. They haven’t seen you in a little while. As most little girls are, they’re ecstatic about your pregnancy because they dream of when they can have that, too. But they dogpile you, crowding close, reaching their hands out to touch your baby bump. Nanako, in her excitement, even slips her hands under your shirt. Panic shoots through you and you jerk as if you’ve been electrocuted.

“Girls,” Suguru’s voice rises above the rest. You don’t look over your shoulder, but his disappointment is palpable. “What have we said about touching people?”

Suguru has only spoken with Nanako and Mimiko, but even Tsumiki knows the answer. In unison, they mutter, “Ask.” The sigh of relief you give when they back away makes you feel awful. “We’re sorry.”

“Dumbasses,” Megumi hisses at them all.

“Yo! Who taught you that word?” Satoru shouts from the kitchen. “Bad word!”

“You,” Megumi answers bluntly.

“Breakfast is ready,” Suguru announces.

Guilt and anxiety twist up your insides. For all your talk of not making your child do something, you worry about not being able to give them the things they’ll need. Babies don’t care about overstimulation. They’ll cry. When they’re older, they’ll crave this same kind of touch, and how horrible a mother would you be to deny them that? Parenting has no breaks. A child’s needs come before your own. Do you think you’ll be allowed to have days where you don’t talk? What if you’re in public with them and you have a breakdown?

“Squid.” Suguru is crouched down in front of you. “I see you spiraling.” He holds out a hand. “Come eat.”

“Not hungry,” you whisper. The anxiety has muted your hunger. “I want to go back to bed.”

“If Satoru dragged me out of my spiral, I have to do the same.” You scowl at him. How is that even fair? You weren’t the one to pull him out of his hole. “I’m being very nice right now. I won’t make you talk about it. I just need you to try and get a little something down. If it’s too loud in the kitchen, I’ll bring it out here.”

Right. Okay. You’ve dealt with being pushed to power through the overload for your entire life. If you want to be a good mother, then you’ll keep doing that. That’s what being a parent is, right? Sacrifice. If you can force yourself to do something so that your child never goes without, you’ll do that. It’s better to practice now.

With a shaky sigh, you take Suguru’s hand, and let him help you up to your feet.

Sunday night comes too soon.

When it’s only you and Satoru left in the penthouse, you start to scheme.

Try to, anyway.

The two of you are on the couch, hunched over Satoru’s laptop. You’re both hopeless when it comes to romance, so you think that the internet might be helpful. The two of you titter and fuss and argue over control of the laptop after the first search of ‘how to confess’ only brings up articles for high schoolers.

“Wait!” Satoru is dead serious when he declares, “We need to buy a house.”

Your eye twitches. “Satoru,” you start slowly as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He hasn’t even said yes. We don’t know that he even will. Can we take this one step at a time, please?”

“Eh? We should start the process, though. We only have four months left and it feels like we have so much to do. On top of my assignments, my mother is on my ass about Inu no Hi. Oh, we’ve got the babymoon to schedule. And we have to go to parenting classes because it’s not like either of us are asking our parents for tips.” He brightens. “Oh! What about that? We’ll have him house hunt with us, and we’ll pop the question when we make our choice.”

If you think too hard about the list he rattled off, you will meltdown. Like you told him, one step at a time. Just ignore all the rest. “Pop the question? This isn’t marriage. We can’t be overbearing. He’s like me. He’ll hate grand gestures and a house is…big.”

“Why are you struggling so much with this? You were his best friend first. Hasn’t he dated before? What’d they do when they were trying to pick him up?”

“School in the sticks was awful for us. Everyone knew everyone. We were the weird kids who saw things that weren’t there and that stuck with us for the rest of our lives, even when we learned to hide it. So, yeah, he was hot by middle school, but no one was interested in the local freaks.”

Satoru flops back with a loud groan. “Could you guys have been any more pathetic?”

“Your sympathy astounds me, Satoru, truly,” you say dryly.

“I wish I’d had met you guys sooner,” he confesses after a moment of silence. “I was such a problem child, always throwing tantrums, so I think my parents would’ve thrown money at yours to let you guys live with me at the Gojo estate. I’d probably have a less shitty personality if I was around people who understood me.”

“That’s debatable.” He digs his toes into your ticklish side, and you swat his feet away with a squeal. “I think the worst parts of your personality come from the fact that you were super spoiled and raised to think you’re a god. I also think the good outweighs the bad, so don’t get self-conscious.”

“Me? Self-conscious? I don’t know the meaning of that, dear.” Satoru shifts his position and puts his head in your lap. It’s his favorite place, you swear. He’s on his back. As he’s looking you in the eye, he reaches up to touch your face. “Ever since I was a kid, I never thought that I could connect to someone the way I’ve done with you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You do have to look away from the eye contact this time. “You liked Suguru way before you liked me, y’know.”

“No. It was definitely you first,” Satoru corrects. “Shoko clocked me crushing on you even before I realized it. You should’ve seen how protective Suguru was of you.” He gives an airy laugh. “That’s why I’m not worried about him saying no, Sketch. It’s you. How can someone not be head over heels for you?”

You burst out into tears.

Satoru rolls with it because you’re a ball of nervous, hormonal energy these days. If you cried easy before, it’s insane how fast it can happen now. “I love you!” You definitely shouted that. You’re also definitely sobbing loudly. It’s okay because it’s with him, in private. Then, you think about how he wouldn’t care if you were in public because Satoru is the same.

Is this what true love is supposed to be like?

Because Satoru has admitted that you’ve taught him so much about his true self, but he’s taught you to accept yourself. Satoru is so sure of himself, both cocky and authentic. He knows that he doesn’t understand things like social cues, and he could give a shit less when he misses them. He’s loud and brash, especially when he’s excited. He’s blunt and a lot of people don’t like that, but a lot do. Ijichi has admitted that it saved his life when Satoru told him to quit being a sorcerer. Students have thanked Satoru for the honesty because it pushed them harder, and they survived because of it.

“I love you!”

Satoru keeps laughing but lifts up to a sitting position. “Alright, alright. I got it.” He slips an arm around your shoulders, reeling you in close against his chest. Before you smush your face against his shirt, he kisses your forehead. “I love you, too.”

[maiiuelle]

girlsgogames mentioned!! that and she takes his phone and gets hello kitty nail salon and the entire hello kitty game collection for when she forgets hers and has to entertain herself while rafe golfs with topper and kelce.

he's def making her a folder in the farthest corner of his home screen OR he's deleting them from the home screen so you can only access them if you search through your apps.

like imagine Rafe going through his phone or computer to show barry something about the Pogues or the gold/cross and while he's going through his tabs Barry sees "Princess Spa Day Makeover" I can't imagine the stare down between the two

-🪻

1000000% YES YOU HAVE YOUR OWN FOLDER OF GAMES. either you forget your phone entirely, or it’s constantly dying (shameless self insert) so you’re always begging rafe for his when you’re bored. you’re hanging off the golf cart with a pout, swinging around one of his extra clubs to keep yourself busy until he hands it over <3 he’s not worried about you going through it or anything, you’re clearly far more content filling his storage with cozy games

later when he’s at barry’s his phone just won’t load, probably because of the horrible service on the cut, but he gets impatient and starts closing out the 700 games you left running. barry gets a glimpse of hello kitty nail salon and it’s OVER.

“aw, you playin’ dress up, country club? that’s real cute.”

“bro, they’re my girl’s. just don’t — don’t.”

[heartlaboratory]

Due to a congenital heart defect her aortic valve, the one which separates her left ventricle from the rest of her body, grew with only 2 of the 3 naturally intended leaflets. Beside a very visible neck pulse, low blood pressure and a low tolerance to phisical efforts this has never been a problem for her but to avoid possible future consequences like heart wall hypertrophy (that would make her heart extremely visible under her thin rib cage) and important arrhythmias she decided to undergo a new experimental slightly invasive surgical procedure. Very thin probes will be inserted through her left side chest, they will enter inside the heart from a safe point and after reaching her aortic valve the surgeon will have to reshape it while the heart is still normally beating. She will be awake during the whole procedure, with just a local pain killer administered to the point in which the probes will be inserted (that's the reason why she decided for this procedure: she's scared by general anesthesia). She passed all the important preliminary controls to verify she was suited for the procedure and the intervention began.

Was it the idea of having small blades inside the center of her life? Was the fact that an iportant group of people (gathered to watch the experimental procedure) was looking at her completely naked holding her bare breasts? Was it having her beating heart clearly visible on a see through screen or the fact it was being manipulated right under her hand while she was feeling each beat? The moment after the probes penetrated her flesh a load of adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream making her heart rate to skyrocket.

Looking concerned at the screen, where the image of her damaged slamming valve taken by one of the probes was represented, the surgeon said: "She's too scared! All these movements are making the procedure too dangerous, a single mistake and she's gone. We have to put her to sleep..." Her entire chest was literally bounching with each heartbeat.

A strong aerial anesthetic was administered through the tube attached to her nose and before she had an heart attack realizing she was about to receive general anesthesia she fell asleep.

[purplishalien]

*Insert Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer here*

(Finally finished it, took longer than I thought and it came out way better than I anticipated. shoutout to @fi0den for suggesting the Bully Loading Screen as a background cuz I was stumped with that after all of the details were done. :D)

Also pose is based on my favorite drawing by René Gruau 💚