#I don't want to feel cold for like... 3 seconds

[hanniescookie]

iced coffee - yjh

—⁠☆ you realize that as long as you have jeonghan’s lips, you don't think you will ever waste money on drinks again.

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - fluff, romance, idol or non idol au (depends on your imagination), established relationship, skinship, lots of kissing, use of petnames, mentions of food (iced coffee), food play (idk dude), lowkey suggestive, jeonghan as a tease cus i love him

wc - 939

A/N - i hope nobody's sick of me and @kissbyoon bcs our random conversations always turn into hannie drabbles dedicated to eo <3

“Hannie, I’m cold,” you mutter, looking up at him with a small pout as you both walk on the lone street. He takes a sip of his iced coffee, before tilting his head to look at you, mimicking your pout. “Hmm? You're cold? Do you expect me to give you my jacket?”

Your face pinches in annoyance as you roll your eyes at him. “I mean you're literally drinking iced coffee on such a cold day, you could spare your jacket if you wanted.”

He chuckles, stopping to sit by the stairwell in front of him. His hand subtly pulls you to sit close to him, all the while still sipping on his very cold drink. The sight alone makes you shiver.

Before you can even adjust your posture, he's swinging his jacket on your shoulders, smiling sweetly at you. “There you go.”

You quickly begin to shake your head, trying to take the jacket off. “You get cold easily hannie, it's okay. I was joking.”

“Nope,” he insists, pressing on your shoulders to keep the fabric intact over you. “I'm drinking iced coffee. There's no way I'm colder than you right now. Besides,” he pauses, drawing out the word as he takes another long sip of the drink. “What kind of a boyfriend would people assume me to be if my girlfriend is shivering beside me while I'm all bundled up?”

You click your tongue, squinting your eyes at him. Somehow, you catch the way there's a little bit of wet sheen around his lips, but you have to quickly avert your gaze so as to not get ideas in the middle of a street (no matter how empty it is).

“You only care about your image.” You say, looking up at the cloudy sky that's beginning to signal an impending downpour.

He leans his head closer to you, softly brushing a stray strand of your hair away from your face. You can smell the coffee in his breath as you meet his eyes, and watch his lips twitch up in a smirk. “I care a lot more about you, baby.”

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, your eyes traveling down to his lips. He tilts his head to the side, as if he knows exactly what's going through your mind. “Hm? You want something baby?”

You gulp, annoyed by his condescending tone and the butterflies in your stomach. But the heart wants what it wants.

You nod once, the movement barely there but Jeonghan sees it. He sees everything when it comes to you.

“Oh you want something,” he states, nodding himself like he understands you now. “What is it? What do you want? Tell me.”

You take a deep breath, fingers curling into his shirt. “Coffee.”

Jeonghan's smirk falters for only about a second before widening. His mouth forms an O, as he takes a deliberate sip of the iced coffee, letting the cool drink dampen his lips. “Didn't you say you're cold though? How will you drink iced coffee if you're feeling cold?”

You groan under your breath, moving your head to capture his lips but he swiftly pulls back, clicking his tongue. You can see the way his whole face is filled with mock surprise. “We are in the middle of a street baby! What are you doing?”

You grit your teeth, feeling heat rush to your whole face. Your hand curls into his shirt once again, pulling him closer with force. “Quit your games, hannie.”

He bites his lip, and grins like he's close to winning a lottery, singing sweetly. “Say please~~~”

You sigh, your eyes turning soft and almost pleading as you look at his lips. You want to kiss him so bad, and if he wasn't such a little shit, you'd admit it to him.

Fortunately for you though, Jeonghan is a sucker for you no matter how annoying. He loves to tease you only because he loves you, and well also because he loves to see you under his magic spell.

He softly presses his lips against yours, cradling your neck like you're the most precious thing he's ever touched. You nearly sigh in relief the moment his cold lips touch your warm ones, a contrast that sends a shiver down your spine.

He pulls away as quickly as he'd kissed you, smiling down at you much more fondly now. “Aww, you look like someone who just got their first inhale of oxygen after a long—”

You shut him up with a firm press of your lips against his cold ones, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him like you've wanted to. The taste of his iced coffee coats your tongue when he kisses you back, closing his eyes and sighing into your mouth.

For someone who's been teasing you for wanting it, he kisses you with more urgency, like he has wanted it more than you.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, staring into yours almost dreamily. “Do you like the coffee?”

You grin, eyeing the glass he's been clutching tight in his hand. “Take one more sip. I wanna taste more.”

Jeonghan is sure if he was standing, his knees would have buckled at your statement. He makes a show of being cocky as his lips wrap around the straw and he sucks in the drink.

You smile till he gulps, and pull his head close to you once again. Your lips find his easily, tasting the cold, bitter drink through his mouth that makes your head spin.

You realize that as long as you have Jeonghan’s lips, you don't think you will ever waste money on drinks again.

[voiceofthebroken]

today is my birthday, so I made a mass attack for art fight, I hope I did everyone's voice designs justice, they're all really good :3

( notes and design owners listed under the cut )

I spent about a week on this... I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find seventeen people for the idea that I had, but there were a lot more than I expected so sadly I couldn't get everyone's voices. I love everyone's designs though, they're all so lovely !!

I feel so bad for desaturating everyone though I'm so sorry 😭, this is pretty much my first time tweening stuff, no less making large scale animations like this but I tried my best with my laggy devices and a lot of trial and error (I probably was overambitious admittedly...) I hope you guys like this :]

the cage:

@artenjoyingcritter - hi! just wanted to say that your voice designs look very cool, they look very petable /silly

@everestgale - remember the Cheated group drawing that I made a while back? I remember wanting to draw your Cheated but didn't have a reference of your design while I was offline so I drew other ones I had already, and then I forgot about it until like a few hours after I posted the drawing... so this might not be Cheated with all the Cheateds around the table during game night but I hope Skeptic likes it here lol. also I found most of the stp tumblr art fight users through you so you're to blame for this /j (I don't remember where I found yours though so uhhhh blame someone on art fight /silly)

@sickly-fluorescents - I'm really hoping I got your tumblr right because I saw you changed it a bit earlier and I just so happened to find you on art fight later lol, I know this one is listed as one of you guys' riptides and I faintly recall seeing a post about this Cheated design, so I hope you don't mind me adding the guy here with all the other voice designs

@respectablecapers - hello person I know /silly, your Paranoid is so silly I hope I did him some justice :]

@coldranger - S'more. I really like the little guy, S'more is so squishy looking I want to nibble him :3

the fury:

@drewblossom - hi! I saw Hero and thought it would be really cool to draw him so here he is, I hope you like it :3

@mjlegends - okay your Broken design. I really like the moth angel wings, and the puppet halo I think that is really cool and really unique, it was fun drawing your (not so) little guy! :]

@acethekenku - so... I've never drawn muscles (specifically abs) before so this was very interesting for me, but I'm eating all of your designs they look so cool I had a hard time picking which one I wanted to draw (other than Cheated because I drew him before lol) /pos, it's really fun drawing your designs :3 :3

@lavb-b - I have no idea if this is a halfbody or a fullbody but I went with fullbody regardless, but I think your Cold design is really neat, it gives an ethereal feel to me and I think that's cool :] (desaturating him the first time made all the colors look the same so I really hope the colors are at least a bit discernable here)

the wild:

@pzysm - your Hero looks so cool genuinely, I'm sorry if he looks really unrecognizable. originally he was in the fury segment but I wanted to draw the backside so I have this, I hope you don't mind too much

@phantasmatoucan - mod Owl I think..? either way, your drawings are really cool and Thumper was just really cute so I wanted to draw the little fella :] apologies if the backside looks off

@hello-universe-lovers - hi, hello, I drew Poppy again /silly, you're a cool person and really nice, I appreciate some of the things you said,, this is probably the second-ish time I drew Poppy desaturated/without color... maybe one day I'll draw Poppy fully colored :3

@rory-ruaidhri - hello! I saw your designs through searching the tag and I thought they looked really cool so I wanted to draw them :3 :3 even though they were just sketches so I didn't really have the colors, but I hope this is alright :]

happily ever after:

@sillypotatochipz - believe it or not I actually saw your Smitten design on the homepage of art fight (the recent characters) one day and that sort of became the partial inspiration for this whole thing lol

@thelocalcoyote - Hero looks like a silly creature I love him :3 Smitten and Hero are both silly creatures I want to pet them both, I hope I drew him right

@voiceofthecheated - hi guess who /j, you said you wanted to see the animation when it comes out? here it is, thanks for listening to me suffer (talk to you about this animation and showing you my wips) /silly jokes aside though I'm not missing the opportunity (:3) to add you into things whenever I can, thank you for being pretty much my biggest supporter with a bunch of things hhdjflsda you're awesome :3

@wysteriaisapenguin - another day, another one of your voices drawn in happily ever after by me /silly, your voices seem really fun to draw, I like their little outfits :]

[tiredandsapphic]

୨ৎ LOVE WILL TEAR US APART

pairing ꩜ lottie matthews x femreader

summary ꩜ you end up drawing the queen of hearts—will lottie choose her first love or her devotion?

an ꩜ angst, warning for darker themes. not really but sorta kinda-ish based off last ep of season 3 but i also changed a lot...

the tension was unbearable. your heart hammered and that familiar sense of despair trickled over you as you stood in the circle amongst the others. it never got any easier. the cards, the odds, the hunt.

an eerie silence surrounded you, shifting uncomfortably as van shuffled the deck. everyone had their heads down or looked around nervously—aside from shauna and her. lottie. your eyes shifted towards her, she looked excited if anything. it made your heart ache, thoughts of the previous night flooding your already racing mind.

she had confessed—sorta—in her own lottie way. she told you she felt something different with you, that you were a sense of home in the wild, false security but still security. it had frightened you. not because you didn't feel the same, the brown eyed girl has always had a place in your heart. it was the pure emotion and entire devotion she had put into it, already fed by her delusions. she wasn't the same girl you shared music recommendations with or helped stretch for practices. she was some messiah, and you had become her martyr.

watching her tall, cloaked figure bounce in gleeful anticipation made you sick. however, a part of you still yearned to save her, to see her as she truly is. van started to let people draw their cards, your eyes on the deck, a sick selfish wish of yours that hopes someone other than yourself would draw the card. hunting another person was never in your nature, but when it came down to yourself or another, you'll hold that knife.

eventually van stops in front of you. your hand shook as you reached for the deck, fingers slowly glided against the card. tension crackles before you even draw a card.

and when you flip the card, the queen of hearts stares back. cruel, unmoving and elegant. it lands like a punch to the gut, feeling all the blood run from your face. 

it's like looking down at your own blood and not recognizing it.

you stare at it in disbelief. waiting for someone to laugh, for the rules to change, to wake up in your bed again back in new jersey. you flip it with a trembling hand, slowly craning your head back up to the group. showing it off although you were anything but proud.

"shit," van murmurs, sounding so far away in your head as your vision barely settled.

you suck in a harsh breath, forgetting how to breathe, looking around the group more frantically now. you shook your head, "no, i—no, that’s not fair," your voice breaks. 

shauna just scoffs. it was fair. it was the way things were out here, unforgiving but fair.

instinctively you turn to lottie, just a few steps from you. "lottie," your voice brittle. she was the apparent voice of reason.

she doesn't move.

"lottie." you try again, louder, scared now.

she looks at you, not with pity, but cold, radiant faith. she shakes her head, "it chose." she says like a line she rehearsed.

it hurts. your heart drops through your chest. all those things she told you, how she said she loved you, how she claimed she wanted you. now completely an after thought, you being second place to the wilderness, something you didn't want or give a shit about.

"no. no, fuck that. don't act like we don't have a choice, like you don't have a choice." your entire body is humming, "i—i thought you—"

you stop, shauna approaching you with a smug expression. she enjoyed this. necklace in hand as she settled behind you, hands working to secure it around you.

lottie watches, mixed emotions, an impossible face to read. she flinches briefly, especially when you cuss shauna out. like something in her remembers, a flicker of guilt rippling through her... but she buries it fast.

you stumble back, eyes all on you, yours only on lottie's. shauna's voice humming in the back as she begins to count.

"okay," you say quietly, "okay, then." utter defeat.

and you bolt, leaving your heart behind with her as you let your legs take you far, far away.

its absolute chaos. screaming. someone yelling your name, sharp and high pitched laughs. its quick that the woods around you become a hunting zone. you feel a sudden great remorse for any animal you had to hunt out here, knowing exactly how being prey feels.

the cold tears through your lungs as you run through trees. body already chilled due to the climate, not yet used to the fresh snow that had fallen during the night. you run for god knows how long, just to get away from the primal bloodthirsty people you had once known as your teammates.

the mask of snow makes everything too quiet. every sound feels like a threat. you're crying now—not because you're scared, because she let it happen. she let them gather weapons. she let them hunt you.

you haven't a clue how long you've been running. you shed a layer, your jacket, hoping to throw them off your trail awhile back. it worked—you think. though your bare skin was nothing against the grazing branches, having caught onto your skin, blood running down your legs. it's harsh oxidized red, a stark difference in the pure white snow.

you don't know where you are anymore. doesn't matter. you're going to die out here. you know it, the cold's settling into your bones. at least it won't be by their hands.

too caught up in adrenaline you don't even notice you're not alone until you run full speed into another body. it doesn't take much to knock you to the cold ground, body too weak. you cry out in a low shudder, pawing at the ground to try and sit up fast.

you turn around, chest heaving. you look up and there she is. lottie.

it's not even fear you feel. it's relief. because it's her. your lesser evil.

no animal mask. no visible weapon. just her. the one who treats you like you are holy and hers. she looks ethereal above you, tall, framed with that fur cloak adorned in feathers. she looks down at you with a gentle smile, something that brings warmth back.

you fist the snow and scramble to get up, "please, no—no." you choke out pathetically.

to your surprise she drops into the snow with you, kneeling before you. you freeze, just watching her. 

"i found you," she whispers, as if you were merely playing a game of hide and seek.

its like she's glad. like its just the two go you again. she reaches for your hand and you recoil back, glaring at her with loathing eyes.

you watch as a her face expression falls and it hurts you a little. but it was easier to be angry than scared right now. "fuck you, lottie." you growl.

"it chose you, don't you see how important you are to it. to me." she pleads, her face disgustingly soft.

you scoff, shaking your head. "there is no ‘it’! there is just us. you let them come for me, lottie." you're crying again, hot tears against cool skin.

"i didn't want this," she adds fast.

"you let it happen." 

silence. wind. both of your breath fogging in the air between you.

"i thought—i thought out of them all you'd do something about...this," you gesture in front of yourself, "god, i'm such a fool," you laugh bitterly. it's ugly and wet with tears and betrayal.

she looks like she's going to cry. you wish she would. you want her to. you want her to break apart the way she let you. but she doesn't. instead she pushes forward, crawling closer.

"i love you," she whispers.

you close your eyes, because fuck her for saying it now. and worse—you still believe it.

you're far too weak to fight or flee. you don't even try at this point. "i won't let them touch you," she says, coming forward, her hands finding your face.

she's so warm, you instinctively lean into her touch. reminding you how she used to—before things weren't so broken. her thumbs brush your skin and you break a little more.

"i'm so scared," you sob, "so fucking scared, lottie."

she lets out a breath, pressing her forehead to yours. "i know," even her voice breaks, "i'm here."

you feel her lips at your temple, then your brow, and finally your mouth.

she kisses you, slow and deep, achingly desperate. like she's trying to memorize the taste of you. you kiss her back because it feels so comforting, to be loved in such deep horror. she kisses you like its the last kiss she'll ever give.

because it is, because while one hand cups your face so soothingly the other brings the knife to your chest.

you don't feel the blade at first, it's too gentle. you just feel the moment her body tenses, the hand that cups your face tightening, and then—the knife slides between your ribs.

your breath catches, eyes wide, pull back just enough to see her face.

she's crying now, finally. big brown doe-eyes wide, swelling with tears that trickle down her cheeks.

a choked sob leaves you, the warmth that filled your stomach from the kiss is now the warmth of your blood soaking your dress. you cannot possibly think, or talk, or move. not in panic. just... shock.

"i had to," she whispers, still holding the knife and cradling your face. "you were chosen. its what the wilderness wanted." she says, as if she's convincing herself.

you look at her like she's a stranger. perhaps she always was. you knew you lost, all that struggle and fight for this ending. to be a second choice to some imaginary higher power. the wilderness prevailing all.

your body runs awfully cold and your vision blurs, lottie's dejected face blurring. you sag forward. she catches you, holds you close, presses her lips to your hair like she's comforting you.

like she hadn't just slid the knife into your chest mid-kiss. she whispers apologies while cradling your fading body.

death wasn't scary. it hurt but not physically. it was unfair and cruel, but gentle and accepting. lottie's warmth is the last you'll know, and that was okay, it's all you had left out here to begin with.

she stays with your body long after it's still, hands and body soaked in red. her mouth pressed to your skin like she can undo what she did if she just loves you enough.

she doesn't stop whispering broken apologies, "you were scared," she hums against your cool skin.

and the wilderness says nothing back.

[storiesoferoda]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐧 જ⁀➴ 

part 6; prev part: spill your guts

Summary: Clark finally gets his second chance at taking you out; hopefully, this one goes better.

Warnings: none, fluff <3

Word count: 1,818

Author's note: See!!! told you it would be out later today, and if it's tomorrow for you, sorry! I Also incase anyone cares its maroon in a taylor swift kinda way if that gives you any insight

You had closed your phone that night, not bothering to see if Clark texted again, and then did not check it again when you woke up, leaving your phone on do not disturb. You almost turned it off when you got into work and realized he wasn't there, but you refrained. 

Which proved to be the right move. 10 minutes after everyone had meant to be there, you heard the squeaky wheel of the chair next to you. You looked over to see that Clark possessed a single rose and your favorite coffee. 

“Hi,” he said, holding out both for you to take. You take them, setting them on your desk before looking back up at him. “Is this the apology?” you question curiously. “Are you buying my affection back?” you half laugh, and to be honest, if he brought you a coffee every day for the rest of the week, your ‘hatred’ would be almost a distant memory by then. 

“No,” he said, sitting down. “I was hoping I could get another chance.” 

“Another chance, Kent?” you questioned, taking a sip of the coffee, and oh my god, it was perfect. It was sweet and cold, and it was your exact order down to the milk. 

“Please, if- only if you want. If you don't want to, I will just apologize, and we can both move on,” he said sincerely. “I feel horrible, and I want to make it right.”

You stared at him, taking another shift. Your gaze pierced him, but you finally tore away from your coffee. “So what does this second chance entail?” 

“I’ll handle everything, you just show up, yeah?” 

“Okay, sure, don't mess it up.” 

“I really hope I don’t.” your heart fluttered at that. 

── .✦     

The only information you had for this date was the singular message Clark had sent you. It was a simple text that read:

TODAY'S DATE: location: secret

Dress code: casual 

Time: 6:30 sharp 

See you soon :) 

For some reason, the smiley face gave you butterflies. But what really made your heart soar was when he brought over even more flowers. Even bigger than the last time. You had asked multiple times on your walk where you were going, but he didn't budge. He had one of three responses: "Somewhere, it's a secret, you’ll find out,” which you had let out a groan to every time, and every time without fail, he would squeeze your hand and smile, showing his dimples. It was like heaven on earth. You had reservations about a second chance, but once again, the conversation flowed, the vibes were right, and it felt like once again, your stars were aligned. 

You two had been walking for a hot minute after getting on the subway, and you actually had no idea where you were going, but you watched as he pulled a door open to a cafe and motioned for you to move forward. “A cafe? Seems like a quick restaurant. Are you going to leave me again?” 

“Low blow, but I deserved that. And no, this is our first stop.” First? As you reached the register, you watched as Clark ordered two peppermint hot chocolates. And you felt bad at how much this many had given you, so in an attempt to even the field, you reached for your purse, but one hand shot out to grab your arm, and the other handed over his card. “My treat,” is all he said. A smile escaped you; it was a bit awkward for you as you stood to wait for the coffee, mostly because physical touch was your love language, and you had a need to be close to him, but everyone has this thing called boundaries, and you didn't want to cross his. So you stood back and waited as the barista called his name. He grabbed both of them before returning to you, holding the door open for you once again, setting out on this mission. 

The night was chilly as it got to the later months, and tonight was no different, but you both were warming up with the cocoa. And thankfully, not even five minutes later, he opened another door, and as soon as you stepped into the store, you almost gasped. It was the most beautiful bookstore you had ever seen, walls and walls of books, old, new, used, and fresh off the press, there was absolutely everything there for you. Clark had just let you take it all in, and he watched as you stared at the tables of new releases and the wall of bookmarks before speaking up. 

“Get whatever you want,” he said. 

“What?” you turned 

“Whatever you want, one, five, ten,” He said, completely serious. 

“No, no, I couldn't.”

“It's fine, I promise. Please,” he said. 

Your eyes lit up. “You're really pretty when you're happy. Like your whole face lights up,” he blurted out, and you turned away, hiding the blush creeping into your cheeks. "Sorry,” he said. 

“No, no. It's just more so I have never had a compliment like that,” it was true most of them had been about your appearance, not so much your light. You started to circle around the books, looking at all of them, picking up the ones that were especially interesting or pointing out which ones you had read, which were a lot of them. Sometimes you’d find an empty spot to set down the cocoa, and it would always find its way into the hands of Clark. 

“I actually really like that one,” he said, pointing to the book in your hands. 

“You’ve read it?” holding up a copy of Sally Rooney's Normal People. He nodded. “I won't spoil it, but it was sad and good in a really beautiful way.” You smiled. 

“Clark, are you a reader?” you smiled and joked, and he nodded. 

“I like to read more than being on my phone, so a couple of years ago I deleted all my socials and started other hobbies.” 

“Very profound of you, Clark I think you're better than most people in the world, better than me.” 

He shook his head, “No, no, it just wasn't good for me, but I do indulge sometimes on my computer. I'm not totally off the social grid, just don't post.” he picked up his own book and started looking at some, putting two in his hand for later. Eventually, the bookstore took you in its grasp, and the more you looked, the more you wanted. 

And for only a split second, you had two books in your hands before they found their way into Clark's hands, and he held onto them for you. You guys had spent more than two hours in that bookstore; it was an even bigger surprise to learn that there was an upstairs, and even the stairs had more books piled onto them; it was book heaven to you. And the whole time, Clark follows you around like a lost puppy watching the books you pick with a smile on his face. 

And as part of his promise, when you get to the register, Clark pays for yours and his books and even takes the bag and carries it back on the way out. He looks over to you as he carries a huge bag that must be heavy, and you can't help but feel the tiniest bit bad, but the bag looks light in his hands. 

“I have one more thing if that's okay with you,” he says, looking at you with a smile. 

“Yeah, lead the way, this is your date after all,” you say and motion for him to lead you. 

── .✦     

The third and final stop of the night had been a hidden little food truck in the parking lot. And according to Clark, it would be the best thing you've ever tasted. You had chosen the birria tacos, and Clark surprisingly chose an order of four tacos and a huge burrito. You laughed at him when he ordered it, but then you realized he was 6 '4 which was much taller than you, and roughly 230 pounds of pure muscle; he had to get it from somewhere. 

The dinner was phenomenal, he wasn't wrong, and you even got ice cream after. As you two walked home, you both had your own ice cream cones and talked as the night moved around you two. 

“The other day, it was an emergency, I have an well a well-trained dog and he got lost and I had to get him back, and while it happened, he kinda…kicked my ass.” He laughs. "He's a strong dog and not well trained.” 

“You have a dog?” you questioned, taking a bite of the waffle cone. 

“Well, more of a foster situation, but the point is, I'm so sorry I ran out on you like that, you deserved an explanation. And no one deserved that, especially not you. Running out like you're trying to get away from a bad date, because on my end, I had an amazing time, and I did today too.” 

“I did too. It was definitely even better than the first one.” 

“Is that because I bought you stuff?” 

“No,” you say as you shake your head, yes joking with him. His shoulder knocks yours as you approach your building, seeing it in the distance. You drop your trash in the trash can and continue walking. “No, I just had an amazing time with you, Clark. I really like hanging out with you without all the work stuff.” 

“Me too, I'm glad you joined the Daily Planet cause I wouldn't have met you if you didnt.” his face was a bit maroon. You smile at him, and in that same moment, his hands make their way to your face, pushing back hair as your breath catches and your heart practically stops. He leans in closer, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers, “Is this okay?” You only nod, and he plants a small kiss on your neck, on your cheek, and finally on your lips. 

And for a moment, everything makes sense. Your face feels hot, and your head is pounding, but everything feels right as you return it, deepening the kiss. He breaks away, a smile forming on his lips as his forehead hits yours. “I had a great time tonight.” 

“Me too.” It was breathless, but god, were you breathless after that. 

“Goodnight, y/n” 

“Goodnight, Clark,” you smiled, going on your tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, taking the bag from his hands, taking your books, and returning the rest. You smiled as you pushed through the door. You turned back to see him watching as you walked onto the elevator, only motioning to leave once the elevator closed again. 

As the elevator motioned to move, you felt your phone buzz. 

Clark: Thank you for a second chance.

(🏷️: @ifilwtmfc , @casiiopea2 , @clark-kents-bae , @nightmaredressedlikeadaydream57 , @otakusimp1 )

Comment or dm me to be added or removed from the taglist!! (Also, if you could specify if you want all Superman fics or just this series, it would be greatly appreciated!! )

[reallyromealone]

another part for resilient please!! 🥹🥹

Title: resilient

Chapter 3

Fandom: stranger things

Characters: stranger things cast

Fic type: angst

Pairings: Eddie x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, angst, single parent reader, arguments

Notes:

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

(Name) Sat at the diner booth once more, staring at his cup of coffee anxiously as he glanced out the window, Steve sitting beside him watching calmly for any sign of Eddie "You know you don't have to do this, right?" Steve said to his friend, the Omega letting out a shaky breath "I gotta do this, this isn't about me... This is about my son" (name) focused on the task, face going calm as the sound of the front door bell jingled and the two looked to see... Nancy.

The beta woman walked in to collect her lunch order, having placed it over the phone as she locked eyes with Steve and smiled at the Alpha before glancing at the Omega beside him and the room went cold. It wasnt a secret that Nancy still had feelings for Steve despite being in a relationship, she acted like she could collect mates without any thought of others feelings.

(Name) Just stared at her, the other straightening her back at the omegas cold stare but still she walked to them "(name), Steve" she tried to keep civil and (name) spoke "don't worry, we aren't fucking so you don't need to be here" he smiled and Nancy glared at him "Ok can you get over that?"

"Over you turning my rape into a reason to ruin my life further? Not a chance in hell"

"Nancy leave" Steve said seriously to the woman who glared at (name) but the Alpha tone wasn't one she could ignore as she angrily left, passing Eddie who seemed confused at the affair that went down but decided not to press as he was here bigger reasons than petty drama Nancy is starting.

"Steve... Long time no see" Eddie seemed a bit nervous at the other alpha who could fold him like a lawn chair within seconds, (name) holding a paper of His rules and boundaries be wanted set for his son.

"Munson" Steve said flatly and (name) sighed "lets get started" he whispered as he slid his list to the rockstar "visitations are supervised, he eats what I allow, he goes where I go and you don't buy him things unless I approve it" he said seriously "my focus is my son, if you try any shit I will have Steve drop kick you into the next century"

Eddie never seen (name) so composed and serious "and if you want to be in my son's life, you don't go running off and leaving him" (name) got close as he stared at Eddie seriously "I will not let you hurt my son" Eddie kept composure, he had years to grow up and he did "I will do whatever is needed to be with my son" and you, god he wanted to hold him close but he knew if he even got close to him that Steve would punt him.

"Good, we can arrange the meeting next Wednesday" no room for any nonsense as (name) sipped his drink "he has naps at 12:30 till 1:30 so come for 2:15" Steve was proud of (name) "do you have any questions or things if the sort?"

"Can I buy him a toy?" He asked genuinely and (name) bit his cheek but nodded "nothing that makes mess" Eddie's smile could blind a person and (name) held back from any reaction as to not give the Alpha any hopes, even if his heart fluttered just like when he was a teenager.

"And nothing that will drive me up the wall!" (Name) Said seriously and the rockstar deflated slightly "not even a guitar?"

"Maybe when he is a bit older" (name) stood up with Steve while Eddie followed suit, offering his hand to shake "see you then?" He asked hopefully and (name) took a deep breath 'for (sons name)' he thought and took his hand, tentatively shaking it and Steve could see the stress in his eyes.

When the two got into the car, Steve watched (name) silently cry in the passenger seat and decided to start driving to avoid any eyes on the Omega "why does he have to be like this!" (Name) Sobbed out, hugging himself while Steve watched heartbroken "H-he just vanishes and suddenly is father of the fucking year!"

Steve just let (name) go through the motions, driving back to the omegas home and by time they got there, be mostly composed himself.

"I just want this party to go well... Please god" he mumbled getting out of the car and Steve Pat his shoulder.

-

Wednesday came way to fast.

(Name) Watched his son eat some grapes while paw patrol played on, (sons name) transfixed while having his 45 minutes of tv time. Hopp in the back working on something but close enough to be there in a second if (name) needed him.

Knock knock.

God no he was here.

(Name) Stood up and shakily walked to the door, mentally preparing himself for the Alpha who indeed was standing there looking equally as petrified.

"Hello Eddie" (name) said softly, staring at the brunette with false confidence and Eddie nodded with a sheepish smile "hey.... I brought a not annoying or messy toy" in his hands was a teddy bear that wore a little leather jacket and a kids parody of Metallica.

"Let me go tell him he has a guest... Wait here"

(Name) Let Eddie stand I'm the entrance before going to see his son "hey buddy... I have someone I want you to meet..." (Name) Said softly to the pup looked up at him confused "you can come in now" (name) said to Eddie who stepped in, shoes off and heart racing at the sight of his son. God he was perfect.

"It papa" (sons name) pointed to the rockstar with a calm tone, looking up at (name) for confirmation and (name) nodded softly "he knows me?" Eddie asked with a wet voice, tears threatening to fall as (sons name) toddled towards him and handed him a cracker.

"Hi... I'm your papa" Eddie accepted the slightly soggy cracker and let the boy lead him away while (name) watched them interact in the background, not wanting to interfere unless needed.

"Papa make music" (sons name) said confidently and looked to (name) "daddy! Music?"

"He knows my music?" Eddie asked (name) who sighed "he wanted to know who his dad was... I wasn't going to lie to him, he only listens to the clean versions though" (name) said simply and grabbed some drinks for the adults, little (sons name) wanting a sip from (name)s, always curious to try his Dams food.

"So, sweety why don't you show your papa your paw patrol toys?" (Name) Urged the tot who gave a shy little smile, the same one (name) had when he was really happy and flustered.

"I gaw them awl!" (Sons name) Said excitedly, his slight speech impediment more prominent as he got more amped up "come!" And with that, Eddie was dragged to his toy box and (name) got thirty minutes of peace.

What he wasn't expecting was Eddie to be so invested in his son's favorite show and his toys, absorbing everything in. (Name) Loved his son and the things he enjoyed but he heard this stuff... Constantly, 24/7 and it was nice to not to hear paw patrol lore for a bit. He watched the two interact and for a second, his heart felt the warmth of them being a family but quickly crushed that sensation.

Eddie was going to be a proper father.

Nothing else.

Not after what he did.

(Name) Admired how his son, his world was so insistent on showing every single thing and being so proud of it all "I got this with my money!" He said with pride and (name) spoke up "he gets an allowance for helping around the house, two dollars a chore" pointing to the chore Jar, a cutely decorated jar half filled with dollar bills and coins.

And a twenty that grandpa Hoppy put in.

"You must be such a big helper!" Eddie cheered to his son who smiled that big Eddie smile.

"I am!" Big help!"

(Sons name) Made both his parents play with him, (name) knowing what nonsense the pup was trying to convey and Eddie struggled to keep up.

-

"I missed so much" Eddie said in a solemn tone, standing outside the house and (name) stared without any pity "you did" his words flat and Eddie flinched a bit at how cold (name) was "when can I visit next?"

"His party, don't be late it starts at 12"

[cressidagrey]

Basically re-read the last 2-3 chapters cause it was so beautiful. The wedding was so beautiful and calm, quite, and serene-so Max and Belle coded. GP,Lando,Oscar,Daniel, Emilie, the entire Verstappen family banding together was just so wholesome. Sophie is more of mother to her than Pascale. The way she said Belle is more than welcome to the Verstappen family. I guess Belle is going to be more close with Sophie than Pascale?

Jos Verstappen saying her "chosen family always has her back" and "She is already ours.But make it official". This made me ugly cry.

The way Emilie takes on the role of a sister and gives her the day of her life exactly how she deserves. Leclerc family should take notes. She is just not a best friend, she is the 'sister from another mother' .She did it out of love. She remembered the most minute details regarding the flowers, cake, restaurant down to managing the men's ties. Jos likes her bossiness. Probably she is also going to have her own love story with Lando?

And what can we say about Belle's Max, he is just raising the bar. Each and every one is saying that Charles is going to kill him but what they don't know is Max is going to slaughter him in cold blood if he even breathes the wrong way around Belle.

Did the conversation between Christian Horner and Fred Vasseur reflected the condition of her relationships-Fred like her family forgetting her existence and Christian like everyone else other than her family taking her as their own?

Belle is someone otherworldly because how can someone be so calm about her Birthday.As someone who is a single child I would have created a riot and set the world on fire. We all need to give a warm hug to her.

At this point, Carlos, Oscar and Lando are the brothers she deserved-Carlos,the oldest and the understanding one, Lando the chaotic second brother, and Oscar, the youngest and the calmest one.I think Belle is going to be adopted by their family as well with Cisca, Reyes, and Nicole going full mother mode. Will we see that?

The way Oscar blasted on Charles in the grid gc was gold. Oscar represents all of us in the way we want to slam the Leclerc brothers in the wall. The whole grid is watching Charles meltdown in 4k like it is a champioship decider and the whole world is going to witness the showdown like a football World Cup final.

A baby Verstappen lion/lioness on the way. Sending Best wishes to Mr and Mrs Verstappen. Max and Belle are going to be the best parents. The baby is going to have the most protective uncles in the grid.

Your another shot 'Pawfect Coincidence' was also very good with Leo being the star of the show.

Hope your day goes well and you have time to rest and recharge.

(Answering questions from April, because my Tumblr inbox decided to randomly show them to me today for some reason?)

I’m actually crying in the club (the club is my desk), because this message?? This is everything. The thought and love and detail you’ve poured into this is so beautiful I want to wrap it up in tissue paper and press it into a scrapbook forever.

I love writing found family trope and that was a big theme in White Horse through a lot of different characters!

Well, by now you know how it ended, so Nicole did make a guest appearance in later chapters!

Oscar and Belle was my biggest surprise in White Horse, because I never set out to write that Big Sister/Little Brother dynamic, but then I realised how similar Belle and Oscar were in a a lot of ways and he just kept showing up, so of course I needed to continue that!

Also the Oscar dragging Charles in the group chat bit?? ICONIC. He was the voice of the people. A representative of the sisterhood. Charles is going to get publicly cooked and privately yeeted.

Finally, thank you for shouting out Pawfect Coincidence 🥺 Leo really was the main character and he knows it.

Thank you so, so much for this. For taking the time. For reading, for feeling, for getting it. I’m sending you the warmest virtual hug💛

[pixiefeatherkw3]

OKAY SO I JUST SAW YOUR KPDH AND STP AU AND I LOVE IT AGDJEH! I’m so invested and so happy that two of my fixations are being merged together! I’ve thought about a crossover like this a ton in the past, and I would love to know more about it!! As much as you and anyone else in the au would like to share, of course!

Uh boy-

First of all: Thank you so much! I was in the front seat waiting for the movie for a while so when I finally saw it it was a matter of seconds before I put the au pieces together. Consulted with the consuling council (?)and I don't really know where to begin that is not something I already want to post individualy or draw BUT FOR SOME GENERALS: The voices have been fighting a lot of hunters for a looong time, since the first generation of them basically. They each have their own history and ways they ended up as demons but Hero was the first one NOT because of Narry!Gwi-ma but because Quiet saved him.

Quiet is the legitimate ruler of the jeoseung saja, with Narry as an advisor, but after some time the Narrator started to take the deals in Quiet's place with only a few exceptions (Mainly Hero, Contra and Paranoid). This was way before he traped Quiet.

Para did NOT trusted anyone that wasn't the big men and Contra was basically snatched away and turned into a demon when he was a baby... for reasons.

The first ever Demon Hunters where Stranger, Tower and Adversary and they where way too powerful. Tower even became blessed with inmmortality because of her magic so she is still around like is nobody's business. We have Nightmare, Spectre and Witch from the 90's all the way to the mid 2000's, they got separated because of a pretty close call with Cold and Spectre in a fight Cold was the only demon that has ever captured a hunter's soul, even if by accident. She didn't died but was left with physical and magical difficulties and she quited music altogether, going for a simple free life and not really caring about the demon-hunters battle at all.

Nightmare and Witch have an inmense hatred towads the voices in her behalf. Spectre doesn't care that much and made her peace with Cold, weirdly enough. He has never pulled out the soul trick again.

Is really complicated for them and it led to Nightmare transfering her views of all demons into the next generation of hunters...

With HUNTRIX ! Their manager is Razor and she is as excentric and supportive as she needs to be <3 and she may or may not know more about the demons that she lets on. Heart!Rumi doesn't have the whole half-demon-parent-thing, but we transladed it into her having a bond with Quiet as her hunter's heritage (a soulmate type of deal, and mirroring the shifty and tlq bond that Stranger also may or may not have had on her own time whoknows-) Her marks getting worse is a symbol of Quiet's enclosure and how that affects spirits/demons as well as humans. THE CHOOSEN ONE BABYYYY Damsel is a powerhouse in battle. Literally the terror of the voices, the only thing stopping her is that she can't hit every target at once. *Aside from that she is one of the more amicable with the voices, specially Smitten and Contra.

Pris is really semless into the her role as a hunter and is the strategy girl (even if Heart is the captain so to speak) some of her ideas and actions are like a good choreo, they need to be flexible and fit a purpose no matter how hard or even mischievous they can get.

*The vibe the voices and the hunters have is a lot like a villian-of-the-week situation sprinkled with important moments that change everything. Since they have time to know eachother in the whole idol and demon charade and fights in a long period of time the conflic doesn't get that quickly resolved as in the movie. Heart is the one that feels more strongly about antagonise them because of her own marks (at the start, at least), Pris is loyal to a t with the group but she can keep a lot of appearances with the saja and analyze them by afar. Damsel is the one that sees them more just as regular birds but she bites back if they star problems. When it comes to people's souls and security tho, they all are strong in their rivalry no matter the cost.

I'm following a lot of folklore and drama tropes with all of this and some things are prone to change but I hope this makes any kind of sense, or is enjoyable at the very least! ^^

[moondvncer]

tucked myself in bed and the horrifying realisation that my earphones are still on my desk just hit me

[gladiius]

I really do need to reread through or replay everything. Need to remember how cranky he was in the real.

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[shokocide]

STUCK WITH YOU - GOJO SATORU

summary. Gojo Satoru—strongest, cockiest, and, according to him, the hottest man alive—bows to no one. Until you came along and suddenly, he’s on his knees.

word count. 10.6k (i..dont know)

content. mdni fem! reader, zombie apocalypse au, violence, blood, pet names, satoru is a certified tease, cute banter because we love that here, they're so down bad for each other, smut, oral (fem rec.), p in v, loss of virginity (reader), praise, breeding, creampie, overstim, soft satoru <3

author's note. i miss my man

The sky had been burning when the world ended.

You were fifteen—just a kid with scraped knees and a heart too big for the horrors it was about to witness. 

Sirens wailed through the streets, helicopters thundered above, and the sharp stench of smoke and decay clung to the air like death itself. One moment, your parents were urging you to run, voices trembling with fear. The next, everything shattered. A scream. Blood. The gurgled breath of something that wasn’t quite human anymore.

You had survived. Somehow. Alone.

But the cost of survival was everything.

-

The woods are silent, save for the crunch of your boots over frostbitten leaves. The moon hangs high above, pale and cold, casting everything in an unforgiving glow. You keep your knife gripped tight in one hand, the other cradling your growling stomach. It’s been three days since you last found anything remotely edible.

Every snap of a branch, every whisper of wind feels like a threat. Years alone have trained you to expect the worst.

Then you pause.

Smoke. Just a wisp of it in the air. You sniff again, slower this time. It's faint, but definitely there.

You move like a shadow, quiet and cautious, weaving through trees toward the scent. And then you see it:

A flickering campfire nestled in a hollow clearing, throwing gold and orange light onto the figures beside it. Two men. Asleep—at least, you hope they are. One is lying flat on the ground, the other propped against a log, limbs long and sprawled, a blindfold covering his eyes.

There’s food by the fire. Real food. Bread. Cans. Water.

You inch closer, heart hammering. It’s been years since you’ve seen other people. You don’t know if that makes this moment safer… or far more dangerous.

You creep into the circle of warmth, fingers itching toward the supplies. Just one thing. That’s all you need.

You barely breathe as you crouch beside the campfire, the heat brushing against your frozen skin like a long-forgotten comfort. Your fingers tremble as you reach for a loaf of bread—real bread—but just as your hand closes around it, your boot nudges something metallic.

CLANG.

The tin can hits the ground, and for a moment, silence swallows everything.

Then—movement.

You whip your head toward the two figures by the fire. One shoots upright in an instant, long-limbed and alarmingly fast. The other groans awake, slower, disoriented. You don’t even have time to run.

"Don't move," the taller one says—voice low, commanding. You meet his gaze and—holy hell.

Snow-white hair, cerulean eyes. He stands like someone who’s fought the world and won. His blindfold hangs around his neck, exposing everything. It's him—the one with the voice that makes your skin prickle and a face that doesn’t belong in this nightmare world.

"Well, well," he drawls, taking a step forward. "And here I thought we were the only pretty faces left."

You swallow, frozen. His companion grabs a weapon, steps forward too, more cautious.

"Who are you?" the second man demands.

The white-haired man’s eyes never leave yours. He smirks.

"She’s hungry. Look at her. Poor thing."

You clench your fists. You’ve survived too long to be pitied.

"Touch me and I swear to god—"

The man raises his hands, mockingly innocent.

"Easy, sweetheart. No one’s touching you… unless you want us to."

You scrunch up your face, disgusted and his grin widens just a little.

You lift your knife. “I don’t want trouble. I just need food.”

“I’d say knocking over our supplies in the middle of the night is kinda trouble,” the dark-haired one says. His hair is tied back, strands falling loose around his face, his grip on his weapon steady. “Who are you?”

You swallow thickly. It’s been so long since anyone’s asked you that. Your voice is hoarse. “Just someone trying to survive.”

The white-haired one takes a lazy step forward, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Chill, Suguru. She’s not here to kill us,” he says, and then turns back to you. “You got a name, mystery girl?”

You eye him warily. “…Why do you care?”

He grins. “Because mine’s Gojo Satoru. And this grumpy one is Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell her our names, dumbass.”

But Gojo—Satoru, apparently—just shrugs, looking far too amused for someone who just woke up to a stranger trying to rob him.

Your fingers tighten on your knife. But something about him… those eyes… that voice…

“You really gonna stab the guy who might be your best chance at staying alive?” he asks, cocking his head. “Come sit. Eat. Or run. Up to you.”

Your stomach growls loudly.

Satoru grins wider. “That’s what I thought.”

You slowly lower your knife, but don’t put it away—not yet. Your eyes stay locked on them as you inch closer to the fire. The warmth should be a comfort, but your muscles are still taut, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Satoru sprawls back onto a log like he’s done this a hundred times. He’s still smiling—lazy, smug, like he’s enjoying this little show. Suguru doesn’t relax. He stays seated, but his eyes follow your every move, knife still held tight in his hand.

You kneel beside the fire, close enough to reach the food, far enough to lunge away if you need to. There’s a dented pot with some kind of stew, still warm, and a few pieces of bread wrapped in cloth.

“Help yourself,” Satoru says, waving a hand like he’s offering a royal feast. “We even warmed it up for you.”

You shoot him a glare but reach out cautiously, taking just a little. You sniff the stew first. Watch them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” Suguru says dryly.

“That’s what someone who poisoned it would say,” you mutter, tearing off a bite of bread.

Satoru snorts. “She’s got a mouth on her. I like her.”

You ignore that. Instead, you eat slowly, eyes flicking between them. They don’t move. Suguru keeps watch. Satoru lounges like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.

“How long have you two been out here?” you ask finally.

“Long enough,” Suguru says, tone clipped.

"Too long," Satoru says, tossing a pebble into the fire like this is just another lazy night for him. "We move around, but we've got a base. Old prison, about twenty miles from here. You?"

You don’t answer right away.

“Alone,” you say after a beat. “I’ve been alone.”

The fire crackles between you.

Suguru’s gaze softens—just for a second. But Satoru’s smile stays.

“Well,” he says, stretching out his long legs, “you’re not alone anymore.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not staying.”

“Didn’t say you had to.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But something tells me you might not leave either.”

He’s not threatening. He’s just… certain.

You’re crouched by the fire, still tense, still not entirely trusting, when Satoru leans back on his hands, head tilted.

“You should come with us,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You’ll be safer.”

Your eyes flick to Suguru—he doesn’t hide the way his jaw clenches.

“She could be a liability,” Suguru mutters. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” Satoru agrees, grinning at you. “But I like her.”

Suguru sighs, deep and disapproving, but you see it—that soft flicker in his eyes that means he’s already given in.

Satoru turns back to you. “We’re heading out at first light. If you’re in, pack whatever you’ve got.”

You nod, hesitant. But, maybe… maybe this is the start of something.

-

A gentle nudge to your shoulder. Then a voice, light and annoyingly cheerful.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Big day today.”

You blink awake to Satoru crouching beside you, white hair a wild halo against the rising sun. He grins.

“You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

“You do. It was cute.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”

“Because I’m charming,” he beams. “Now come on. We've got a long way to go—and Suguru’s already in a mood.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he wouldn’t be if you stopped talking.”

“Ohhh, savage!” he clutches his chest, stumbling back like you just stabbed him. “You wound me, stranger.”

You roll your eyes and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Not a stranger anymore, remember? You practically adopted me last night.”

Satoru grins, falling into step beside you. “True. You’re my problem now.”

“Joy,” you mutter, but your lips twitch despite yourself.

Suguru’s already waiting up ahead, arms crossed, brow arched like he’s already tired of this nonsense. “You two done flirting or should I keep walking?”

You open your mouth to protest, but Satoru gets there first.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Suguru.”

“I will leave you in the woods,” Suguru replies flatly.

“You’d miss me in an hour.”

“You wish.”

You stifle a laugh and glance between the two. “Are you always like this?”

Satoru flashes you a grin. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

-

The trek through the forest had been relatively quiet—birds rustled above, trees whispering overhead, and Satoru talking your ear off. But midway through the journey, something shifts.

Suguru’s head tilts first, eyes narrowing at the faint crunch in the distance. Not a squirrel. Not a rabbit.

You hear it next.

Low. Guttural.

A hiss.

Then another.

They come from the trees. Slow at first—one stumbles into view, then two, then more. Rotting limbs. Glazed-over eyes. That sickening gurgle of hunger.

“Aw, shit,” Satoru grins like it’s a party. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Suguru already has his blade drawn, calm as ever. “Don’t play around, Satoru.”

“No promises.” He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “Time to impress the new girl.”

The first zombie lunges—and Satoru moves. A blur of motion, too fast to follow. The undead’s head twists unnaturally before it even hits the ground.

Suguru moves more fluidly—clean, precise slashes. No theatrics. Just deadly efficiency. His blade slices through two more, not even a drop of blood on him.

But they just keep coming.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Adrenaline surges. You’d been careful to avoid confrontation all these years, but this is different. You're not alone anymore. And you won’t be dead weight.

You draw your blade—sharpened scrap metal turned makeshift machete—and steady your breath.

One charges. You duck, spin, and drive the blade clean through its skull. Another reaches for you. You kick it back hard, burying your weapon in its chest before pulling it free with a grunt.

Satoru whistles low. “Well damn.”

“Focus,” Suguru mutters, cutting another down.

You move together now, three separate forces of destruction.

Satoru’s grinning like a madman, whirling and laughing with every kill. “You seeing this? She’s got bite!”

Suguru flicks blood off his blade. “You could take a lesson from her.”

Zombies litter the ground within minutes. The forest falls silent again—except for your panting breaths.

Satoru walks over, brushing blood off his cheek. “Well, that was fun. You good?”

You nod, chest still heaving. “Peachy.”

“Okay, badass,” he says with a grin, then nudges your shoulder playfully. “I take it back. You’re not just some lost little stray. You’ve got some claws.”

Suguru simply gives you a once-over, silent approval in his gaze.

You sheath your blade. “Told you I could handle myself.”

Satoru grins wider. “Yeah, and it was hot.”

-

The journey's been long, your legs aching from the endless trek, your guard never once lowered—not even with Satoru’s ridiculous jokes or Suguru’s unnervingly sharp eyes on you.

But when the trees begin to thin and the rusted silhouette of a massive abandoned prison looms ahead—walls towering, fences lined with jagged barbed wire, and lookout towers standing tall like watchful sentinels—you feel something you haven't in years:

Hope.

Gojo stretches lazily, like the walk didn’t faze him at all. "Home sweet hellhole," he grins. "Bet you weren’t expecting this kind of palace."

Suguru doesn’t say much, just gestures for you to follow. The guards on the watchtower whistle low when they see the trio approaching, and the gates creak open. Inside, the prison yard is alive—people bustling, fires burning in steel barrels, children laughing (actual children), and survivors moving with purpose.

You're stunned. You didn’t think this kind of order still existed.

A kid runs up to Gojo. “Satoru! You’re back!”

“Obviously,” he winks, tossing his jacket at the kid. “Miss me?”

You stare, wide-eyed.

“You’re like… respected here?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Gojo deadpans. “Stick with me, newbie. I’ll show you the ropes. Maybe even let you survive.”

Suguru glances back, quiet for a moment. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s safe, but it’s not paradise.”

Gojo leans closer to you as you're led through the gates.

“Don’t worry. If anything tries to eat you—aside from me—I’ll kill it.”

Your face burns and he just smirks like he’s got you all figured out.

“Aww, don’t get all shy, now. Where’d all that bite from earlier go?” he teases, voice low and entirely too smug.

You shove him with a scowl, cheeks still flaming. “Shut up, lecher.”

He stumbles back with a dramatic gasp, hand clutching his chest. “Lecher? Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

Suguru sighs ahead of you. “Ignore him. He gets like this when he’s not punched often enough.”

Gojo just throws an arm around your shoulders, unbothered and still grinning. “Admit it, you missed human interaction.”

You glare up at him. “I missed silence.”

“Too bad,” he chirps, “you’re stuck with me now.”

You follow Gojo through the looming gates of the old prison turned fortress, the creak of rusted metal echoing off cold concrete walls. The place is… intimidating, but secure. High fences, makeshift watchtowers, guards with weapons patrolling like hawks. Survivors glance your way—curious, cautious—but no one approaches just yet.

“Well,” Gojo grins, throwing his arms out dramatically, “welcome to paradise, sweetheart.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can answer, a voice calls out.

“Don’t call new recruits that, Gojo.”

A tall woman leans against the infirmary doorway, cigarette dangling between her fingers, lab coat stained with faded blood. She looks you up and down, then flicks ash to the ground with a sigh.

“Ieiri Shoko. I’m the doctor over here,” she says. “You look like hell.”

“…Thanks?”

“She means ‘you’ll fit right in,’” Gojo says brightly, nudging your shoulder. “She’s got a warm heart under all that… nicotine.”

Before you can respond, another figure approaches—sharp, calculating, blond hair swept neatly back and a stern face that reads no nonsense allowed.

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself. “I hope you know how to follow rules.”

You stiffen slightly. “Depends on the rules.”

Gojo chuckles. “Play nice, Nanamin. She’s new.”

“And she’ll stay alive longer if she learns structure.”

You barely have time to absorb that before someone barrels into the conversation like a human golden retriever.

“Gojo-sensei! You’re back!”

A pink-haired young man skids to a stop beside you, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa—new person?! Hi! I’m Itadori Yuji!”

You blink, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of energy.

“Yuji,” Gojo sighs fondly. “Tone it down a little, yeah? She’s been through it.”

Yuji’s smile softens. “Right, sorry. Still—welcome. You hungry? We’ve got canned peaches! They’re not that bad if you hold your breath.”

A scoff cuts through the chaos.

“That’s how you welcome someone? ‘Peaches if you hold your breath’?”

You turn to see a girl with sharp eyes, short auburn hair, and a confident stance stroll up like she owns the place.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” she says, hand on her hip. “Don’t let the dumb smiles fool you—Yuji’s annoying, but he’s not dangerous. Usually.”

Yuji pouts. “Rude.”

And last, from the shadows near the barracks, a low voice.

“Don’t overwhelm her.”

A tall boy steps forward, dark hair, brooding expression. Cold eyes meet yours briefly before shifting away like he’s already bored of this interaction.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

You blink. “Nice to meet you… all.”

“You’ll get used to the chaos,” Nobara says. “Eventually.”

Gojo’s grin widens, like a proud dad watching his weird little family.

“See? Told you you’d like it here.”

You’re not sure yet. But for the first time in years, you’re not alone.

-

The base is a repurposed prison, all concrete walls and rusted bars, but the way Gojo walks its halls, it might as well be a palace.

“Welcome to paradise,” he grins, pushing open a barred door that creaks like it’s complaining. “Don’t let the charming décor fool you. The rats love it here.”

You roll your eyes but follow him in. He gestures with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Your very own cell—er, suite.”

The room is small, but clean. A bed shoved into one corner, a patched-up mattress, and even a chipped mirror on the wall. You nod, impressed despite yourself.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I gave you the one with a window. You can thank me later.”

You smirk and step back out into the hallway. “Trying to impress me, Gojo?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m a peacock in the apocalypse, baby.”

You laugh under your breath and follow him down a narrow hall. There’s a dip in the concrete, a crack in the floor you don’t notice until your boot catches—your heart jumps as you pitch forward, but Gojo’s arms are immediately around you.

Strong. Steady. Warm.

“Careful now,” he murmurs, voice all silk and smugness. “You fell for me already?”

You’re pressed against his chest, your breath caught in your throat, face heating up. He doesn’t move right away—his hands settle on your waist, casual and intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You shove him off with a flustered glare. “Shut up, lecher.”

He grins, wide and infuriating. “That’s more like it.”

The rest of the tour is quieter. You pass rooms where others sleep, the mess hall, the infirmary where Shoko’s set up shop. You even glimpse Yuji hauling supplies with Nobara snapping at him in the distance.

But then Gojo stops in front of a heavy iron door—no windows, no markings. His face changes. The joking fades.

“Whatever you do,” he says, voice low, “don’t go into the commissary. Not alone. Not ever.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His blue eyes sharpen beneath his snowy lashes.

“Because even monsters like us keep our secrets somewhere,” he says softly. “And some doors are locked for a reason.”

You stare at him, heart knocking against your ribs.

Gojo Satoru, unshakable, untouchable… looking haunted?

Your skin prickles.

But he flashes you that lazy grin again, like nothing happened. “Now come on. You haven’t seen the courtyard. Yuji likes to wrestle people out there—it’s horrible. You’ll love it.”

And just like that, the moment passes… but the warning stays.

-

The rooftop’s quiet late at night.

The chaos of the base fades into a hush, just the distant hum of wind brushing over cracked cement and rusted fences. You lie back against the cool surface, arms behind your head, eyes fixed on the sky above. For once, it’s clear. A spatter of stars gleam like glass shards across a velvet sky.

You let yourself breathe.

No infected. No screaming. No fear.

Just the stars.

Footsteps approach—light, familiar, cocky.

“I knew you were a stargazer,” Gojo says, easing himself down beside you with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got that dreamy, melancholic look. So poetic.”

You don’t look at him. “You’ve got that annoying, uninvited energy. So parasitic.”

He barks out a laugh. “Ow. You wound me, sweetheart.”

A beat passes. Then another.

You can feel him watching you, but for once, he doesn’t speak.

And somehow, that’s more unsettling.

“…You alright?” you ask, finally glancing his way.

He’s leaning back on his elbows, white hair messy from the wind, blue eyes locked on the stars—but they’re distant. Quiet. A far cry from their usual teasing glint.

“I’m heading out tomorrow,” he says casually. “Scouting mission. Few days tops.”

You blink. “Oh.”

Something flickers in your chest. It shouldn’t. Not like this.

“Oh,” you repeat, softer. “Right.”

A part of you wants to ask why he’s going. Another part wants to pretend it doesn’t matter. You settle for neither, chewing your lip, trying to ignore the weight settling in your gut.

Satoru glances at you then, his smirk lazy but his voice just a touch softer.

“Try not to miss me, yeah?”

You scoff. “I’ll throw a party the second you leave.”

“That’s what they all say,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Then they realize how boring life is without me.”

His smile is all mischief—but behind it, there’s something warmer. Something real.

And for once… you don’t fire back. You just look at him.

Maybe you’ll miss him a little. Just a little.

-

You don’t expect his absence to linger. But it does.

You feel it in the small silences—the way the mess hall feels quieter without his dumb jokes echoing through it, how sparring sessions feel colder without him barging in with some smug, offhanded comment about your form.

At night, you find yourself back on the rooftop. The stars are still there, but they don’t sparkle like they used to. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, because what kind of person starts depending on a man like that?

He’s loud. He’s infuriating. He teases you relentlessly.

But… he saw you. When you thought no one ever would again.

Shoko notices the way you’ve been spacing out more. She doesn’t say anything until the third night.

“You okay?”

You nod. Too quickly. “Fine.”

She squints at you. “You’re not fine. You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

She clicks her tongue. “Acting like someone’s girlfriend.”

You nearly knock your cup over. “I’m not—!”

But you don’t finish that sentence. Because the words feel too close to something you’ve been avoiding.

You try to bury it—tell yourself it’s just concern. You’re just… grateful. It’s not like that. You don’t miss his stupid smirk or the way he always stands too close just to fluster you. You don’t care about how his hair always looks so damn soft, or how his voice drops a little when he’s serious with you.

You don’t.

You don’t.

Then the whispers start.

“No signal from the scouting team.”

��They were supposed to be back by now.”

A cold chill snakes down your spine.

You start going to the gate more. Just to check. You pretend it’s coincidence.

It’s not.

You catch yourself gripping the straps of your bag harder than usual. You’ve never hated waiting so much in your life.

Until one evening—

The gates finally creak open.

Your breath catches in your throat as the guards call out a name. Several figures walk through the archway, dust and blood clinging to their clothes.

And there he is.

White hair, blue eyes. One sleeve ripped off, a gash on his collarbone, dried blood staining his neck—but he’s alive.

“Satoru,” you whisper, already walking forward.

His eyes find yours instantly. That grin pulls at his lips like it never left.

“Aww, did you miss me?”

You don’t answer. You just hit his shoulder. “Idiot.”

But then your hands linger, and before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffens, just for a second. Then his arms slide around you, strong and warm.

“Try not to cry too hard,” he mutters, voice light—but there’s something tight beneath it.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Sure you do,” he chuckles, and when you pull back, his smile softens.

You don’t know what this feeling is. Or maybe you do. You just don’t want to name it yet.

But you know this: You’re glad he came back.

And for now, that’s enough.

-

You wander the halls of the prison alone, the hum of fluorescent lights above your head flickering inconsistently. Satoru had taken the kids out back for training, and with nothing to do and no one to bother you, you figured you’d finally explore the rest of the base.

The place was massive—too massive. Each cell block looked like the next, corridors looping endlessly into each other until your curiosity outweighs your sense of direction. One door, rusted and slightly ajar, catches your eye.

You should’ve turned around.

You push it open.

Inside is dark, dusty. Shelves line the walls, broken crates and old rations tossed everywhere. You wander deeper, hesitant but unaware. That is…until it hits.

The smell.

Rotting flesh, stagnant air, the thick, unmistakable stench of death.

And then—movement.

Shuffling. A low groan. Shadows twitch. A hand smacks against a shelf and knocks it over with a crash.

They're here.

Your eyes snap wide and panic sets in instantly. There are so many.

You run.

You shove a metal shelf in their path, throw an old stool, anything you can get your hands on to slow them down. Your breaths are shallow, desperate. But just as you near the exit—

Your ankle gives out.

A sick snap, searing pain, and you crash to the floor with a cry. You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the wall, using your good leg to kick anything that comes close.

This is it. This is it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding.

Gunshots.

The sound like thunder crashing right next to your ear.

You blink up, barely processing the white blur tearing through the undead like paper.

“I told you not to go in here!” he shouts, voice slicing through the chaos.

“Satoru—!”

The zombies turn just in time for Satoru to drive his fist into the nearest one’s chest, cracking bone and sending it flying back into the others like bowling pins.

“Seriously?” he growls, stepping in front of you, his broad back shielding your crumpled form. “I leave you alone for five minutes.”

One lunges from the side. Gojo ducks effortlessly, grabs it by the throat, and slams it into the ground so hard its skull splits open on impact. Another claws at his shoulder, but he just grabs its wrist, twists, and kicks out its knee in one brutal motion. It collapses, and he doesn’t even look as he drives a sharp piece of wood through its head.

And then—you're in his arms. Just like that.

Lifted effortlessly, pressed against his chest as he strides out of the hellhole.

You cling to him, trembling.

“I didn’t know it was the commissary,” you whisper between sobs. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I just—God, I’m so sorry, Gojo, I—”

His voice is low, firm, but gentle. “Hey. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look up at him, lip quivering. “I—I made you worry…”

“Yeah, you did,” he says with a wry little smirk, but his eyes are too soft, too relieved to match it. “Don’t ever do that again, got it?”

You nod.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. “Because if I lost you... I’d have to kill the rest of the world just for pissing me off.”

Your breath hitches.

You stare up at him, heart pounding, face flushed from more than just the sprint for your life.

“W-What kind of psycho logic is that?” you mutter, trying to deflect, your voice barely steady.

Satoru smirks down at you, still holding you effortlessly in his arms like you weigh nothing. “C’mon, don’t act so surprised. I’m dramatic, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, trying not to combust under his gaze.

“And you’re blushing,” he points out smugly, nose nearly brushing yours. “Kinda cute, actually.”

You twist in his hold, hiding your face against his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumble, voice muffled.

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Can’t. Teasing you is the only thing keeping me sane these days.”

You can feel the tension slipping away, replaced by something heavier, warmer. He lowers you gently onto a nearby bench just outside the danger zone, kneeling before you like it’s second nature, hands skimming your calves as he examines your ankle again.

When he looks up this time, his expression is different. Less playful. More raw.

“I meant it, you know,” he says quietly. “You scared the hell out of me in there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he cuts in, hand brushing yours. “But next time, brat, wait for me. No solo adventures.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re calling me a brat now?”

“Borrowing the title. Think I earned it after saving your ass.”

You huff a laugh, cheeks still warm. “…Thanks.”

His grin softens. “Anytime.”

And just like that, you both sit there—his fingers still wrapped gently around your hand, his thumb rubbing absent circles over your knuckles—as the adrenaline fades and something else takes its place. Something quieter. Heavier. Charged.

-

Satoru insists on carrying you the whole way to the infirmary, ignoring your every protest.

“This is unnecessary,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder to avoid every curious glance.

“You twisted your ankle and almost got mauled. Humor me,” he says, smug but gentle, like the two can coexist in him with ease.

He kicks open the infirmary door with his foot.

“Delivery for one idiot who wandered into a no-go zone,” he calls out casually.

Shoko looks up from her desk, raising a brow at the sight of you both. “Well, well. If it isn’t the base’s golden boy and his damsel in distress.”

“I wasn’t distressed,” you blurt out instantly, wiggling in Gojo’s hold.

“Oh?” she hums, amused. “You sure? Because I could’ve sworn I heard ‘Gojo! Help!’ from all the way down the hall.”

You splutter. “That’s not— I mean—”

“Loudly,” she adds with a pointed smirk.

Satoru just laughs and sets you down on one of the cots, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary on your back before stepping aside.

“She’s fine. Just the ankle,” he says. “But maybe check if she sprained anything else. She fell pretty hard.”

Shoko moves closer, completely ignoring the medical part for now, because she’s too focused on watching the both of you squirm.

“Ohhh,” she teases, eyes sparkling. “Look at the two of you. Cute. Almost like a couple.”

You and Satoru freeze at the exact same time.

“Nope!”

“Not a couple!”

“Definitely not!”

You shoot each other a panicked glance and then immediately look away, flustered messes in stereo.

Shoko snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You glare. “Can we just focus on my ankle now?”

“Fine, fine,” she drawls, clearly enjoying herself. “Just sayin’. Wouldn’t be the worst match. You get saved, he gets to play hero. Very fairytale.”

“I hate all of this,” you mutter under your breath, while Satoru just smiles to himself, unbothered but definitely pleased.

When Shoko starts wrapping your ankle, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching.

And you swear you see it—that tiny, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he wants her to say it again.

Because maybe, just maybe… he doesn’t mind the idea.

-

It’s later that night when there’s a knock at your door. You’ve barely had time to settle in, still awkwardly hobbling around on one foot with your bandaged ankle.

“Who is it?” you call.

“It’s your favorite,” comes the unmistakable voice from the other side.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know Nanami suddenly got chatty.”

A muffled chuckle. “Ha. Hilarious. Open up.”

You limp to the door and unlock it. Satoru is standing there, a little disheveled, hands full.

“Brought you dinner,” he says casually, holding out a tray with two mismatched bowls, steam still curling from the soup. “Figured you might be tired of Shoko’s painkillers and snark.”

You blink, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says dramatically, stepping in without being invited. “That’s what makes me so noble.”

You laugh despite yourself, and he grins like that was the goal all along. He sets the tray down on your little desk, then gestures toward your bed.

“Come on, sit. Can’t have you falling over again. One near-death experience per day is my limit.”

You sit, trying not to look too charmed when he settles next to you—close, but not too close—just enough for your knees to brush.

“I still feel terrible about earlier,” you say after a moment, poking at the edge of your bowl. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You didn’t worry me,” he says too quickly, too nonchalantly.

You glance up. “Liar.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Fine. Maybe I panicked a little. Sue me.”

A silence lingers, not uncomfortable. Just… warm.

Then, softer: “Don’t do that again, okay?”

You look at him, really look at him—the shadows under his eyes, the slight dip in his brow, the way his voice softens when it’s just you and him.

And something in your chest stirs. Something that’s been creeping in, slow and steady, ever since he offered you food by a fire that first night.

You nod. “I won’t.”

He glances over, catches your gaze—and doesn’t look away this time.

There’s something unspoken passing between you. Familiar. Intense. Safe.

“You’re really something, y’know that?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Depends. You gonna fall harder for me if it is?”

You flush instantly. “Satoru—”

He laughs and nudges your bowl toward you. “Eat before it gets cold, princess.”

You grumble under your breath but dig in.

And Satoru?

He watches you with that same lopsided grin, heart doing something stupid in his chest.

Because yeah—maybe you fell.

But maybe he’s been falling, too.

-

It’s past midnight when you stir.

The pain in your ankle has dulled to a throb, but it isn’t what wakes you. It’s… something else. A presence. Warm. Close.

You blink against the low glow of the hallway light seeping under your door, and when your eyes adjust—

You see him.

Satoru.

Slouched in the chair by your bed, long legs awkwardly folded, head tipped to the side, snowy hair falling across his face in soft, messy tufts. His mouth is slightly parted, breathing slow and even. His arms are crossed, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

Like he was just keeping watch.

Just in case.

Your heart does a little flip.

You shift quietly, trying not to make a sound. But even with all your care, the mattress creaks—barely. His eyes snap open immediately, hand twitching toward a weapon that isn’t there. Pure instinct.

Then he sees you. And relaxes.

“Oh,” he breathes, voice gravelly with sleep. “You’re awake.”

You sit up slowly. “Were you… here all night?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not all night. Just since… y’know. Evening.”

You squint at him. “Satoru.”

He sighs. “Fine. Yeah. All night.”

You stare at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t wander off again and get yourself eaten.”

You frown. “You should’ve slept in your room.”

He smirks. “What, and miss out on babysitting you?”

You chuck a pillow at him.

He catches it easily and grins. But when he sees you holding his gaze, that grin softens.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admits, quieter now.

Something gentle settles in your chest. You pull your blanket up and scoot slightly to the side.

“…There’s space. If you’re tired.”

He blinks at you. “Are you asking me to cuddle, orrrr…”

You glare. “I’m offering you a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He slides in beside you carefully, so carefully, like you’ll break if he jostles you too much. And then you feel the warmth of him next to you, his presence steady and solid and safe.

“…This okay?” he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dark.

You nod.

And slowly, slowly, you feel his fingers brush yours under the blanket. He doesn't hold your hand—not yet. Just touches.

Testing the waters.

You don’t pull away.

And in the silence that follows, you hear his breathing even out again.

But yours?

Yours is all over the place.

-

Morning sunlight filters through the barred window, casting soft stripes across your face.

You're warm. So warm.

Your cheek is pressed against something solid. Something that rises and falls gently beneath you. And there’s a hand resting at the small of your back, pulling you closer, keeping you there.

Your heart skips.

Your eyes blink open—and there he is.

Gojo Satoru. Asleep. Face relaxed and serene, messy white hair haloed in gold light. His other arm is curled under your pillow, supporting your head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And you're lying on top of him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You should move. You need to move.

But just as you're about to untangle yourself—

Click.

The door creaks open.

You freeze.

“Oh my god,” comes Shoko’s voice, casual, amused, and way too smug. “Well, well—what do we have here?”

You nearly leap out of bed, scrambling to sit up—only for your body to protest painfully, and you wince with a hiss.

Satoru wakes with a start, blinking up at Shoko in confusion before slowly realizing the position you're in.

“Oh,” he says blankly. “Morning, doc.”

You swat his shoulder. “Say something useful?!”

Shoko just leans against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning like she’s discovered the world’s juiciest secret. “No no, don’t let me interrupt. I was just checking on the patient, but clearly, she’s in very good hands.”

You’re burning. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Shoko raises a brow. “Oh, so you weren’t cuddled up like two lovebirds all night? Should I tell Nanami you’ve finally found someone willing to put up with your nonsense, Satoru?”

He stretches lazily and pulls the blanket back over himself with a smirk. “Actually, yeah. Tell him. Maybe then he’ll finally stop lecturing me about responsibility.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Shoko chuckles, walking away. “Nope. I’m telling everyone.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Silence.

You glare at Satoru through your fingers. “This is your fault.”

He grins. “You offered me a spot on the bed, your majesty.”

You shove a pillow at him. He catches it—again.

And then he smiles, soft and teasing, voice still a little raspy from sleep.

“...So. Want me to sleep over again tonight?”

“Get out.”

-

The first few days are rough.

You try to walk without limping. Try to reach for things on your own. Try not to feel like a burden.

But then there’s him.

You wake up to warm food at your bedside, Satoru leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. “Brought you breakfast in bed, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it—I’m not always this nice.”

He very much is.

He offers his arm without asking when you need support. Doesn’t mention it when you wince or grit your teeth. Just lets you lean on him, like you’ve always belonged there.

You try to carry something heavy across the hall—he appears out of nowhere, snatching it from your hands. “Tsk. You trying to die or what?”

You try to help in the kitchen. He catches you wobbling and swoops in with a hand around your waist. “Whoa there, Bambi. What happened to ‘taking it easy’?”

You try to sneak off to explore the base again. He corners you in the hallway with a look that says absolutely not. “You’re still healing, brat. Unless you want me to carry you everywhere again?”

Cue your entire face combusting.

He’s annoying. Cocky. Ridiculously persistent.

But…

He adjusts your blanket when you’re asleep on the couch. Tucks a water bottle by your side without saying anything. Teaches you how to balance properly on one foot so your ankle can recover without straining the other.

And at night, when you think everyone’s asleep, you catch him checking on you—quietly, carefully. Making sure you’re okay.

You pretend not to notice.

But your heart notices. It notices everything.

-

You stand in the middle of your room, shifting your weight onto your healed ankle, then back again. No pain. No tightness. Just a deep breath and the quiet realization:

You’re better. Finally.

The door creaks open without warning—because Satoru never knocks—and in he strolls with his usual swagger and two mugs in hand. “Morning, sweetheart. Brought you—"

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing. Not limping. Not clutching the edge of the bed for balance.

Just… standing.

He squints, slowly lowering one mug. “...Why aren’t you in bed?”

You raise a brow. “Because I’m not dying?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” He sets the mugs down and points a very offended finger at you. “You don’t just get to get better without warning me. I was emotionally invested in this arc.”

You laugh. “Sorry to ruin your Florence Nightingale fantasy.”

“Ruin? Excuse you, I was thriving. Who’s gonna let me spoon-feed you now?”

You roll your eyes, limping toward him just to mess with him. “I could pretend, if it makes you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He walks over before you can say anything else—his hands hover, cautious at first, then one slides to your waist. “You really okay?”

You nod. “I’m good. Really.”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he grins. “Alright. Guess that means I can stop being your personal nurse and go back to being your favorite nuisance.”

You’re smiling. He’s back to teasing. But there’s a softness in his eyes that lingers a little too long, a thumb that brushes your hip before falling away.

He missed taking care of you.

And maybe, just maybe, you kind of miss being taken care of.

-

You’re jogging laps around the edge of the prison yard, the early morning chill nipping at your cheeks. It’s peaceful—quiet enough that your footsteps and the rhythmic beat of your breath are the only sounds you hear.

Until a familiar voice breaks through the silence.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brat, back in action.”

You slow down, a smirk tugging at your lips as you turn toward the voice—and promptly choke on air.

Satoru.

Stretching.

Shirtless.

His snowy hair tousled from whatever ungodly workout he’s been doing, sweat gleaming on the hard lines of his chest and abs like the universe conspired to craft a Renaissance painting just to spite you. His sweats hang low on his hips, revealing that infuriating V-line that should not be legal in a post-apocalyptic society.

You blink. Once. Twice.

He grins, catching the way your eyes are very not subtly stuck on him.

“Like what you see?”

You scowl, instantly turning your gaze to a very fascinating patch of dirt on the ground. “Please. I’ve seen better.”

“Mmhm.” He takes a deliberate step forward, arms crossing over his annoyingly perfect chest. “Name one.”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.”

You huff and start jogging again, forcing your eyes to stay forward. But then he jogs up beside you—shirtless and smug, of course—and easily matches your pace.

“You sure you’re fully healed? What if you, I dunno… trip and fall again?” he says, tone mockingly sweet. “Need me to catch you, princess?”

“I’d rather faceplant into a zombie.”

He laughs, low and lazy. “I dunno, that sounds painful. Better to land on something soft. Like me.”

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he nudges you playfully with his elbow, “you’re still jogging next to me. Who’s really winning here?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck. But deep down, you know.

He’s definitely winning.

-

After the jog, Satoru insists you “cool down” with some light sparring. You roll your eyes, but follow him to the training mats anyway. He’s already bouncing on his heels when you step in front of him, still shirtless, still smug.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he teases. “Wouldn’t want to break you again.”

“I’m more worried about bruising your ego,” you shoot back, taking your stance.

He whistles low. “Feisty. I like it.”

The sparring begins—light jabs, easy dodges. You’re nimble, focused, but he is... effortless. Every time you swipe at him, he ducks with a grin. When you go in for a kick, he sidesteps and lets out an exaggerated yawn.

“You done yet, sweetheart?” he asks, still dancing around you. “At this rate, I could do this blindfolded.”

“Shut up and hold still!” you lunge at him again—this time faster, bolder—but he grabs your wrist mid-swing and spins you around so fast the world tilts. Before you know it—

You’re pinned.

Back hits the wall. His hand holds your wrists above your head, other arm braced beside you. His body is dangerously close, breath fanning your cheek. His tone shifts, deeper. Rougher.

“You keep mouthing off like that,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming, “I might start thinking you want me to put you in your place.”

Your breath catches. “I—”

“Hmm?” he leans in, lips ghosting your jaw. “No witty comeback now?”

You try to move, but his grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that this isn’t a game anymore.

“I could kiss you right now,” he whispers, “and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “You wouldn’t.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“Wanna bet?”

Your breathing is shallow, heat rising to your cheeks. You’re acutely aware of how close he is, the way his chest brushes against yours with every breath, the sharp glint in his eye, the smirk that’s far too smug for your sanity.

And then—

His lips graze your neck. Barely there. A soft brush of heat against your skin. You flinch—not out of fear, but from the jolt that shoots down your spine. Goosebumps bloom instantly. His breath tickles your skin.

“Sensitive,” he hums, lips ghosting up toward your jaw, “...cute.”

“Satoru—” you whisper, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze drops to your lips, heavy and unblinking. And he leans in, slower this time, like he wants you to feel the anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat—

And then—

“AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?”

You both jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

Satoru spins around with a groan, still caging you against the wall. “Shoko. Seriously?”

She stands a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow cocked and a wicked smirk playing at her lips. “Wow. Could cut the tension with a scalpel. Should I come back later or just pass you a condom now?”

“Shoko,” you squeak, face on fire, squirming to escape Gojo’s hold.

He lets you go reluctantly, chuckling under his breath. “You wish you caught the good part.”

“I did catch the part where your face was buried in her neck like a starving vampire,” Shoko deadpans.

You bury your face in your hands.

Satoru just laughs. “You jealous?”

“Please. I'd rather not watch my coworkers dry hump in public,” she says, already turning on her heel. “Anyway. You two lovebirds done? I need one of you to help with supplies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waves her off. Then he glances back at you, still all flushed and flustered, and leans down one last time to whisper in your ear:

“To be continued, princess.”

And just like that, he strolls off like nothing happened.

You're left against the wall, heart pounding, neck tingling, completely and utterly undone.

-

It’s quiet for once.

Most of the clan is out on a supply run or patrolling the perimeter. You’d offered to stay behind, helping Shoko reorganize her medical supplies before wandering off with a basket of laundry—warm clothes folded under your arm as you pace the empty corridors of the prison, barefoot, relaxed.

You finally set the basket down in the communal quarters, humming under your breath while sorting through what belongs to who. It’s… peaceful. The late afternoon sun slants in through the high windows, bathing everything in warm light.

Until—

“Picking up where we left off?”

You jolt, nearly dropping the shirt in your hands.

Gojo.

Leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever, sleeves pushed up, hair a bit messy like he just woke from a nap. His eyes are glinting beneath the lazy droop of his lashes, and that smirk—that godforsaken smirk—is unmistakable.

He saunters in before you can get a word in.

“Geez, you sneak up on people like a damn ghost,” you mumble, cheeks already burning as you turn back to the laundry.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” he teases, coming closer. “You weren’t so shy when I had you pinned against the wall.”

You stiffen. “You got interrupted. Big difference.”

“Oh? So you wanted me to kiss you?”

You glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already behind you, arms slipping around your waist—loosely at first, giving you a chance to push him away.

You don’t.

“I was thinking about you,” he murmurs against your ear. “All damn day. Thought I’d come see how you were holding up without me.”

“I was fine,” you huff, but it’s so breathless it betrays you instantly.

He chuckles. “That right?”

His hands glide up your sides, slow and sure, fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just admit it—you missed me.”

You turn in his arms, glaring—but it’s weak at best. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he leans in, forehead brushing yours, voice dropping, “but I still remember how fast your heart was beating last time.”

You swallow.

And this time? There’s no Shoko to walk in. No patrols due back. No reason to stop.

You hesitate for a beat.

And then you pull him in by the collar.

The kiss is feral. All teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. Weeks—months—of tension snapping all at once. His hands find your waist, gripping tight as he hoists you up like you weigh nothing.

“Fuck—” he groans against your lips. “You’ve been killing me, y’know that?”

You wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer. “Good.”

He pulls back, grinning. “Oh, you wanna play it like that?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before he’s kissing down your jaw, your neck, dragging that maddening tongue of his down your collarbone. His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, your thighs, sliding under your shirt like he owns you.

Which, at this point, maybe he does.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants, hovering over your lips again. “Tell me now, and I will.”

You look him dead in the eyes, tug his shirt over his head, and whisper:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your back hits the nearest wall with a muffled gasp, Satoru’s mouth already on yours, hungry and hot. His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing it with touch alone, fingers tugging at fabric with a frustrated groan.

“Off,” he growls into the kiss, already pulling your shirt over your head like it's offended him. He sets you down to pull your pants down along with your panties. And the moment you’re bare before him, he stands back, breath catching in his throat. His eyes—icy blue and blown wide with lust—roam your figure, landing on your chest like he’s just been given the meaning of life.

“…Can I motorboat your tits?”

You blink.

You laugh, startled and breathless. “Are you—are you serious right now?”

His lips curve into a wolfish grin, and he’s already surging forward to kiss you again. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles between kisses. “I don’t think I can wait to taste you now.”

You arch a brow, teasing, breath catching when he trails his mouth down your jaw. “Next time?”

He chuckles, low and dark. “You think I’m letting you off the hook after this?” His hands slide down your waist, thumbs stroking your hips. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he sinks to his knees.

The grin fades into something hungrier, more reverent as he kisses the inside of your thigh, dragging his teeth gently across soft skin. “Spread ‘em for me,” he says, voice a whisper but firm. And when you do, he groans like he’s just tasted something forbidden.

You cry out the second his tongue touches you, hands flying to grip his hair. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t want to. It’s slow, torturous—his pace deliberate as he works you open, devouring like a man starved. His moans vibrate against your skin, and when your legs tremble, he just pins them open wider, groaning, “That’s it… let me hear you, baby.”

Your back arches as Satoru licks another slow, devastating stripe up your core, tongue curling at your entrance before he moves to suck gently on your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head—but his arms loop under your knees, spreading you wider, holding you open like he owns you.

“You're not going anywhere,” he mutters, eyes flicking up, glazed over with lust and something dangerous. “Told you. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he’s back at it—slower this time, tongue flattening against you, then circling, dragging soft groans out of you as the tension coils tight in your belly. He eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, savoring every movement, every moan he draws. He alternates between deep, dragging strokes and sharp, teasing flicks, lips closing around your clit to suck just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

You cry out, hips bucking up into his mouth, and he growls—low and throaty—as if turned on by how wrecked you already are.

"Fuck—so sweet," he groans, voice muffled against you. “Could stay down here all night.”

And he means it. He shifts slightly, tongue plunging into you now, slow and shallow, nose nudging your clit as he drinks in every sound you make like it fuels him. Every little tremble, every whimper—he devours it.

He doesn’t stop. Not when you start trembling, not when you whine his name in warning. He keeps going, lips slick and relentless, until—

Your vision whites out. Your body tightens, back bowing, mouth falling open on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, pleasure shattering through you like a storm.

Only then does he pull back, lips and chin glistening. He breathes hard, eyes dark and blown, grinning like he just won a war.

“That’s the sound I wanted to hear.”

He stands up again to pick you up, carrying you to the nearby table, settling you on it, completely bare under the low light, legs parted slightly, chest heaving. You’re flushed, trembling—not from fear, but anticipation. Nerves. Heat. It’s all crashing together in your head, and he sees it.

His hands move to his waistband, fingers curling beneath the fabric of his pants. He tugs them down with practiced ease, freeing himself—and your breath catches.

Your eyes drift down instinctively, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him. He’s big. Thick, flushed, already hard and aching.

Your pulse stutters, nerves flickering to the surface. “Oh…”

“Hey,” he says gently, fingers brushing your cheek. “You okay?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

Satoru freezes for a moment. His expression doesn’t shift much—but his eyes, bright and blue, soften in an instant.

“…You haven’t?” he asks quietly, tone a stark contrast to the sinful smirk he wore earlier. You shake your head.

He exhales slowly, like he’s grounding himself. Then he leans in and kisses you—slow, patient, loving.

“Well, fuck,” he murmurs against your lips. “Now I really have to behave.”

You blink up at him. “You? Behave?”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lower lip. “Okay, maybe not completely. But I’ll go slow. Make it good for you. You trust me, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” His voice drops a little. “Then let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s gentle—so gentle it almost breaks you. His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He pauses there, kissing over your breasts, fingers caressing your sides as though you might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Gonna remember this forever.”

When he finally lines himself up, he doesn’t rush. He keeps kissing you, whispering into your skin.

“Breathe with me,” he says. “Nice and easy, baby. Just relax.”

The stretch burns, but his voice never leaves you. His hands never stop moving—stroking your sides, brushing your hair from your face, thumbing away the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs. “So tight, fuck—squeezing me like you were made for me.”

Your breath catches, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly, “I wanna see your face.”

You meet his eyes—blown wide with emotion, affection, reverence. And that’s when he starts to move. Slowly, so slowly you can feel everything. Every drag, every pull.

“Feels good?” he asks, and when you nod, he smiles like you’ve just handed him the universe.

“You’re perfect,��� he groans, picking up pace just a little. “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. My pretty girl, lettin’ me be her first.”

You moan—part embarrassment, part bliss—and he kisses the sound from your mouth.

“Can’t believe no one’s touched you like this before,” he mutters against your skin. “But I’m glad. Glad it’s me. Glad I get to show you.”

He starts rolling his hips deeper, each thrust slow and purposeful, coaxing pleasure out of you bit by bit.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re already gasping—your body burning, overstimulated from the build-up and the way he moves inside you. Every drag of him is a stretch, a delicious ache, and you’re trying so hard to keep up, to breathe, to hold yourself together—but it’s too much.

And then it hits.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave—louder, sharper, more intense than the last—and your body tightens instinctively, your walls fluttering around him like they don’t want to let him go.

“Fuck—” Satoru’s voice breaks, a guttural groan tumbling from his throat as he stills, trembling above you. “You’re gonna ruin me, baby…”

His grip tightens on your waist, jaw clenched as he tries to hold back—but you’re squeezing him so tight, so perfect, and his restraint shatters.

“You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, starting to move again—deeper, slower, more intentional—but there’s an edge of desperation now. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “Feels so good—fuck, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You shake your head, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, barely able to form the words. “Please…”

He kisses you hard—like he can’t help himself, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. So, so good…”

“‘Toru-” you whimper.

That breaks him.

He groans, slamming into you harder, mouth finding your neck as he nips and kisses down to your collarbone. “Fuck. Say it again.”

You whimper again, brain hazy. “‘Toru…”

He kisses you slow then, deeper. Rough pace never faltering, but his hands gentler now—one wrapping around your waist, the other brushing the hair from your face.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

You nod desperately, legs locking around his hips. “Yours.”

“Damn right,” he grits, driving into you harder, chasing both your highs with everything he has.

The overstimulation has tears stinging your eyes, your legs trembling, voice catching on every moan. And when that next orgasm builds too fast, too hard—it snaps through you like a live wire. Your body arches off the table, clamping down around him again—

—and Satoru snaps.

“Shit—take it, baby. Let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna make you mine, fuck, you already are—look at you...” he chokes out, thrusting deep one last time before he comes, spilling into you with a long, breathless groan. His arms wrap around you as if to anchor himself, holding you so close, like he needs to feel every inch of you, inside and out.

“Look at you,” he murmurs between pants, pressing kisses across your face. “Takin’ me so well… You’re mine now, yeah? All mine.”

You nod, dazed and boneless, wrapped in his warmth.

And he stays like that, inside you, forehead resting against yours as he murmurs soft, reverent praises—like this wasn’t just your first time.

Like it was everything.

Your body’s still trembling—nerves fried, skin flushed, heart thudding against your chest as if it’s trying to burst free. You’re barely aware of anything except the warm, strong arms pulling you into a careful embrace, the kiss he presses to your temple like it’s the most sacred thing he could ever do.

“Hey…” Satoru murmurs, voice all honey and rasp, rough around the edges but impossibly gentle. “You okay?”

You nod, chest rising and falling against his, cheeks still hot, but there’s a smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just… wow.”

He laughs softly, the sound low and breathy as his fingers brush along your spine in lazy, soothing strokes. “You were incredible,” he says, and he means it. Every word. “So good for me. So perfect.”

Your face scrunches with a flustered noise, burying it into his shoulder. “Stop…”

“Never,” he grins, nosing into your hair. “You don’t get to be all pretty and sweet and make those sounds and expect me to stay quiet about it.”

You groan. “Satoru—”

“Shhh.” 

His palm rests on your back as he holds you close, thumb drawing lazy circles. You can still feel the dull, pleasant ache of him inside you, the heat he left behind. His breath is warm against your cheek. Safe. Comforting.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs again, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “First time and you still managed to rock my fucking world.”

Your heart stutters. “Wasn’t just the sex,” you say quietly.

He stills for half a second—and then he smiles, soft and genuine.

“I know,” he whispers.

You’re still breathless, body flushed and boneless in his arms when Satoru gathers you close, lips pressed gently to your temple. The air between you is warm, quiet save for the distant hum of life around the base. He shifts a little, glancing down at the table beneath you both, and you catch that flicker in his eyes—guilt, soft and creeping.

“I should’ve…” he starts, voice low, almost sheepish. “Shit, I should’ve taken you somewhere better. A bed, a blanket, something that wasn’t a hardass table. It was your first time and I just—” He pauses, brows pinching like the regret’s eating at him now. “I got selfish.”

You lift your hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” you whisper, leaning in until your lips ghost over his, shutting him up with a kiss so soft, so full of emotion it makes his heart stutter.

When you pull back, your smile is small but sure. “It was more than okay. Because it was with you.”

Satoru blinks, breath caught in his throat. And for once, the man with a mouth like a wildfire doesn’t have anything to say.

Until he pulls you tighter into his chest and mutters, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You just grin into his skin. “Guess we’ll go down together then.”

Then silence. Not awkward, not tense—just full of warmth. Full of everything. His arms around you. Your fingers laced with his.

You don’t say it. Not yet. But maybe one day soon.

For now, the way he holds you like you’re something to be cherished?

It’s more than enough.

author's note. finally have time to post consistently! last month or two were BUSY so couldn't do much </3 i'm proud of how this one turned out ^^ also, shoko is such a baddie i love her

please do not steal, modify, or translate my work.

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[xoxojisu]

DISTANT!

synopsis: you don't know when it started or why, but katsuki is distant, and your relationship is growing cold.

notes: hurt and comfort im not a monster. ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP ?!?! IN A JISU FIC ?!?!?! crazy. "jisu youve written a million bajillion things that are the EXACT same." god forbid a girl has a preference?? n e wayss why is he distant? why didn't y/n communicate? "i never would've-" well that sucks it's my fic. #mywayorthehighway

it starts small.

a slower reply here, a stiff shoulder there. your arms around his waist met with silence instead of that soft, familiar sigh.

you tell yourself he's just tired. exams, training, pressure and stress. but weeks pass and it only gets worse. you start to count the number of times he’s pulled away when you reached for him. it’s higher than you want to admit.

he used to let you curl into him after a long day, used to press absent kisses to your hair, fingers tracing lazy shapes on your back. now? he shuts his door early, says “go get some rest” like you’re a guest instead of the person who used to fall asleep in his arms every night.

and he still says “love you” sometimes, at the end of a conversation. but it’s distant. flat. it feels like it's just a habit.

your heart feels like it's holding its breath.

you sit in your room one night, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, phone clutched in your lap as you stare at a half-typed message you can’t bring yourself to send. your chest aches, deep and quiet and constant. you can’t remember the last time he looked at you the way he used to. like he was so lucky to have you. like he couldn’t believe you were real. like you were precious. like he loved you.

so when you knock on his door, when you ask if he has a second, when you step inside and he doesn’t even glance up from his desk, it all hits you all at once.

you don’t even know when it started.

but it mightve been that day, when you reached for katsuki and he didn’t reach back.

little by little, the things that used to come so naturally between you like soft touches, sleepy cuddles, forehead kisses, and lingering glances started slipping away.

and you feel it.

god, you feel it in your bones.

you try not to ask too much. you try to be patient. you tell yourself it’s just a phase, that he’ll come back to you soon, that this quiet doesn’t mean anything.

but it gets harder, especially on nights like this. curled up in your own bed, shivering even though you're under the covers, trying to remember what it felt like to be wanted without question. to be held like you were something precious.

your phone lights up with a message.

kats <3: night.

that’s it. no heart. no nickname. no goodnight kiss over the phone like he used to send when you weren’t together. no "where are you?" or "come to my dorm."

you stare at it until the screen goes dark again.

he's literally just in his dorm. he's not away on a mission or an internship. you could walk to him in just a couple minutes.

so why does he feel so far?

you still sleep in his hoodie. it doesn’t smell like him anymore. you wrap your arms around your own waist and pretend it’s his. it’s not the same.

you try to joke about it, once. say something like, “hey, don’t forget you have a girlfriend, y’know,” with a soft laugh to hide the bruise in your chest.

he just blinks, shrugs, mutters, “don’t be dramatic,” without looking up from his phone.

and you wanted to say,

i’m not. i just miss you. i miss the way you used to love me.

but you swallowed it down. again.

because you’re tired of sounding needy. tired of trying to ask for something he doesn't want to give.

tired of being touch-starved and desperate and so, so lonely in a relationship that used to feel so full.

you lie awake long after midnight. staring at the ceiling. not crying, not really, but your throat’s tight, and your chest won’t loosen. you miss him more than you know how to say.

when did you start sleeping in your own dorms again? when did you stop falling asleep to the lull of his heartbeat?

you just want him to hold you.

you just want to be held.

-

he doesn’t mean to do it.

not really. it just sort of… happens.

your face looks tired when he opens his dorm door and sees you there. hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, your body curled in on itself like you’re bracing for something.

and something about that.. about the way you’re shrinking, holding back like he might tell you to leave, makes his chest twist hard.

so before either of you can say a word, he just pulls you in.

arms around your waist, one hand sliding up your back to curl around your neck, pressing your face into his chest like it’s instinct. like he’s been starving for it. like he missed you.

and you go soft in his arms immediately. melt. cling. fists clutching at the back of his hoodie like if you let go, he’ll disappear again.

but then your shoulders start to tremble.

and he hears it. a tiny sound, barely there, the kind of thing that splits a heart open if you're paying attention.

“are you..” he leans back to look at you, palms cupping your face, and you’re crying.

not loud. not messy. just tears spilling down your cheeks like they’ve been waiting. like they’ve had to wait.

“baby..” he breathes, stunned. “what.. why are you crying?”

you shake your head, lip trembling. “i dunno,” you whisper, voice tight, eyes darting away. “i just… it felt nice. being held. i missed it. and you.”

and katsuki’s heart breaks.

because fuck. fuck, the bar shouldn’t be this low.

you shouldn’t be crying because you’re finally being touched gently again. you shouldn’t look surprised to be wanted.

and it hits him all at once:

how cold he’s been. how much he shut you out. how many nights you went to sleep wondering if he even cared.

“…shit,” he mutters, pulling you in tighter. his voice is thick, shaky at the edges. “i’m sorry. i didn’t.. i didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

you bury your face in his neck. “i love you so much,” you whisper, like it’s a secret. “and i think.. i dunno.. i know it's stupid, but i started thinking that maybe you didn’t love me back.”

his throat tightens. he breathes in deep, kisses the top of your head, holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“you’re it for me,” he murmurs into your hair. “i’m so fucking sorry i made you doubt that.”

and this time, when you cry, he holds you through all of it.

masterlist reblogs + comments super duper appreciated! <3

[skyrim-forever]

Worst Places to Jerk Off in Skyrim

In no particular order, as they are all shit in their own ways :P

Redwater Spring

Unless you are a vampire or werewolf then you are getting all the diseases. And if you are a vampire, don't do that to the food??? Unless, you're into that 😏

2. Altar of Molag Bal

I don't even need to say why, y'all already know. If you are so inclined (I'm not kink shaming I'm kink asking why) go to the one in Castle Volkihar at least. Don't do it in Markarth my guy

3. The Dwemer Lockbox at Septimus Signus's Outpost

Okay, this might just be me but it would be impossible to have a good time inside a giant Dwemer mechanism with Hermaeus Mora lurking around. HOWEVER, I am aware I am posting this on tesblr on monsterfucker.com so if you are an enjoyer of tentacles than this may be a top spot. You do you bestie, have fun becoming a Seeker someday <3

4. The Chantry of Auri-El

Gelebor has been through enough

5. Frostfall Lighthouse

You probably don't want to anyways

6. Inside Tel Mithryn with Neloth is there

This also has the caveat as some of you (including myself to an extent) are into Neloth. That said, I feel like he would absolutely destroy you with insults that even if he didn't ban you you'd never come back

7. The Warren

Wahoooo second Markarth location! Incredibly depressing, would not be a good vibe

8. The Chill

It's fuckin cold my guy

9. Yngvild

Also cold but more importantly, Arondil has major issues. The room of dead women, the contents of his journals NOPE I am kinkshaming him

10. The Butcher's murder room in Hjerim

Let's offer the dead some peace since we cannot bring the killer to justice as the quest is always broken!!!

Feel free to add your own picks, we could also do a list of the best places ;)

[midnite-c6]

knife play with nam-gyu during hide and seek..nghgfn..

no bcuz ure so real. why was he so hot in that. he was singing. talking abt one night stands. he was so horny. he was so yummy. this one no proofread:(.

warnings: 18+, sex, knifeplay (knife would scratch u just a lil’ bit), blood kink, cunnilingus during hide & seek, dubcon, object fucking :3, nam-gyu x fem!reader

人｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ oh no! you were red, and he was blue! you frowned as you looked at him from the other side, the only "ally" you had. once the rules were announced, he'd immediately come to you, with his hands pressed together: "c'mon, can you even kill with that? i know you can't." he says, on his knees, drugged-out of his mind. "please, please, let's switch teams, just let me have it, hm?" his hands were already holding the handle of the sword, like he knows you'd give in immediately. the sharp blade would accidentally scrape his finger and he winces, "fff...m'bleeding." "sorry." you immediately mumbled. seeing the blood drip down to the palm of his already bloodied-up hands from the previous games. "make it feel better—" he catches you off-guard by shoving the bleeding finger past your lips, you choke. "give me the sword, c'mon! don't be difficult, jeez." he stares right into you, into how you were getting used to the metallic taste of his blood.

of course you give in.

"fuck yes! thank you, thank youuuu..." you stare at the big wide grin plastered on his lips, "we're gonna team up, yeah?" a big hand tugging lightly on the key necklace wrapped around your neck, "g'nna find you, and thank you... you for bein' such a good teammate—" when he was overdosing with drugs, he was more vocal. he talked more, but you can't help but shake the fact he's sounding just like thanos right about now. "...thought you were a stupid cunt, in the midst of it all, but you're so smart!"

wow. fuck him.

⊂•✧～⁠｡⁠☆ 🔪

the hide and seek game finally starts, and you're quivering in your boots! where were you gonna hide? you hear "player 124, pass" just a few minutes ago, so you try your best to stay alive, hiding in a small room your key had opened. were you so sure that he'd be finding you? he was overdosed! of course he'd forget you the second you leave his sight.

these thoughts however, leave your mind when you hear his silly voice, humming a famous song about love and whatnot. you also hear echoes of your name being called out, guess he didn't forget about you.

⁠‿⁠•⁠⊂⁠ *⁠.⁠✧

atleast now you know you're safe. well... at the very least, the safest place you could be is right underneath him, legs spread with him in-between, and the sword you offered to give him as he glides the smooth blade against your clothes. "nam-gyu... i... anyone could kill us, kill me...!" he just laughs. "you're not thinkin' right, ah... no-one's gonna kill you, m'right here." he says as to assure you, "and i won't kill you, because i've already passed right? and this is just a small lil’ thank you gesture." you nod, just staring at him with all the utmost trust you could give. afterall, he's the one holding the knife.

his shakings hands (not from fear but from the pills) that's holding the sword, slowly rips the hem of your shirt. "nam-gyu! they're not gonna give me new clothes—!" he quickly points the knife to your face, and you freeze. "shhhh. don't worry, all you do is worry!" the cold blade would press slightly against your lips. "this isn't about you, can't you understand that? we're gonna do what i want." he brings the sword back to your shirt, slowly ripping the fabric in half to see your bra underneath, "i-i don't want other people to see me naked," you frowned, "fuck, you keep complaining, i'm just getting to the good part." he groans in annoyance, his clouded eyes glaring at you with disgust, while you stare back like you were begging for mercy.

he'd rip your bra too. his mouth would immediately latch onto one of your nipples, whilst the other sensitive bud feeling the cold, metal knife. "fuck. i miss this... you're so cute ’n weak." he'd bite at the hardened bud, eyes staring at you. "you know you want this too? even how everyone's dyin', you want to get fucked. by me. of all people." he'd lick a long stripe against your cleavage. "m'so glad that jerk thanos is dead, for sure he'd fuck you too. and you'd gladly take it."

"guess that's just how sluts think. ’ts okay, thanos told me alot ’bout girls like you." "m'not a slut..." he'd snicker to himself, the way you were trying to defend yourself despite the situation was quite ironic. "you act like one," the sword would move on to rip the fabric in-between your thighs. his eyes would light up, seeing the pool of pure wetness and arousal at the center of your underwear... so delicious. so easy to eat it all up. "you're wet like how a slut would be in this situation, y'know that?" he'd grin wide. knowing full well he's right.

the knife would drag to rip your panties, he wasn't gentle with it, "careful!" he was careful enough not to accidentally cut off your clit or something, but he couldn't care less either way. "awww. but it's just missin' something." the blade would slice through the supple flesh of your inner thighs. just a small slice. just enough for blood to drip down. it didn't hurt much, but you'd still wince. "oopsies." he smiled, "what- what for! s-stop! you hurt me!" he'd point the knife again to your neck, just to stop you from always complaining. "can't you take it like a slut too?" his head would dive in-between your legs, his tongue darting down at the slice he'd give, further smearing it on your thighs. your hands would instinctively tug on his hair. "nam-gyu! we can't do this!"

"don't tell me what to do, we do what i want. i'm the one holdin' the knifeeee..." he speaks like he's drunk. his tongue would move to your folds, then to your clit, but not too long, he doesn't want you to be too pleased by him. just enough to hear you squirm. "nam-gyu!" he'd play with you. smearing your own juices and own blood together, tasting absolute perfection for a pyschopath like him. and it feels good for you, him making you feel better because he hurt you. that's what you like to think. that he's still thinking of your pleasure. "y'wanna be fucked? tell me," you nod your head, the knife pointed at you would touch your neck, "yea-yea! wanna be fuck... fucked." "wow. didn't even put up a fight, you're sososo silly.."

he'd move the knife to the apex of your thighs. turning the handle to kiss your clit. "wanna fuck this?" you don't answer. "wanna fuck this little thing that's killed someone? you're so filthy." you whimper, but you couldn't reject him eitherway ! "take it. i know you follow orders, s'good.." he'd push the handle past your clenching hole, and you'd whine. the handle stretched you just right, but the plastic was an unfamiliar feeling. "nn.. nam-gyu.." he ducks to give some attention to your clit, maybe he's got some pity left in him. he'd make out with the glistening bundle of muscles, throbbing at his disposal. twitching at how he was making it so sensitive.

you think, over and over, when will this hide and seek game end? you shouldn't be into this. yet you are. "y'better cum or you won't win the gameee. everyone's playing hide and seek. you were playing a different and more fucked-up game.

yayyy i posted :3 not my blog popping off again once squid games 3 released

[monstersflashlight]

How do different monster boyfriend react to reader putting sex ban for a month cause they made us extremely angry.

Werewolf!boyfriend would be so whiny. He would totally be begging after you all day long. Maybe not for the first couple of days, he'd be cool and thinking you'd break and end up impaled on his knot. But after the third day without any action he'd get desperate, trying to hump you any chance he gets. And then he'd start to beg until you think he's so pathetic you end up jerking him off until he makes a mess. Such a good boy for you when he wants to be.

Dragon!boyfriend would be annoyed. He would be all "I don't care", and would fly away and don't come back for at leas a whole day. That would only make you madder, because on top of being angry you are worried for him. But when he comes back, it is with so many presents you don't know how to react. If you are mad at him, he can make it up to you, he can give you anything, he would surrender his whole fortune if that means you not being mad. Once you tell him it's okay, he would hold you down and rut into you until you don't know any other words that's not his name.

Vampire!boyfriend would be super salty. He would give you the cold shoulder and act as if he doesn't care about it. As if he doesn't care about you. But the second you hug him to go to sleep, he would be feeling more and more guilty. He would totally wake you up with some aphrodisiac venom in your clit to eat you out until you pass out. (You would def forgive him after that, and ask him to do it again.)

Orc!boyfriend and Minotaur!boyfriend would be extremely mad right back. You know how they get when they can't rut you for a day, what do you expect if you don't fuck them for more than that? So they wait patiently until you've done with your "tantrum" (that's part of why you are mad) and then they'd press you down, legs over their shoulders and fucking you into submission. You can be mad at them if you want to, but you wouldn't take their hole away from them. By the time they are done you don't even remember why you were mad in the first place.

Let me know if you want to know the reaction to other monsters! Also reminder that you can send requests like this one and I'll do some headcanons <3