#now time to sleep and also rest my hands

[the-insomniac-emporium]

SWORDTEMBER '24, DAY 2: SAKURA

Oops it's late. But hey, introducing a format that most if not all of my written entries will use from here on out, as well as a new OC: Cynthia Delabaunte. Parts of her story will be told within the little writing snippets under the cut for these entries :3 Might also expand on her story separately, too, once I can type properly again. -----

Item ID: EO-2402 Item Name: Decorative Blade Category: B-2 Origin Point: Telloran, Katal Owner: Cynthia Delabaunte (C), Naomi Tellorvoso (O) Description: A sword of traditional make and design, in accordance with a specific sect of Earthen history (see files JN-001 through JN-387 for additional context). Likely made from steel. No testing has been done for confirmation. The closest accurate designation that can be given is a katana, but it must be noted that modern examples have strayed from traditional standards. Flowers from a cherry blossom tree (see file EO-2002) are engraved along one side of the blade, the wood of the handle is from the same species, and the cloth bindings appear to be dyed in order to match the color of the flower petals. In need of sharpening, but still dangerous in the right hands. Cataloger’s Notes: If this hadn’t been officially logged within the mailing system already, I wouldn’t bother recording it at all. At least this way there’s less of a chance Naomi will get in trouble (doubt the boss will care that she didn’t know she’s not allowed to send this kind of thing to my office). Hopefully I can get it moved to my apartment without too much fuss… if not, well, guess I’ll just have to find a way to re-categorize this, too.

----- From a technical perspective, a very legal and according to employee file kind of way, Cynthia Delabaunte is nothing more than a cataloger for the Federal Port Authority of the planet Katal. Just one of many working endlessly to inspect, categorize, and manage the influx of items confiscated by inspectors. In practice, she has to be many other things: A historian, a diplomat, an archivist, an antiquarian, and more.

Today, she is trying her hand at being an arborist. For the first time in her decade of experience, the FPA has confiscated an entire goddamn tree.

It waits, stationary, in the loading bay, towering over the rest of the packages. Mocking her, just barely in view from her office window. Slowly, slowly dying. All because someone in the capitol procrastinated on paperwork, It was supposed to be allowed to pass through without any issue, with approval months in advance, bypassing the strict laws regarding potentially invasive species.

By the looks of it, the cherry blossom tree stands little chance of outliving the tiresome games of bureaucracy. Assuming Cynthia doesn’t find a way to speed along the process, at least. She is trying, bless her heart, but one can only call in so many favors before an effort begins to feel futile. Evidently, she needs to change tactics. A loophole, maybe? If she can change the tree’s legal classification… make it count as less than it is (the same way she only counts as a cataloger), then perhaps she can force the FPA to release it.

The only question is where to start- but that gets answered for her soon enough, a message request popping up on her computer. From none other than the tree’s rightful owner, the head of one of Katal’s most important families, Naomi Tellorvoso. Despite having no shortage of experience dealing with important people, Cynthia still feels her heart race at the prospect of talking to the woman.

Thankfully, the message request is for text only. That, she feels, is far less intimidating. Especially once the texts start flying back and forth, Naomi’s frustrations unleashed in a flurry of accusations that came to a screeching, apologetic halt the very moment she realized Cynthia wasn’t responsible for the tree being impounded.Still, the would-be arborist proceeds with caution, refusing to make any direct promises this early into their conversation. Instead, she probes for any information that might be twisted to their benefit.

Naomi’s tone, even though text, softens as soon as she begins sharing the history of the tree. Apparently it is old, having outlived three generations of the Tellorvoso family, genetic modifications making it last far longer than natural members of the species. First planted by Naomi’s great great grandmother, within the garden of their home planet. For decades the tree was the centerpiece of their estate, a shining testament to their heritage (something few humans could trace in this age), with fallen flowers and branches used for traditional crafting.

When the great great grandmother passed, the terms of her will had her buried along the roots of the tree. So too were her children laid to rest in its shade. Now, with Naomi’s mother passing beyond the veil, the Tellorvoso family yearned to have the cherry blossoms bloom closer to home, to have its roots grow strong alongside the rest they have planted. Apparently there had been much praying and deliberating before they agreed to transport the tree from their old homeworld to Katal, wanting to be sure their forefathers would not be frothing with rage in the afterlife.

But all Cynthia needed to know was that someone had been buried beneath the tree. That alone was enough for her to start pulling strings, even as she listened to Naomi continue the tale of her family’s journey across the stars. If you asked either of them, they would not have been able to pinpoint the moment they had switched their conversation to a phone call instead of text. By the time they say their farewells, Cynthia has already managed to re-categorize the sakura tree as a container, the contents being human remains.

Grim? Perhaps, but the port authority is less strict about the movement of coffins than about the introduction of potentially invasive species into the ecosystem (even in highly isolated, controlled circumstances).

Within a week the tree is gone, sent out while Cynthia was at home, and she almost misses the vibrant pink taking up her office view. Almost. Another month passes before she hears anything more from the Tellorvoso family, coming in one day to find a large package resting atop her desk. Clearly marked for her, from Naomi, having already gone through the office’s mailing system. The attached card features a photo of the tree in its new resting place, now looking more lively than it had when it left the office.

But it’s the contents of the box that has Cynthia scrambling to message Naomi, trying to make sense of the absolutely beautiful sword (left unsharpened, yet no less intimidating) that absolutely should not have been sent to her work. Flower petals line the box, helping obscure the weapon, and as she cannot help but admire the craftsmanship while she waits for Naomi to pick up. Nestled among the packing are several bags of tea, as well as a few wrapped candies. Clearly the intent is rather friendly.

Maybe, ah, friendly, based on the way Naomi answers the phone, a little breathy and far less confident than the first time they spoke. She apologizes for breaking the rules, hastily, and rushes right into an offer to properly thank Cynthia for her efforts. Drinks, or dinner, or teaching her how to wield a sword. If that’s what she wants. And by the Ancients, it is what she wants.

[dailyhtfboards]

Day 108

Today’s board is:

Ptooey!!

(From TV episode 11A Wingin It)

[helielune]

and stalling only goes so far when you've got a head start

[lieutenantselnia]

I'm currently unsure whether I should be happy or stressed about the fact that there are only like 5 more weeks until the end of the semester - on one hand the summer holidays can't arrive fast enough so I can rest and have free time again but on the other hand there's still so much to finish within that time frame and ugh I'm just tired😵‍💫

At least today (or more like yesterday by the time I post this) I had a fun day, I went to a wildlife park with friends (a trip we've had planned since a couple weeks already), I'm sure I haven't been to the place in like a decade but it was really fun! I didn't think to take a lot of pictures of the animals, but here's a plush trout I got at the souvenir shop🐟

[moe-broey]

Why did I start like three other projects when I was already working on a big project when I just got hit with the autism exhaustion beam (requires. At least One Full Day just dead in bed, and then some more Taking It Easy time after)

[orcelito]

Despite all odds, I have arrived home safely👍

Turns out that the earlier goop was the better goop. The adderall goop. The adderall has worn off now though. So I am. Very incredibly out of it.

But I am home. And I will take my quick shower. And then I will climb into bed.

I do need to eat. But... later...

[frogeyedape]

Roxie purring :)

[manicpixiefelix]

Took a nap in the middle of the day and had the most bizarre series of dreams, some were in fact nightmares, HOWEVER Ollie and Felix were in the last one??? Felix Catton continues to be the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my conscious or unconscious life???? All I got was one of the best and most real feeling kisses I've ever had in a dream, and I'm so mad I woke up. :(

cannot escape Saltburn or the Felix/Reader/Oliver fantasies even while asleep it seems...

(my tags are for posterity lol sorry but if you wanna read the full dream go right ahead. I reached the tag limit but all that was left was essentially the main text of this post lol)

[blackwaxidol]

The reblog to original post ratio, oh the feng shui of my blog is truly fucked...

[glitterrosesnzz]

sort of mentally checked out right now,, woke up yesterday feeling physically weak/shaky the way i've sometimes felt when sick. no other real symptoms other than loss of appetite, and the weakness/shakiness occasionally goes away, but it has me freaked out that i don't really know the cause of it

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[white-poppie]

Status upgrade ?! ⎯ ft. jjk men

feat ⎯ satoru, kento, suguru, sukuna 'n toji

synopsis ⎯ you accidentally refer to your boyfriend as 'husband' !

a/n ⎯ I was giggling the entire time writing this, also sukuna is not the king of curses here because I said so.

✶ ࣪˖ GOJO SATORU

You can't seem to be able to catch your breath with him, not enough air fills in your lungs as you stare at him with clenched fists and a taut jaw.

"What part of 'I didn't want you to take on that mission' did you not understand 'Toru?" you say, exasperated, your voice cracking in sheer frustration after having gone back and forth the same topic infinite times, all ending with 'you know I have to, it's not like I want to,' or something like that.

But you are tired, you really are, the kettle whistling cacophonically when the two of you finally found time for an intimate little movie night, interrupted by a call on his phone and then him subsequently teleporting away like it was nothing. Like you were a fool, feeling all giddy for just finally being able to spend time and woosh, he's gone.

"I'm sorry baby, you know I have no choice, there are people who depend on me." His pretty face crumpled in guilt and annoyance all the same. And every time he says this, it's like his way of shutting you off, because how do you even respond to people's lives being dependent on him?

Its too much, it really is too much sometimes. Somehow, all of these discussions end with you feeling like the douche.

"I hate when you do this," you choke, "I can't even have a little time with my husband now." It leaves and you don't even register it, but Satoru does.

He takes in a deep breath, his own throat in brambles while his heart stutters. A little slip off the tongue and it hits him harder than ever.

"Your husband?" he says, trying so desperately to not let his muscles twitch into a wide grin, but he can't help it. And so against the situation, his eyebrows soften down and little smile appears on his face.

There is a tender feeling in his chest that seizes his entire being, somehow, that one word makes all of it feel so tangible. Your concern, endearing then, seems heartfelt now. A sudden strike of accountability that perhaps stems from the little future he imagines within that few-second interval when you call him your 'husband.'

"Whatever," you bristle, annoyed, embarrassed at the slip of the tongue, turning around to walk away from him, before two muscular arms find their way on your waist and you freeze. His weight against your back, nose nuzzling into your shoulder, tufts of white hair tickling against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your shoulder flesh, hot breathing fanning against the skin. His arms tighten around your waist as though holding your back from moving, to keep you planted as you are, in his arms, forever. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll say no, I promise I'll try to reject the missions I can." He whispers out, planting kisses against the expanse of your neck causing you to shiver against his broad frame.

You sigh deeply, hand coming to caress his face. "Okay," you breathe out.

"And as your husband — I should really stick to you like glue, yeah? More so if I wanna make it into reality," His large hand sprawls on your tummy and you can hear that damn smirk on his face.

Your cheeks turn red and you try desperately to backtrack, "It just slipped out of my mouth—"

"Yeah, yeah, as I was saying, do you prefer a pear-cut or a marquise-cut diamond?"

God he is so obnoxious.

✶ ࣪˖ NANAMI KENTO

You're sleepy, so damn sleepy that you could just fall into sleep the instant you find a surface to lay on.

"You look exhausted," Kento comments, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looks at your weary form. You peer to look at him through the mirror on your vanity. He looks like a dream. His reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a classic novella in his hands as he leans against the bedrest.

"Come here, love," he pats the space on the mattress, right beside him and you feet move before you can think, climbing onto the bed, you bury yourself against his side, curling in.

A soft smile graces his lips as he pulls you closer against his side with his free arm, his fingers carding through your hair.

"Tough day?"

"Mmh, it was so tiring," he nods at your reply, taking in a deep breath.

"Yeah? Tell me about it."

"Well for starters, I worked like a dog and then stayed for overtime, my favourite lipgloss finished and when I wanted to treat myself nice; they put too much sugar in my drink." You huff.

"Oh that sounds tiring," he murmurs, "why don't you get some sleep, hm? We can plan a little get-away this weekend." he whispered out, leaning over to keep his book and switch off the lights so they don't burn as sharply against your sleepy eyes.

When he settles back, he's met with a tender quirk of your lips, "You're amazing, Kento," you murmur, letting yourself be shifted carefully against him as he lays down from where he was sitting.

A deep, dulcet chuckle leaves him at that, "Really, what did I do?"

"Nothing, you just are perfect, the perfect husband a girl could ask for," it leaves your sleep-addled mouth before you can even comprehend it, and Kento freezes for just a second, his hand that was brushing your hair pauses in its tracks. On any random day he would have been flattered beyond words, but right now he is flattered and dumbfounded.

"Your husband?" he replies, trying his absolute best not to laugh and wake you up.

You blink, slowly as the realisation sets in and bury yourself against his chest in embarrassment. "Kentoooo" you groan out.

Nanami chuckles and shakes his at your embarrassed antics, utterly endeared, and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Why are you embarrassed, love? Its good you are already getting a habit of it, because it's not that distant of a future."

✶ ࣪˖ SUGURU GETO

The girls started calling you 'mom.' It happened slowly, gradually as you eased your way through the household.

Suguru was still 'Mister-Geto', but you were mom. That was enough for him, that meant everything, to watch the girls find solace in your presence.

A Sunday outing, one of the few rare days Suguru got free time from his cult and the way he spends it is to spend time with Nanako, Mimiko and you. You're seated at the girl's favourite restaurant, the girls on one side and the two of you on the other.

"I'll have a burger," Mimiko chimes "and fries."

"Why are you copying me? I said burger in the car first," Nanako looks at her with a sort of distressed expression.

"No but I thought of it before you said it."

"And I-I thought of it, yesterday."

And apparently they thought of the burger and fries the day before and the day before that, and the day before the day before...

"Girls, calm down," Suguru sighs with a soft chuckle, placing the menu down. "You can both get burger and fries."

"But do you really want to get the same thing everytime, there are other options on the menu too," you suggest, hoping to calm the tension down. "Like Chicken nuggets."

"I'll get Chicken nuggies." Nanako quickly suggests, earning a very obvious side eye from her twin. Suguru sighed, calling for the waiter at that.

"Uhmm, one chicken nuggets meal, a burger with fries and I'll have Aglio Olio and so will my husband." You mutter and the waiter nods, taking your order, and you are met with three curious, wide-eyed people back on your table. Suguru, Nanako, Mimiko; everyone's gaze stuck at you, making you very obviously aware of your blunder.

And for a second you wish you could melt into the seats.

"Are you married to already Mr Geto, mom?" Mimiko speaks out, slightly surprised and you can't help but groan in embarrassment at the innocent curiousity on her face.

"Not yet," Suguru breaks through the awkwardness, answering for you. His soft eyes reaching over to look at you, his fingers intertwining with yours under the table.

And you notice him share a glance with girls, as though a secretive pact you don't quite understand but they do.

"So we still need the rin⎯" Nanako tries to utter, to which Mimiko quickly places her hand on her mouth...yeah its going to be one interesting day.

✶ ࣪˖ SUKUNA

Sukuna has a staring problem and everyone notices it, including your coworkers at your 'stupid work-party' as Sukuna likes to call it. And he draws eyes, everywhere. Its hard to not notiuce him when he's towering everyone, standing in a corner all broody. He's eyeing everyone in the room, staring down at everyone who talks to you. If he were a dog, his damn ears would stiffen if he say anyone walking close to you.

"'Kuna, you are making people scared," you sigh at your boyfriend who's form fills the two piece suit like a damn glove, frankly you want to peel it off him, but that's a conversation for another time.

"Good," he mutter, sipping at the rum in in his glass, his hand slowly caressing the small of your back through your dress, his warmth anchoring you through the flurry of loud interactions.

"Is that woman who keeps bitching about her cheating husband instead of leaving him?" He mutters, languidly pointing of of the fingers of the hand that is holding his glass, a little too loud in your opinion.

"Sukuna!" you hiss to him, a warning, but he just shrugs and smirks, taking yet another sip.

"What, I'm just confirming all you 'tea' is about the right person."

You sigh, internally regretting bringing him as your plus one. your eyes land to your manager walking upto you and you immediately straighten up, putting on the corporate smile.

He walks up, raising an eyebrow towards Sukuna, before he looks expectantly at you for the introductions.

"Sukuna, this my manager, Mr Lim and Mr Lim, this is my husband, Sukuna." You introduce, and notice a bit too late Sukuna's grip around your waist tightens and you look upto with a nervous expression, realising how awkward it would be if he corrects you.

Instead, Sukuna smiles, extending his hand for a handshake "A pleasure."

Soon your manager leaves upon being called and youi feel Sukuna's warm breath on your ear, "Didn't know you were going around introducing me as your husband to people." He whispers.

"I-"

"No need, I like it, wife."

✶ ࣪˖ TOJI

Its three in the damn morning when Toji wakes upto the sound of vegetable chopping.He can't help but groan at the absence of your warmth on your side of the bed, reaching over to sling an arm, but he's met with the cold sheets instead of your sleeping form.

He decides against falling asleep again like an asshole and instead begrudgingly pads to the kitchen, barefoot, scratching his head. "Babe its four in the morning, why are chopping vegetables at this time?" he sighs with a yawn, his voice all sleep-addled and deep. Toji walks upto behind you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around your form.

"I was hungry, 'Ji," you murmur. "And craving ramen." You add before he could protest with, 'why didn't you just eat cup noodles?'

"You and your damn cravings," he snorts, watching you stir the mix before he peels himself off you and gets cup noodles.

You look up at him wuth a raised eyebrow, questioningly, wasn't he criticising your random cavings just a minute ago?

"What? Seeing you eat is making me hungry too," he grumbles, boiling water beside you.

"This is nice," you comment with a fond smile, stirring at the makeshift recipe of instant noodles and veggies.

"What is?"

"Just this, cooking together...well not really cooking, but sort of spending time together like this with my husband⎯" You say without paying much attention and do a double take, slowly you turm your head towards Toji to see his reaction and to your surprise he smiles, a soft smile on his face as he watches the water boil.

"Yeah, I like it," he replies, his tone betraying a hint of fondness. "Maybe even as a forever sort of a thing."

Masterlist ⎯ 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

⟢ Get added to: Permanent Taglist 

[nezuscribe]

being gojo’s fake girlfriend means that you have to bottle up your real feelings just so he can express his. but it also means that for the first time, he sees you in a different way too.

maybe it’s the time spent together in front of people acting like you’re a real couple, maybe it’s the closeness that you never had before, but gojo starts seeking out your touch, your laugh, your voice, your presence more than he thought he would. it’s weird, it’s addictive.

so sue him if he sometimes takes advantage of it.

“g’off me!” you yell, muffled by the large body slumped on top of you. there’s no bite, maybe even a little laughter as he stays still, arms caging you into the couch.

you were over at his apartment for the night, not feeling like driving back to your house after classes, and seeing how gojo lives so close to campus you decided to crash at his place.

but now, after dinner and a movie, he doesn’t seem like he’s ready for bed. he doesn’t seem like he wants you to get ready for bed either.

“no,” he says into the crook of your neck, his lips pulling into a smile as you helplessly try to shove him off. those countless nights at the gym are really showing up and now and you wonder what he looks like under all those baggy clothes.

“need to pee!” you shout pathetically, giggling a little bit as his fingers pinch at your sides. he shakes his head, however, at your request, and instead moves his arms to wrap even tighter around your waist.

you feel a warmth creep up your neck and to your cheeks, stilling for a second as you feel his breath on your skin, his lips against your neck. it’s all so close, so intimate that you feel your heart rattle around your chest.

your hands push at his shoulders, squished between your two bodies as you flail around helplessly.

“i can’t feel my lungs,” you say, kicking your legs up a bit, and he chuckles, pushing himself up just a bit so he could look at you better.

“you’re still alive though, yeah?” his voice is teasing, a litttle groggy from a long day and you roll your eyes.

in moments like this you forget the whole stupid fake dating scheme. you forget about suki and geto and about your stupid feelings. it’s all as if nothing changed, as if the two of you were still as close as you were when you were still just friends.

“i need to pee, i need to take my makeup off, i-” you ramble, going down the laundry list of things you needed to do before sleep got a hold of you.

gojo stares, perplexed at your running list, and his eyes flash a bright blue, lips pulling into a mischievous smile as he shushes you.

“i can help with your makeup,” he announces, dropping his head back down closer, moving at the speed of light as he brings his face close to yours, his tongue running a long strip from your chin to your cheekbones.

you freeze, shock in your eyes as you look at him. there’s another moment of silence before you screech, mustering up enough strength that you were lacking before to shove him off of you. he tumbles off the couch and to the ground, his hand splayed across his chest as he laughs, something hearty and warm as you scramble to wipe him off.

“you’re so weird!” you scream, your nose scrunching up in annoyance and disgust as yuh run to the kitchen sink, wetting a paper towel as you try to scrub him away from you.

you can still hear his laughter when you walk back, throwing the wet towel on his face. you feel a little satisfaction as he sputters, scrambling to take it off.

“bet your loverboy suguru wouldn’t do that for you,” gojo quips, throwing the towel on the coffee table as he sits up, resting his weight on his elbows as you sit on the other end of the couch.

you scoff, kissing the back of your teeth. you don’t know hat your more ticked about; the fact that he still thinks you’re in love with suguru or the fact that he seems a little annoyed to admit it.

“nobody would do what you did ‘toru,” you mutter in annoyance. still, his nickname rolls off of your tongue, and his grins widens a little bit.

he schooches a little close to you, so that he’s near where you feet hang off the couch and mindlessly fiddles with the hem of your socks.

“you’re so touchy tonight,” you observe, squinting your eyes, “everything good?”

gojo looks up at you, confusion in his eyes. he looks back down to where his hand was, as if he hadn’t noticed what he was doing. he shrugs, trying to act indifferent when he answers.

“just felt like it,” he looks at you, “is that so wrong?”

you try to act indifferent to, not wanting him to know just how much this is affecting you, these little touches and moments.

“not wrong,” you say after a beat, “just…new.”

gojo nods, pursing his lips together as he thinks.

“good new?” he finally asks, and you can’t help the little smile that makes its way onto your face. damn gojo and his antics.

“sure,” you reply, “good new,”

[rissouu]

the strong scent of vanilla hit his nostrils as he gripped the sides of your waist. his face was nuzzled into your neck, while his hands focused on caging you down onto him. sleep was never easy for gojo, he always had something on his mind. and even when he didn’t it still wasn’t possible for him to get any rest. how could he sleep when he had such a beautiful wife to gaze at?

he was fascinated with every little thing about you. the way your bottom lip curled into a pout when you slept, or how your eyebrows would furrow up as if you were mad.

gojo could go on and on about the smallest of details when it came to you. you were his everything. and also the reason he could never get any sleep, he was too busy being allured by your beauty.

“my beautiful..” he trailed off, leaving soft kisses on your neck, so soft because he didn’t want to wake his gorgeous goddess. “beautiful wife..” now his hands were in your hair, gently soothing your scalp.

the biting didn’t start until he got bored of playing in your hair. gojo’s teeth grazed your neck ever so lightly before slowly sinking in, not enough to hurt you but enough for you to feel it, causing you to stir in your sleep.

his lips sucked at the bite mark offering the irritated skin a sense of relief. the hand that was on your waist, binding you to him was now inside of your shirt, soothing the skin of your back as if you were a baby. his baby.

“i love you s’much my princess, you’re never leaving me okay? our souls are tied for life,” he spoke so softly as he left one last bite, but this time it was to your cheek. and even though you were asleep.. your body seemed to somehow answer for you.

your hand lightly slapped against his cheek, fingers hitting the lids of his eyes. gojo couldn’t stop the low chuckle bubbling from his throat as he gave your sleeping form one last smile before replying.

“im glad ya’ understand mama.”

©rissouu 2024 (im not crying u are).

[greengoblinswifey]

Beneath Chaos—Hwang In ho/Player 001 x Fem!Reader

summary— amid the deadly Squid Game, you form a forbidden bond with Young-il, a married man. one night after lights out, seeking comfort, you ask him to stay by your side and things escalate.

warnings— no spoilers, age gap(reader is in her 20s, young-il is in his 40s), infidelity, oral(f!receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— for the newbies, y/n in all my stories is black but ofc, everyone can read <3 also this man has so many names, omfg.

Part II

The games had taken their toll on everyone. The latest round had been especially brutal, dead bodies across the arena, screams still ringing in your ears even after hours. Everyone was on edge, fear settling deep into their bones as they huddled in their corners of the dormitory, too paranoid to sleep.

You sat in the dim light, knees drawn up to your chest, trying to quiet your breathing. You glanced over to the group you had managed to stick with, Gi-hun, Jung Bae, Dae-ho, the rest and—Young il.

Your gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. He was older, quiet, and deliberate in his actions, his face lined with age and attractiveness. There was a steadiness to him, even in the chaos of the games, that drew you in despite your better judgment. You knew he had a wife, he had mentioned her being in the hospital when the group shared snippets of their lives. But the magnetic pull you felt toward him was undeniable.

The sleeping quarters was cold, the hum of fear in the air. You hesitated before shifting closer to him. “Young-il,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He turned to you, his expression calm but questioning. “What is it?”

You swallowed hard, feeling foolish for even asking. “Can you—can you stay beside me tonight? I just, um, I don’t feel safe.”

He regarded you for a moment, his dark eyes scanning your face. Then, after a beat of silence, he nodded. “Alright.”

Relief washed over you as he moved closer, sitting beside you on the thin mattress. The proximity made your heart race, but you told yourself it was just the stress of the situation.

Hours passed, and the room slowly quieted as people succumbed to exhaustion. You and Young-Il lay on your sides, facing each other. The dim light cast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the lines etched into his skin.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

You blinked, startled. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the answer to whatever you’re feeling right now,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

You flushed, breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry. I know you’re married. I shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” he said softly, his hand brushing against yours. “Let’s just forget everything for a moment.”

Your breath hitched as he moved closer, his face inches from yours. His lips brushed yours, hesitating at first, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, but the weight of everything unsaid between you made it feel electric.

You pulled back suddenly, guilt flooding you. “I can’t. This isn’t right. You have a wife—”

“Don’t think about that right now,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Just stay with me.”

His lips captured yours again, this time more insistent. The kiss deepened, a hunger building between you as the world outside faded away. His hands roamed down your body and you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth. Your breath came in shallow gasps as he moved lower, his hands gripping your hips firmly. When he reached the waistband of your sweatpants, he paused, looking up at you for permission.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with both desire and restraint.

You nodded, unable to form words, your heart pounding in your chest.

With deliberate care, he tugged down your sweats and underwear, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your thighs as he did. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with awe.

With his eyes locked on yours, his head lowered between your legs. His lips captured your bundle of nerves, sucking softly as a soft gasp left your lips. You pressed them together, not wanting to wake anyone to see what was taking place. His tongue flicked your clit sending more pleasure than you had ever felt throughout your body, making you shiver.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured between your legs.

You nodded frantically, fingers lacing in his silky hair as he continued feasting on your pussy. His tongue glided from your hole back up to your clit then down again. He circled your hole, letting his tongue slip inside as he collected your juices on his tongue. Your free hand clamped over your mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet as he slipped a finger inside your pussy.

Your back arched from the bed as his skilled finger curled and his tongue sucked on your clit with ferocity.

“You’re doing so well, cum for me, cum on my tongue and my fingers,” he whispered.

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket beneath you as he continued, each flick of his tongue and thrust of his finger sending shivers down your spine. His movements became overwhelming and you pressed your lips together tightly as an intense orgasm washed over you making your back arch from the small bed.

“That’s it, good girl, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

In that moment, the fear and chaos of the games melted away, leaving you wanting more. You trembled beneath him, breathless and aching, your skin tingling from the intensity of his tongue. “Young-il,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the dormitory. “I need more. Please.”

He stilled, his dark eyes meeting yours, searching for something. “Are you sure?” he murmured.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as your fingers gripped his shoulders.

His lips curved into a soft smirk, his hands sliding up your sides. “Then beg for it,” he said, his voice low and commanding, with dominance you hadn’t expected.

Your cheeks burned, but the desperation in your chest won out. “Please,” you murmured, your voice soft but trembling with need. “Please, Young-il, I need you. I need you to fuck me.”

“As you wish,” he interrupted. He shifted to sit back on his knees, his hands deftly tugging his sweats and boxers down. He watched your reaction as he freed his hard cock, his gaze heavy.

“Look at you,” he murmured, one hand stroking over your hip as his other lined himself up at your leaking entrance. “So perfect, so beautiful. I don’t deserve this, but, God, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

You gasped as he pressed his cock into you slowly, his whispered praises filling the space between you. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his hand braced beside your head. “You’re doing so well. So tight, so perfect for me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts measured and deliberate. The quiet around you made every sound amplified, the soft rustle of sheets, skin slapping, the hitch in your breath, and his murmured words of adoration. “Cum for me,” he whispered into your ear, his voice cracking with need. “Do it, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You cried out softly, your hands clutching him as you surrendered, your body shuddering against his as your pussy gushed on his raw cock. He held you through it, his touch firm and grounding.

Moments later, he shifted, his body warm and solid beside you. “I’m not done with you,” he murmured, lifting your leg over his hip as he slid into your throbbing cunt.

The angle made you gasp, your hand flying to his arm as he held you close. “You’re f-fucking me so good,” you managed, your voice breathless.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Stay with me. Feel everything, just like this. You’re perfect, you hear me? Perfect.”

Your breaths mingled as he began pounding into you harder and the rhythm grew more intense, both of you trying to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape. His lips pressed against your ear. “Cum with me,” he urged, his voice a broken whisper. “Cum on my cock as I cum inside you, sweetheart.”

You clung to him as your orgasm took ahold of you once more, the world fading away as waves of warmth washed over you. His grip tightened, and his soft groan against your skin coupled with the feeling of his cum filling your pussy were the only confirmation you needed that he’d joined you.

When the high ended, he rolled onto his back, pulling you against his chest. His lips pressed gentle kisses along your hairline, your forehead, your cheeks. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and tender. “You’re going to get out of here. I promise.”

You nestled against him, his arms wrapped securely around you, the fear and chaos of the games momentarily forgotten.

[freakied]

if you asked me what i want most in life i would say world peace, and then if you asked me what i really want most in life i would say fiancé!satoru being so obsessed with your engagement ring that he only wants handjobs for a week!!!!

its the pretty jewels moving up and down on his cock with your hand, of course, its mesmerizing! he's always thought your hands were so pretty, but now that your left one is decorated with a (ridiculously expensive) ring that he had brought, just the sight alone makes his dick jump...

so, once you get home from a late night out together one night, you had put satoru to sleep one time with a handjob. and as he was laying back and watching through his pretty lashes as your ring moved up and down with his building pleasure, he got a taste for your touch in a way he hasn't known before.

he was so obsessed with your ringed fingers wrapped around his cock that he wasn't even embarrassed when he came within minutes.if nothing else, the sight of his sticky cum dripping down over your ring was enough to turn this into a thing.

you don't know whether to be offended or not when the next night, you're kneeling down between his spread legs and itching for a taste of him, when he asks very sweetly if you could use your hand instead.

but you oblige, because he whines even louder now when you're stroking his thick, veiny length. he moans like he's in heat, because it's not only the sight of your ring that gets him going, it's what it represents. that he has access to you like this, to the intimate sides of you that no one else will ever see, for the rest of his life!

he's also the type of man to buy himself a matching engagement ring, so he has his own little decoration to symbolise his commitment to you. and once he learns that he can enjoy your engagement bands in other ways, sex progresses from handjobs to a whole new horizon of pleasure that didn't exist before you got engaged.

like when he has you on your back, legs locked around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere as he pistons into you, he's able to watch his ringed finger wrap around your neck and press down ever so gently. the glint of light that his ring catches when he's playing with your breath makes him twitch inside of you: and the look on your face tells him that you enjoy it just as much as him.

or when you're riding him, setting the pace as his fingers dig into your waist to ground himself. you reach up and troke the side of his face with your left hand, just to push your ring and middle finger into his mouth and press down on his tongue. his lips wrap around the ring on your finger and your poor fiancé can't help but reach orgasm there and then!

even when you're not having sex, it stays a thing. like when he's busy and missing you while he's away for work. and you send him a video that he opens in private to be met with the sight of your ringed-finger pushing deep into your cunt in a desperate attempt to emulate what he feels like inside of you. of course he ends up stroking himself in the nearest toilet or locked room, recording his own ring literally blurring from how fast he's jerking his cock to the thought of you needy and missing your fiancé at home.

everything sexual has to involve your rings, one way or another. he's taking nudes with his hand holding your tits together to show off his ring. he's holding onto your thighs so tight when tasting you that you're left with an indentation of his ring in your skin when he's done.

imagine how bad it gets when you actually get married.

thank u for all the love and welcoming me to tumblr i luv it here awww hopefully this was okay !! if ur reading this you're officially a resident of avivanation and its MY turn to welcome YOU! so welcome ^.^