#102 Fever Thoughts

[swampndn]

I got a pretty gnarly fever right now. The last time I sat up, I got so lightheaded that I had to lean on my bed for support. Such is life, right?

Well, on the rare occasion I am sick is when I really feel the living alone // no partner reality. Like I'd love to not have to struggle to fill a water jug. However, I was laying here, hoping some medicine will work that will let me sleep another 2-3 hours, and I remembered how my abusive ex would never take care of me when I was sick either. Anytime I was sick, he was feeling worse or his depression was way worse than what I was feeling, so he forced me to take care of him, and my sickness was an inconvenience.

Instead of then going through my entire life and trying to find moments where someone (caregiver, partner, anyone, shit) let me be baby without somehow being mad or inconvenienced, my thought was, "Fuck that. I ain't doing that anymore."

So I think the kids call this *growth*

[birdinabowl]

Pink 2.0 ramble mainly because if I don’t write stuff down I’m going to forget it

She was made in a rush, the diamonds were grieving and wanted things back to “normal” as fast as possible. Due to this she wasn’t perfectly made and would’ve been considered an off color.

Said it before but she has permanent doll joint limbs. They look similar in style to Amethysts but they never go away. They also make her as flexible as a doll (meaning she can contort her body a lot more than regular gems).

Once the diamonds noticed that her gems were like that she was poofed, forced to reform with an outfit that could cover all her joints.

The color of her form itself was also slightly off. She had facial markings as well as markings on her body (primarily on her arms/back).

She was made to resemble a court jester. The diamonds basically wanted to try to bring back the playful side of Pink and so they tried to bring it in Pink 2.0. This reflects in her outfit which is very jester based (she gets a dumb little hat because of it). This doesn’t really reflect in her personality after the first hundred or so years due to how the diamonds had treated her.

The diamonds wanted Pink 2.0 to resemble Pink but they also didn’t want her to repeat past mistakes. This involved being a lot more strict, locking Pink 2.0 in the tower for even minor offenses and making her stay there longer and longer. She was also constantly compared to the old Pink, never hearing the end of things like “oh the real Pink would never do that”.

Safe to say Pink 2.0 resentment towards the original Pink would grow, the resentment came from the fact she couldn’t be her own gem, she had to live up and be the original Pink. However despite how the diamonds treated Pink 2.0 she would do anything for a hint of validation from them.

This is what pushed her to insisting she could lead the mission to Earth (same mission Jasper and Peridot were on). The diamonds let her, after all it was a simple mission to check on the cluster, how could anything bad happen?

I’ll talk more about what happened on Earth in a separate post

[smol-blue-bird]

folks, I think I might have Lyme disease

[syxnewt]

my parents want my little brother, who has had a fever no lower than 100 F for the past 2-3 days, to go to school tomorrow

[mysticalspiders]

i think the most ironic roman empire is actually greek myth because that was the roman's empire's actual roman empire

[fir3lit3]

merry almost christmas

maybe no art im sick again

[calico-kiwi]

someone save me (i am sick)

[nesquikflavoredchapstick]

So. Abo worldbuilding. I’m just saying i think it would be weird for regular old bed frame + box + mattress beds to be super common. If you’re going the whole ‘omega make nest out of pillow and dirty clothes owo’ route can you imagine how fucking annoying it would be to have to constantly pick up shit bc it fell on the floor? Especially if the whole point is that you’re getting rowdy up in there? Not to mention if your bed/nest combo is high enough or you’re short enough how much of a fucking pain that has to be to get in and out ESPECIALLY if like you’re physically struggling/weakened bc youre in heat or whatever? I think beds would be on/in (conversation pit cutout style)/very close to the ground, very cushy, and potentially have something that could go over/around them to protect from nonexistent but potential attacks (since part of the abo appeal is primal and whatnot) and hold in the scents. I think having some kind of shelves or drawers be part of the setup would be cool but more of a ‘oh you have a nice bed’ set up so you could put waters and snacks and towels and toys there for ease of access, super duper fancy ones have a mini beverage fridge. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[hyah-lian]

🙃

Welp yall might get notif spam from me tonight

[ann1eee]

How you take care of sick Gojo

Gojo Satoru is your best friend. You both do pretty much everything together. You eat lunch, breakfast and dinner together, discover new places together, go out together, attend your classes together; you both even decided to live together in the second year of university, because you decided it was more fun.

A few days back, Satoru felt just a little too warm. He whined and whined until you finally stuck a thermometer into his mouth with a sigh. You pulled it out as it beeped, and raised your eyebrows in concern at the temperature.

“How much is it?” Satoru asks, noting your expression.

“102. You definitely have a fever.”

Satoru dramatically gasped and let himself fall back onto the pillow. You took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to find some medicine to lower his temperature.

You filled a glass of water and placed it in the microwave. You could hear Satoru tossing and turning in his bed, and quickly gathered the medicine to bring to him.

He protested for a good ten minutes when you handed him the medicine, but eventually gave in once he noticed the concerned look on your face.

You patted his back as he swallowed the medicine, and helped him lay back down. You told him to go to sleep while you went into the kitchen to make him some healthy soup. He flashed you a sweet smile, silently thanking you for the effort.

Once you finished cooking, you carefully took the soup into his room and woke him up by stroking his head. He woke up with a grumble, but was happily surprised at how gentle you were being with him. How domestic, he thought.

You fed Satoru his soup, and pressed your hand against his forehead to check his temperature and hissed at how hot his skin felt.

You felt an odd feeling of concern for Satoru. Of course, he was your best friend, and you were always concerned about him, but today, you just felt like taking care of him not in a way a friend would, rather a worried lover.

You wanted to stroke his forehead and put him to sleep, to give him a little kiss on his forehead every few minutes, you wanted to lay his head on your lap everytime he whined, you wanted to cuddle him as he slept.

But most of all, you wanted to feel his warm tongue slip into your mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You blushed as you imagined him doing such a lewd thing, gosh, he was your bestfriend, not your boyfriend. You weren’t allowed to have such thoughts and fantasies about him, he wasn’t yours. You frowned at the thought.

You glanced up at Satoru has you finished feeding him, tucked him into bed and went out of his bedroom.

“Get well soon, Satoru. I’m here if you need anything.” You muttered and shut his door.

You plopped yourself onto your shared couch and turned on a movie. Your mind raced as you thought about these new feelings about your best friend, wondering what to do next.

You’re almost sure Satoru doesn’t feel the same way for you. Every moment you’ve shared has had purely platonic intent, right? It’s not as if anything could come out of these feelings for him? right?

Your friendship with Satoru was way too important for you to ruin by admitting your feelings for him. There was absolutely no way you’d jeopardise what you have with him on a whim, assuming he might reciprocate these feelings. You exhaled and tipped your head back onto the couch. How complicated.

Suddenly you heard Satoru’s bedroom door open and he stepped into the living room groggily.

“Are you alright, Toru? Do you need something?” You question, rising up from your seat.

“Cant sleep.” He simply states, making his way to the couch, pulling you down onto it along with him.

You widen your eyes in surprise as he wraps his arms around your body and rests his head on your shoulder. He hugs you tight, and shuts his eyes.

You massaged the arm that snaked around your waist, and leaned back against his chest. You noticed Satoru stiffen at that, and whipped your head to the side, wondering what was wrong.

It was then that you noticed how red Satoru was. Probably because of the fever, you thought. But then you saw him sneakily lick his lips and bite the corner gingerly. You couldn’t help but stare at how delicious his glossy pink lips looked, and Satoru noticed.

He didn’t wait another second as he crashed his lips onto yours, one hand gripping the back of your head and the other wrapped around your waist. You let out a small gasp into his mouth, at which Satoru moaned. He pulled you onto his chest as his tongue danced around with yours.

Once he pulled away, you looked as if you were the one with a fever, not him. Your cheeks and nose were flushed red, your eyes half lidded. Satoru contemplated taking you to his bedroom to continue, but didn’t want to get you sick as well. He lifted you up, and carried you into your bedroom.

“Let’s continue this once i’m alright, yeah?” He smirked as he pulled your blanket over your chest.

“Then you better get well soon.”

[fushigurioo]

Fever! …Baby...fever?

Oh no :( Sakura's poor s/o is feeling a little under the weather. And that temperature is looking a little.. positive.. to Sakura.

- The thought of Sakura losing his mind thinking his s/o is 102% pregnant 😭😭

Massive shoutout to my amazing friend @brainrot-of-a-thot for planting this seed in my brain 😭 I couldn’t stop thinking about it, poor Sakura 🖤

[peterman-spideyparker]

Half-Wrong (College!Matt Murdock x college!fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy folks, ya girl somehow caught Covid during the worst week possible! I have a 102 fever and I don't really remember writing this cuz I've been taking a lot of naps, so if it doesn't make sense and has errors I'm sorry. I saw that Owen Sleater gifset (iykyk) and rolled with it. Enjoy :)

Summary: You have been attracted to Matt Murdock ever since the pair of you met at the coffee shop on campus on move-in day, but you knew he'd never feel the same way about you - this became especially true once you got insight on his romantic life. So when you find him waiting for you after you come back from a date, you take a chance.

Warnings: Sweet platonic fluff, close friendship vibes, kissing, smut (oral - f!receiving, sexy oral m!condom put on, protected sex, p in v sex), swearing

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, ofc (Cassie)

Word Count: 2,844

“C’mon, just a little more,” you huff as you move your run to a jog on the sidewalk. “A little bit more, and then we’ll be back at the dorms.”

“I don’t get why you think this is the best way to exercise,” Matt huffs as he puts his hands up in a T shape.

“You like boxing, I like a good run. Potato, potahto. The thing you should be thinking about is why you repeatedly agree and continue to go on runs with me,” you pant as you untie the tether that you use while you run—with Matt being unable to see and just how hard you imagine running with a cane would be, a tether to your waist to guide him and gently keep him out of the path of obstacles seemed like a good option.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve figured that part out yet, either. I mean, you do agree to box with me which is nice. But I think I just like spending time with you. Although, being tied with you does kind of make me feel like a dog.”

“Ah, but you’re such a kind, pretty dog with soft hair,” you smirk, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Such a good boy.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, his cheeks flushing beyond the rosiness from the run. “Help me get to the cafe in the student union and I’ll buy us some waters.”

You press a kiss to his warm cheek and place his hand on your forearm. 

“Hey, are you still gonna join Foggy and I at Josie’s tonight?” he asks, his breathing sounding like it’s starting to return to normal as you both enter the nearby building.

“I thought that was tomorrow?” you return, navigating the pair of you through a small little self-serve concession area.

“No, tonight. You have plans?”

“Don’t sound too shocked.”

“I don’t mean it like that.”

“Okay. Then how did you mean it?”

“Well, just that you haven’t had plans in almost a year,” he exaggerates as he takes the waters you hand him.

“Excuse me, I have plans,” you say as you take the waters back and scan them, Matt rooting around in his shorts for his student ID.

“No, you have plans with your other friends semi-regularly. You never have date plans,” he clarifies as he swipes his ID to pay.

“I’m sorry all of us can’t be you with a new companion every few weeks.”

“I don’t have a ‘new companion’ every few weeks.”

“Oh, come on, Matt, don’t deny it,” you say as you drink your water. “Right now, it’s that girl from that IP law class, before that it was a dental student, then I think an international relations major? But let’s not forget about contract law girl, estate planning—.”

“Okay, fine, I’ve had a lot of short-term relationships.”

“Well, that’s great for you, but that’s not what I’m looking for,” you tell him. “I mean, I don’t expect anything right now to last forever, but, I don’t want it to be a four-week thing and then be done with it. If I’m gonna make plans with someone, it’s because I think I still might be making plans with them in five months.”

Matt nods and drinks some of his own water as you move back outside and in the direction of our dorms. “So, what’s this guy like? Where’d you meet?”

“Cassie actually set us up,” you say. “She said that he seemed like my type, like a really good guy.”

“Well, then, I’m happy you have plans tonight. I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks, Matt. I do, too. I mean, I have no reason to think they won’t. Just tell Foggy I’m sorry I’m gonna miss him tonight.”

“Of course.”

“Do I see a wild (Y/N) in one of her natural habitats?” you hear Foggy call from across the quad.

“Speak of the Nelson, and he shall appear!” you smile as he comes to wrap you in a hug. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“(Y/N) has a date tonight,” Matt says with a devilish grin.

“Matthew!” you say, giving him a swift whack. “This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m happy for you, really.”

“I am, too!” Foggy chimes in. “I’m bummed that it means you’ll miss drinks at Josie’s, but, it’s about time you get dicked down.”

“I need to hang out with more friends that are girls,” you sigh, taking a look at your watch. “I gotta go now if I want to take an everything shower.” Kissing each of their cheeks, you wave goodbye and run off to your dorm to get ready.

“I just don’t see it going anywhere,” you sigh as you enter the main lobby of your dorm building.

“Really?” Cassie asks over the phone.

“We work on paper, but there wasn’t any spark.”

“Maybe the spark is gonna take some time.”

“A spark shouldn’t take time, Cass. It should be right there I didn’t feel anything.”

“You can’t pin every guy against Matt, you know.”

“I’m not comparing everyone against Matt,” you scoff incredulously. 

“Yes, you are. Ever since you met. I bet you felt a spark with him.”

“So what if I did? It’s clear he didn’t with me, but . . .” You sigh and shake the thought out of your head. “I’m not an option for him. He’s a good person, but more importantly, he’s my friend. I’m not gonna spend my time fantasizing about something that’s never gonna happen.”

“HA.”

“You are so mean.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a funny concept—you, not fantasizing.”

“Rude.”

“I’m your oldest friend, it’s my job.”

“I appreciate it. Listen, I just got to my door, I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Okay, (Y/N). Sleep well.”

“You too.”

Hanging up, you sigh as you put your phone back into your bag, hiking the strap up over your shoulder, slipping out your keys and undoing the old locks. You toss your purse on the nearby table, but freeze in your tracks when you see someone sitting on your bed. Not any someone. Matt.

“You shouldn’t be in here this late,” you breathe.

“I shouldn’t be in here at all,” he says softly, folding his glasses and putting them on your nightstand. “But why do something half-wrong?”

You slowly start to close the gap between where he sits and where you stand. “Matt . . .”

“If you want me to go, I will. Just say the word.”

“. . . Why now?”

“I don’t know. I just . . . I realized tonight when I was at Josie’s with Foggy that if you’re going to be kissing anyone, I want it to be me.”

You don’t care what you just told Cassie. Honestly, you don’t care about anything or how this could complicate your friendship or any of the consequences. Instead, you move to your bed, climb into his lap, and kiss him. That spark you first felt with Matt when you met is a full-blown lightning bolt now, every last bit of you tingling with electricity; you know Matt feels it too from the way his hands slide up your back and how his fingers card through your hair. Matt leans back on the mattress, letting you take the lead as you make out. His kisses gradually grow more aggressive—the clashing of teeth, nipping, squeezing, and grinding. Matt rolls your bodies over on the bed, eagerly but carefully pulling off your shirt.

“Please tell me you were anticipating this and have condoms on you,” you pant as he peppers kisses all over your torso.

“Mmm,” he hums into my body. Oh my God, I think I just came. “Four.”

“We’re using all of them.” You feel how his lips curl into a smile against your body, making you writhe before you scream out when he starts to suck on the sweet spot on your neck.

“Ambitious,” he hums, licking and kissing at the stinging spot on my neck.

“Oh, well, you know me,” you grunt, your fingertips scratching his scalp. “I love to go above and beyond.”

“Let’s shoot for two,” he says into your collarbone.

“Don’t think I can handle using them all?”

He lifts his face up to be level with yours. “I’m saying that you won’t be walking straight after one. If we use more than two, I’ll be carrying you around campus for a week.”

“Sound like a challenge.”

“It’s a guarantee.”

You both smile brightly before you kiss, and you bunch up the cotton of his shirt exposing his soft skin and toned muscles something out of a romance novel.

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

“You’re too cocky for your own good,” you sigh as you run a hand down his exposed body. “But as a matter of fact, I really, really do.”

“Well, if you’re thinking of doing what I think you are, angel . . . Tonight is about you, and treating you right. How I should’ve treated you a long time ago.” He leans down and kisses your lips before moving the embraces along your cheek to just below your ear. “Sit back and relax, sweetheart. I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You sigh as he presses kisses down your chest, nipping at your cleavage and soothing the sting of any bite with his lips. You pant in excitement under his touch as his hands wrap around my back, unclasping your bra and sliding it painfully slow off of your body. You let out a sigh and toss your head to the side as his lips wrap around your nipple, one of his hands on your free breast while the other hand holds onto yours. Matt takes his time as if he’s trying to map out your body in his mind with his lips. Gazing down, you catch a glimpse of how happy Matt looks as he drags his lips further down your torso, pressing a long kiss on your belly button before unbuttoning your pants to shimmy them off your legs. Tossing them to the floor, he kisses all the way up your legs before spreading them apart to nestle his face against your covered core. You whine at his careful and deliberate movements, lifting your hips to help him slide the fabric off. Matt’s fingers gently spread you open, exposing yourself completely to him.

“Oh, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes. “So perfect for me.”

Carefully, he lets out a soft breath on your pussy before leaning forward and wrapping his lips around your clit.

“Oh!” you cry out. “Fuck . . .”

Your toes curl as Matt works his magic, and your eyes flutter shut as you let your mind get caught up in all the things that Matt is making you feel. If you had known he could make you feel like this—if you knew he even felt an inkling of the same way toward your, you would’ve done something to let him know that you care about him more more than a friend.

“Matty,” you breathe, running your fingers through his hair. “Oh, Matt, just like that. So good.”

You watch as Matt tries to lift his gaze upward to meet yours, his beautiful hazel eyes sparkling with delight as he eats you out. You swallow hard, throwing your head back as you feel your orgasm quickly approach. You cry out when you feel him slide two fingers into you, curling them just right to throw you over the edge. Your body arches off of the mattress as you cry out, your thighs clenching around his head. Matt’s tongue cleans up every last drop of your arousal before kissing all the way back up your body.

“You taste so good, angel,” he murmurs into your lips. “You ready for me?”

“Please,” you breathe, kissing him deeply. “I need you.”

He grins, kissing you again before leaning back and undoing his pants, shimmying them down enough to free his cock from the fabric before he reaches in his pocket to grab a condom. He is absolutely huge—delightfully so, and I feel the space between my legs instantly flood at the sight of him. Now what he said about not walking straight makes total sense, and not Matt just being cocky.

“All the way off,” you demand with a smile.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip in excitement as he gets completely naked while you tear open the little foil package.

“C’mere,” you grin as you drink him in as he kneels on your bed, completely and utterly bare.

Matt licks his lips, doing as you ask, folding his arms behind his head. Fuck, he has to know what he’s doing when he rests like that. Carefully, you crawl over to him, putting the tip of the condom in your mouth before you wrap your hand around his base and bring your head down his length. Your jaw hurts as you go down his thick cock, but you manage to get it all the way down. When you get back up, you see how lust-blown Matt’s expression is, how flushed his cheeks and chest are.

“That was so fucking hot,” he hums. “Get over here, angel.”

With a smile, you move to meet him in a kiss, a new passion in the embrace that hand’t been there before.

“You ready for me?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly as you dip down for a kiss.

With firm hands on your hips, he guides you down on his cock. You moan in harmony as he gets deeper and deeper in you, and it feels like you’re going to get split in two the further he goes. When you’re all the way down, he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Are you okay?” he breathes when your lips part.

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “You’re big."

“And you’re tight,” he smirks. “You good for me to move?”

“Oh, fuck, please.”

“Such good manners.”

With another kiss and a smile, Matt wraps his arms around you so your back is on the mattress and he’s hovering above you. You feel the sweet sting from the drag of his cock as he pulls out before pushing back in, testing and stretching you slowly as he starts to establish a rhythm. Your lips part as you feel more pleasure with each of Matt’s thrusts, one of your hands moving to his bicep and creating little crescent moons in his soft skin as he moves faster and faster.

“Right there,” you breathe. “Shit . . . Matt, yes, right there.”

“Good girl,” he hums. “So good taking my cock like that.”

“K-Kiss me,” you stutter, feeling your second orgasm approaching.

Looking at you tenderly, he leans down and kisses you long and slow, staying lower to keep little space between our bodies.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes, kissing your cheek. “So perfect.”

“Matt, ‘m close,” you whimper.

“Whenever you’re ready.” His hand cradles the side of your face, kissing you once more.

You bite your lip, stifling your moan as you come around Matt, your body clinging to his as he continues to move his hips, his skin flushing as he grunts, approaching his own release, spilling into the condom. He kisses you all over as your breathing steadies, pulling out and tossing the condom into the trash before wrapping you in his arms and kissing your wherever his lips can find skin.

“Matt,” you chuckle softly as he sucks marks into your collarbone.

“Shh,” he hums, kissing the marks to soothe them.

“Matt, it tickles!”

You feel his lips curl into a smile as he presses kisses up your neck. “I’ve always loved your laugh. This is just another way I can hear it.”

“And it’s another way I can see your smile.” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You know, I bet if you give me enough time in between, we can use up all the condoms.”

“You think?”

“Nothing saying we can’t try.”

“Ambitious girl,” he smiles.

“It’s part of my charm. Why you like me. Why we work well together.”

“One of the reasons, yeah. There’s plenty of others, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.” He kisses your forehead. “I’ve got a whole list.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You giggle at the silence and look at him. “Are you gonna tell me any?”

Matt’s fingers trace aimless patterns on your skin. “I think you already know them, angel. But I’ll tell you one every day. Today, it’s your ambition. Tomorrow . . .” He lets out a breath. “It’ll be whatever feels right for me to point out.”

“Well, I’ve got a list, too. And right at the top is how safe you make me feel. How special you make me feel. How loved." You kiss his chest. "Tomorrow’s something might have to do with your nose.”

Matt’s expression is filled with tenderness, closing the gap between you once more, holding onto you and letting you rest right above his heart.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

[huggybearluvr]

atta girl | jh86

pairing: jack hughes x PWHL!reader

Summary: Jack talks his entire team into flying out to Boston during there three days off to go and support his girlfriend in her inaugural game.

Masterlist

a/n: wrote this with a 102 fever and violent shakes LMAOOO

Moving away from your boyfriend to pursue your dreams of playing in the PWHL wasn't easy. He however, refused to let you stay and ignore your dreams as much as he wanted you close to him.

Once you got settled into your new apartment in Boston, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. You were finally bale to pursue your dreams.

-

Tonight was the big night, your first game. You stood next to your teammate and friend Emily.

"You ready?" She asked smiling like a little kid.

"Yeah, just wish Jack could be here," You said looking down at your phone, you were shocked he didn't text you before the game.

You shook away the thought shoving your phone into your locker. You grabbed your helmet heading out to the ice along with your team for warm ups. As you circled the net you couldn't help but notice a large group of guys all in Boston attire with signs supporting you.

You quickly recognized the one in the middle as Jack, smiling as you waved to him. You couldn't believe he got his whole team to fly out and support you on their three day break.

-

The game went amazing. You had gotten a hat trick, and your team had won the game. It was an amazing feeling leaving the ice knowing you left everything out there.

After you had changed in the locker room you went out to do an interview for the media.

You sat at the table taking a quick sip of water before answering any questions.

"y/n what was it like heading onto the ice tonight?" A reporter asked.

"it was an amazing feeling but, I have to say it felt even better when I saw my Boyfriend Jack in the stands. I wasn't expecting him to be here tonight, and knowing that he was and got to watch along with his teammates is something I'll never forget."

-

After your interviews you checked your phone seeing that Jack had texted you. He said he was waiting back outside the locker rooms for you.

You raced down there. As soon as he saw you he opened his arms pulling you in tight, "Baby, I don't think you understand how proud I am of you."

You smiled against his shoulder pulling back to kiss him.

"I can't believe you got your teammates to come too," You smiled.

"They we're more than happy to come and support you for a change," He smiled.

"Let's go, everyone is celebrating at the bar," He smiled taking your hand.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Posted tonight for your reading pleasure, we are

Starring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna

Just a few fluffy little drabbles exploring what it's like taking care of our favorite JJK men when they're sick <3 Fair warning, this was made entirely for self indulgent purposes.

TW:Very slight yandere themes in Sukunas section and talk of vomit in Getos section. Reader discretion is advised.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo was the strongest sorcerer to have ever lived. He could handle special grade curses with a flick of his wrist, had mastered the limitless technique, and had stood toe to toe with Ryomen Sukuna and lived. To say he was a formidable foe was an understatement.

Which is why it was always at least a little funny when a cold knocked him flat on his ass. The man that struck fear into the elders of Jujutsu Sorcery for the threat to tradition he posed simply could not handle the common cold. But, you had to admit; he looked kinda cute curled up in his blankets- as if hiding from the sick demons. You placed the Okayu you had made him onto the nightstand as you pulled the blankets away from him. 

“Hey cutie, come on. You need to eat,” you spoke softly to him, gently rubbing his shoulders, “And I need to check your temperature again.” Satoru let out a particularly dejected groan as he reluctantly sat up. 

“Please Y/n, just let me die in peace.” He rasped out, rubbing his heavy, stinging eyes. 

“Nope, not an option.” You said, taking the thermometer from his nightstand. You took it out of the case and slipped it under his tongue. He grimaced. 

“These aren’t accurate, you know.” He grumbled.

“Less so when you keep talking, so shush.” You reminded him, lightly pushing his shoulder.

“All I’m saying is there's no point,” he argued.

“Do you want me to find the rectal one instead?” you asked. He was suddenly very quiet. What felt like an hour, but was really only 3 minutes later, the thermometer started beeping. You sighed as you saw the number.

“I’m so cold.” Gojo muttered as you took the stick out of his mouth. 

“Wrong,” You corrected, “You have a 102 degree fever.” You sighed. You handed him the Okayu, and despite the fact that eating was the last thing he wanted to do, he still smiled at you.

“Thank you.” He muttered, resting his head on your shoulder. Your hands almost instinctively found his hair. He hummed softly at the familiar and comforting feeling of you playing with the strands. 

“For what?” You asked.

“Taking care of me.” He muttered softly, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you..”

“Oh please,” You chuckled softly, shaking his head, “You’ve done the same for me. I don’t mind taking care of you one bit, Satoru.” You couldn't tell if his red cheeks were from the fever or from blushing. Either way he smiled at you. 

“I love you Y/n,” He whispered, going in to kiss you. You quickly put up a hand to stop him.

“Whoa there! I love you too, but no kissing.” You chuckled, “Not until you’re feeling better.” Gojo groaned and threw his head back in mock frustration.

“Being sick blows.”

Suguru Geto

You woke up to the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. You sat up to see the light on in your en suite bathroom and your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

Oh no, Suguru, You thought to yourself as you quickly rushed to his side. You made it to him just in time to hold his hair back as another wave hit him. You gently rubbed his back as he closed the lid, flushed the toilet, and rested his head on the cool porcelain. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered softly.

“Why are you sorry, Love?” You asked, though you knew the answer already.

“I woke you up.” He said, standing up and going to immediately brush his teeth. You wanted to argue with him, remind him that it wasn’t good for his teeth to brush them immediately after vomiting. But you knew it was ultimately pointless. He couldn’t stand the taste. It reminded him too much of his technique. Too much of his curse. 

“Think it was something you ate?” You asked as he finished up. He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Considering that I eat curses regularly, I doubt it. I like to think my stomach is a little stronger than that.” He grumbled, leaning against the bathroom counter. 

“Oh no, you think it’s the flu?” If it was, it was inevitable you’d get it too.

“I’m sorry Darling.” That meant yes. You sighed and shook your head as you went to his side. You wrapped your arms around him and shook your head.

“No need to be sorry now. Come on, let's get you back to bed.” You sighed, leading him back to your shared bedroom. He did feel warmer than he normally did. Once you got him laid down again, you made sure a trashcan was within grabbing distance and went for the thermometer. His temperature only confirmed what you both already knew.

“Yep, 103.” You sighed, “You’re sick.” He merely groaned in response.

“I can’t stand being sick.” He grumbled. Suguru hated being sick more than the average individual. He had to deal with the taste of vomit almost every day, and he managed to hate it just a little bit more every fucking time he had to choke it down. Not to mention just how physically exhausting the whole ordeal was.

“I know you do Love.” You said, laying in bed next to him. You grabbed your phone and put one of the many playlists he had made for you. One of the more calming ones, hoping to put him at least a little bit at ease. It seemed to work, his body releasing at least some of the tension it had stored. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, only for him to jerk away.

“Y/n, no,” He argued, “You’re going to catch whatever I got if you keep that up.”

“Suguru Geto, please.” You scoffed, “We share a bed, if you’re sick it’s only a matter of time before I catch it anyway.” You shook your head. 

“I know, I just…I hate that.” He finally admitted, “I don’t want to get you sick, being sick is terrible.”

“Trust me, I know.” You chuckled softly, laying next to him. You noticed despite his warm temperature he was shaking. You pulled a blanket over him. “But that’s just a part of living together. We love together, we get sick together.” You shrugged. “That’s just the nature of relationships and love.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” He laughed gently, shaking his head, “But, I don’t really have the energy to argue.” He admitted.

“Good, that means I win.” You smiled with a quick nod. “Now, I’ll be right back.” You said, sitting back up, “I’m going to go get you a cool rag and some water.”

“Thank you darling...” He muttered, sleep already feeling heavy in his eyes.

Kento Nanami

“Kento Nanami, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” You snapped as you walked into the kitchen, crossing your arms over your chest in frustration.

“The dishes?” Nanami asked from behind his face mask, turning around to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Kento, you’re sick.” You reminded him, “Walking pneumonia is still pneumonia.” 

“Y/n, I feel fine, rea-” He couldn’t even get through his sentence without a coughing fit.

“And yet you sound like you’ve been smoking 6 packs a day for 27 years.” You scoffed, going over and taking the sponge from him, “To the couch with you, now!” Nanami sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat, drying his hands off.

“Look, just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I can’t help out around the house-”

“That's exactly what it means, Kento.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Look, I love how willing you are to help, but I assure you I can handle the housework for a few days while you get better Dearest.” 

“I just feel bad-”

“For no reason. It’s not like you asked to get sick.” You reminded him. He sighed, but relented. Even he had to admit he was feeling pretty shit. And the doctor did tell him to get plenty of rest in the next few days. 

“You’re right, you’re right.” He grumbled as he returned to the couch in defeat. You smiled in satisfaction as you finished the dishes he started. A few minutes later you were joining him on the couch and-

“Kento, Please.” You groaned when you saw him on his laptop. 

“What? It’s not physical work.” He argued. He was researching details surrounding a possible first grade curse that had been running around to send to Gojo.

“You know, for someone who hates work you sure do it a lot.” You pointed out to him, placing a hand on your hip. He froze, hating that you were right.

“I just don’t know what else to do.” He finally admitted, putting his computer on the coffee table. “I’m restless Y/n!”

“Well…here.” You grinned, going over and booting up his long untouched xbox. You smiled when you saw Tekken 7 was already in. “It’s been awhile since we got to play together.” You said, handing him the controller. His eyes lit up as he took it, it only now dawning on him that he actually had time to play video games again. 

“I’m going to crush you.” He informed you of this as if it was an objective fact. As if he was telling you the sky was blue, or explaining how the stock market worked. It was just an objective truth.

“Yeah.” You nodded, knowing he was right. You still smiled as you played with him anyway, even as he continued to crush you with character after character. You only really got mad once.

“Hey, no fair! You one-shot me!” You argued, more in awe than truly angry.

“It’s perfectly fair, the wind up for that move with Miguel is long as hell, you had every opportunity to knock me out of it.” He shrugged. You giggled a bit. 

“I was curious to see what you were doing.” You confessed.

“I guess curiosity killed the cat.” He said dryly, but you could see the smile in his eyes. That was undoubtedly a joke on the fact you were playing Lucky Chloe, and you‘d be lying if you said it didn't make you laugh. Your laugh brought a chuckle out of him, and he placed a loving hand on your knee.

“Thank you Darling,” He smiled, “I feel better already, genuinely this time.”

Ryomen Sukuna

It was quiet in the temple. Far too quiet. Normally your captor lover was very attached to you, taking any chance he could to soak up your attention. But you hadn’t seen him once that day, and as the sun started to set, you found yourself looking for him- despite your better judgment. He wasn’t haunting any of his usual locations: His throne room, his bedroom, the garden, your bedroom. He had all but vanished, leading you to look in rooms you had never even been in. 

You opened a door that was only 3 down from your own. You wondered why you had never thought about what was behind it before. As the door swung open, you were meant with a completely pitch black room. 

“My lord?” You asked softly, poking your head through the entryway. You heard something stir, then the soft glow of his second set of eyes found yours. You stepped into the room and quickly closed the door behind you. “Sukuna? Are you in here?” You whispered, a question you almost instantly recognized as being redundant at best.

“No.” His familiar voice rang out, making you jump a little. His voice was rougher than usual, as if he hadn’t used it all day. As he closed his eyes, yours started to adjust to the dark. You were in another bedroom, and resting in the center of a giant bed laid Ryomen Sukuna, using one of his huge arms to cover his eyes. Something was deeply uncomfortable about the sight. Something that made your stomach churn into knots and your blood run cold. And then it hit you.

Sukuna was trying to make himself seem small. He was curled into himself, as if trying to hide from the outside world. You realized he had to have been dying, there was no other explanation. You didn’t know what was more shocking: that Sukuna was at death's door, or the fact that you were genuinely saddened by the thought. Stockholm syndrome really was no joke. Your body took some initiative and started to move of its own accord. 

“My lord, what's wrong?” you whispered softly as you neared the edge of the plush bed.

“Nothing wench, leave me.” he growled, but his voice lacked all of his normal vitriol. It was as if he simply didn’t have the energy to inject it into his words. You found yourself crawling onto the bed. You put a gentle hand on his chest, earning you a blood chilling side-eyed-glare from Sukuna. Your body tensed under the intense look, screaming at you to get the fuck out of there. But you ignored your basic survival instinct, as you always did. It got you this far at least. 

“You’re cold Ryo…” You muttered softly, laying down next to him. 

“I know. Be quiet, woman.” He growled. He stayed still for a moment, as if deciding if he should kill you for your disrespect or not. He must have decided against it, because when he reached out for you he pulled you closer to him as opposed to throwing you at the wall. He wrapped two of his four arms around you, holding you close the way a child would hold a teddy bear.

You wondered if he came in here often. You realized the likelihood of there being windows was minimal. It was light enough outside you would have seen some of the dusky light if there were any. You nestled into his side and listened to his labored breathing. Whatever was going on with him, he was in significant pain. 

“It’s like someone is drilling into my skull.” He groaned softly, more to himself than to you. A migraine. You realized he was dealing with a migraine. 

“Is there some way I can help?” You asked, trying to make your voice as soft as possible.

“Just...shut up and lay with me.” He muttered, rolling over to fully engulf you in his embrace. It wasn’t often Sukuna was gentle with you, and even more rare that he held you like this. You decided to just enjoy the quiet with him while it lasted. 

[pedge-stuff]

102 degrees (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug. (:

summary: maybe it's the fever talking, but Pedro might finally be ready to go public with your relationship.

————————————————————————

It’s not a whine, per se— more like a thin, whistle-y exhale as the press tents come into view. A noise of quiet resignation; Pedro is exhausted, and the night hasn’t even started. 

There is little comfort you can offer. You’ve been careful not to touch his face or hair throughout the ride, per the explicit instructions of Mira. This has left you no option but the back of his neck, between the high collar of his overcoat and the lowest hang of his curls. You thumb rhythmically over the overly-warm, slightly damp skin. Small comforts. 

Of course he’d wake up with the flu on the day of the biggest premiere of his career thus far. “Fucking shit-ass karma,” he’d groaned between dry heaves over the toilet that morning. Three negative covid tests and a house-call IV drip later (celebrity medical care is, you’ve come to realize, very fucking weird), he was semi-functional. But fucking miserable.

This once, you’ll give your grown ass boyfriend a pass for whining. 

Though the windows are tinted, you are quick to remove your hand as the car pulls up. He is anxious enough about the evening, without having to worry about people seeing. You know the drill— low profile has basically become your middle name. The only thing worse than having the flu on premiere night, you muse, would probably be Pedro getting outed to the world. 

“It’s going to be fine,” you insist softly, squeezing his knee. “Carpet, premiere, talkback, reception. Easy.” 

He straightens out of his slump against you, taking a deep breath. “Easy,” Pedro repeated, unconvincingly. He sighs.

“Then a full cap of NyQuil and no alarm tomorrow morning.” 

You dare to grip his hand, one last time, as the car slows to a stop. He brings yours to his lips, and presses a (noticeably fever-warm) kiss to the exposed skin of your wrist.

"Only thing getting me through this is the prospect of going back to bed with you tonight."

"Mr. Pascal, are you coming on to me?"

He offers a weak chuckle. "Ask me again when I'm not about to barf in the back of an Uber."

The car slows to a stop. Another deep breath, as Pedro slips an easy mask back into place. "Carpet, premiere, talkback, reception."

— — — 

There are layers to the whole thing. You don’t begrudge his hesitancy, to publicly reveal your relationship. The few times a pap has caught you out together, the TMZ byline is something along the lines of “Pedro Pascal Seen Strolling Sunset with SNL Sidekick.” Perks of heteronormativity, you suppose. 

It’s all him. You’ve been out for a long, long ass time— frankly, never thought you’d go back in, til suddenly you’re signing an NDA and attaching yourself at the hip to a man whose hand you can’t hold in public. 

It’s not that he’s ashamed. (He reassures you of this often.) He’s just private, and unwilling to pop a bubble he’s lived comfortably in for the better part of five decades; sometimes, his perspective on (and fear of) public homophobia speaks volumes to the age gap between you. 

So you stand back, under the cover of the press tents, watching Pedro walk the carpet. You’re in good company— Mira and Coco track him beside you with narrowed eyes, vigilantly monitoring him for accidental hair touches or makeup smudges. 

He sways on his feet between interviews. Your heart clenches.

The carpet is short, much less elaborate than the ones at awards ceremonies. After a few interviews and a series of photographs, everyone starts slowly making their way into the theater.

You hang back in the lobby, a little unsure of how to proceed. There is guest seating in the mezzanine, mostly for the press reporters and various network reps in attendance. It's not a big venue. The main seating is reserved, obviously, for the people actually associated with the show. And their guests. Which is, technically, you, but... Well.

You maybe should have ironed this out prior to arrival. The whole flu thing kinda took priority.

"Yo!" There is a light shove on your shoulder. Bella, flush with excitement and fresh off the carpet, pulls you in for a quick hug. "Your man is so unwell."

They are laughing, though your heart clenches. Poor baby. "This would only happen to him," you agree. "He come in already?" You'd been scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Like a fan. (A fan that spent the better part of the morning pressing a cold washcloth to his neck, sitting on the bathroom floor.)

Bella cocked an eyebrow. "You guys are so fucking weird about this shit." They are privy to the details, courtesy of Pedro. Apparently it was a hot topic of conversation while killing time on set. You'd received many a FaceTime during long stop-downs between takes; calls you'd assume were your boyfriend, but had Bella cackling on the line after you picked up.

As if on cue, a mass of black fabric appears in your periphery.

"Are you conspiring to put me out of my misery?" Pedro is still wearing his 'everything is fine and I'm doing great' press smile.

"Duh." Bella smooths down the front of their blazer. "I think it's gonna start soon? I gotta find my mom."

They wade back into the dwindling crowd, leaving you and your germy boyfriend in the corner. Pedro's eyes are closed, as he takes measured breaths through his nose.

"Oh babe," you whisper quietly. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

He softens. "It's okay. I'm okay. Gonna be honest, I'm relieved we're about to sit down for a couple hours."

"Just a few more hours left, that's all. I'll see you at the reception?" Your eyes drift to the door upstairs, behind the velvet rope separating press and attendees.

“Are we not—“ He clears his throat, voice breaking weakly. “Are we not sitting together?”

His eyes are glassy, but lack the same fever-bright quality he’d woken up with. The crease between his eyes deepens as he frowns. This feels like the start of a larger conversation that most definitely will not be happening in the lobby of the Regency Village Theater. 

“We can,” you offer cautiously. “If that is what you want.” 

A large, slightly trembly hand grasps your shoulder. “Of course that’s what I want, love. ‘M sorry. It’s dark, it’s safe, I just… I’m so tired.” The last part is admitted in a pained whisper. Your heart aches. It takes a concerted effort to not reach out and touch him. (It usually does, in public. He is a tactile aficionado– preens over little touches, forehead kisses, the brush of your hand over his hair. You offer these so frequently in private, that in public, your hand twitches regularly against the impulses.)

Pedro's manager waves from the other side of the room. He musters a small smile, releasing the grip on your shoulder. "Premiere, talkback, reception. Bed."

In the stiff theater seats, he leans so far over the armrest, you know his back will be sore later. But he tucks himself into your side the moment the lights dim, head on your shoulder. The frame of his glasses digs into your neck, and you couldn't care less. Your focus is on the lines he is tracing into your palm, large hand cupping yours in your lap.

The show is fantastic. Of course. The talkback is short, courtesy of Craig, and the reception is informal enough that you are in-and-out. Pedro makes the rounds while you make awkward small talk with Bella's mom (whose name you always forget, dammit, but she's lovely nonetheless). Take two sips of some cocktail called "Look for the Light" and wait for your cue to leave. Though you remain blissfully flu-free, you have been anticipating the conclusion of this evening as strongly as Pedro.

The Uber home has to make an emergency stop, so the star of the evening can puke water and crackers on the side of Mulholland Drive. You tip well.

And then, hours after he stepped onto the carpet, the prophecy is fulfilled. Pedro is tucked into bed, dogs at his feet, empty but blue-tinged medicine cap discarded on the nightstand beside a mug of water and his glasses.

His face is smushed into the pillow. Eyelids at half-mast, as he watches you change out of your simple suit and into a pair of well-loved flannel bottoms.

You don't need a shirt. On cue, your boyfriend octopus-latches as you slide under the covers, head resting on your bare collarbone.

"You did good tonight," you say, through a yawn. Reach up to tug the chain on the bedside lamp. Your other hand cards through Pedro's hair, detangling little clumps of hair spray he was too tired to brush out. "'M so proud of you."

"I mean it," he whispers back. "It's time. I'm sick of not being able to hold your hand."

Your lips brush his temple. 'We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Plenty of time for it," he mumbles, right on the cusp of sleep. "Since we're not leaving this bed."

[wiredeity]

cotl headcanon dialogue me and @the-one-who-waitss came up with

Follower, confused/threatened tone: " Lamb..is he...Is he mad at me? " Points at a glaring Narinder

Lamb, unchanging flat tone: " oh that's just his resting face. "

----------------------------------------------------------

Aym, laying in bed while sick: "narinder, NARINDER!"

Narinder, folding clothes: " Hm? "

Aym, now with their hands in the air: "GET ME ANOTHER BLANKET! "

Narinder, now turned and glaring at Aym: "You have a fever of 102 I'm not getting you another blanket."

Aym, who has a hand on their forehead dramatically: "WAAAAGHHH.."

----------------------------------------------------------

Lamb, looking straight at Ratau: "Dad I don't know how old I am."

Ratau, pauses briefly before he speaks:"My bet is on 16.."

Lamb, deep in thought: " I've definitely been a cult leader longer than 6 years"

Ratau, now on his wits end: "Eighteen?..."

Lamb, suddenly remembers something: " OH WAIT, I kept a calendar for every year in the cult! "

The Lamb grabs a STACK of calendars and their face contorts into horror

Lamb, now looking down at the stack with absolute fear in their eyes: "dad I'm 29 in human years so I'm.. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY EIGHT IN SHEEP YEARS."

Ratau, now in slight shock:" Im older son. "

Lamb, now having a smug look on their face: " you're probably in the four digits by now. "

Ratau, with an exaggerated shocked expression: “I’m only in the three digits!”

Lamb, holding back laughs: " okay where like 999? "

Ratau, still being dramatic: “967!”

Lamb starts counting mentally, then snickers when they hear Ratau's age in rat years: " dad in rat years your ..11760"

Ratau, jaw dropped: "..."