#I have thrown every single stuffed toy

[etihw000]

it is so unbelievably hot in singapore right now that I would kill a man for a functioning aircon. I lie in a pool of my own sweat. the temperature rises when you step past the door into my room like a portal to hell itself. the fan, while on, blows only warmth, a taunt of what it could be. and still, it blows, for a shifting warmth is better than the latent humidity

[daisyvisions]

✦ Day 30 - S*x Toys

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Spoiled Rich Kid!Chanhee x afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.1K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), male masturbation, sex toy used (fleshlight), pillow fucking, obsessive behavior with reader (don’t read if triggering), (brat taming, being tied up, panty stuffing, dacryphilia described as a thought), mentions of creampie, marking, pussy slapping, let me know if I missed anything!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: another “if you saw this being posted late… you didn’t”. I was stuck on the original theme I had for Chanhee so I decided to change it up again. Felt like this could’ve been written better 🥲 Nonetheless, hope you enjoy! Proofread once.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

The door slams open as soon as Chanhee enters his room, breaking anything within his line of vision. The sound of items being thrown onto the floor as he walks over to his bed.

“Who the hell does she think she is?!” He plops down onto the mattress.

He feels his heart racing, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as anger slowly seeps in.

Who in the right mind would say no to him?

Chanhee has always had things handed to him on a silver platter since the day he was born. Granted, he was the son of one the wealthiest business tycoons in the country. With a snap of his fingers he could literally get anything her wanted, even if it was the most absurd request.

And because he was incredibly wealthy, that gave him instant popularity in school. Guys and girls would flock to his side. They would shower him with praises and gifts in the hopes that maybe they would eventually become part of his inner circle.

Everyone wanted to date him as well. Stories and rumors of past lovers would spread around school on what kind of lover Chanhee was. It almost sounded like a dream for most.

To be spoiled rotten by Chanhee with all the latest designer items, fly out of the country randomly, and not lift a single pinky. Who wouldn’t want to throw themselves at him?

And that’s when you entered in his life.

The moment Chanhee saw you, he knew he had to have you. You were like an angel sent from above. A gift from the heavens that he has never had in his life.

You were so sweet, delicate, untouchable. It was like there was a glow around you almost everywhere you went. No one has ever captured his attention like this before.

And he was incredibly persistent about having you too. Randomly leaving expensive gifts on your table, having his minions do your work so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything in school, even going as far as beating up other suitors who attempted to shower you with gifts or ask you out on dates. He was incredibly possessive of you.

Because if it’s one person that deserves to be with you, it should be him.

Chanhee’s actions never went unnoticed by you of course. As much as you appreciated every single gesture, you just weren’t interested in him that way. Of course, Chanhee didn’t know that at first until you actually rejected him to his face one day. He thought you were just playing around, but you repeated yourself and said you would never go for guys like Chanhee.

And suddenly the rose colored lenses he had on you shattered.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way you jabbed your finger in his chest when you were trying to set the record straight that you weren’t interested in him at all. It was like you were sending electric jolts throughout his body.

And he couldn't stop thinking about the names you started calling him. How your sweet voice could even say those kinds of words. Every jab, every insult, he felt his cock twitch in excitement. He could feel himself getting hard under his pants at this moment.

He should be mad at you right now! How stupid could you be to reject him after everything he’s done for you?

But all Chanhee could think of was your pretty face and how it scrunched up when you were irritated. He started to palm his growing erection at the thoughts of putting you in your place. To show you what happens when you say no to him.

Pulling you onto his lap and lifting that pretty skirt you always wear. Slapping your ass until it was red with his hand print. The way you would cry and tell him how sorry you were how he wouldn’t easily give into your pleas.

He started unzipping his pants and untucking his boxers enough to let his cock spring free from his confinements, spitting into his hand before tugging his length up and down slowly.

“Such a fucking brat…” He muttered to himself as he continued to jerk off, thinking about how he would tie you up on his bed and rip the clothes off your body. Slapping your pussy until you begged for him to fuck you.

He could feel himself getting wetter at the thought of brat taming you. Marking your skin with his bites as a reminder of who you belong to.

Chanhee pauses for a moment to roll on his side to reach for his bedside table, opening the drawer to pull out his fleshlight and lube.

He gets up on his knees and squeezes the lube inside the toy, grabbing the nearest pillow on his bed to fold the fleshlight in-between. He lets out a breathy moan as he slowly inserts his cock inside the toy, feeling the slightly cold liquid on his skin as he starts to roll his hips.

“Gonna fuck you til you scream my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you good-” He mumbles to himself as he continues to roll his hips into the fleshlight, imagining your naked body beneath him covered in nothing but sweat, tears, and bruises from his mouth.

“You’re mine, only mine…” He grunts, imagining your eyes shimmering with tears as all your limbs are tied up to the corners of his bed, your mouth stuffed with your wet panties as your squirm in place.

He starts pounding into the fleshlight, desperately trying to catch his high as he thinks about controlling you. Your tight walls dragging the skin of his member as he fucks himself into you.

“Gonna make you my lil cumslut. Like that? Want me to keep you tied up here and fuck you whenever I please? F-fill you up with my cum is that it?”

His jaw clenches, imagining you nodding your head furiously at his proposal. His hips start to stutter as his high approaches faster.

He lets out a guttural moan as he explodes inside the toy, thrusting his cum inside as if it was your cunt to mark you with his spend. Imagining his cum sleeping out of you as it rolls onto the mattress gets his cock stirring once again.

His chest heaves deeply as he tries to catch his breath. A string of his arousal follows as he pulls his member out of the fleshlight.

Chanhee felt a sudden surge within his body, like some sort of post-nut clarity hit him as an idea popped into his head on how to win you over.

He was determined to still have his way with you, no matter how many times you rejected him because eventually you would give in.

He didn’t even care anymore what lengths he’d go through just to see your pretty little face cry beneath him. It was now his mission to make you his…

…because Chanhee always gets what he wants in the end.

[dairy-farmer]

goddamn i was not prepared for the absolute gold that last ask was with alpha jay and omega tim. y’all have gold minds.

i throw my hat in the ring: jason taking a step back and being iffy about doing tim’s request — it’s one thing to sell to an adult, but a young omega? too skeevy for even him. then jason has a week where too many alphas have bitched him, he can’t even pretend the idea of sinking into an omega doesn’t sound like heaven.

(the ask is referring to this post since it's getting answered from all the way down the queue)

!!!! jason holding himself back from it because tim is just a young omega and probably does not understand what he's genuinely asking jason to do- so when tim comes to him he turns him down, tells him to go play with toys like all the good little omegas. and he makes sure to spread to word so none of the older alphas working the block get any ideas about taking him up on his offer. but tim comes back everynight, always asking always offering to pay him more money. and he singles jason out because he likes that jason is close to his age which just sends shivers down jason's back every time he thinks about it too long. all the alphas that fuck him do it because they're fucked up sickos that love the thought of bitching a baby alpha while tim likes him because he's baby omega sized and perfect to knot him.

clearly there's something deeply wrong with tim's home if he's thought to seek out a prostitute when he's just a baby, a barely presented omega. but jason already has enough on his plate and can't afford to worry about someone else. plus the omega shows up clean and in nice clothes. they're clearly not starved or smacked around so whatever is up with them can't be all that bad- them begging for an alpha aside.

but then jason just has a rough week of it. he's been stuffing spare cash into a metal box and stuffing it into a crack in a brick wall big enough for only his thin arm to fit through. it's what he was saving up to carry him through the winter. he'd work hard in the summer and fall and then in winter he could stay inside where it was warm and try to forget all the things he did just for a modicum of comfort.

but then jason shows up to his alley to put more into his stash. and he finds the beaten up metal box thrown on the floor, money gone. he sports it alongside trash and some discarded needles as the cold realization floods him. that some stupidly lucky junkie had managed to find his stash and now...he was fucked. he was going to have to work all through winter.

jason can barely hold back the tears, can barely believe his misfortune.

and then he remembers that little omega with the pink, round cheeks that keeps showing up, asking jason to be his alpha, offering him money to knot him.

jason is not the kind of scumbag alpha to fuck the baby omegas. that chubby omega that keeps coming to him and having to get chased away is just a stupid baby omega who doesn't understand what he's doing by trying to go around begging for knots. and jason liked to think of rejecting him as the last bit of decency he had in him.

and yet here he was. thinking about it. waiting at the corner, trying not to stare too much at the clock from the pharmacy across the street, the usual time of him showing up approaching.

it's not like he'll get any pleasure out of it aside from physical. after all, what alpha doesn't want a nice hot, tight, omega milking his knot all hours of the day? but that's not what jason is doing, he reassures himself. jason is just doing this for survival. not because being able to mount a sweet omega will sooth away all the disgust and revulsion he feels at the sight of other alphas. this is just for survival that he's going to knot this stupid little omega. that's all it is. he's not evil for just trying to live.

jason hopes if he says it enough he'll believe it.

[sorinethemastermind]

Shared Memories

In which Corvus helps Soren reconcile his memories of his father, and they make a horrifying discovery. #Sorvus

 Corvus hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been convinced that, if he did, he would awaken to an empty spot on the ground beside him. At best, Soren would be out in the camp helping Opeli or one of the other guards. At worst, he’d have set out in an attempt to single handedly slay the dragon that had destroyed Katolis. Corvus thought that the latter was improbable, but knowing Soren, not out of the question. His boyfriend could be rather stupid at times.

 His boyfriend. 

 Corvus didn’t know that a single word could make you both smile and grimace at the same time. Apparently it could also make you incredibly, exceedingly, enormously, worried. 

 The spot next to him on the ground was, in fact, empty. But he would never know whether Soren was about to set out on a stupidly dangerous and self-assigned quest or was simply going to get a drink of water, for he had yet to exit the tent.

 “Oh, uh, Corvus. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Soren said, his smile wide and guilty. 

 “I’m sure you didn’t.” Corvus replied, sitting up as much as he could under the low canvas roof. “But luckily you did.”

 “Is my absence already so unbearable?” he asked, but Corvus wasn’t about to let him get out of trouble that easily.

 “No. You’re just very bad at sneaking. Especially in full armor.” At least, that was what he assumed had awoken him. Given that Soren’s every movement sounded like someone clanging pots and pans together. “Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”

 Soren looked back out of the tent, the flap still held open in one hand. There was a long pause, and Corvus was beginning to wonder if he really had planned to go after the dragon - what else would he have known Corvus would disapprove of so much? - when Soren turned back to him, expression unreadable, voice low and serious.

 “I need to show you something.”

 Corvus didn’t ask, he simply followed his friend into the dark night. It wasn’t often that he got to see past Soren’s wide smiles and charming - infuriating? - humor. So when he did, he listened.

 Soren led him away from the camp, sticking to the shadows until they were well out of sight. Neither of them said anything as they trekked through the quiet darkness; the only sound the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. Until Corvus saw it through the trees and let out a small, involuntary gasp.

 He and King Ezran had gone right to where they knew the encampment was, and this was the closest he had been to the wreckage. The roofs of most of the buildings had collapsed, charred beams sticking out at odd angles like the broken limbs of some mighty titan. Stones and bricks scattered the ground, thrown out into the middle of the road by the sheer impact of the dragon’s attacks. But far more devastating than any destroyed building were the remnants of the lives they had once held. 

 Corvus saw a stuffed toy, scorched and blackened, dropped onto the cobbles in the chaos. His tracker's instincts kicked in and he could practically see the child; running with one hand clutched in their parent’s grip, the other hanging on for dear life to their doll. A stumble on a loose stone, a split second’s shock, and the hand holding the toy released. No thought was given to it as they continued their mad dash away from the flames but, later, the child would sit in the small tent given to their family and wish they had something, anything to remember their home by. Their childhood. All of it stripped away so suddenly. 

 It took Soren’s hand on his shoulder for Corvus to realize he had stopped in the middle of the street, staring at the little doll lying there on the cobbles. Soren bent down and picked it up, brushing off some of the soot and ash that had collected on it.

 “It’s a little beat up,” he said. “but we can fix it. Give it back to the kid. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see a familiar face.”

 Neither of them said it, but Corvus was sure that both of them thought it. That perhaps there was no child to return this toy to. That maybe they were still here, buried in this rubble, forgotten along with their doll. Corvus blinked quickly, shoving the thought from his mind. 

 “You wanted to show me something?”

 “Yeah.” Soren tucked the toy away and began to walk, not towards the castle as Corvus had expected, but down the street and away from it. 

 He didn’t ask. Soren would tell him when he was ready.

 Instead he fell into step beside him, their strides quickly falling into rhythm as they made their way down the road and through the city. The damage wasn’t as bad down here, though few places remained unscathed. Corvus tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it wasn’t much better than staring at the scarred and abandoned buildings that lined it. So, instead, he found his gaze wandering to Soren.

 The steady set of his shoulders. The many days of stubble along his jaw that was beginning to resemble a beard. The slight saunter to the way he walked, even now. The way those steps came to an abrupt halt as they arrived at-

 Corvus gasped aloud, gaze traveling up the great skeleton that lay before them. The dragon. It had to be. But…

 “How?” he asked, voice barely more than an awed breath. 

 “Don’t know.” Soren said, voice suddenly raspy. “He was like this when I found him.” 

 Corvus took a few steps forward, gazing up at the great bones of the creature that had taken so much from them. It was no wonder they had evacuated the castle. How were you even supposed to take down a titan of this size? And yet, somehow, they had. Or, somebody had.

 “That isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.” Soren said, still standing a few steps behind him, not having moved. Corvus turned back to face him, confused.

 “Then what..” he trailed off, following Soren’s gaze. 

 A small mound of fresh earth. A pile of stones. A sword, struck into the ground. Soren’s sword.

 Corvus knew immediately what it was. Who it had to be. 

 “Soren-”

 “I- I know he probably shouldn’t be here.” Soren was already saying, cutting him off. “But I couldn’t leave him there. I- I couldn’t leave him. Not again.” 

 It only took a few steps to cross the distance between them, and then Corvus’ arms were around him. He didn’t say anything, just let Soren bury his head in his shoulder until his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing had slowed. Then he guided the pair of them to a nearby stone bench and sat him down, his hand never leaving Soren’s. And he listened.

 Listened as Soren talked about… about things Corvus couldn’t even begin to imagine. About how hard it was to breathe. And about how much you took it for granted before you couldn’t anymore. About how his father would sit up with him long into the night. About how he was… how he was a good Dad. Back then. How Soren had wanted to be just like him. Looked up to him. Wanted to make him proud.

 “I owed it to him, didn’t I? He- he saved my life.” Soren said, voice thick with barely contained emotion. “I owe him my life.”

 “You don’t owe him anything.” Corvus said, squeezing his hand. Letting Soren lean heavily against his shoulder. “Your life is yours.”

 “But it isn’t, really.” Soren whispered into his shoulder. “He gave it to me.”

 There were a million things Corvus wanted to say and a million things he still didn’t understand. That he probably never would. He couldn't imagine living a life that you thought really belonged to someone else. But he did know one thing. 

 “That’s right. He gave it to you. It’s yours. He did everything he could so that you could have it. So that you could live it to the fullest. So… do that.”

 Soren looked up at him, that familiar determined look in his eyes. The one that Corvus loved so much. He straightened up and the two of them stared across the valley at the grave of… of a father. Of a king. Of a man.

 “I think the worst part is that… that on some level I still want him to be proud of me.” Soren said quietly.

 “He would be. He is.”

 As they watched, a butterfly, its wings so thin as to be nearly translucent, its bright colors like a beacon in the dark, fluttered over to land on the pommel of the sword. It stood utterly still for a moment, like a painting, before it opened its wings again and flitted into the dark. 

 Soren released a long, slow breath. “Don’t tell anyone he’s here. Please?”

 “I won’t.”

 Soren leaned against his shoulder again and wrapped an arm around his waist. Corvus tucked an arm around Soren’s shoulder, resting his cheek atop his head, and they sat like that until the night sky began to pinken and the clouds turned a beautiful blush color. 

 As the sun began it’s slow climb across the sky, it’s light caught on something just at the corner of Corvus’ vision and he turned to glance at it. 

 “Soren, what is that?” he asked, straightening up to try and get a better look.

 Soren looked up at him, expression bleary as he was pulled out of a half slumber. He followed his gaze, and Corvus saw his eyes go wide, his weariness forgotten in an instant as he shot to his feet.

 “What-” he tried to ask, but Soren was already running. Corvus followed him past the body of the fallen dragon and up the steps of the dais. Scattered on the ground was an empty bowl, a knife, a burnt out candle, and…

 “No.” Soren was on his knees, lifting up the round object. It was a dull gray orb, perfectly smooth, its surface faintly mottled. “No, no, no.”

 “Soren, what is that?”

 “She wouldn’t have. She couldn’t have-” Soren looked up at him, eyes wild. “It was with Callum, wasn’t it? I should have gone back to check. But I thought-”

 “Soren!” Corvus grabbed him by the shoulders. “What is it?”

 “He’s out. He’s out, Corvus. Aaravos is free.”

[sleepingdeath-light]

barnaby + going through a rut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (22/06/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; sfw | nsfw

character(s) ; barnaby b beagle

outline ; “Can I get hcs for Barnaby going through a rut? I'm 22 BTW”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, rough sex, breeding kink, also a lot of general kinky stuff

note ; playfellowxxx was the tag created by clown and the team specifically for nsfw content — if you don’t want to see that sort of thing then that is the tag to block

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

he tries his best to keep track of when his ruts are meant to happen but there are times where he’ll lose track and they’ll take him by surprise — usually when he’s distracted by something important going on in the neighbourhood

those times are much more difficult since he didn’t have the opportunity to stock up on the sorts of things that usually help his ruts go by smoother

things like sex toys (that get ruined long before the season is over) and good foods (that keep his energy up) and medication to stop him from humping everything in sight since his hormones are constantly through the roof

thankfully, though, in contemporary times he has you to help him when he’s at his most vulnerable — after talking you through everything in advance, when he was in his right mind, to ensure you understood exactly what you were signing up for

and the thing you’re signing up for is a large boyfriend who is horny and hungry 24/7, refuses to leave you alone for even a minute and will growl at anyone who gets too close — at least that’s what he’s like during his rut, usually he’s pretty friendly

you’ll need to stock up on food and drink as there’s very little chance that you’ll have the time or opportunity to make anything proper for yourself — at least not without an erection rubbing against your ass whilst you do it (which, as can be assumed, is very distracting)

aside from very brief breaks for eating and relieving yourself you’re basically going to be stuck in his bed getting fucked into oblivion

ass up with your face buried into a pillow, held up only by his tight grip on your waist as he fucks his cum deeper into your hole(s) — filling you to the brim and beyond until it’s leaking out around his cock, dampening his fur and dripping down your thighs and onto the bed

cheeks and chin wet with drool, tongue lolling out of the side of your mouth, ass and stomach caked in cum and unable to do anything but whimper and sob

overstimulated, mind blanking, practically inflated from how much of his release was stuffed inside of you and being thrown forwards with every single thrust — at his mercy in the truest sense of the word

his pace quick and rough and shallow, not wanting to spend any more time outside of your warmth than he needs

and he’s far from quiet: growling, grunting, panting and muttering strained sentences and intentions beneath his breath

mostly just refers to you as ‘mine’ or some variation thereof as he gets exponentially more possessive when he’s in a rut

every now and then he might switch the position midway through, tossing you onto your back and entering the ‘mating press’ position — but for the most part he sticks with fucking you from behind

leaving claw marks and bruises on your ass, hips and sides

leaving you so overstimulated and fucked out that you can’t even recall your own name — making you his dumb little breeding bitch (even if you’re not someone he can get pregnant)

bites a lot out of instinct — lots on your throat and thighs but he’s also been known to mark up your chest if you’re in a position that allows it

wakes you up with sex, has sex throughout the day and then fucks you to sleep — you will not get a moment’s rest until you’re out cold on an evening

he just can’t help himself — but when he’s in his right mind he will take care of you and make sure that you know how much he appreciates you (gifts, compliments, praise and plenty of oral to make up for all of the rough play you went through for him)

[shadysadie]

I was looking at Hunter’s bedroom the other day and made some observations One of the things TOH excels in is subtle background story telling, I mean, this is the show that gave us then entire backstory of Caleb and Philip in half obscured paintings. So every time a character’s bedroom is shown, I make sure to really look at it to see what it says about the character, and Hunter’s honestly surprises me a lot because it says a lot about him, but not necessarily things I expected.

First lets look at the things I did expect: a pile of books, newspaper clippings on the wall, the Emperor’s Coven diploma prominently displayed above the bed. This reinforces things we’ve already learned about Hunter at this point: he is bookish, well educated, and very proud of his position as Golden Guard. This all makes perfect sense to be in his room.

The general clutter is a bit surprising because I would have expected a more militaristically tidy room, but instead we have overstuffed drawers and things just thrown about, an unmade made bed, what appears to be a first-aid kit left open, which is a nice indicator that Hunter is not as well put together as he appears to be.

But then we have the first unexpected find, several toys including a Belos doll/action figure. Now in fairness this could be an idol seeing that Hunter more or less worships Belos at this point, and it is placed highest on the shelf, indicating a place of great honor, but given that it is in such close proximity to the giraffe doll and Big City Greens reference, it kind of implies that they all serve a similar purpose.

We don’t know exactly what age Hunter was created at, but given Belos makes a comment about thinking he would “last longer than the others” I’m guessing he’s already reached what is around the typical life span for a Golden Guard. 

Now we don’t exactly how long each Golden Guard lasts but we can figure out an average. 

Given that one of the ingredients is Bone of Ortet, and there are 206 bones in the adult human body, that means Belos could make a max of 206 grimwalkers if he used every single bone. All that appears to be left of Caleb’s body is part of his ribcage and a section of spine, it looks like 8 ribs and maybe 12 vertebrae. That makes 20 remaining bones, plus the one unfinished grimwalker makes it 21. 206-21=185 possible Grimwalkers including Hunter. Lets say Belos has consistently been making Golden Guards for the past 360 or so years, that means on average, each Grimwalker lasted about 2 years. (Holy shit, that’s brutal.) No wonder he stopped giving them individual names and just started calling them all Hunter.

Now I’m sure there were some who lasted longer, and some who lasted shorter, but given what we know about our Hunter, 2 years seems to be a good guess for his age. That means he was “born” at 14, the same age Luz is at the start of the series.

At some point during his very brief childhood, (because yes, fourteen-year-olds, y'all are still children) Hunter actually was given a chance to play with, (or at the very least collect a handful of) toys. That is not something I would have expected, but it is kind of nice. Also, along with the action figures he has a Sprig plushie under his pillow. I know out of Canon that plushie was put there because they had to fill their Amphibia reference quota for this season, but in Canon this means Hunter sleeps with a stuffed animal. And the location of it right under his pillow implies that it is really important to him, I'm willing to bet this is a comfort stuffy and before Flapjack, it was probably the only source of comfort he had. Personally, I’m glad that poor boy had SOMETHING to cuddle up with, titan, he deserves that much at least.

Then we have the pillow itself, like a lot of other things in this room (including the occupant) this pillow is beaten up and ragged. Particularly, compared to the Sprig plush which was probably only owned by our Hunter, given the fact we know he is the youngest Golden Guard (Belos probably gradually started making them younger and younger in the hopes of making them easier to manipulate). The rest of the bed looks like it was probably used for decades. So Hunter sleeps on the same lumpy, tattered pillow that all of his murdered predecessors slept on. And given the fact we know Hunter and Darius (who was mentored by the last Golden Guard) value sewing as an important life skill, y'all know these poor boys are repairing it themselves. #give hunter a new pillow 2023

Finally we have the darkest fucking twist: Hunter is in possession of Philip's Caleb Killing Knife. That is nearly as dark as having Hunter track down the ingredients for his own replacement. Belos at one point made the active decision to give this child-clone of his dead brother the knife he used to kill the original. There is absolutely no reason to do that other than as a twisted inside joke. Belos, you are one sick fuck.

[the-banana-0verlord]

No Matter What

In which Malleus tries to win a plush for Lilian at the fun fair.

"Bleeeuarghhh"

Malleus grimaced as he held Lilian's hair from falling into her face while she puked into the trashcan. Just minutes ago, they were riding a fast rollercoaster up and down. Needless to say, Lilian's heart and stomach didn't take it well.

Malleus held her hand as she sat down on a nearby bench, her face still as pale as a ghost's. The fae wiped a few of the puke left on her lips with a tissue and threw it away.

"I'm really sorry for ruining the moment," Lilian smiled weakly. "I really thought that after all I went through I could take it."

"Nonsense," Malleus squeezed her hand lightly. "As long as I'm with you, no moment is truly ruined."

Lilian smiled again and rested her head on Malleus's shoulder, who had come to sit beside her. The girl let out a small sigh, closing her eyes.

Malleus was distraught. His girlfriend was feeling down and guilty (he thought she had no reason to, but Lilian's mind felt things differently and he knew that), and so in turn he was feeling bad as well. Just a single of her tears could turn into a hurricane for him.

The fae's piercing eyes wandered across the fun fair, until it landed on a game booth. A few plushies hanged from the roof, while children played darts in hopes of winning one. Malleus found it strange that they would not simply buy the toy, but then again it was human nature to feel satisfied with a bounty they earned through hard work.

Suddenly, a lightbulb lit up in Malleus's head (figuratively, even so if he wished for to it could appear above his head for real it would). He would win one of the plushies for Lilian! Now he understood the vigor the human children portrayed as they shot the target. It was a challenge to prove your worth, like a knight fighting the dragon to deliver the princess.

Except Malleus is in reality a dragon.

And it implied that he was romantically involved with the plushie.

...

Alright, the allegory was bad, but the point still stands.

"Which plush would you like?" he asked Lilian. The girl slowly opened her eyes. It appeared that while Malleus had gotten his bright idea, she had slightly nodded off.

"...Huh?..."

"I would like to win you one of the stuffed toys. You can choose one of them."

"Are you sure...? Those games are usually hard to beat. I don't want you to feel disappointed because of me."

"Don't bother yourself with such casualties. I never lose."

"Well, if you say so."

Lilian stretched to ease the tension that had built up in her muscles while she had nodded off, then her blue eyes closely inspected each of the plushs before settling one of them.

"Do you think you could get me that one?" she pointed towards a slightly large black cat plush with green eyes and an adorable grin. The sign said you had to win the game three times to be able to claim it.

"Child's play," Malleus smirked. "Stay seated to rest, I shall get you your prize."

Malleus got up and presented himself at the counter, where he asked the bag-eyed employee to let him attempt the challenge. He gave the amount of money that was enough for roughly three tries. He was given 15 darts, five for each try.

With a confident smile, Malleus approached the target section. Except when he tried the first time, it failed. And the second time. The third one also. And every one that came after that, until he was left with no darts.

The fae's brows furrowed in frustration. Lilian, who had watched him fail miserably, walked up to him to talk to him.

"It's okay if you don't get it," she reassured him.

"But you want it, don't you?" Malleus asked, turning to her with the same energy as a puppy who had not achieved to bring back the thrown stick.

"I mean, yes, but you don't have to push yourself too much for me. I'll live without it."

At that, Malleus's ego found itself a bit vexed. He wasn't pushing himself. If anything, he was the one going easy on the fragile human invention. And no way he was going to let Lilian believe this was the extent of his capacity. He slammed another few dollars on the counter and turned to the employee.

"No. I shall be trying one more time."

The employee stared a few seconds, and reached to get five other darts with a sigh before giving them to Malleus.

The fae came by the target once more, but this time, he was more determined than ever. He took one of the darts, brought it close to his eye to aim, stretched his arm, and then launched the dart.

Some say they heard it break the sound wall. Other said they didn't witness a dart, but rather a bullet. All things for sure, Malleus had reached the middle of the target. And while he did that, he also broke it, broke the booth, and nearly impaled the person who was walking behind it.

Security was called.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Malleus stomped out of the fair, Lilian close behind him, trying to catch up with her smaller legs.

"H-hey, wait up!" she called out, nearly tripping on an uneven brick. Malleus stopped in his tracks and let her stand by his side, even though he still had that frown on his face.

Lilian rested her hands on her knees, catching her breath. Malleus had really long legs.

"You know, it's not all that horrible that we got kicked out. We can surely find something else just as fun," the girl spoke out, trying to ease the situation.

"No we won't," Malleus shook his head. " Not only did I not get you that plush and failed to cheer you up, but I also got us thrown out of the fair. This day was ruined because of me."

"No it didn't. We still had a good time before it happened, and I didn't care that much for the plush anyways."

"Yes you did. And I wasn't able to offer it to you."

"To be frank, I cared more about how you wanted to cheer me up after I felt down. That was really kind of you."

Malleus blushed slightly, feeling embarassed. His frown was replaced with a puppy-eyed look.

"So you're not upset?" he inquired meekly.

"Of course not! And who cares if we can't go to the fair anymore. We can go somewhere else! I saw a cool ice cream parlor on the way, we could always go there."

The fae's elongated ears perked up at the mention of ice cream. It was truly his favorite.

So, they walked up to the ice cream parlor, ordered their favorite flavor and sat down on the stairs to get to the door. As the sun was setting down, you could hear their laughs as they spoke about anything and everything.

In the end, the day wasn't that bad. Malleus still swore internally to buy the plush at another place, though.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[kelp-person]

my last sagau post got pretty popular ( for some reason ?? ) so now i've decided to give whoever's interested a glance at what my imposter! sagau would be like. ( btw sorry if any of the mentioned characters are ooc this is like the third time i've written for genshin 🗿 )

edit :: if you want more content from this little au, feel free to check this little drabble i wrote out !!

𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗨, 𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧 ...

☀︎︎ the "creator" ( at least, they claim to be ) is but a child: a spoiled brat who throws tantrums when they don't have their way and laughs at the agony of others. they don't share, only wanting to keep the best for themself, and if they are displeased by any of their toys, then will tear them apart and scream as the stuffing falls to the floor like freshly fallen snow.

☀︎︎ the "imposter" ( once again, a claim made by the so-called "creator" themself ) is also but a child, except this one is too kind and oblivious for their own good. they're not stupid - they KNOW that these people all want their head on a stick - but for every chase, for every attack thrown their way, their smile ( which also proudly shows that they're missing a single tooth ) never falters.

☀︎︎ the "creator" - who is dressed in only the finest of silks and fabrics - is enraged at word of an "imposter" going around and "ruining" their face and name, so they make a decree: find the "imposter", kill them, and the hunter will be rewarded with whatever they can imagine and even beyond that.

fun fact: the archons all know that decree is a lie, because they know that their "creator" is far from kind.

☀︎︎ the "imposter" - dressed in your average, everyday clothes with colorful bandaids covering almost every visible part of their body - is more confused than anything. people yell at them; snarl at them when they think they can't hear, and they don't understand why. their confusion only grows when they hear this so-called "creator's" decree. why do they want them dead so bad?

☀︎︎ and then there's everybody else, who's caught up in the "creator's" mess. at first, they, too, were full of rage. how DARE this ignorant child take their god's face and name and wear it around as they please with not a care in the world?

☀︎︎ but then the "hunt" actually begins, and suddenly beliefs in their "creator" start to dwindle, and all because this "imposter" is far too compassionate for them to understand how their intentions could possibly be perceived as "evil".

jean is one of the first to encounter this "imposter", and at first she's initially surprised at how ... innocent they look? for a moment, she watches in surprise as this child who looks so much like her dear "god" interacts with the usually aggressive slimes. their laugh is so vibrant and full of warmth, and their touches are gentle as they pet the colorful blobs that come up to them. what surprises jean even more, though, is when she makes herself known as a threat, the slimes are quick to defend the "imposter": surroundings them in a protective wall and glaring at jean with a ferocity that DARES her to draw her blade. in that time, she believes that the "imposter" will sick the small blobs on her, but they don't. instead, they smile and tilt their head, looking both confused and curious at the same time.

xiao is next. he goes for the kill almost instantly once he sees the "imposter" wandering the streets he watches over, but the moment he does, a tree branch suddenly comes out of nowhere and straight up just whacks him on the forehead, making him stumble back in pain whilst also drawing attention to him from the "imposter". he goes to growl, to threaten them for taking his "god's" face and name, but all words almost instantly die on his tongue when they kneel down next to him and place a blue bandaid against his forehead. the shock of their action is enough to make him freeze, and he suddenly feels his throat go dry when the "imposter" grins and asks him if he's okay.

and then there's the electro archon herself, whose rage is almost enough to ignite a thousand suns. she goes to fight the "imposter" - to put an end to this hunt once and for all - but then accidents happen, she's trapped under something heavy and water is filling the room fast until bubbles of oxygen are escaping her lips as she tries to free herself. and then that's when it happens: the "imposter" comes down and helps her out, nearly risking their own life in the process, and for some reason - rather than just leaving them to perish - she returns the favor and helps them out of the water too.

"why did you save me?" ei asks, her eyes focusing in on this 'imposter' with a heavy glare brimming with suspicion.

to her surprise, though, rather than being intimidated, the 'imposter' merely grins and answers, "because it was the right thing to do." they tilt their head to the side curiously. "isn't that why you saved me?"

ei stays silent, too busy to even hear the 'imposter's question as she stares at the way the sun rises behind them, giving them a heavenly glow that feels so much like 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 despite their messy appearance gained from being chased around all of teyvat.

( would it be strange to say that this 'imposter's smile was a lot more comforting than the one her 'creator' ever gave anyone since their reign began? )

[suna-reversed]

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you. 

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest. 

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine. 

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest. 

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber. 

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest. 

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection. 

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you. 

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went. 

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person. 

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest. 

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth, 

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind. 

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly. 

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed. 

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole. 

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” 

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart. 

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart. 

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward. 

“At least he kept his promise”  You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle. 

—-

“At least I kept my promise.” 

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus. 

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.  

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-” 

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth. 

“Nothing!” you reply in unison. 

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad. 

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy, 

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table. 

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly. 

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.” 

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry. 

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before. 

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.” 

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them. 

“Is everything okay?’ 

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.  

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi. 

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world. 

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck. 

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps- 

it didn’t matter now. 

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

ur inc3l childe has me doing mental gymnastics and constant brainrot man,,,,,,, honestly pls continue building up the lore[tm] for that bastard

and since u got me thinking i hope u don't mind me dropping this as well,,,,

- i feel like he'd bully u to get filmed while bring fucked or sticking up a vibe in ur cunt as u orgasm over and over,,, he's got like 20 different photos of u cumming in different angles in 4k hd

- panty stuffing,,,, my beloved,,,, he'd stuff u with ur old crusty, stolen/missing panties with his dried up cum from using it,,,, nasty nasty boi

- if he's a rich ass incel then u know he gotta have custom hentai doujins and lots of commissioned art he paid so much to have u as the character being fucked and his likeness to the protag fucking. he's got dakis in ur likeness and maybe even a custom sex doll,,,

- he got a custom tentacle dildo for u so he can live out his tentacle kink fantasy,,, probably ties u up too idk he's disgusting i love him heart eyes

HES SO NASTY ILL BE GIVING HIM WAY MORE LORE DONT U WORRY

but holy fuck this has me shaking in my boots. every single thing here is so very delicious im OBSESSED

f…filming and panty stuffing…… my head is So Full……. he’s got a fancy ass webcam and condenser mic just to record him doing the grossest things to you… his fingers, dick, toys, and more have all been used and filmed in several positions. he’s got a folder full of all the videos on his computer AND phone. plus a whole photo album of your body (mostly your cunt) on his phone and also has said album as a widget on his home screen so he can see the photos anytime all day……

i’m a monster fucker and the tentacle dildo part?? he definitely has his favourite tentacle doujins and hentais shamelessly bookmarked on his computer and absolutely makes you watch them with him!!

hehe also linking this fic here. it’s what got my main account thrown into tumblr jail but i am damn proud of it. it has a brief mention of this stinky boy commissioning art of his sweet darling and using it as his computer background!! we are very much on the same page.

you’ve given me enough thoughts to last a lifetime thank you for the food i will be incel childe posting for the rest of eternity

[thesolferino]

Touchdown

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: smut, minors please keep scrolling!

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon

— summary: clay loses a football game, and while he’s already mad, you decide to rile him up even more.

“God fucking damnit.”

Clay muttered, pulling his helmet off and slamming it against one of the benches as he said the last word, making you almost jump as you quietly trailed along behind him, feet following in his footsteps. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, wiping beads of sweat off the sides of his face as he moved towards his locker, carelessly hanging the helmet in its place as he huffed a frustrated sigh.

The locker room was empty, no traces of anyone’s belongings left, as Clay took his sweet time yelling and arguing with the coach after he instructed the rest of the team to change and get out of his sight; everyone had left before he even reached the lockers. The game hadn’t ended well for his team - the game tied, and he was feeling confident, patting their center, Nick, on the back in encouragement, shooting a pearly smile to those who cheered them on and filled the bleachers. They played overtime, and a coin was tossed, during which his team ultimately lost. Looking back on it in the pessimistic state that he was in now, throwing the towel he used to wipe his face at the wall, that should’ve been the first sign it wouldn’t end well. 

The other team scored one final touchdown in the last three minutes of the game, the crowd’s cheers and protests mixing as the opposing team’s points shot up by six, leaving them victorious by one single point and Clay upset, pent up rage and bitterness stuck inside his body with nowhere to go now that the game was over and balls couldn’t be thrown. He stayed arguing with the coach for longer than he should have, even though he simply refused to budge. You’d managed to come down from the bleachers just in time to see him hold back a curse and speedwalk towards the lockers, following close behind, not even daring to call out his name.

“Damnit!” he shouted again, sitting down on the bench, running both of his hands through his hair fervently, huffing out large exhales every time they moved back and forth. The rest of his gear was still on despite coming here specifically to change - his jersey was still draped over his large shoulder pads and chest, one glove on and the other chucked at the wall as well as the towel, shorts and knee pads in place, too. You carefully reached out to place a warm hand on his shoulder, at least giving him some type of assurance, hoping it would calm the fire that burnt in him, mighty and frantic, at least a little. 

It seems to do nothing, though, and the fire in him just keeps growing taller and stronger, flames licking farther up his throat, seconds away from escaping, burning him to ashes.

They do exactly that - they engulf his entire body, and for the split second that his gaze catches yours, you can see his eyes glint with flames, before he stands up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and presses his lips to yours hungrily. His fire engulfed you, spreading through you like an infectious disease, warmness swarming you from head to toe as he pulled you closer to him by the waist, leaving fiery fingerprints everywhere his hands touched you like hot coal.

He grunted into your kiss as he walked forward, backing you into the wall. The kiss was so unruly, so much more dizzying than any of the delicate ones you’d share in your bedroom - it was forceful, daring, scratchy, and when both of his rough arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he murmured: “Jump.” into your mouth, you knew you weren’t leaving that room without bruises. 

Despite being aware of that, though, you couldn’t help but test his dominance, at least a little bit. Being bratty was second nature; after all, you were the air to his fire. When you blew strong enough, you could calm it down, but when you blew however you pleased, you’d ignite it more intensely than any gasoline ever could. And you couldn’t take the fire out this time, so you might as well fuel it to the best of your abilities. 

“I don’t want to. And take off the uniform, you’re not gonna fuck me with those shoulder pads on.” 

He pulled away, staying close enough to your face so you could feel every riled exhale, enough so you could see his jaw clench and green eyes boring into yours so madly that you almost cowered under his gaze - however, you persisted. There was really no reason to answer like that, and both of you knew it, but you wanted to toy with him, have him earn your submission, no matter if he’s pissed out of his mind or not. In hindsight, that may have not been a good idea, and you realised that the longer he said nothing and stared at you in pure anger, but there’s no going back now, is there?

“I’ll fuck you however I want.” Clay muttered through gritted teeth. “And you’ll like it no matter what.”

With that, his arms were back around your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist when he pushed you to lean against the wall. His lips were glued back onto yours in no time, your hand automatically darting to bury itself in his hair and pull, his fingers on your hips so tight they’d surely leave red marks. His lips left yours and you almost whined but held back when they moved to your neck, barely wasting any time before biting down on it, earning a gasp from you that you foolishly hoped he didn’t hear despite knowing there’s no way he missed it. He sucked on it, hard, to the point that you knew there’s no way it could be any shade other than dark, dark purple in a couple days’ time. 

He set you down briefly, and you did your best to try and hide how impatient and upset you were getting, but he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up, tossing it to the side before getting rid of the shoulder pads as well, your eyes swerving over his sweaty, naked chest as he silently raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to do the same. You did nothing except lift your gaze back to Clay’s and stare at him with no emotion whatsoever.

“Take it off.” He commanded, gaze switching between your chest and eyes, waiting for you impatiently. You exhaled through your nose, just short of a chuckle.

“Do it yourself.” You shot back, seeing him cock his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself and flush down the anger, despite knowing it won’t work. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He scowled, hands immediately grabbing at your shirt and pulling it off, fingers quick on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. 

“And yet you still wanna fuck me like a dog in heat.” You retorted when the clasp loosened and he pulled the fabric down your arms, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips while he rolled one of your nipples through his fingers.

“You think you’ll still be talking to me like this when you’re begging me to cum and I say no?” Clay whispers in your ear right before his mouth moves down to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and neither of you fail to notice the goosebumps that cover your whole body. You don’t even get to manage a word out, syllables falling back into your throat when you swallow upon feeling his hands sneak themselves under your skirt, gripping your thighs. 

“With how she’s talking, I’m sure my little brat isn’t wet right now. Right?” you feel your heart speed up when his hand moves a little further to the right and runs his fingers over your damp panties, brushing over your opening, fingers barely ghosting your clit. His pointer finger catches onto the fabric and pushes the underwear aside, leaving space for his middle finger to feel the juices that pour out of you, his touch feeling incredibly cold against your heat, feeling the tips of his fingers coat themselves in you before pulling away. His eyes meet yours paired with a smug smirk that you’ll never get to erase out of your memory.

“Oops.” he grins. “Seems like I was wrong.”

And then, when you least expect it, his fingers shove themselves in you, eliciting a muffled whimper, legs stumbling backwards to lean on the wall again when they start pumping in and out, lewd noises deafening you as you feel drops of wetness slipping down your thighs. He still persistently works his fingers inside your underwear, thumb sneaking inside too to rub at your clit, and that’s when he pushes a moan out of you, a sign of defeat - music to his ears. You can’t help it, can’t help any of it when it feels so good, when every time his wet finger brushes against your clit it sends a jolt through your whole body, your own hands twitching at the movement. 

Your whole body sets aflame, head blazing, sweat escaping through strands of your hair the longer he keeps going, fingers stuffed in you, thrusting in and out like it’s his last, pushing you towards your orgasm more and more. Sure enough, your stomach starts twisting and your abdomen coils, something inside you pushing you off the walls as you arch more and more and grind into his unrelenting fingers. 

“Cl-Clay… fuck, I’m-!” just as the words pass your lips, his fingers pull out, and the pleasure is entirely gone, ripped away from your hands as you stare up at him, feeling betrayed. Your hands instinctively move to your heat, as if of their own free will, but he grabs at your wrist before they make it to their destination.

“Don’t you dare. You come when I say so. I think I’ve made that very fucking clear, haven’t I?” Both of you know he’s stripped you of your brattiness when you say nothing, just swallow to mend your dry throat and quietly nod - you hate it, he loves it.

Clay pulls his shorts and underwear down his legs, and that’s when you realise you’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for, so you hook your fingers around the waistband and pull your panties down, stepping out of them when you notice his cock, finally free and painfully throbbing as he strokes himself a few times. His eyes catch sight of the way you practically drool watching him, and he does nothing but scoff before your eyes meet.

“Get on the bench. All fours.” He commands and you comply, climbing onto one of them, arms and legs trembling where you place them.

“Watch your balance. I won’t be slow.” Clay says, guiding his cock into you, slowly pushing the tip inside as you hold your breath, waiting for him to just get on with it, already plenty stretched from the way his fingers fucked you open just seconds before.

“Won’t you now?” You murmur in irritation, words escaping you before you can even rationalise the fact that they won’t do you any good right now. “If you can’t play good, at least try to fuck me good.” 

He stopped in his tracks and you froze, only realising that you may have crossed the line after the words were already long out of your mouth, and you opened it to apologise, but didn’t even get to inhale properly when he suddenly buried himself in you to the hilt, almost tearing you apart when his hips collide with yours and you let out a pained yelp, his cock stretching you out ten times more than his fingers had.

You felt his whole hand wrap itself around your throat before he pulled you up by it, pressing his lips close to your ear so you could hear every last breath of his.

“You know I play as good as I fuck - and best believe, I’ll fuck that brat out of you.” Clay growled into your ear before pushing you back down, not even giving you time to grip the bench before pulling out and thrusting back in with a low groan, setting a fast pace from the start.

You bit down on your lip with more and more force with every thrust - he filled you to the hilt every time, and you were sure you were drawing blood by now, a slight metallic taste coating your tongue from how hard you were holding back your moans. You were absolutely not gonna let him fuck the brat out of you.

He kept pumping into you wildly, pace brutal and unforgiving, and it took everything in you to be as quiet as possible, but then you felt a cold finger carefully rub at your sensitive clit, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, a loud moan getting pushed out of your throat.

“Fuck! Clay…” you whimpered, trying to stabilise yourself on your shaky arms but barely succeeding because the more he pumped inside of you, the more it felt like he was forcing every thought in your brain out, replacing it with only him and his name. The hand gripping your hips left them, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling it whenever he thrusted back in, making you hiss out in a sick mix of pleasure and pain.

“F-Fuck, I…” your throat ran dry from how fast and ragged your breathing stayed - it felt like he was going faster and faster every second.

“This good enough for you, princess?” he exaggerated, mocking you, a little out of breath himself as he pushed farther and farther, thumb never leaving your clit. You swallowed, not able to give him a proper response besides dumbed down words and broken syllables. He angled himself a little different with the next thrust, which made him dive into a spot he hadn’t touched before, making you see stars as you let out a huge gasp, grabbing at his arm that pulled on your hair in a blind attempt to ground yourself.

“R-Right there… fuck, please don’t-don’t stop!” you cried out, a new wave of heat flooding your entire body as he kept hitting the same spot over and over again, making you blind, white imprinted behind your eyelids. Your brain, along with any rational thoughts turned off completely, leaving you with nothing but moans and gasps of his name and how scarily good his cock felt in you.

You felt your climax creeping up on you, slowly but surely, the heat from every part of your body accumulating in the pit of your stomach, feeling the knot ready to come undone any second now. You clenched around him painfully, unable to help the spasms, seconds away from orgasm to the point you could practically taste it. It seemed like Clay could taste it, too, because he slowed down, thrusting into you lazily, like he hadn’t fucked your brains out a moment ago.

“Say sorry.” he said, voice as stable and confident as ever, unwavering compared to your shaky, barely still there one. 

“Wh-what?” It took the words a second to make their way from your ears to your brain, hazy mind clouded with nothing but him, unable to process what he’s even saying when he’s buried so deep in you.

“I said, say sorry.” he bumped into your sweet spot once again, leaving you mewling and your eyes closing on their own.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” you stuttered, trying to piece your thoughts together while you could.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. “Sorry for the things you said, or sorry because you know I won’t let you come?” 

“I’m-I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t-… I promise I didn’t mean it… Please, let me come, baby…” you whimpered out, grabbing at his arm again, trying to gain the little bit of sympathy you hoped he still had left.

“You’ll have to beg a little harder for me to even think about it, princess.” he chuckled, like the whole thing was damn hilarious, working his fingers on your clit again as your breathing stammered and you fought your best to get some words out.

“God, baby, please, you-you know I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, so sorry…” you breathed out with another tired gulp. “You-...I-... please, baby, you can’t do this, I’m sorry, okay?”

“I can do whatever I fucking want to and I have some reason for it. What’s stopping me from using you like my own little fuckdoll right now and leaving you here with nothing except my own cum dripping out of you? What’s stopping me?” Clay snapped, pulling you by the hair again. You gulped again, feeling actually nervous this time.

“I… Please, baby, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said, please, can you just-” 

He interrupted you mid sentence with such a rough thrust that you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers back on your clit, feeling like you’re getting lifted up to the skies themselves once again. He managed to find the same angle, hitting the spot that made you feel hell and heaven all at once, pleasure prickling at every part of your body as you loudly moaned, putting no effort into concealing it or keeping silent anymore.

You felt the knot in your stomach once again, quicker than ever, slowly unraveling itself and your cries turned into ramblings, begging him to let you come.

“Pl-please, can I please… Fuck! Please, can I- I’m so close, shit, baby, can I please-” you stuttered, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as you could almost touch your climax.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me.” 

As soon as the words escaped his lips, you felt the knot finally untie itself and you let out a guttural moan, not caring who would hear or not - the pleasure was sickeningly sweet, almost making you ill, knocking you to your elbows as you couldn’t see, hear, feel nothing except the wave of pleasure washing over you repeatedly, beads of sweat running down your body.

The clenching of your heat against him while you climaxed drove Clay to the brink of insanity, coming himself before he could even realise it, filling you up to the brim with a few final thrusts. He stayed inside you for a few seconds while you were catching your breath, watching you uncontrollably spasm around him as you came down from the high, clenching around him every so often, all your senses overstimulated.

When your breathing evened out, he finally pulled out, grabbing the box of tissues from his locker as he slowly started to clean you up, wiping over your sensitive parts, holding you up lightly by the stomach so you wouldn’t fall whenever he touched one of the tender parts. You huffed out a large exhale.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clay. Remind me to never provoke you after a game again, what the fuck.” you said, voice still shaky, and you heard him cackle behind you.

“I’ll probably be mad for the rest of the day anyways, but whatever.”

“You played good, by the way. Really good. I just wanted to piss you off.” You admitted, watching him stand up and look at you with a knowing smile, before pressing a light peck against your lips. 

“Yeah, I figured.”

[acheez]

KINKTOBER DAY 5 | masamune date

♡  masterlist

♡  content warning  |  object insert, kitty petname, sensory deprivation (blindfold), one single word of degradation, afab reader

♡  words | 500ish

Masamune knows what he wants. He is a person of strong convictions and determined to achieve and fulfill his ideals no matter what or who gets in the way. He doesn't deviate like that for any stupid thing. But every perfect man has a sneaky link and you were his sneaky link. But as said earlier, Masamune knows what he wants, how to get it, and how to satisfy himself.

"You think that your convictions and desires are more important than mine?" your eyes shone under the moonlight and the candle light that illuminated the room, Masamune's katana drawn and its edge cutting the millimeters that were between it and your figure. Feeling that you returned to your first meeting, you decided to remain calm, knowing that if his life mission was for you to be dead you would already be.

"Undress" gritting his teeth, Masamune keeps his sword against you and with his single eye he follows your movements -as your garments slowly descend until you are completely exposed and vulnerable to the warlord who has proven his courage and his untouchable devotion to you a few times.

With the ribbon of your kimono, masamune blindfolds you and you feel even more vulnerable than before, losing the primordial sense of survival, panicking when you do not feel Masamune on top of you or his body heat. Thinking about calling him, your words are halfway out before feeling his arms gently deposit you on the kotatsu, his hands going down from your shoulders to your chest, big calloused hands massaging your breasts and his breath tickling your cunt

"I won't eat you out today kitten, I'm going to do something that will make you meow much more than my simple tongue" the sound of the metal of his armor falling to the ground giving you an orientation of what is happening to later be completely discarded.

"A-ah" your breath is short when you feel like something, which is clearly not masamune’s cock or his fingers, begins to enter little by little inside you. Thinking back to the century you're living in, you wonder if there was any chance for sex toys in this day and age but all thought falls apart when the object moves even faster and faster, your back arching and your hips buckling up.

"Do you like it? disgusting how much you meow with my sword stuck inside you my kitten” a gasp of amazement followed by an even louder moan is the signal that masamune needs to remove the bandage and change position to be behind you.

With your back close to his chest and surrounded by the strong arms of the warlord, you see how the handle of his katana fucks you as if it were a modern dildo.

your gaze becomes blurry, your head is thrown back in pure bliss and satisfaction and Masamune laughs to himself

"You sure are liking this, bitch" by increasing the speed you can only affirm that you like it, coming on top of the handle and your nails scratching Masamune's thighs. Resuming the laugh, he simply pulls out the katana and crouches in front of you, the handle going into his mouth and his head bobbing up and down taking all of your cum that has been left on his sword, his single eye completely fixed on yours with a shine that deserves to have his cock stuffed inside you.

[uwuwriting]

Zoom meetings with the kids w/ Kuroo, Akaashi and Sakusa

Request: I have been stuck inside the house with my three year old brother for the last three weeks and he keeps coming inside my room and entering the zoom call with me. So that had me thinking. How would our favorite Haikyuu dads Kuroo, Akaashi, maybe Kenma or Sakusa react to their toddlers coming into their room and joining their meeting. - anonymous. 

Awww I love haikyuu dads!!!! I have begun making the smau and I’m already like 3 chapters in but I won’t start posting until I’ve finished it or I’m about to finish it. I wanna be sure that I’ll have a trustworthy upload schedule lmao bc my midterms are coming up next week and I’m dying. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: fluff

Kuroo Tetsuro

-He was in a meeting with the firm for the past three hours. 

-He was absolutely exhausted and the only thing he wanted was to take a nap with his two year old daughter. 

-You were still at the hospital, your shift finishing in about two hours so he was basically alone.

-Your daughter was playing with her toys in his office, being as quiet as she could but exhaustion started to win her over little by little. 

-Yawn after yawn left her lips but since the sound was so small and barely above a whisper, Kuroo hadn’t realized that his little princess was tired. 

-Standing up with wobbly legs she grabbed her cat blankie and rubbed her eyes as she slowly made her way to her father. 

-With one arm hugging her blankie and the other wrapping around Kuroo’s leg, she rested her head on his leg and slowly sank down to the floor, not tugging at his pyjama leg as he expected. 

-Looking down at her he didn’t think twice before bending over and bringing her into his lap. 

-She let out a small sigh before she clutched his shirt in her small fists and was off to dreamland in record time. 

- “Kuroo-san what do you think?” 

- “Sorry my daughter distracted me.”

-And with that he went back to his meeting. 

-Throughout the rest of the meeting Kuroo rested a hand on her back, cupping her little head lightly rubbing soothing circles on her skull, staring down at her every now and then a smile adorning his features every time he saw her nuzzling into his chest.

-She was a female version of him now that he thinks of it.

-She had his crazy raven hair and stunning amber eyes while her face structure reminded him of both you and him. 

-Her personality though was all you. 

-He knew she was very young but she reminded him of you when you two first met more and more each day.

-Right at that moment she let out a small yawn again, her eyes opening slightly as she repositioned herself on his lap and went back to sleep. 

-He couldn’t love her more, at least that’s what he believed. 

-Each day she proved him wrong. 

-Saying goodbye to his coworkers he shut off his computer and went to the living room couch, laying down with his little girl in his arms. 

-Giving her one last kiss he fell asleep, a smile still present on his features. 

Akaashi Keiji 

- “The author said that those new chapters need to be edited by the end of the month. He will send you the rest when you are done with these.” 

-His eyes were bloodshot from the endless hours he had been staring at his screen. 

-Rubbing his eyes he answered every single question that was thrown at him, wishing that this one would be the last one. 

-But the universe wouldn’t have it that way for poor Akaashi making him stay up late again. 

-Thunder rumbled from outside and he wondered whether or not you had taken your son to bed with you. 

-The four year old boy was terrified of storms from a young age, always looking for comfort in either you or Akaashi. 

-But ever since his sister was born he pulled away from you two, he didn’t ask for help anymore even when he needed it and he didn’t wake you up during the night when he had a nightmare.

-Akaashi was amazed to say the least. 

-Neither of you had said anything to him about how your attention would mostly be on the baby and you guys had never dismissed his needs because of your little girl. 

-It worried him how fast his son closed in on himself. 

-He was already a shy and quiet kid but now you barely heard his voice and it broke both of your hearts. 

-Akaashi was determined to help him get out of this phase and be by his side but this assignment took up more of his time than he would’ve liked. 

-Light danced across the room as the door slightly opened but no one stepped in. 

-Keiji was about to stand up when he heard little sniffles and the light pitter patter of feet on the carpet of his office. 

-And soon enough his son rounded the corner of his desk, one arm wiping away tears as the other clutched the stuffed owl his uncle Bokuto had bought him. 

-Without losing a beat Keiji pushed his chair back and brought him in his lap, giving a small apology to his boss before momentarily turning off both camera and mic. 

- “I’m sowwy.” 

- “Shh I’m here, nothing’s gonna hurt you.” 

-Giving him a kiss on each cheek Akaashi let him snuggle in his chest, a strong arm supporting the toddler while simultaneously making him feel safe and protected. 

- “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but could we end it here? My son had a nightmare and I want to calm him down.” 

- “Of course Akaashi-san, give my regards to the little man. Goodnight.” 

-And with that the meeting was over and Akaashi was left with a crying child in his arms. 

- “Hey hey, I told you that nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here. Why don’t we go sleep with mommy hm?” 

- “I’m sowwy…”

-Akaashi kissed his head again bringing him into a tight hug as he got up from his seat. 

- “There is nothing to be sorry for now come on, mommy would want cuddles.” 

 Sakusa Kiyoomi

- “If we use the new quick that Atsumu and Hinata have been practicing then we would have the upper hand momentarily.”

-Kiyoomi let out a sigh as the meeting he had with the team would not seem to end. 

-They had been discussing tactics for the last hour and a half while the rest of the time they had been informed of the new managers they had been assigned. 

-Kiyoomi never expected to be in a zoom call while being an athlete.

-He thought that it would be useless. 

-What were they even gonna do while in the meeting? Practice? 

-But he was proven wrong once the coach called the first meeting and now Sakusa was ready to pull his hair out. 

-Thankfully he was just laying in bed so at least he was comfortable. 

-You had gone out for some much needed grocery shopping leaving Kiyoomi with his son, not wanting to take your child outside with the virus contaminating people left and right. 

-Sakusa loved spending time with his son. 

-He was a low maintenance child, just like he was when he was young, adopting the same hygiene patterns as his father even at the early age of two. 

-He had just started talking and you wouldn't stop having conversations with him, the baby only uttering a simply “dada” or “momma” or even maybe a “yes” or “no” if you were lucky. 

-It made you happy though, seeing your son slowly becoming more independent. 

-Sakusa was also happy but he was also reminded that he wouldn’t stay this young forever; before he knew it his son would be off to high school or college and he wouldn’t fit in his arms anymore. 

-Lost in thought Kiyoomi hadn’t seen the toddler make his way into the room until he felt the covers being pulled as he attempted to get on the bed *and failed bc he’s just too short*

-Letting out a chuckle Sakusa pushed his laptop to the side and leaned down to grab his son, who was now pouting an expression that was a little too similar to yours. 

- “Is that mini Sakusa I see?” 

-Kiyoomi ignored Atsumu as he settled his son on his lap letting the baby wave at the camera as his “uncles” waved back. 

- “Do you mind if he joins?” 

- “Of course not, every Sakusa is welcome.”

-Giving his son one last kiss on his head, Kiyoomi went back to listening to the boring tactics letting his son play with his fingers in the process. 

-Okay maybe it wasn’t that bad now 

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting @letscheereachotheron​ @ezoyscorner​ @storage11037​ @wolfkid22

[bakugohoex]

“really, again?”

pairings: atsumu miya x female reader, hajime iwaizumi x female reader and tetsuro kuroo x female reader

cw: aged up, language, nsfw (breeding kink, nipple play, hair pulling, fucking (obvs), slight expeditionist)

word count: 1900+

a/n: i promise, my requests will start being done soon, i know i always promise this, but i had this idea cause i found it funny sorry

summary: in which you find yourself being fucked senseless by your favourite boy, an interruption occurs to you never gaining the release you need

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

atsumu miya

“Such a good little cumslut for me.” He groaned into your ear; your day had blurred into this one single moment. How you had come to see Atsumu whilst he was at practice bringing cupcakes you had made at work and here you were in the MSBY changing rooms being fucked onto the lockers.

“Atsumu.” You moaned as his thrusts became quicker and harder. Almost being able to see him indent his lengthy cock in your stomach. “I need to cum.” You moaned into his ear, your legs had been wrapped around his waist, your shirt unbuttoned, and his shirt being chucked to the side.

Maybe a quickie wasn't a good idea, especially with the threat of his team mates coming in at any second. “Come on slut, let me cum with you.” His thrusts continued, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him grip your ass. You knew you’d be able to see the indent of his nail afterwards, which would make him horny and fuck you again.

“Such a dirty little thing, coming here wearing that for my teammates to see.” He muttered in your ear, leaving breathless kisses along your neck. It felt intoxicating with his hand massaging your nipples that he loved so much, in this short time, Atsumu had already sucked on them and left bites all around your breasts. You could feel your cum coil up inside of you ready to cream all over his cock, but the sound of chatters had gotten louder, and the sight of the door opening had made the situation a lot worse.

“Yeah, i saw Y/n and Atsumu come out of the gy…” Bokuto trailed off seeing how your whole body was practically on show and Atsumu’s cock had been stuffed inside of you. 

Sakusa looked between the two of you shrugging and spoke, “really again?” He had caught you multiple times fucking and had gotten used to it going to his locker and grabbing some wipes and spray to clean the surface. He had kept some not only for his own hygiene but for moments like this. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper trying to cover yourself with Atsumu who had stopped thrusting and had a grin on his face. 

Hinata and Bokuto both looked between the two of you, Atsumu’s cock just being out without a care in the world, “if you guys wanted to watch we’d have let you.”

“Atsumu.” You scowl as you try to find your clothes, seeing the discarded bra and shirt, you wear it trying to find the skirt that had been thrown away. 

“Here.” Sakusa wearing gloves had picked up the skirt and passed it to you. You could feel the heat rush to your face, this was embarrassing, it had been fine when Sakusa had seen it because he genuinely didn't care but Bokuto and Hinata were another story. They were like brothers to you and now they had seen you stretched out by Atsumu’s cock how would they ever forget that.

Bokuto was the first to pipe up at Atsumu, “I always thought you were lying about doing it in here.”

“That’s what i was going to say.” Hinata happily remarked, they really did share one brain cell. “I totally thought he was lying; she’d never do it here.”

“That must mean he was lying about doing it in the airport then.” Your eyes widened having remembered having done it in the airport. 

“Atsumu what the fuck?” You scowl at the boy who had composed himself putting his clothes back on. 

He gives a smirk before speak, “I may have told them that we fuck...a lot.”

“Stupid brat, we’re not fucking anymore if you think we do it too much.” You grab your bag having left the cupcakes about to walk away.

Atsumu spoke lowly a fuck even though he knew that in a couple hours you’d be in bed in those pretty laced lingerie he had bought. Waiting for him to fuck your pretty little cunt into you cum moaning his name. 

hajime iwaizumi

Your legs were pushed against your frame, his cock thrusting back and forth as you could feel how your slick dribbled from your cunt. Iwaizumi had just come back from training the national team and he was stressed. Being the amazing girlfriend you are, you’d sit waiting for him in nothing, but a skimpy green lingerie set, at the sight of you he had grabbed your wrists taking you to your bed.

Here you were, in a mating press as you could feel his cock go even deeper inside of you. “Hajime, c...cum please.” A soft moan came from your lips as you felt his body press against your own, every deep thrust making your mind go wild. 

“Come on baby, let me go deeper.” He whispered his mouth on your nipples, sucking and biting at them. His tongue swirled around the tit making a heavy moan come from your mouth. 

It was supposed to be simple, a quickie before he would go shower and then join you on the sofa to cuddle. But the more his cock felt your velvety walls the more he needed more, one more thrust kept going through his head, one more and then he’d let you cum, but it kept occurring. Every thrust increased in pace, before the sound of something was heard behind him.

“Surpr…” The sound of a glass dropping startled both of you, “Iwa-chan.” Oikawa shouted, turning around to not see him take his cock out of you.

“What are you doing here, Shittykawa?” You knew Oikawa was coming back from Argentina for a short visit, you both had even offered your place for him. 

“I caught an early flight.” He muttered and still turned around. You quickly got up wearing a hoodie and trying to find your underwear. Iwaizumi passed it, giving a small scowl at how Oikawa had ruined the moment. “Really, again.”

You were confused at the comment before he continued, “Hinata told me about how you two can’t keep your eyes off of each other, it’s eye fucking in his eyes.” 

“Maybe if you had called before you wouldn't have seen it.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, putting his clothes back on.

You laugh at the two of them, “don't be mean Hajime, where’s your stuff Oikawa, I'll show you to your room.”

“Always the nice one Y/n-chan.” You laugh as you step over the broken glass, “fix that for us Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa pointed to the glass, you laughed before dragging him away before Hajime threw the boy out of the apartment. “How did you even get inside?”

“The door was unlocked; you should really lock it when you’re fucking.” You shook your head; Iwaizumi had been in such a hurry to take you into the room that he had forgotten to lock it.

You shrugged at least knowing that you had a very big impact on the boy to forget something as trivial as that, “how was your flight?”

“You're going to ask me that when I just saw your boyfriend balls deep inside of you.” He mocked as you pushed his side.

“I’m being nice.” He pouts but it seemed like he was enjoying teasing you. 

“Shut up Oikawa.” You mutter as he drags his bags along.

He laughs before seeing Iwaizumi come beside you having cleaned the glass. He watches how you touch his fingers making sure the boy wasn't hurt and if any glass had scratched him. “You both really are in love.” He almost says it in disgust but with a tone of admiration, it was a love he admired about the two of you, having dated for years now you both were destined to be together. And he knew everybody could see it. 

tetsuro kuroo

The sound of the moans came from inside his office, the way the papers he had been stapling were now discarded on the floor and on his desk were your breasts pushed against the wooden top. His cock deep inside as his hand had wrapped your hair to make a makeshift ponytail for him to pull.

“You didn't expect me to not fuck you.” He toyed, you had only come to ask if he wanted to get lunch, but Kuroo had other ideas, having pushed everything off his desk for you to be pushed against. 

His cock thrusted back and forth, a quickened pace to get you both to cum, “Tets…” You could barely breathe as each jolt brought about a moan and muffles from your mouth.

“Look at you, a mess just for me.” He pulled at your hair, making you look up at the empty chairs in front of his desk. His jacket lay on the floor as you knew his trousers and belt were to the floor. He had seen you in the tight dress that made your breasts spill out and had to ravage you at that moment. “You gonna say something then, whore.”

“Sir, please...let me cum.” You could feel yourself build up the liquid ready to gush right onto his blushed cock. 

“You’ve been a bad little slut, coming in here wearing that.” His thrusts had gotten deeper with every word. You moaned his name loudly, wanting to feel him breed your body till you were filled up with him.

“Hey Kuro…” Kuroo’s eyes had widened, in an instant he let go of your hair, your body pressed against his desk hiding your sore breasts. You saw Kenma having walked in with his game in his hand, he was able to see the curve of your ass and Kuroo’s cock right between your legs. “Really, again?”

Kenma had seen you both sneak off multiple times to fuck in the years he’d known you. He turned around going back to his game without a word. “Kuroo get out of me.”

“What? I can’t finish in you.” He smirked his hand grasping your ass.

“Mood’s ruined.” He took his cock out, feeling your slick drip out from your cunt and off his cock. Finding your clothes, you quickly wore it as Kuroo sorted himself out, “I’ll see you at home.” You went to kiss his cheek, but he moved for you to kiss his lips. His soft plump lips that you had missed so very much, but in again Kenma interrupted the moment.

“Get a room you two.” Kenma had returned his eyes still fixated on the game, he moved further inside as you rolled your eyes going up to the boy. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you at home, bye Kenma.” You touched his shoulder as the boy smiled at you before he turned back to his game. He was always a sweet kid, having watched the two of you form a relationship, he was always glad you were the one to have taken Kuroo’s heart. Even if he hated seeing you both want to fuck each other 24/7, it was love, obsessive love, but love.

Kuroo watched you leave, if only you had arrived a couple minus earlier, he would’ve been able to cum right inside of your pretty little cunt. “What are you doing here?” Kuroo spoke, collecting the papers that had flooded the floor.

“You said to meet you here for lunch.” Kuroo had forgotten the invitation to go to lunch with his best friend, you had preoccupied him, and he had become unaware of what was even occurring. “Lunch?” Kenma questioned not caring about the previous events anymore.

“Yeah, yeah come on.” He muttered grabbing his jacket and leading the boy away from the sex swept room. 

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[blackstarising]

precipice, a buckysarah fic | also on ao3

bucky and sarah spend saturday mornings together on the wilson's back porch. neither remembers when this became a habit.

She’s awake for a few moments before she hears it, the creaking, through the open window. It’s not loud, of course, it’s never loud, Daddy had dutifully oiled the swing’s joints to make sure that wouldn’t happen, but age had touched it just enough that, nowadays, you’d know if someone was sitting there.

Sarah sits up, and rubs the sleep from her eyes. The thick, summer air fills her lungs, the same that coats her forehead in a sheen of sweat. Lingering tension from melts from her shoulders. Unconsciously, she brushes the dog tags nestled inside of her shirt.

He’s okay. Thank God.

A familiar electric buzz runs up the back of her spine as she pads past the boys’ rooms and tiptoes down the stairs. Months ago, that buzz would have prompted her toss her bonnet onto her bed, to swiftly change into jeans and a somewhat presentable T-shirt, even though Saturday mornings before 8 were, by law, designated as Sarah Time.

And then, three weeks ago, the last time she’d seen him in person, she’d raced down the stairs to get AJ’s stuffed toy (some Minecraft thing? Sarah could never keep track) that he’d accidentally left outside before he woke up, cheesy printed pajamas and all. He hadn’t flinched.

He could fit into Sarah Time, she’d decided, right then and there. Lizzo’s “Cuz I Love You” was left on repeat on her phone for her the rest of the day.

So she slips downstairs, ‘Bad Mama Jama’ shirt and all. Coffee steeps. Two mugs are produced, lactose-free milk dumped into each, and a sizable glop of honey into hers.

After all this time, his breath still catches a little when he sees her come out the back door. The humidity that sticks to Bucky’s skin like a stifling coat makes her skin shimmer in the faint sunlight. She yawns, her nose wrinkling just enough that it’s painfully cute, and then she relaxes, still sleepy but serene as she presses the hot mug into his right hand.

“Hey.” He greets her.

“Hey.” Her smile grows. “You’re back.”

“I am. With cinnamon rolls.” Sure enough, a paper bag rests next to the swing. He pats his left side, and she obliges. Their thighs touch plainly this time.

She takes a slow sip of her coffee. “Hope you haven’t been sitting here all night. Where’s Sam?”

“About an hour, and still in DC. Captain America business, and all that.”

“And what? No Winter Soldier business?”

Bucky shrugs. “I like the quiet.” Her quiet. Or maybe just her and the boys, though the boys weren’t that quiet. And ‘like’ was too weak a word at this point, probably.

She takes another sip of coffee, strangely proud. He does too, if only to silence the annoyingly insistent voice in the back of his head nagging him to just put his arm around her shoulder already.

“Still not sure about this fancy milk, though.”

“You mean milk that me and the kids can actually digest?” Sarah knows damn well he can’t taste the difference. “Well, I have bad news for you about oat milk. And soy milk." She grins wickedly. "And don't forget rice milk-”

“None of which belong in coffee.” After nearly a century of identities and missions she’s not sure if she ever wants to hear about, his Brooklyn accent is faint, but he still stretches out the caw in ‘coffee’. How mortifying it is, the way she perks up when that grit bleeds out.

He brushes the bright blue hem of her bonnet. “Is this new?”

She shakes her head and pulls it off. Dark braids tumble down her shoulders. These ones are new, he notices - they’re tighter at the root, and shimmer with oil that smells of roses. “Found out AJ stuffed it in the couch cushions a month ago. I just happened to stick my hand down there yesterday. I do not know what it is about him and that damn couch.” She snickers. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a signed check for a million dollars down there one day.”

He chuckles, and gives the ground a little kick the start the swing going again. “Did he get his new glasses yet? Last time I was here, he was saying that he didn’t want to see the optometrist again.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like the...” Sarah makes a motion with a finger, like she’s pressing a button. “There’s a little gun they use. They blow a puff of air onto your eyeball.”

Bucky recoils a little. “They what?”

“It’s supposed to measure it for the prescription. They tried to do it on me before they did his. I thought it was supposed to be just like a little breeze, but it bounces off your eye.” She pauses and scratches her head. “I may have hollered-”

“Ha! I bet he took that well.”

“I had to get him on my lap to calm down.” She sighs and pouts, just a little. “At least he still wants to be held. Cass makes me drop him off a block away from school now.”

Cass is indeed growing. Overnight, he’s shot up like a reed so that he’s just as high as Bucky’s shoulders. His normally smooth skin is interrupted by a few bumps, and his voice bounces around in pitch like an untuned clarinet. Something in his chest twinges when he considers it, how time marches forward. How, very soon, the collective wide-eyed innocence of the boys will harden into adulthood.

Her gaze falls to his left hand. The fingers curl and flex. She still remembers the first time she’d looked at his arm, really looked at it, the dark plates molding and shifting. It’d been the second time they’d shared this same porch, waiting for Sam to bring back the boys from fishing.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Sarah, he’d said suddenly, catching her gaze. His voice had been heavy, but clear. Dark blue eyes filled with regret. I’ve hurt people. Killed people. I didn’t have a choice, but, with you and- here, she’d held her breath as his Adam’s apple bobbed, how quickly he’d blinked - and the boys, I...I don’t want- I need you to know all of me. Who I’ve been. Who I am. And then you can decide. But you can’t do that if I’m not honest.

She doesn’t remember what she’d said after. She does remember watching him get into the truck so Sam could take him to the airport. How he’d paused when he’d opened the door, and turned towards her, eyes wide. Vulnerable. How she’d smiled at him, and waved, maybe a bit too cheesily, like it’d been the easiest thing in the world, because despite it all, oddly, she hadn’t been afraid. How the widest grin had broken out on his face and something deep inside her chest that had been closed had burst open for the first time since she’d lost Andrew. And she remembers watching the truck pull out of the drive as her heart filled to such a capacity that her chest hurt, and the second they’d disappeared over the hill she’d promptly burst into tears, well, really, half laughing and half sobbing, because how the hell was she supposed to know she could find that feeling again?

It’s only when she sees his jaw clench that she finally notices the cut, long and fading pink against his chiseled cheekbones. Maybe she’s getting too used to them - he’s always injured in some way when he gets back.

He can see that familiar softening in her eyes as she catches sight of the gash. Well, it had been a gash just an hour before, the result of catching a thrown knife on his cheek before he’d caught the hilt. But what’s about to happen next will play like clockwork.

First, she’s going to try to get a closer look. Her index and pointer finger come up just under his chin, tilting his head to the side. His skin tingles, the electricity of her concern rushing through him.

Then, she’ll hum. She’s never chastised him, though he wouldn’t know what there’d be to say if she tried. But that hum says more than enough.

“Hmm.”

In the moment, she doesn’t feel herself cupping his face with both hands, it just sort of happens. Her throat dries instantly as the stubble brushes in her palms.

He can’t breathe, but every single muscle in his body relaxes. He sinks into her touch.

“Y- you should see the other guy,” he manages to get out. There’s a faint memory that breaks to the surface, the docks in New York, 1940-something, 1943? A date whose name has been lost to time, the last date he’d ever go on. Soft hands cupping his face, just like this, and warm, pleading ruby-red lips crashing dully into his, a whisper to not forget her.

Sarah’s tongue darts between her lips. Both thumbs rub small circles into his cheeks. It wasn’t a question of if he wanted to kiss her, no. When has a day gone by that he hasn’t thought of kissing her? How is it that it’s never happened, but he can see it, clear as crystal, and hold it in his mind’s eye. How can he already feel her warm and flush and present and breathless and real against him?

Very slowly, she comes back to herself, and her face immediately flushes with a sharper heat. Her hands awkwardly drop from his face. She tries to think of something, anything, to interrupt the silence (to explain herself?), but every word that comes to mind sticks helplessly in her throat and she just can’t stand it because she’s the same, she’s exactly the same as she’d been at 17, leg jiggling and sweating and staring a hole right through the back of Andrew’s head in AP Calculus.

(She’d never wanted to punch Sam so bad back then when he’d had the audacity to say well, just tell him, already. The audacity of him, to think things were so simple.)

She leans back, scooting just a hair away this time. The crest of the sun beams through the trees, painfully bright. Her pulse is louder now. She’s looking at the small grove so intently she doesn’t even register the weight gently settle on her left shoulder at first. It only clicks when she feels the cool metal of his thumb brush up and down her bicep. Their eyes lock, brown against against blue.

He’s still smiling, and she, she realizes, is too.

So she melts into him. She melts into him, her ear landing over his chest, her arm wrapping around the small of his back. She sighs into the muted whoosh whoosh whoosh of his heartbeat, the cotton of his shirt, and the faint smell of spearmint on his breath. Another kick of her foot and they’re swinging yet again, back and forth, back and forth. The sun pulls itself up ever higher and higher.

The light starts to burn his cheek. “The boys’ll be up soon,” he murmurs into her hair.

She snuggles deeper into him. “Mmm.”

They’re on the precipice of something, this, they both know. They're inching closer and closer, and one day they’ll step off, and she’ll kiss him full on the mouth and whenever he’ll come back to the house he’ll be coming back home and whenever they go anywhere they’ll stick each others hand in their back pockets in that particular way that teenagers do that let everyone know that they’re each others and there’s nothing they can do about it.

One day. But for now, this is more than enough.

They like the quiet.

[solomonish]

Solomon's Nightmare

CW: angst, hurt/comfort, blood mention, death, major character death

Solomon hasn't gotten a full night's sleep ever since Diavolo trapped them in that Toyland. It haunts him at night and invades his dreams, but the thought seems far too foolish to say out loud. Instead, he suffers.

The city itself wasn't scary at all, and it was only vaguely threatening. Stuffed elephants with red eyes that listened to every word you said could only seem so daunting. It was like putting a puppy on a chain and calling it a guard dog, or the Demon Princeton himself. There was an evil lurking in there somewhere, but the fluffy exterior was all too easy to get caught up in. That didn't scare him.

Instead of the Toyland itself in his dreams, Solomon sees cities; cities he saw rise from the ground in his own realm, drab corners of the celestial realm visitors were hardly permitted access to, even certain districts within the devildom were all there. Instead of rubber bullets he sees real ones, a blinding beam of light or a sharp demonic claw. Only one thing stays the same, and it's the terrifying vision of you jumping in front of him before he even has a chance to decide to do anything. 

It was never the whimsical city of toys that terrified him - it was the looming threat of the unknown, and the little control he had over how it hurt you. 

Each time you fall, he falls too, as if the blow that brought you down struck right through his heart and ripped the breath from his lungs. He catches you before you hit the ground, cursed reflexes that should have been a bit faster bringing you as close to him as he can while he presses desperately against the wound. He feels hot blood staining his hand and making it slippery, hot tears running down his cheeks as his mind completely clears and he wonders what to do. If he kills your attacker, he leaves you to die alone and there's no hope for your salvation. If he stays with you, he watches you bleed out and feels you die in his arms, and then there's still no hope.

So he cradles you closer and weeps, and he hopes in futility while he still can.

"How could you be so reckless…?" He barely chokes out. You know he can take any blow, you know that he cannot die - why would you throw your life away? Nobility was not worth your precious life, he was not worth your precious life - what could you have thrown it all away for?

He knows the answer, knows it in his bones as he lives through what you wanted to avoid. Even seeing him hurt was too much for you to bare - or perhaps you loved him so much it had blinded you to reason. How stupid was he to encourage your foolishness? Now he was your demise.

In his arms, moments away from death, you look utterly pleased with yourself when you should be disgusted with him for being a selfish fool who tricked you to your death.

As your body runs cold, Solomon continues to weep, unable to form a single thought beyond the please and the fear. His entire body trembles, unable to contain the grief he prevented himself from feeling for so long. Still he clutches you, because letting you go is admitting defeat and he desperately wants a third miracle that will bring you back. But he knows all too well that death takes what it wants, and the reaper is not one to hand him many favors.

---

Solomon woke with a start, the room around him unfamiliar and dark. A piece of paper previously stuck to his cheek fluttered down to the desk beneath him, which was littered with books of intermediate spells and notes that he learned so many years ago.

"Ah, good. Now I don't have to decide," Your voice said from the corner of the room. He couldn't help how quickly he turned towards you, eyes searching you for any injury or bruising, anything that might imply you were hurt. Even in the dim light cast by the desk lamp, casting long, golden stripes over you, he could see that you were fine, if not a little concerned for him. 

"What?" He asked, voice rough and thoughts jumbled. He couldn't decide between asking what happened, what was going on to make him so disoriented, and asking what you meant.

Solomon watched as you uncrossed your kegs and placed the book in your hands to the side. "You texted me to invite me over, but had fallen asleep in the time it took me to get here. You haven't been sleeping lately, so I thought I'd let you nap." With a soft sigh, you crouched down and took his face in your hands, saying nothing about how he gladly leaned into your touch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Solomon was an honest man, though not always with his words. Even as he assured you that he was alright, he reached up and placed his hand over yours, a silent plea for it to stay. After a moment, his fingers slowly slid to your wrist, wrapping around it with the pads pressing right on your pulse. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, resting the weight of his head entirely in your hand as he nuzzled into it. You kept holding him gently.

"Don't tell me you have to leave when I just woke up," He murmured into your skin. A thoughtful look crossed his face, as if he was just realizing how his lips brushed against the heel of your hand, and he placed a gentle kiss there.

"I don't have to leave if you don't want me to."

"Then stay."

And when he asked so little of you so earnestly, how could you deny him?