#everything you always wanted to know but were afraid to ask

[sttoru]

[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back—way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

[haerni]

🎱 ` DON’T WANNA BE FOOL, WANNA BE COOL

syn. wherein nishimura riki has the biggest crush on you, but why would he tell you that? right?

fem reader , fluff , ni-ki is kind of emotionally constipated minimal proofread , word count. 1.0k + hes so ahhhhhhh i love him in fatal trouble :(

you’re an idiot, ni-ki thinks.

and he does not mean that in any demeaning way, he could never—even if he used to call you that back then, but it’s different now. he’s not calling you an idiot for forgetting your umbrella when it’s pouring out on your way home or your jacket when you get cold and you’re pestering him to give his own. or even when you ask him something outrageously stupid and he couldn’t even find it in himself to say no.

no, ni-ki thinks you’re an idiot for not picking up on the hints he’s been giving you, since last month.

it’s outright a painful situation to watch, especially for him. even your close friends see it, just how can a person be this oblivious anyways?

he thinks he might be sick, because one day he feels his stomach suddenly flipping upside and down when you’re resting your head on his shoulders. you’ve been doing this since the both of you were six, what’s wrong with him?

this was just you being you, just another day the both of you shared—just another day with you. he might be going insane, he surmised. and now his waking and ending days are all now by the memory of you. his mondays were not a mundane that just happens like it did in the ones that has passed.

mondays were your dreadful days and it was his seventh heaven.

here you were, in front of him so close, he can feel you, he can touch you, he can bask in the warmth you always shine on, but he can’t have you like how lovers do. he can’t kiss you that would ever be deemed less than what you are right now.

he wanted to hold you like the gross couples you both cringe at, he wants to take you out and have you dress pretty for him, he wants to show you off, he wants to call you those petnames you’ve always wanted to be called. he wants you to be his and to be called yours.

nishimura riki wanted everything and almost all of you.

and no matter how cheesy it sounds, he wants it all at once.

maybe it was how the sun sets in the horizon or the breeze that blows your hair astray or that stupid laugh that somehow sounds like his favorite song or slamming of his heart that he can hear pounding in his ears—that somehow just makes him forget the lines he shouldn’t cross.

“stop looking at me like that.” your voice takes him out of his reverie. maybe he has been so lost in his head, he didn’t even notice you have stopped rambling about your weekend.

the air shifts almost as if the world just got a little smaller and the bubble you both share just felt suffocating—pressuring even.

he tilts he head quizzically, “what do you mean?”

“i don’t know...” you muttered.

you know it, you know it is there—that feeling you have been trying to avoid. the feeling you have tried so hard to bury, to ignore or to even acknowledge. because why would you? why would you entertain these estranged feelings when there is uncertainty to the answer to its question?

ni-ki has never been more afraid of whatever is next to come out of your lips. he can’t speak, you have rendered him worried. your words almost feel like a rose that might hurt him by its thorns or the petals that fall just the same that bloomed from his chest. he waits for you to continue in anticipation, his hands were clammy, the increasing pace of his heart was so loud, he hopes that you can’t hear it.

you took a short breath, almost as if you were being robbed of it at this moment, like you cannot breathe, “...you look at me as if you want me.”

my god, you aren’t wrong, ni-ki thinks now.

and when you don’t hear any response from his it compels you to fill the silence that consumes everything in your soul.

“you look at me as if you want to kiss me and i don—”

“—i do.” he answers almost all too immediately, his brain going haywire. and that was all there it was.

“what? stop messing around, ni-ki.”

what.. is this real? nishimura riki, the same boy who kept teasing you back in grade school likes you? riki, the boy who held out his hand to you when you slipped on the stairs while delivering some stupid papers to your teacher. ni-ki, the boy who would always carry you on his back on the way home just because you want to. the boy who have pinky promise you for life when you were six, the same boy you have been crushing on, likes you back.

nishimura riki, your best friend of a decade just admitted he wants to kiss you—more than normal friends do.

he breathes out, mustering up the courage, “i mean it, idiot. i have been for so long.” he says matter of factly, “..so, can i?”

he likes likes you that way.

“please—”

that was the word he only needed and he closes the distance as quickly as he can. oh how sweet your lips were, depravity—your lips almost felt like he had been depraved all of these years. it was sweet, tingling and fleeting. but he was happy nonetheless, it was not how the movies go, but it just the way he would have you everytime.

so please, take his heart and use it as much as you will. because he did promise you before to devote everything he has.

+ extra.

“who even confesses and calls their crush an idiot!” you huffed.

“i do and that’s because you’re an idiot.” he pokes your forehead playfully. “i was dropping hints everywhere and you couldn’t see it.”

“what hints, riki? oh my god, did you think staring at me like that was flirting?”

he couldn’t answer or think of an excuse to that.

ᰔ — likes & reblogs are always highly appreciated! i hope i did ni-ki some justice T^T

[judgementdayslittle]

How The Judgement Day treat Little!Reader who had a bad caregiver before them

In the past I had a kind of sort of caregiver who didn't treat me very well. So this is very therapeutic for me! I hope it's the same for y'all ❤️

-When TJD found out you were a little, they were nothing but supportive!

-You were happy to have new caregivers, but you were also still healing from how you were treated before.

-When you were little, you kept for distance for a while. Afraid that maybe they didn't want to deal with a little right now.

-Even if Dom is little, you figure that means it'll be a bother to them to deal with another little.

-It didn't take long for your caregivers to notice you were acting distant. So they tried to ease you into trusting them.

-The group decided Rhea should warm you up first since she's the least scary looking one of the three

-It starts with Mami offering you snacks and drinks.

-"Mami noticed you haven't been eating much lately. Are there any particular snacks that you like?"

-It takes a little bit, but eventually you start eating. It starts with snacks left at your bedroom door. Then slowly, you eat at the table, with just her for now.

-Slowly Dom joins in too. You two start playing together when your both in little space.

-Next Finn slowly joined in on the play sessions. The silly voices he makes with the toys makes little you laugh. Thus you start to get closer to him as well.

-Finally, there's Damian.

-His stature and deep voice make him seem a little bit scary. No matter how many times Dom tells you about how great of a papi he is.

-It takes a little more of a push to get close to him. Mami and Dada suggest you guys help him cook dinner.

-You're a little scared at first. Shaking in your little baby boots even. What if you mess up and he yells at you?

-You're so shaken that you accidentally drop some eggs on the floor.

-Horrified, you start tearing up, apologizing over and over again.

-But there was no yelling, no shouting.

-Instead Damian ruffled your hair.

-"It's alright, it was just an accident. You're okay."

-That just sets off all the water works.

-All the caregivers freak out and keep reassuring you everything's alright. Which just makes you cry more.

-You're then brought to the couch by Mami, followed by Finn, Damian, and a waddling Dom.

-Cuddle puddle time!

-Once you calm down, you explain why you were crying.

-How your past caregiver wasn't good. How they would force you to either be big at times, or to go hide in your bedroom when they didn't want to deal with you being little. How they got mad at you for little mistakes.

-They knew that your last caregiver was bad, but they didn't know it was that bad.

-They promised you that they would always want you around. That you will never be a burden to them, and how You're allowed to make mistakes.

-You start tearing up again, and the cuddle puddle continues!

-In the end, all five of you grow closer for this. And now you have the best caregivers a baby could ask for!

[eddiediazbuck]

I love your Eddie fics 💕

Could you write an Eddie x reader who works at the 118 and she likes Eddie but dosent think he likes her back because she is a tomboy. And they fall for each other with a bit of angst but a happy ending?

Sorry if that’s too much

TOMBOY - EDDIE DIAZ

You’ve always been one of the guys at Station 118. It's where you fit in, where you’re comfortable. As a firefighter and paramedic, you’ve made a name for yourself with your skill, determination, and ability to keep up with the best of them. You were tough, unyielding, and yes, a bit of a tomboy. But there was one person at the station who made your heart race every time he was near: Eddie Diaz.

Eddie was everything you admired in a person—brave, kind, and incredibly handsome. But you were convinced he would never see you as more than just another member of the team. After all, you weren’t the type of girl guys like Eddie went for. You didn't wear makeup or dresses, and you preferred a good workout session over a shopping spree.

Today was just another day at the station, and you were in the middle of a tough training drill. Eddie was there too, of course, leading the exercise with his usual focus and intensity. As the drill came to an end, you found yourself paired with him for the cooldown.

“Nice work today,” Eddie said, giving you a nod of approval. “You really pushed through.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your cool despite the flutter in your chest. “You too.”

As you both stretched out, Eddie glanced over at you, his eyes thoughtful. “You know, I’ve always admired how strong you are. Not just physically, but mentally too. You never give up.”

You laughed softly, shrugging off the compliment. “It’s part of the job. Gotta keep up with you guys, right?”

Eddie’s expression turned serious. “It’s more than that, Y/N. You’re incredible at what you do. Sometimes, I don’t think you realize just how amazing you are.”

His words caught you off guard, and you quickly looked away, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Thanks, Eddie. That means a lot coming from you.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but Eddie’s words stuck with you. Could he really see you as something more than just one of the guys? You pushed the thought aside, focusing on your duties. It was safer that way.

--- --- ---

A few days later, you found yourself on a particularly harrowing call. A building had collapsed, trapping several people inside. The entire team was on edge as you worked tirelessly to rescue the victims.

Eddie was right by your side, his presence a steadying force. As you crawled through the rubble to reach a young girl trapped under a beam, you felt a sharp pain in your leg. You gritted your teeth and kept going, knowing there was no time to waste.

Finally, you and Eddie managed to free the girl and carry her to safety. But as soon as you set her down, your leg gave out, and you collapsed.

“Y/N!” Eddie was at your side in an instant, his face etched with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though the pain was evident in your voice. “Just a scratch.”

Eddie shook his head, not buying it for a second. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, you allowed him to examine your leg, which was bleeding heavily from a deep gash. Eddie’s jaw tightened as he applied pressure to the wound. “You’re not fine. We need to get you to the hospital.”

Despite your protests, Eddie refused to leave your side. He rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand the entire way. It was the first time you had seen him so visibly worried, and it both warmed and broke your heart.

At the hospital, you were patched up and given orders to rest. Eddie stayed with you, refusing to leave until he was sure you were okay.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just one of the guys, right?”

Eddie’s eyes softened as he took your hand in his. “You’re not just one of the guys, Y/N. You’re special. And I’ve been too afraid to tell you how I feel because I didn’t want to risk ruining what we have. But seeing you hurt today made me realize I can’t keep pretending.”

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and warmth there. “Eddie…”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. Tomboy, warrior, whatever you want to call yourself. I love you for who you are.”

Tears filled your eyes as you pulled him close, your heart finally feeling at peace. “I’ve fallen for you too, Eddie. I was just too scared to believe it could happen.”

He smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Well, believe it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

From that moment on, things changed between you and Eddie. The team noticed, of course, but they were nothing but supportive. And as you continued to work side by side, you knew that you had found something truly special—a love that saw beyond appearances and cherished the person within.

--- --- ---

Back at the station, the team’s dynamic began to shift subtly. Bobby, Buck, Chimney, and Hen had all noticed the change in your relationship with Eddie. During a quiet moment in the kitchen, Hen nudged you with a knowing smile.

“So, you and Eddie, huh?”

You tried to play it cool, focusing on stirring your coffee. “What about me and Eddie?”

Hen laughed softly. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious. The way you two look at each other now. It’s sweet. I’m happy for you.”

You felt your face flush, but couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Hen. It’s still kind of new, but it feels right.”

Hen’s smile widened. “That’s all that matters. You two deserve to be happy.”

Despite the initial awkwardness of everyone adjusting to your new relationship, things fell into a comfortable rhythm. Eddie’s support and presence became a constant source of strength for you. And in turn, you found yourself being there for him in ways you hadn’t realized he needed.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, Eddie invited you over for dinner. It was a rare night off for both of you, and you gladly accepted. As you entered his cozy apartment, the smell of something delicious cooking filled the air.

“Hey,” Eddie greeted you with a warm smile, pulling you into a hug. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite.”

You grinned, feeling your heart swell with affection. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Eddie.”

He chuckled, leading you to the dining table. “It’s no trouble at all. I wanted to do something special for you.”

As you sat down to eat, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourselves talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It was moments like these that made you realize just how deeply you had fallen for Eddie.

After dinner, you both settled on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms. The comfort and warmth of his embrace made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt before.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Of course,” you replied, looking up at him.

“Do you ever feel like…you have to prove yourself? Like, because you’re a tomboy, people expect you to be tougher or stronger than you actually feel?”

You thought for a moment before answering. “All the time. I’ve always felt like I had to be one of the guys to be taken seriously. But it’s exhausting, trying to fit into a mold that doesn’t really fit me.”

Eddie nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I get that. And I hate that you feel that way. Because you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Y/N. You’re amazing just the way you are.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words. “Thank you, Eddie. That means more to me than you know.”

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I mean it. I love you for who you are. And I want you to know that you can always be yourself with me. No pretending, no proving. Just you.”

Tears filled your eyes as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. In that moment, you felt a sense of peace and acceptance that you had longed for your entire life.

As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Eddie continued to grow stronger. You faced challenges together, both on and off the job, and your bond only deepened. The rest of the team became your biggest supporters, cheering you on and offering advice when needed.

--- --- ---

One day, while on a particularly intense call, you found yourself trapped in a burning building. The flames were closing in, and panic threatened to take over. But then you heard Eddie’s voice over the radio, calm and steady.

“Hang in there, Y/N. I’m coming to get you.”

His words gave you the strength to hold on, and within minutes, Eddie was by your side, guiding you to safety. As you stumbled out of the building, coughing and covered in soot, Eddie pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. “I am now. Thank you, Eddie.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you close. “I’ll always come for you, Y/N. Always.”

In that moment, you knew without a doubt that Eddie was the one for you. He was your partner, your confidant, and the love of your life. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them together.

The seasons changed, and with them, your relationship continued to blossom. Eddie introduced you to his son, Christopher, and you quickly formed a bond with the bright, kind-hearted boy. The three of you spent weekends together, going on adventures and creating memories that you would cherish forever.

One evening, as you sat on the porch of Eddie’s house, watching the sunset with Christopher playing nearby, Eddie took your hand in his.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice filled with emotion. “I never thought I could feel this happy again. You’ve brought so much light into my life, and I can’t imagine my future without you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “I feel the same way, Eddie. You’ve shown me what it means to be loved for who I am. And I’m so grateful for you and Christopher.”

Eddie smiled, his eyes shining with love. “I want us to be a family, Y/N. Will you be a part of our family?”

Your heart soared as you nodded, tears streaming down your face. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I will.”

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, and you felt an overwhelming sense of joy and completeness. You had found your place, your home, with Eddie and Christopher.

As you looked out at the sunset, wrapped in Eddie’s arms, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them together. Because love, true love, sees beyond appearances and cherishes the person within. And with Eddie by your side, you had found a love that was unbreakable.

And that made all the difference.

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 17)

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

I struggle to support myself on Derrick's shoulder as he walks. I was having a hard enough time balancing when he was sitting still, so trying to steady myself as he moves definitely isn't any easier.

As I hold onto my deskmate's shirt collar for dear life, I scan the horizon for any sign of that tree. Since I was always in Derrick's hands when he walked me home before, I was never able to see too much of the surrounding area. Now that I'm up here on his shoulder, I can see everything: stores, houses, cars, and of course nature. It's unreal seeing it all with my own eyes! But as I look around, I can't seem to spot that cherry tree.

Derrick wouldn't take a detour, would he? Since the apartment is so close to the school I highly doubt it, especially since he knows how in love I am with that cherry tree. But if we haven't taken a detour... why have we been walking for so long? I know I wasn't able to see much scenery before, but why don't I recognize anything at all?

"Here we are," Derrick says.

I gaze up at the blue house in front of us. This is not my apartment.

"Um," I start, "where are we?"

"What do you mean?" Derrick asks. "This is my house."

I nearly lose my footing when my legs threaten to buckle beneath me. He took me to his house?! For the party?! Why?! What happened to asking my dad first and helping him with... that thing?!

Panic sets in as my deskmate reaches for the front door. What should I do?! I can't stay here!

"W-wait!" I stammer, hoping to get Derrick's attention.

"Yes?" He asks, a note of confusion in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"I-I— um, I think there's been a misunderstanding!" I blurt out.

"A misunderstanding?"

"Y-yeah, I... didn't think we were coming here. I thought you were taking me home."

Derrick rubs the back of his neck. "Oh. When I asked you before we left, I thought you said you wanted to come over."

My heart sinks. "I-I don't remember," I utter, my core twisting and tightening at my current predicament.

"I'm sorry," Derrick says. "If you want me to, I can turn around and take you home."

"Are you sure? You wouldn't mind it?"

"If you're not ready for this, I don't want to push you," he says as his brows turn upward.

"Then could you—"

Before I can finish answering, the front door opens.

"What's the birthday boy doing standing around out here?" asks a woman with long, wavy brown hair and big green eyes.

"Oh, we were just— I mean, I was about to—" Derrick stammers.

"Well, don't just stand there," says the woman, smiling warmly. "Come in, come in!"

The woman grabs hold of one of my deskmate's hands and pulls him into the house. The unexpected movement causes me to stumble, but Derrick catches me in his free hand before I fall and holds me close to his neck. My heart pounds and pounds in my ears as heat radiates from my reddening cheeks. I thought we were close before, but this?! This is a little too close!

"Mom, I need to—" he starts. "Hey, what's this?"

When Derrick pulls his hand away from me, I scramble to regain my composure. Once I'm able to balance myself on his shoulder I look around the room and see it's decorated with balloons, streamers, and gifts. There's even a banner that reads 'Happy Birthday John And Derrick.' I blink, cocking my head to the side as I read the sign. Who's John? My eyes widen and my heart bangs against my ribcage. How many more people are coming to this party?!

"Don't go thinking I wouldn't decorate just because your brother's not here!" Derrick's mom exclaims.

I forgot Derrick has a twin brother who's away for university. As curious as I am to see how alike the two look, I'm relieved to have another perthean out of the picture.

"Right," Derrick says. "Anyway, Mom, I need to take—"

"What do you think?" His mom asks, clasping her hands together. "I know yellow is your favorite color, so I tried to use as much of it in the decorating as I could."

"Um, it's great! But really, I need—"

"What time are your friends coming over again?"

"5:30. Which is why I need to hurry and—"

"And who's this?" The woman says, leaning towards Derrick's shoulder with her eyes fixed on me.

A shiver runs down my spine as I struggle to think of something to say. "H-hello, m-m'am," I wave.

"This is Kaylin, my deskmate," Derrick says. "And I need to take her home."

"Home? But you just got here!" Derrick's mom says with a frown.

"Well, yes, but I was only... I mean, I just wanted to show her where we live. It was on the way," my deskmate lies.

"I see," the woman says with a smile. "Well, Kaylin, you're welcome to stay if you'd like! I'm sure your deskmate would enjoy your company on his special day."

Guilt builds up in my chest. What was I thinking letting Derrick walk me all the way back home? And on his birthday, no less! He should be using this time to prepare for his party, and here I am forcing him to deal with me. Should I really be treating him like this?

My heart sinks when Derrick turns to leave. This is my last chance. Can I really do this? Will I really be able to make it through this party?

"Hey," I whisper.

Derrick stops in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"It's... okay," I mumble. "I'll stay."

"You will?" Derrick says, his eyes wide and a smile spread across his face.

"Mhm," I hum, although something deep down inside of me still wonders if this is really a good idea. "I think it would be fun to... hang out with you. Outside of school, that is."

Derrick looks down, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "It means a lot to me that you'd say that. But Kaylin," he says, shifting his gaze back to me, "are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I... um," I think for a moment, unsure of what to say. Am I really ready? Do I think I'll be able to handle this? "Well, I don't know. But what I do know is that I want to be here."

"Okay," my deskmate says. "But only if you're sure."

"Don't worry. I'm sure." I say, although the doubts running through my mind don't make me feel sure at all.

What if Derrick misplaces me in such a big house? What if a ton of people are coming over and he forgets I'm even there? What if I get stuck somewhere? What if someone doesn't notice me on a table or counter and I'm knocked around or squashed?

Anxiety wells up in my core as Derrick turns around and closes the door behind him, sealing my fate.

"Oh?" Derrick's mom pipes up from in front of the kitchen sink, where she's begun to wash dishes. "Change your mind?"

I give a shaky nod from my place on Derrick's shoulder. "I-I thought I might as well stay, since I'm here and all."

"Wonderful!" The woman smiles. "Make yourself at home! If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"Th-thanks," I stutter.

Mrs. Drake's brows turn upward for a moment as she smiles. As she returns to washing the dishes, I can't help but wonder if she's caught on to my fear. I need to get a hold of myself! I can't keep stuttering like this! I don't want anyone to think I have anything against pertheans!

"Derrick, honey, don't you want to change into something more comfortable before your other friends come over?" My deskmate's mom asks.

Derrick looks at me with worry in his eyes before looking back to his mom. "I don't exactly want to leave Kaylin alone. Since she's already here, I mean."

"She won't be alone. I'll be right here the whole time," Mrs. Drake beams. "And besides, I'd love to get to know her!"

My gut twists into a knot within me as my arms and legs begin to shake. Left alone with Derrick's mom?! How in the world am I going to handle that?! I immediately start to regret my decision to stay at this party as Derrick raises an open palm to his shoulder for me to step onto. Taking a deep breath, I release my grip on the collar of his shirt and carefully inch towards his hand. I don't know how I'd ever live it down if I stumbled in front of another perthean!

My deskmate lowers his hand onto the kitchen table, and I somehow manage to step onto the hard surface without flailing around much. A hollowness suddenly overtakes my core like a punch to the gut as Derrick removes his hand, leaving me stranded where I stand. The table is much lower than the average balcony, and my head starts to spin as I crane my neck back to look up at my deskmate from the wooden surface.

Noticing my struggle, Derrick crouches down in front of the table. Now he's the one looking up at me, but his size is still so overwhelming to me. He's just so... big. His face nearly fills my entire field of vision! I back up a bit, clutching at my skirt as anxiety floods my nervous system. He's so close. We were close before when I was on his shoulder and when he held me to his neck, but... this is just different. And I'm not so sure I like it.

"Will you be okay?" Derrick whispers.

I let out a deep, trembling breath. "I-I will be. You can go."

When Derrick stands to his full height, I don't dare look up at him again. I keep my head down as my heart pounds and pounds in my chest, begging me to find someplace to hide. Once Derrick leaves, the sound of the running faucet is all that fills the room.

I spin around and see Mrs. Drake continuing to work on the dishes. If I'm lucky, she won't say anything, and I'll only be waiting a short while for Derrick to come back. I figure this is as good a time as any to let Dad know I won't be home for a while. I pull my phone out of my skirt pocket and slide over to my text conversation with him. I write what comes to mind.

Won't be home until later.

I pause. What am I supposed to tell him? Do I really tell him I'm at my deskmate's birthday party? That would be a huge win in his book. I can picture my dad now gloating about how he was right in sending me to Pacific. I shake the thought away and add to the the message.

A friend wanted to hang out.

I gulp, silently hoping he won't ask any further questions, and send the message. It takes a moment, but eventually I get a single thumbs up emoticon in response. I let out a sigh of relief.

"So..." Mrs. Drake says as she glances over her shoulder at me. "Kaylin, right?"

"Mhm," I nod.

"And you're new to Pacific?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She hums in response, returning her gaze to the dishes in the sink. "And... have you always lived in town?"

"Actually, I just moved here. I was born and raised in Maedri," I answer.

"Oh, Maedri!" Mrs. Drake says with a wavering tone. "I heard they have a bustling undercity there."

"Y-yes," I stammer, "it's pretty expansive compared to Chancelor."

A moment of silence passes us by. I watch quietly as Mrs. Drake sets various plates, bowls, and utensils on a rack to dry.

"It would be easy to live entirely underground without ever seeing a perthean then, wouldn't it?" She finally asks.

My heart sinks. What's she getting at? "O-oh, I guess so," I say.

She hums again. "And... might I ask what brought you to a school like Pacific?"

I swallow dryly as my legs quiver beneath me. What am I supposed to say to that?!

"U-uhm," I start, begging my voice to come out without any more stutters, "my dad wanted me to go to his old high school."

"Ah," the woman says. "And would you say you're... handling everything well?"

She has to be onto me. Why else would she be asking me all these questions?

I'm about to answer when I hear footsteps approach from behind. Finally.

"Sorry I took so long," Derrick says, emerging from the hallway. "Kevin and Brittney are on their way, I just got off the phone with them."

As I turn around, my eyes take in every aspect of my deskmate's attire. Jeans and sneakers, a striped yellow and white t-shirt, and a gray and yellow jacket. He's dressed so... casually! I stare down at my school uniform. I feel overdressed.

Derrick chuckles at the sight of me. "Sorry you didn't get to change," he says. "Do you want to take off your blazer?"

I think about his question for a moment. I tend to feel safer with more layers on, like I'm wearing some kind of armor to protect myself from danger. Although, I don't want to risk wearing my blazer to the party and getting it dirty somehow. And maybe it's just because I'm so nervous, but it does seem to be getting hot in here despite how much cooler it typically is above ground.

"Where should I put it?" I ask, removing my blazer and letting my arms breathe through my white button down shirt.

"May I see?" Derrick asks, approaching the table and placing his hand in front of me.

I reluctantly lay my blazer atop my deskmate's fingertips, and he pinches it between his thumb and index finger before lifting it high up to his eyes.

"Wow," he whispers.

My entire body is immediately overcome by a hot flash of some kind, and I begin to tremble where I stand beneath my looming deskmate.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that!" He stammers as his face reddens. "It's just that it... and you... I mean, it's just really tiny. Not that you're... that. I mean, I would never—"

"I-it's okay," I interrupt. "I know I'm... short."

Derrick seems to relax a little at my words. He sighs. "Anyway, there's a place for this right over here," he says, carrying my blazer to a coat rack beside the front door. He hangs it on a smaller arm that seems to be designed for human items. "There."

They have a spot for human items on their coat rack? I thought for sure nothing in this house would be fit for a human!

"You look confused," my deskmate states.

I straighten my head and unfurrow my brow. "I-it's just... I didn't think you'd have something like that here."

Derrick looks back to the coat rack. "You mean a coat rack? Doesn't everyone have one of these?"

"No, I mean that," I say, pointing to the smaller arms. "Why do you have a spot for human items on your coat rack?"

"For human guests! Why else would we have it?" Derrick asks.

My mouth hangs agape at my deskmate's words. I thought items like this were something I'd only ever see in the movies! I didn't think pertheans would actually include items in their homes for human guests! Come to think of it, I didn't think pertheans would entertain human guests often— yet here I am.

"You think this is special?" Derrick laughs as he approaches the kitchen table and pulls out a chair to sit down. "Wait until you see what else we have!"

My mind swells with wonder and curiosity at the idea of there being other human-friendly items in this house.

"Derrick, honey," Mrs. Drake says, pulling me from my thoughts. "What would you like for dinner tonight?"

My heart skips a beat at her words. How could I forget about dinner?! My body trembles at the thought of sharing dinner with— who knows how many people? No, how many pertheans?

"D-dinner?" My deskmate stutters, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Yes, dinner! You said this morning you'd have to think about what you wanted and that it depended on whether or not one of your friends was coming."

Derrick turns to look down at me, his face a bit pale. "Oh yeah, um... one girl has a few allergies, but... she isn't able to make it."

"So what did you decide on, then?" His mom asks.

"Um..." Derrick starts, his brows upturned and his eyes focused on my quaking frame. Suddenly, a smile appears on his face as he turns back to his mom. "You know, actually, we won't be hungry for dinner. We all had big lunches at school."

Mrs. Drake folds her arms, tilting her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at her son. "Do you really expect me to believe that? You know, the last time something like this happened—"

Derrick abruptly pushes his chair away from the table and stands from his seat. "Mom, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Mrs. Drake nods, letting out a sigh and following my deskmate down the hall.

What's going on? Why is Derrick trying to avoid having dinner so badly? Could this be about me? What does his mom mean by 'the last time something like this happened?' Is Derrick going to tell her about my fear?

Although I know it's rude to eavesdrop, I can't help but try to listen in on the two pertheans' conversation. All I'm able to make out is some harsh whispering, interrupted by the occasional 'why.' At one point I hear Derrick whisper, 'just give me some time!'

As the duo emerges from the hallway, I try my best to look like I wasn't just poking my nose where it didn't belong. I try to ease my tremors by rubbing my arms, but it doesn't help much as Derrick and his mom resume their previous positions in the kitchen. Derrick's mom flashes a polite smile at me, only to immediately turn away and resume drying and putting away dishes. What the heck happened back there?

Bing-bong!

"Oh!" Derrick says, standing up again and heading for the door. "That must be our other guests!"

I gulp and wipe my shaking, clammy hands on my skirt. The party's about to get started, and there's no turning back now.

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Immortalized

Summary:

During a museum visit, Dream tells Hob the story of two star-crossed lovers in a painting and what it means to him.

Word Count: 3,055

Notes:

For Dreamling Week Day 3: Painting

[Read on AO3]

---

“Would you recognize everything in here?” Hob asked as they leisurely walked around the gallery. “Do you somehow sense every artwork before they’re made?”

“Not always,” Dream replied, looking at the paintings they passed by. “If I do not make a conscious effort to see into a daydream, I do not perceive them unless they are particularly vivid.”

Hob had chosen a museum this week for their meeting, remembering what Dream said last time about wanting to see more of the city as a human would. Not much in museums could surprise Hob, and he was curious to know how Dream would feel about the place.

“Oh good, I was afraid you’d find it boring here,” Hob said playfully. He didn’t really think Dream would get bored in a museum; he knew that his friend was more interested in learning about humans now than back then. Still, it was always a little intimidating when it was his turn to choose a meeting place. He had seen the Dreaming, and it was hard to think of what could match up to the things that Dream created regularly.

“Museums are never a bore; humans are unceasingly interesting. You have taught me that.” Dream said the words with such casual sincerity, and Hob couldn't help but smile at how comfortable his friend was now at expressing sentiments.

“In addition, it is fascinating to see works of art gathered in one place. One creation can inspire another, which can transcend mediums. This painting, for example.” Dream stopped in front of a painting that depicted a man stabbed through with a sword lying under a tree. A woman was standing above him and appeared to fall on the sword herself.

“This is only one version of the many paintings that are derived from the original written tale. Apart from the visual works, plays and other stories have also been adapted from it.”

Hob read the caption beside it, indicating that the title of the piece was Pyramus and Thisbe and it was made by an Italian artist named Pietro Bianchi in the 18th century.

“What’s the original story about? I don’t think I’d been paying attention to art much during that time.” Hob kept his tone casual, but he never liked remembering what he was like in that century, and Dream must have sensed his discomfort somehow.

“You are not that man anymore, Hob Gadling,” Dream said gently.

Hob nodded and gave a small smile. He wanted to kick himself for potentially bringing the mood down during what was supposed to be a fun day, but Dream didn’t seem to mind as he turned to look at the painting again.

Dream began the story in his even baritone.

“Pyramus and Thisbe were lovers, but their families had a bitter rivalry. Despite their circumstances, they found a way to communicate through a crack in the wall. One day, they decided to elope, and arranged to meet at the base of a mulberry tree. Thisbe arrived first. While she waited, a lioness approached to get a drink from the nearby source of water. The beast looked fearsome, as it still had blood on its jaws from a fresh hunt, and Thisbe ran away to hide in a cave, dropping her veil in her haste.

The lioness came across the veil, and chewed on it for a time before leaving it mangled and bloody. Then Pyramus arrived. He recognized the veil as belonging to his lover, and fell into despair as he mistook the sight to mean that Thisbe had been killed. He cursed himself for not arriving sooner to protect her. He kissed the veil, before drawing his sword and plunging it into his body and drawing it back out. Thisbe returned from her hiding place, hoping to warn her lover of the lioness. She saw his dying form and called out his name. Pyramus opened his eyes and saw his beloved just before the last of his breath left him.

Thisbe tore at her hair and cried and embraced the body, but there was nothing to be done. She saw the bloody veil and sword, and understood what had happened. She spoke a vehement wish to the gods and their feuding parents to have them lie in the same tomb, for not even death could part them. She kissed her lover’s cold lips, and felled herself on the same sword that took his life, still warm with his blood.

The gods felt moved by her prayers, and honoured their memory by permanently making the fruits of the mulberry tree a shade of crimson, which had been previously white but had been coloured by the spray of their blood. Thisbe’s wish of their remains being together was granted, and their ashes were laid to rest in the same urn.”

Hob kept staring at Dream for several seconds before realising that the story was over. Dream’s voice was calm for the entire retelling, and held an engaging timber that kept Hob entranced even when he was done speaking.

Hob blinked a few times and turned to look at the painting again. “Bloody hell. I mean, I know the classics are chock-full of tragedies but… Wait, were they real?” he asked Dream. “Pyramus and Thisbe. Because you’ve told me that some people in the myths actually existed back then.”

Dream shook his head. “They are entirely fictional, though their circumstances are far from unheard of. Humans have had rivalries countless times throughout the ages, and have experienced love and its complications even more often. That is why such stories are timeless. From what I gather, such tragic misunderstandings are a prevalent theme in the most well-known stories in this century.”

“Yeah, like Romeo and Juliet,” Hob said without thinking. “Hang on, Shakespeare’s play is derived from this story?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, no wonder you picked this painting to explain. Your favourite playwright adapted it.” Hob narrowed his eyes in mock distaste.

Dream frowned. “I have never said that he is my favourite playwright.”

“Oh, so you personally visit and talk to every artist you like and Shaxberd wasn't an exception?” Hob wasn't really upset about the whole thing anymore, but it had become a sort of inside joke for them and it was always endearing to see Dream’s reactions whenever he brought it up.

Dream gave him a look that was probably meant to look unimpressed but Hob recognized as fond. “I do not understand why you are still—how would today's children say it—salty about him.”

Hob loved it whenever Dream deliberately used modern slang in their banters—hearing his velvet voice was impossibly endearing—but he suppressed a smile. “Maybe if you didn’t ditch me to go hang out with that guy, I wouldn’t be,”

Dream glanced at the ceiling in his version of an eyeroll, matching Hob’s playfulness. “You are the guy I am hanging out with now, are you not?”

Hob grinned. “Damn right, I am. Every week for the past three months. Are you saying I’m your favourite, after all?” he teased.

Dream stared at him for several seconds before answering. “Yes.”

Hob’s grin slowly melted off his face. He had expected a vague response or maybe a proper eyeroll, not Dream looking at him with a gaze that pinned him to place and made something flutter in his chest.

“It is because of you, Hob Gadling, that you and I avoided a tragedy similar to that of Pyramus and Thisbe. Unlike Pyramus, you did not assume the worst of my absence. You waited for me. Even when my own subjects did not.” Dream’s voice grew quieter. “Even after I had been cruel to you.”

“Hey, none of that,” Hob quickly said. “You’ve already apologised about 1889 and more than made up for it. You’re not that man anymore, Dream,” he said pointedly, repeating his friend’s words from earlier.

The soft smile that lifted the corners of Dream’s lips outshone everything else in that gallery, and Hob felt himself smiling back.

“You are a good friend, Hob Gadling. I can only hope to deserve such loyalty.”

“You already deserve it, Dream. And you’ll always have it.”

“As you shall have mine.” Dream stepped closer, his voice a soft rumble that sent goosebumps across Hob’s skin. He glanced at the painting again. “They had arranged to meet at the base of the mulberry tree, and when one of them arrived later, it spelled the end for them.” He returned his gaze to Hob. “But you, Hob Gadling…”

Hob swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity of Dream’s eyes.

“Nothing would deter you. Our place of meeting had closed down, and you simply built another. Even without knowing whether I would still come back.”

“I always knew you would come back,” Hob said softly. “And I wanted to be there when you did.”

Dream took another step closer, and Hob could feel his heart race in anticipation. “There have been countless stories of people torn apart by time and misunderstandings. But because of you, such a fate did not befall us. I needed you to know how important that is to me. How important you are. To me.”

“Dream…” Hob breathed. He felt like he could topple over at any moment. When Dream first showed up at the Inn, it felt like the sun coming out after a harsh winter. When Dream kept showing up, week after week, Hob felt much more alive than he ever did before, and he didn’t dare ask for anything else.

And now Dream was just saying all these things to him, on a random Saturday afternoon, reaching into his most secret hopes and lighting him up from the inside.

“That is why I chose this painting to talk about. Why I am choosing you. Now. If you will have me.”

“If— Wh— Dream—” Hob stuttered, six centuries of emotions rising up within him all at once.

“My heart is yours, Hob Gadling. To do with as you wish.” Dream spoke quietly, his expression soft and open and with an adoration that Hob never thought would be directed at him.

“You…” Hob grabbed the front of Dream’s coat with both hands and leaned his forehead against Dream’s shoulder, taking deep breaths to calm himself. “How could you do this to me right now…”

He had been so careful, keeping a hold on his self-control every week after the next. But now everything came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. Everything he had ever wanted with Dream, what he wanted to do with Dream—

“Hob. I am afraid I cannot hold you here as you wish for me to do.”

Hob's eyes widened and he jumped back, letting go of Dreams' coat. “Shit, I forgot you can see daydreams. Sorry, I…” he trailed off when he saw Dream’s playful smile.

Dream leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “I am not allowed to touch you. The sign at the door clearly prohibits touching the masterpieces.”

Hob's face burned. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could track. “Take me somewhere else, then,” he managed to choke out.

The mirth on Dream's face disappeared, replaced by an expression of want so palpable that Hob wanted to dive in and taste it.

Dream’s eyes turned into galaxies. He grabbed Hob's wrist and in the next instant Hob felt himself pressed back against a tree, Dream’s mouth descending on his.

Hob could only arch into the touch, his hands finding their way into Dream’s hair, pulling him closer.

Their kisses burned with centuries of longing, the yearning to be even closer with every passing second, chasing after the heat of finally being together, and Hob was all too happy to let it consume him.

Dream’s tongue slid against his and he groaned, gripping the back of Dream’s neck to keep him in place, not intending to let him go for as long as humanly possible.

Time stopped making sense. Hob didn't know or care how long he'd been pressed against Dream, and when he broke the kiss it was only because words began rushing out of him beyond his control.

“I'm yours, Dream,” he panted. “My heart. Everything. Anything you want.”

Dream pressed his forehead against Hob’s, catching his breath. And it nearly drove Hob mad to realise that he was the reason for it, that he affected Dream enough to the point of breathing.  “You are…. everything I want.”

They held each other like that, in the warm quiet moment when words were no longer needed.

Then Hob noticed that the leaves of the tree that shaded them were gold, and the clouds passing by were a glimmering silver against a backdrop of a pale indigo sky.

“Are we in the Dreaming?” Hob asked in surprise, only now recognizing the familiar feeling of being in Dream’s realm.

“Indeed. I did not want to be interrupted.”

“Wait, then where's my body? I'm not passed out in the museum, am I?” Though Hob wouldn't really mind either way. It'd be well worth it.

“Your body is safe in your own bedroom. We took a short detour before coming here.”

Hob blinked. “I'd say you move fast, but I'd been waiting for this for a long time.” He smiled and caressed Dream’s face, running his thumb over a pale cheekbone.

“Then wait no longer, my beloved. You have me now.”

Those words seemed to spark something inside Hob, and heat pooled low in his gut. His hands held firm on Dream's shoulders.

“You know, I have no rules in my bedroom against touching me.”

There was a rumble in Dream’s chest that only stoked the fires threatening to consume Hob, and he could practically feel his own pupils dilating.

“Hob Gadling.” Dream said the words like a promise.

Hob felt himself return to his body, and he only had time to register the feel of his mattress against his back before Dream was upon him again.

***

“How're the crêpes?” Hob asked after taking a bite of his waffle.

“The flavour of the fruit mixed with the chocolate syrup is a good combination; I can understand the appeal. Though I still prefer the food at The New Inn.”

Hob chuckled. “I think you might be biased, love.”

The corner of Dream’s mouth lifted. “Perhaps.”

Hob grinned and allowed himself to feel smug about that. “But seriously, though, this is a good place,” he looked around.

Dream had chosen a café this week. Nothing fancy, but it had a very homey feel, and there was currently an art exhibit going on as part of their marketing. Paintings hung on the walls, and small sculptures lined the tables on one side.

“Since we looked at well-known classics last time, I thought it would be fitting to view works by today's artists. These are the new stories.”

Hob smiled. There was such high regard in Dream's voice, and he hoped those artists could somehow sense how proud the Prince of Stories was of them.

Hob paid more attention to the artworks, which was easier now that there were fewer people than when they first came in. A particular piece on the wall across from their table caught his attention; it was an oil painting of a sunny park where people were lounging in, but the trees had gold leaves, and the sky was a pale indigo with silver clouds.

Hob frowned and went over to the painting, his eyes landing on two people on the left. They were painted from the side, one was leaning against a tree and the other stood pressed against him, wearing a long black coat. They were definitely snogging.

“Dream—” Hob turned around to see Dream standing right behind him with a knowing smile. “Did you transport us to some poor bloke's dream last week?” he asked incredulously, keeping his voice down.

“Not exactly. At the time, I did not have a specific area of the Dreaming in mind. I simply wanted us to be somewhere private. But dreamers roam around my realm with a certain degree of freedom, and a handful of them were in the same place as we were. Most of them forget the details of their dreams upon waking up, but this particular artist had been hoping for inspiration, an idea to paint for this event. And I believed it would be a kindness to help him remember the details of his particular dream a little more vividly than the others.”

“A kindness, really?” Hob raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile from the ridiculous stunt that his deity of a boyfriend just pulled.

“Yes.” Dream spoke evenly, but there was a gleam in his eye that Hob knew all too well.

Hob looked back at the painting and made a face at how his figure was drawn from such an awkward angle.

“I look terrible,” he complained.

“I look worse.”

Hob turned to him and was about to say that Dream didn't look bad in the painting at all, but something about the tone of Dream’s voice and his playful smirk sparked a memory.

“Is that meant to be me?” Hob looked down at the drawing that Lady Constantine placed at their table. “I look terrible.” He glanced at Dream. “You look worse.”

Hob chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Finally realised I was flirting then? Took you long enough.”

“Hm.” Dream hummed and stepped closer. “Shall we make up for lost time? I would be more than happy to provide you with two centuries’ worth of… experience,” he looked at Hob from under his eyelashes. “And then some.”

Hob swallowed as he felt a familiar heat roil in his gut. “That's not fair. Why do you always try to seduce me in public?”

“Because I know I can always take you somewhere private.”

Hob narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t nearly prideful enough to decline a proposition from Dream. “Just to my flat this time. I don't wanna be appearing in any more paintings.”

Dream’s lips turned up in a smile. “As you wish. I am not opposed to keeping you all to myself.”

Dream pressed a soft kiss to Hob's lips, and Hob leaned into the touch as he felt the familiar sensation of being transported away.

---

Notes:

The premise of this fic is inspired by this Tumblr post. I saw it years ago and my brain conjured it up again for this fic~

Big thanks to @patchyegg87 for her idea of Hob and Dream teleporting to an artist's dream and being painted <3

And to my brother as well for being an art geek and telling me various stories of lovers in classic paintings and such~

---

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[notyouraryang0dd3ss]

Scrolling through twitter every day and seeing countless of people begging for donations in order to fucking survive while knowing that celebrities like Taylor could literally solve everything makes my blood boil. Ariana Grande did the bare minimum by sharing (not even donating) a link and thousands of dollars were gathered immediately. In conclusion, fuck any swiftie who says 'oh what is taylor going to do/it wont help'. Like genuinely go fuck yourselves. I hope people keep reminding her for the rest of her fucking life how she remained absolutely silent when children were being butchered by the fascist she encouraged her fans to vote for (yeah i remember your little biden cookies bitch)🤬🤬🤬🤬

how was your day?😇

Oh my god do I feel this ask down to my soul. Seeing Palestinians having to get down on their knees and beg for people to help them flee their homes so they and their families aren’t murdered by the Israeli government next to people posting and praising their faves who have said NOTHING…I want to commit heinous crimes to say the least.

I said this before but Taylor Swift could pay to evacuate every single person in PALESTINE and have hundreds of millions left over. The financial impact it would have on her would be so small it’s laughable.

What is going on isn’t localized to TS but a reflection of the active downfall of the celebrity and celebrity culture. I’m grateful for #Blockout2024 movement currently happening, forcing celebs to act, but it isn’t enough. Especially with fanbases like Swifties, where they are experiencing infighting about whether or not Taylor should speak up. If your favorite celebrity is your moral compass, you are beyond lost.

This is so consistent with her past behavior, staying silent during the 2016 elections and then conveniently rebranding once she had seen which direction the culture had gone (and then rebranding to fit that current moment as she is always a trend follower). She is going to release a documentary 2 years from now about her regrets on not speaking up and being afraid (using the exact justification Swifties are using now) to speak out because of her safety. Let’s be honest, if she does speak out, it’ll be after she finishes her European leg of the Eras tour, so she could maximize those zionist dollars. She did the same thing with the Reputation tour, where the day after her North American leg ended, she spoke out and openly endorsed Marsha Blackburn, a Democratic Tennessee representative, for the 2018 midterm elections, on Instagram.

Fuck Biden. Fuck those who defend and will vote for Biden in the upcoming election. I doubt Taylor will endorse him again either. FUCK THOSE BIDEN COOKIES!

Fuck Miss Activisticana. Genocide enabler.

tl;dr

🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸 FREE PALESTINE! 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

🌊 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! 🍉

[pastelunicornrainbowlove]

Menstruation is just a way of your body letting go of something that is no longer needed.

Adriana Vandelinde, English for Her: Everything You Always Wanted to Know but Were Afraid to Ask

[cinematic-literature]

Legally Blonde 2: Red, White & Blonde (2003) by Charles Herman-Wurmfeld  

Book title: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About How to Pass a Bill, But Were Afraid to Ask by Tom Altobello

[1day1movie]

Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex * But Were Afraid to Ask (1972) Woody Allen.

[rwpohl]

[suncaptor]

no there really was something about riding back from the volta region to accra in africa and like having hundreds of white-winged flying bugs flocking to the headlights of the van and shedding wings across the ground in the flickering dark and reflective rain. by the time we got back to accra the rain had lifted and there's a part up the hill where you can see the city sitting on rocks in front of you and how it stretches. it was beautiful.

[cannot-copia]

I'm probably gonna have a hard time articulating this but I'll try. There's no shame in working "entry level" jobs etc. when you are a grown up. There's no shame in having a "simple" job that helps pay the bills if your mental health can't handle a stressful, corportate job. You have all the time in the world to figure out your path, this is not a step backwards. Be kind to yourself, your value has nothing to do with what you do for a living.

Yeah there really shouldn’t be, but my parents are the type that have drilled it into my head for as long as I can remember fast food/labor/etc type jobs are the kind of jobs idiots and lazy people have (which I don’t believe at all, you can’t be either of those and make it in any of those jobs but I know from experience you can very much be both in a corporate setting) so it’s really hard not to feel like a failure

it was always “you have to get good grades so you can get into college-> you have to go to college for something ‘useful’ (which according to them was p much only business) you can’t go to college for something you actually want to do you’ll be poor and struggle your whole life”

so being the dumbass I am that’s what I did and look where that got me

in that same fast food job they’ve ridiculed my whole life, because just like I told them my whole life I did not enjoy working in an office and it made me literally want to kms

So now I’m in the same place i would have been only now I have like 25k in student loan debt and a degree I have no interest in using

[sukunasweetheart]

oh, to fit him like a glove...

WARNINGS; ooc sukuna, virgin!reader (well... not for long), size kink, BREEDING, vaginal fingering, sukuna only has one dick here cuz i wanted to make it less complicated, COCKWARMING, stomach bulge, degradation, praise, sukuna is a four armed king, overstimulation, mouth-hands, EXCESSIVE CUM

based on this anon's ask! dividers credit; @/cafekitsune

word count; 3k

imagine being sukuna's precious princess of a wife-- whom he spoils and dotes on because its in his interests to do so. like any other woman, youre tiny compared to him, so having you take his cock eventually will be very tedious work, and sukuna will need a lot of patience.

and we all know, sukuna is the most patient man in the world... at least when it means that it'll be worth it for him at the end. and to him, you are worth everything.

he's proud and pleased to be your first... sukuna can't help but feel keen about the idea that he will be the only one ever to have had the pleasure of being so intimate with you.

he watches you intently, as you struggle to take even two of his thick fingers in your tight hole, tearing up and whimpering as he tampers with those delicate spots inside you.

"nngh.. sukuna... that feels so good..." you whimper his name delightfully, it almost makes his enduring patience snap.

outwardly, his face looks calm as he looks down at you with soft lust that takes the form of an almost blank expression.

"does it?" he asks, with a certain playfulness in his voice.

his fingers move a little faster, scissoring you inside and pressing in an upwards manner, where it makes you gasp the most. you're producing so much slick, but your hole is still so tight and unrelenting, clenching around his thick digits even more. sukuna thinks about good it'd feel if his dick was inside instead, and he feels himself aching with desire, twitching and leaking precum from his hidden erection.

...not yet.

he dutifully touches you to your orgasm, and watches with a hitched breath as you tremble on his fingers, walls fluttering against them. your sighs and soft moans reach his ears like nothing else.

his extra hands grope at your breasts, finding solace in them.

"do you think i'm ready yet?" you ask tenderly, after your breath returns to normal.

"... hardly, my love. that was only two of my fingers," sukuna tells you languidly, as he feeds your slick on his digits to the mouth on his stomach.

"only two? oh dear..." you sigh with sorrow, "will i ever be able to take you whole one day?"

he smirks at the question, and leans down into your chest while holding ahold of your hand.

"well of course. i'll make it happen no matter what. i promise."

the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

when it does happen, you best be ready for him to breed you full every night.

however, on some days, the urge gets unbearable, even for himself. he's been saving himself up a little, so he could pour everything inside you when the time comes, but the lust gets overwhelming, clouding his sight and judgement.

one night, you gesture towards the bulge in his pants, with a shaking hand.

"what about you? isn't it painful to always withhold yourself like that?" you ask, wanting for him to feel good as well, instead of just yourself.

sukuna grows silent, sweating bullets as his dick throbs upon your mention of it.

the next minute, he's taking it out and slotting it between your thighs, rubbing up against your slit and seeing how the size compares to your stomach.

the temptation is too great.

not. yet.

this was the whole reason he was avoiding using his cock with your body in the first place - because he was afraid he'd cave in and attempt to deflower you when you weren't ready yet, still too tight for him to squeeze in, causing you pain only.

if it were anyone else, he wouldn't bother... but you're one that he cherishes too much... he wants to work to make the end result even tastier. the moment where he'll finally claim you entirely.

the bed creaks as he thrusts in and out between your thighs, rubbing his twitching dick against your hole oozing with slick, also brushing up onto your clit that's swollen from arousal.

" 'm sorry... i wish... there was more i could do..." you whimper sweetly, squeezing one of his large hands.

"there's no need for that. whatever i can't put inside you now... i'll pump in twice as much, once you're ready for me," sukuna whispers gently, holding your hand back, a groan resounding in the back of his throat.

rewards become so much sweeter after restraint. like how you wouldn't pick and eat an unripe fruit from a tree.

"you're doing plenty enough for me... for now," he tells you breathlessly. he adores the glossy look in your eyes.

his cock continues to glide back and forth, and he feels so hot between your thighs.

"i... i want your tip inside when you cum, please," you say, eyeing his dick with a certain neediness.

"are you sure, love?" he asks, hoping you'll say yes. you nod fervently.

sukuna feels lightheaded at the thought of it, all the while his dick gets more and more sensitive against your thighs... his balls feel so heavy and full, all those times he held himself back coming to catch up on him.

you squeeze your legs around him harder, making him groan, cock pulsing for all it's worth. he thinks about how tightly your walls would clamp around him. the heat from your insides, and your slick covering his shaft. he's close.

he suddenly spreads your legs.

at this stage, he's only barely able to get his tip past your entrance. it's possible when he does it slowly enough. you whine beneath him, doing your best to not go against his arms that are pinning your legs down.

a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. sukuna uses an extra hand to stroke the rest of his dick as his tip remains snug inside your puckering hole. when it comes, he gives a choked-off gasp from how good his first-in-a-while release feels.

he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from burying himself any further.

the ropes of cum seep and trickle into your womb in thick, heavy spurts, and the hotness of it gets you breathing unevenly, being so aroused by this sensation. there's a copious amount. he continues jerking himself off to get every last droplet out, and his own hand can feel the intense twitches of the veins on his erection.

it's not nearly enough to satisfy him, but it's enough to keep him patient.

once his tip pops out from your wet hole again, his spend come out of it in large globs, and sukuna can't help but admire the sight, his dick twitching weakly in his hand.

he abstains from cumming all over again for another few weeks- another few weeks of stretching you out with his fingers, and prepping you to perfection.

when the day finally creeps up, where he believes you're ready to take him whole, sukuna hears and feels his heartbeat in his own ears.

ever so slowly. he's sitting down on the edge of the bed, and he has you lower yourself on his throbbing cock as he's face to face with you, ever so slowly. your body trembles lightly and he feels it on his hands and fingers as they're placed against your hips. sukuna senses your anxiousness that flows from you in large waves.

your hole is so tight, trying to push the intrusion out, but the wetness from your slick helps his cock slip inside easier, and sukuna's breath is kept within the back of his throat as you swallow him up deeper and deeper.

he's sweating. you're sweating. but soon enough, you're sat on his lap completely, having gotten all of him inside you at last. you can barely breathe with how tightly you enclose around him. how his cock is nudged up snugly against your cervix, pushing the literal air out of your lungs. and the way you feel it twitching inside.

sukuna has never been more patient, more self disciplined, more repressed than in this moment. one wrong movement and he feels like he could snap and start thrusting in without concern for you in any moment. no. he shouldn't do that. it would ruin all everything he's done to build you up for this moment.. but your walls keep tauntingly squeezing around him...

"i- i can finally fit all of you inside..." you say with glee, tears on your lashes, but looking very proud of yourself. it snaps him back to sanity, a little bit.

"of course... you were made for me, after all. so perfectly mine, fitting me like a glove," sukuna mumbles, as his bigger tongue licks against your clit, arousing you more so that you could loosen up for him. his praise gets to your head and makes you feel sheepish, wanting to do more to please him. but you don't think you can do that, just yet.

"can we stay like this for a bit, please?"

"that would be...for the best. can't have my wife splitting in half, can i?" sukuna jests rather sinisterly.

"oh, you..." you pout at him. the larger tongue rubs against you more persistently to distract you, and he smirks as it does the trick. you whimper, and your walls pulse gently around him making him groan. your eyes get half lidded, already feeling somewhat exhausted, and you lean your face against the large man's chest.

veins are bulging out of his arms, and one on his forehead. you seem so relaxed, unbeknownst to the fact that he's currently doing everything to keep himself together. you're like a tiny mouse trapped in the claws of a tiger.

sukuna starts to bite and kiss down your neck and shoulder to satiate himself.

few minutes after you've calmed yourself a little, your eyes start wandering down, taking notice of the bump on your stomach, from having him inside you.

"it goes without saying, but you're so big..." you press against it without thinking, and you feel him throb inside you intensely. sukuna grabs your wrist with a growl.

"are you trying to test my patience right now?"

you look at him with wide eyes, from how unusually on edge he is... something about him being all restless makes you feel aroused. you're doing that to him. a man who rarely ever feels. but you've gotten him all sensitive.

" 'm sorry. kiss me?" you ask sweetly, lips curling up in a foxy way.

his gaze softens.

"when you ask me so sweetly... i can't deny you, can i?"

and he leans down to press his lips onto yours, despite seeing the mischief in your eyes. your arms go around his neck, and as he's kissing you, his hands go for your breasts.

you tighten up on his leaking dick, making him moan into your mouth. his grip on your hips squeeze harder, but he doesn't stop kissing you.

you want to make him cum. you want him to lose control from being inside you.

sukuna breaks the kiss with a little choked off heave, when you begin to roll your hips around him slightly.

"you're getting awfully ahead of yourself-"

you cut him off by latching your mouth to the side of his neck, suckling and running your tongue against his skin while your hips keep moving.

he'd call you cute, but it's working. sukuna grits his teeth and his eyes get heavy lidded, dick getting impossibly harder. his heavy breathing adds to your excitement.

"i never knew my wife was such a whore. i'll be sure to return this favour later," sukuna tells you with a low voice, his hands now guiding your hips against him.

you're wordless, as you continue running your lips and tongue up his skin, moving onto his jawline, only giving a whine in response, feeling his tip press into the entrance of your womb.

such lousy movement usually wouldn't be near enough for him, but...

his head lulls back, exposing the way his adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows thickly, getting close... your little kitten thrusts and the way you're tonguing the sensitive area under his jaw...

sukuna's hips jolt into you for the last time.

" 'm cumming-"

his mouth hangs open as he releases - dumping weeks' worth of seed into your cunt. his body jerks against you and you bite into his shoulder.

his cock throbs erotically in your clamping walls, and you milk him effortlessly, and you moan on his neck, while still suckling and tonguing the same area, feeling the hotness of his cum as it thickly pours into you, making your belly swell a bit from it.

sukuna groans as he seeds your womb properly for the first time, two hands on your hips, one against the back of your neck, and the remaining arm wrapped around your waist to keep you still as his dick pulses inside you.

your head is whirring from the tense situation, being creampied so lewdly for the first time, to think that he's released inside, and the feeling of his every breath as he orgasms, is enough to make you feel so exhilarated.

suddenly, he stills.

it makes you a little nervous, so you detach your upper body from him and aim to look at his expression. but before you can make any further movement, you're suddenly thrown onto your back against the soft mattress of the bed in the speed of light. he keeps himself buried in you, making sure to plug you up nicely.

when you meet his eyes after a shocked gasp, you see his darkened expression, his eyebrows furrowed, but his mouth curved up in a toothy, sinister grin.

"you really tested me back there, didn't you?" he rasps, grabbing your face and forcing you to keep your gaze on him.

"i hope you're aware that i'm not letting you get a wink of sleep tonight."

not a word gets out of your mouth, before sukuna pulls his dick back, and slams his hips into you, his thick cock dragging against your tight walls.

your voicebox makes a noise that you never thought was possible, a noise that's mixed with both a moan and a scream.

"oh, fuck..." sukuna mumbles gutturally, beginning to thrust in and out of you the way he's always wanted to. your hands fist the sheets behind your head, and his hands keep your legs spread apart for him, while the other two pinch at your breasts roughly, groping at your flesh so brazenly.

his heavy balls slap against your ass as his hips rut into you, making sure to drive himself in to the hilt, before pulling out to the tip and doing that all over again.

you squeal and mewl under him, eyes watering from pleasure and already getting overstimulated as he fucks you senseless. to think that only a few weeks ago, you were only able to fit two of his fingers. it all feels like a fever dream.

sukuna breathes heavily, his muscles glistening from his own sweat as he indulges in his reward, his reward of you, and your cunt that is finally nice and loose for him, sheathing him so nicely, coating his dick with your slick like the harlot you are. his laboured breaths stutter when your walls pulse around him as you reach your orgasm-- your head tilting back into the mattress.

cock leaking more precum into you, sukuna's eyes become half lidded again as he gets close to his second release.

"you're gonna drive me crazy," he grunts, as his tip reaches your cervix again and again and again.

his thrusts become erratic, and then halts as he busts another thick load into you, making you cry out pitifully.

"fuuck, fuck, fuck...." sukuna shudders, leaning down on his forearms, getting so close that you feel his breath ghosting against your skin, while his other two hands grip onto the sides of your hips. his pecs rub up into your tits and the tongue from his stomach messily laps away at your clit as he empties his balls into you, your pussy seemingly trying to squeeze him dry.

all of his eyes close up as he then kisses you like he's trying to swallow up your tongue. you whimper against his lips, doing your best to reciprocate, struggling to keep up with the pace of this kiss.

he breaks away from your lips.

"c'mon, not good enough. put your tongue into it more," he instructs breathlessly, with somewhat of a disappointed expression. your mind is too hazy from the intense lust but you give a short nod with teary eyes, which makes him smirk before pushing his lips onto you again.

you kiss him back the most you can, and he hums in pleasure, your tongue finally intertwining with his. it distracts you from how full you feel right now, even with only two of his loads in you.

his thrusts slowly start back up again.

"s-sukuna-!" you gasp, breaking the kiss.

"i warned you... it's gonna be a long night," sukuna tells you. he seems to have become more sound of mind after that second orgasm.

"give me more..." he mutters, leaning against the crook of your neck, and licking a stripe up against it, "my precious wife."

your arms wrap around his neck, holding him tight. he grins, and you feel it on your skin.

... eventually when his third load fills you up, he's running his tongue against the shell of your ear, two mouths sucking at each of your nipples, from the way he clasped his palms over your breasts at the last second.

you're trembling beneath him, tears now running down the side of your face, babbling nonsensical words at him.

sukuna leans back to run his third hand through his disheveled hair to slick it up again, and he grins at your state of overstimulation. he feels so good inside you. it was worth waiting and preparing you for so long.

once your orgasm subsides a bit, he finally detaches his mouth-hands away from your tits, making a line of saliva stretch between in the process. then, the mouths disappear. your body relaxes. but sukuna's cock is still inside you.

"you alright, my love?" he asks smugly, looking down at your state of fatigue caused by intense pleasure.

you mumble out something of a 'yes', and he chuckles. his eyes trail down to your now slightly pudgy stomach.

"you're so full with me, my dear wife. haha, it's quite the lovely sight," sukuna tells you softly, pressing his hand down softly against the swell of your tummy. you jolt a little, whining.

"sukuna... too full..."

he leans down closer to your face and wipes the sweat off your forehead, before bringing his lips to the same area gently.

"we can stay like this for a few minutes. rest up. but we're not done yet."

he hasn't even had the chance to sink his teeth into you yet. just a little more. you can do that for him, can't you?

Masterlist

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[drownedbycoffee]

THEY AREN'T THE FEARS ANYMORE!! THEY'RE DESIRES

(SPOILERS for TMA, and all of TMAGP episodes so far)

Okay, here me out

Tmagp1: Darla wants to hear Arthur's voice again. She even says: "I just couldn’t face the thought of the rest of my life never hearing him again, I had to try" and later on she even says: "But I had to know, so I went to the cemetery."

Tmagp1: RedCanary wants to know about the Magnus Institute. They want to know why it's listed under 'cleared' when there's no evidence of it. Hence why they go and explore it.

Tmagp2: Daria wants that absolute perfection. She wants to change who she is and get out of that dark place. When she talks about the thing that she felt was missing, she says, "... and that’s when I decide I need a tattoo. I had a couple already – just little things on my shin and my wrist – but I decided I needed something big. Something that really changed my look." She also mentions when talking about Ink5oul that "they just kept pressing me about my life, about why I wanted the ink" instead of asking what design she wanted. And when she got the tattoo she describes herself as now being, "Someone I wanted to know more about." Afterwards she even says how "For the first time ever [she] wanted to attempt a self-portrait. Something real and physical, [she] wanted to feel the brushes in my hands and the oil on [her] fingertips." I think a lot of her statement is about her desire and impulsive need for that perfection and that wholeness that she has been aspiring to for her whole life.

Tmagp3: Samuel wants to stay hidden. He wants and he "need[s] to get up, get out of here for treatment." He wants to get better and most of his delirious thoughts are the things that he wants, or feels like he needs. E.g. "I so much want to see it [the sun] again. This night seems endless. I want to be warm again. I am terribly afraid. Thank god for Maddie. I need to treat her better."; "I just need to rest."; "I need to be careful or we’ll drift apart." And then obviously as the narrative continues, Samuel wants to grow and 'put down roots'.

Tmagp4: The narrator wants to be revered and accepted into the Royal Court Orchestra of the Palatinate. He wants to show off and impress. The violin "was a creature with needs and purpose of its own. The needs were simple enough. Blood. Flesh." It has these needs and desires.

So far, I'm interpreting it to be that everything so far can be interpreted as a desire of sorts, varying in the strength and intensity of it. Obviously, fear is still a big part of it all, because if you want something so badly, aren't you afraid of it being stolen from you? Of it being out of your grasp? Of it being unachievable or impossible in some capacity? Of it being a lie?

Even Sam wants to find out more. He wants to know the why and the reason for things. Gwen wants Lena's job. Collin wants to fix all these bugs and keep Freddie running. Alice wants to just get on with it because she found out that wanting to know the 'why' of things is dangerous.

I think that somehow when the Web took all the Fears into a different universe, they morphed into something else. Or they changed to fit what was the most prevalent thing in that universe, because after all, everyone wants something, even if it's something small and inconsequential. Life and aspects of it has always been characterised by that desire for something. Like people wanting food, shelter, safety, love, warmth, happiness, etc. And I think since the Web was so intwined with Jon and Martin, it absorbed some of their emotions when it found its way into this new world, because after all Jon and Martin wanted to stop Jonah/Elias, to stop the apocalypse, to destroy the Panopticon, to be safe, and they wanted each other. I think the wanting and fear of things are really entwined in it all, though this could be absolute bullshit haha