#might completely scrap this idea

[untoldstar]

male yandere! killer clown x gn! reader

warnings: stalking, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, drugging, kidnapping.

Your friends' shrieks and screams fade away as your gaze lands on the house of mirrors. You've always wanted to go in but your friends deemed it too boring and since you didn't want to go in alone you left the idea alone. But now looking at your friends being terrorized by the performers the idea slips into your mind again. Surely you could slip away for a few minutes without them noticing.

You walk towards the entrance excitement bubbling up inside you unaware of the pair of eyes following your figure.

The noises from outside get muffled you barely even hear them anymore as the darkness envelopes you.

The room is mostly dark, the shadows swimming around your reflection, the faint pink lights give off just enough light to see your reflection and now as you look around you in this big dark lonely room you feel chills climbing up your back, you began to wish you had dragged one of your friends with you but it’s too late now you’re already in the middle of countless mirrors and the only thing to do now is find your way out.

You began stumbling through the room, every once in a while bumping into one of the mirrors, you were getting flustered and nervous and it’s wasn’t helping that halfway through you began seeing shadows moving in step behind you, you’re sure it’s just your brain playing tricks, shadows always look like they’re alive and moving to the human brain but you just couldn’t help it. What if some psycho had followed you in here?

You cursed under your breath. You definitely should’ve come in with someone.

You began to hear shuffling and the room and your heart sped up. No one said that there would be someone to scare you here, did you miss something?

No this is definitely not a part of it.

It could well be just another person who’s just having fun and doesn’t give a single shit about you but you were too panicked to give them the benefit of the doubt. You tried to go through quickly, your arms outstretched in front of you to avoid the mirrors.

You stop dead in your tracks when you almost crash into someone’s chest. You crank your neck up and your eyes get blown wide when you see dark eyes and a wide grin staring back at you. He looks like a scary killer clown, was he one of the scare actors?

You can’t quite put your finger on it but he looks kind of familiar. He must of have been one of the staff here.

“Darling! finally we have a moment alone. I thought I’d never find you without your friends sticking to your side like a thorn.” Your heart drops. “W-what are you talking about? Is this some kind of script?” His scary grin falters a bit “script?” He mumbles before his face lights up again “Oh no silly! nothing like that. I’m nothing like the other fake ones around here I’m the real deal! What I feel for you is real~” Your gaze lowers to the specks of blood covering his clothes.

Real deal?

You have to get away. You turn on your heal ready to bolt when you’re immediately pulled back with his nails digging into your shoulders “Don’t run away from me!” He snarls and tears begin to gather in your eyes “Please.” You voice is barely above a whisper “No no no..don’t be sad. I don’t want to hurt you. I just..want to talk to you. All this time I watched and I wanted to talk to you so bad but you always so distracted I never had the chance.” He has a small pout on his lips before he shakes his head and smiles again “But now you’re here with me! We can finally be together!” His chest heaves and he trembles slightly barely containing his excitement. His palms slide down from your shoulders to your arms, rubbing them up and down slowly before they move to your waist. The slowly sneak around you and you choke on a sob when he pulls you in for a hug “Please- please just let me-“ He lifts his hand up to gently pet your hair as if soothing you “Shh shh don’t cry darling. We’ll be so happy together. I’ll make you so happy.” His hand shuffles around in his pocket and before you realize what’s going on it’s already too late and you feel the cold sting of a needle on the nape of your neck and everything becomes a blurry mess of colors “Just like you made me happy.”

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

it's finally happened :'') the most (complete) fics i've ever written for one fandom!

[tiktaaliker]

ok I know I'm already in the process of writing an extremely long video game retelling/au where the protag is a nonhuman who gets suddenly and unwillingly put in a situation where they have to pass as A Normal Guy by the threat of harm/death while also being put into a role where they're the Only One capable of saving the world. but what if I started a DIFFERENT one too

[sorikkung]

people interacting w wgoin in my notes... this would be a rly bad time to say all my writing will probably be on hiatus for the indefinite future huh

[arolesbianism]

I've been thinking abt eternal gales which ofc means doing my thing where I imagine myself in a hypothetical interview and while going through the many scrapped elements of eternal gales in my head I remembered a huge chunk of the staliens stuff I scrapped and while I'm definitely not bringing it back I am lowkey rotating the idea of a soft prequel in my head. Nothing that I'll do anything with mostly just a thought exercise but still fun nonetheless

[norristrii]

STAND BY ME.

You and your best friend, Lando, made a pact to marry each other if neither of you started dating anyone within the next 10 years—a promise Lando never fails to remember.

pairing. Lando Norris x bsf! fem! reader.

warnings. drunk lando, drunk decision, best friends to lovers, humor genre. part 2.

music. Better Off (Alone, PT.III) by Alan Walker // Stand By Me by Ben. E. King.

THE MEMORY WAS HAZY, but some moments from that wild, reckless phase of your teenage years stayed sharp as glass. You and Lando were unstoppable back then, two troublemakers who fed off each other’s impulsiveness. Whether it was sneaking out late at night, stealing booze from parties where you didn’t belong, or egging each other on to make the dumbest decisions imaginable, those days were pure chaos—and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

But one night stood out more than the others. The air was thick with the scent of summer, and the streetlights outside cast faint shadows on the walls of his living room. You were lying on his couch, limbs splayed as if the weight of the world didn’t exist, while Lando leaned back against the armrest, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was something unspoken between you, a familiarity that didn’t need words, and in that quiet moment, he turned to you with an idea.

“If we don’t date anyone by the time we’re 25,” he said, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief, “we’ll get married.”

You turned your head, arching a brow at him. The absurdity of it made you laugh at first—a carefree, genuine laugh that echoed through the room. But as the words settled, you realized that, in some inexplicable way, it made sense. With Lando, everything always seemed to make sense, even when it shouldn’t. “Deal,” you said, matching his grin with one of your own.

The two of you even wrote it down, scribbling the pact on a scrap of paper you scrounged from his kitchen drawer. The handwriting was messy, barely legible, but it didn’t matter. At the time, it felt like you were cementing something sacred, a promise sealed not just in ink, but in the unbreakable bond the two of you shared.

Over the years, you found yourself navigating the ups and downs of teenage dating, testing the waters with a few boys along the way. But somehow, it always felt like Lando was there, lingering at the edges of your relationships, subtly or not-so-subtly sabotaging them. A missed call here, a well-timed comment there—it wasn’t overt, but the signs were undeniable. And, if you were being completely honest, you didn’t mind. There was a part of you that found it comforting, almost like you knew deep down that none of those boys could ever measure up.

Lando had his own share of girlfriends, too. There were moments when you’d watch from the sidelines, wondering if he’d found someone who might pull him away from you. But, time and time again, those relationships fizzled out as quickly as they began. You didn’t even have to try—it was as if some unspoken force kept pulling you both back into each other’s orbit.

The club buzzed with life, neon lights flashing and music thumping as you danced alongside your friend Alex. The energy in the room was infectious, pulling you deeper into the rhythm as laughter and excitement mingled around you. The celebration for the Las Vegas Grand Prix had brought together crowds of exuberant fans, drivers, and friends, and for you, it was the perfect way to mark the occasion.

You swore Lando had been there just moments ago, his unmistakable presence in the crowd. But as you glanced around, there was no sign of him. A fleeting thought crossed your mind—maybe he’d gone to the bathroom or stepped outside for air. It wasn’t unusual for him to slip away for a moment in the chaos of a party. You didn’t think much of it, instead letting yourself get lost in the music and the carefree spirit of the night.

Alex leaned in, laughing about something you couldn’t quite catch over the booming bass. You laughed along, the atmosphere too good to interrupt with stray thoughts. But still, somewhere in the back of your mind, the flicker of Lando lingered—a quiet, unspoken sense of anticipation that you couldn’t quite shake. This was his kind of scene after all, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he reappeared soon, grinning in that way that had always made everything feel lighter.

The club's music thudded in the background as Max tapped your shoulder, leaning close to make himself heard over the pulsating beat. “Y/n! Can you come with me outside?” he asked, his voice urgent enough to catch your attention despite the chaos around you.

“Of course,” you replied without hesitation, nodding as you turned to follow him. Something in his tone piqued your curiosity—Max wasn’t usually one for abrupt interruptions during a night out. You glanced back instinctively, your eyes scanning for Alex to see if he had noticed you leaving or was following you. The kaleidoscope of neon lights and swirling figures blurred in your periphery as you stepped away from the dance floor.

Max led the way towards the exit, his demeanor seeming slightly more serious than usual. The cool desert night air hit you as the door swung open, a stark contrast to the warm, frenetic atmosphere inside. You couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting for you out there—something told you this wasn’t just a casual chat.

The scene outside the bar was something straight out of a comedy sketch. Carlos, Oscar, and Charles stood in a perfectly straight line, their expressions overly serious, like they were guarding the entrance to some exclusive event. You blinked, trying to process what you were seeing. What the actual fuck?

Carlos cleared his throat with exaggerated drama, drawing all attention to himself. Oscar, playing along with equal flair, handed him a piece of paper as if it were some sacred document. “Ten years ago, on this day…” Carlos began, his voice dripping with theatrical gravitas. You turned to Alex, your face a mix of confusion and disbelief, only to find her grinning ear to ear, her phone held up to capture every second of this absurd spectacle.

Carlos continued, undeterred by your bewilderment. “Lando Norris and Y/n L/n made a pact that confirmed they’ll get married if they don’t date anyone else,” he declared, his tone so serious it was impossible not to laugh. You could feel your cheeks starting to ache from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“And on this day, at the age of 25,” Carlos concluded, pausing for dramatic effect, “they appear to be both single.” His words hung in the air for a moment before the absurdity of the situation hit you like a tidal wave. You doubled over, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. The whole thing was so over-the-top, so utterly ridiculous, that you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the hilarity of it all. What was even happening? This was chaos, and you were absolutely here for it.

The trio parted like the curtain of a grand stage, revealing Lando standing there, his messy curls catching the faint glow of the streetlights. His white shirt was half unbuttoned, the casual disarray somehow making him look even more like the Lando you’d always known. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate yet slightly unsteady, his hands reaching out to gently take yours.

“Y/n, the love of my life,” he began, his voice carrying the unmistakable slur of someone who’d had a drink or two, but you didn’t care. The sincerity in his eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat. “I hoped all my life to get to this day with you,” he said, his words soft but weighted with meaning.

You felt your breath hitch as he continued, his grip on your hands tightening ever so slightly. “Do you promise you’ll always stand by me, even though I’m a dick sometimes?” he asked, his tone shifting to something almost boyish, as if he were afraid of your answer. You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips despite the tears welling in your eyes.

And then, slowly, he began to kneel, his movements deliberate as he reached into his pocket. The world seemed to hold its breath as he pulled out a small box, the kind that could only mean one thing. “Y/n,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos of the moment, “will you marry me?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so you did both, the emotions bubbling over in a way you couldn’t control. “Yes,” you managed through your laughter, your voice trembling with joy. “Yes, I will.”

Lando slid the diamond ring onto your finger, its brilliance catching the faint glow of the city lights. It was exquisite, almost unreal, and the thought lingered—had he just pulled off some last-minute miracle, or had he been holding onto this ring, waiting for the right moment? Either way, the gesture felt deeply intentional, like he had always known it would lead to this moment.

As he stood up, his smile wide and genuine, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a hug that felt like home. His lips found yours in a kiss that was soft yet filled with all the emotions words couldn’t convey. It felt perfect—chaotic, surprising, and utterly perfect.

Behind you, the ever-lively Max broke the moment with a cheerful shout. “Can I be bridesmaid?!” His words were slurred with enthusiasm, drawing laughter from everyone around. You turned back to him, your grin widening as you replied without hesitation, “Of course, Max.”

The night had been unpredictable, filled with energy and celebration, but nothing could have prepared you for this—the moment you got engaged to your best friend on the pavement outside a club in Las Vegas. It was messy, spontaneous, and entirely unexpected, but somehow, it fit the two of you perfectly.

© norristrii 2025

@haniette <3

[aronaut]

Warmth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x gn!reader Summary: You're a former researcher that was working before the blacksite lockdown. Forgotten and abandoned, you have no other choice but to work with a certain shopkeeper. Needless to say, you have your differences. Warnings: Explicit mentions of blo/od and inj/ury in the beginning. Not beta read Word count: 4,191 (This is a drabble I plan to include in a long list of loosely connected ideas. Consider it the middle of an enemies to qp partners plot :] )

...The low, ominous groan and creak of metal is enough to put anyone on edge, you think, as you traverse the seemingly endless halls.

Rifling through the cabinets and drawers, scrounging up scraps left behind by hasty thieves, the unsettling ocean ambience is all you have for company. You wonder, just when did your life derail so horrifically, when the sight of a crumpled body on the ground fills you with elation. The heavy, steel doors slide open with little fanfare. Beyond the mangled corpse, your eyes immediately set on a black light laying just a few feet away. Stepping over the expendable, you collect the item. There is little battery left in the light you note, before stashing it in the worn messenger bag slung over your shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, you eyes scan below. Scarlet scatters across the floor in a chaotic spray, drawing your eyes towards the deep crimson pool steadily crawling towards the toe of your shoe. In the center of it all, lays the head of a late expendable, expression locked in a display of permanent shock. From below their eye, a coat of flaky, dry red webs down from their chin to all the way down their shoulder.

The collar of the expendable’s wet suit is torn completely; black shreds of neoprene fray out from below the sternum. It's hard to tell the rubber from the darkened crimson spilling out from the brutal tear in the prisoners neck.

Z-90– the Wall Dweller, you determine. Recent too, if the wet shine on expendable's neck is anything to go off of. The considerably uneaten state of the body leads you to believe it might still be in the area, biding it's time until it can claim the expendable's companions as well.

Or, well, possibly even you…

With that thought in your mind, you crouch down, your hands roaming over surface of the expendable’s clothes for any other possible hidden goods. Sparing glances every so often behind you, straining your ears all the while, you’re cautious during your search.

Any research the expendable might have had is completely useless now, waterlogged with sticky blood and pasted to the body. Attempting to reach into the pockets only rewards you with a sharp jab in your palm, the tips of your fingers cold and wet with spilled vial fluids.

Withdrawing from the body, you finally stand back up to full height. The sudden rush to your head is enough to make you sway, your stomach starting to pinch from the overwhelming, metallic stench permeating the room. With a shaky exhale, you urge yourself forward.

The persistent stinging in your eyes doesn’t do any favors for you as you try and navigate the dimly lit halls of the facility, an incredibly sore ache pulsating in your feet with every step. You are… so tired.

A distant roar of an entity sounds suddenly, reverberating across multiple rooms and rocking the facility. The floor rumbles faintly below your feet, and you can almost barely make out the disorderly sound of blinking lights. Bracing yourself against a wall, you wait out the tremors.

Though exhaustion tugs at you, you acknowledge that you cannot rest here. The dark corners of the room whisper dangerous promises, and as you traverse the rooms you can’t shake off the ever persistent feeling of being watched.

Any human in this place is simply prey, and as you tuck your hands into the pockets of your tattered, beaten white coat, your mind rings out with a grim thought; if every human here is prey, you are high game.

Approaching the next door, the screen doesn’t label it with a number but instead a red line. Taking the keycard from your lanyard, you unlock the door, and step inside. Instead of being met with lockers and scattered drawers, you find yourself in a familiar office. The small room is crowded with desks, computers that have long since powered off, and fake potted plants that fill you with a bittersweet sense of longing. Tucked under the desks, the rusted office chair beckon you to rest, but you push the thought out.

There is no doubt in your mind that he is getting aggravated over the fact that you’ve taken this long already.

Behind the desks there is another door, bracketed by two item lockers long since rummaged through. It’s marked by another red line, but you already know where it leads.

The door opens with an exhale, the frigid air greeting you as you walk on through. Unlike the rooms before, this room is brightly lit, the florescent lights buzzing loudly. Your eyes burn momentarily from the sudden change, taking a moment to adjust. The hall is short this time, and in your view you see another door marked ‘50.’

Your bag is disappointingly light on your shoulders, only holding a gummy flashlight, a few batteries, and the black light you just found. You’re not looking forward to the condescending comments that awaits you behind that door.

Resigning to your fate with a heavy sigh, you begin to trudge forward, but stop short suddenly when you hear what sounds like a loud flash, followed by a furious shout and the rush of footsteps. You only have a split second to react, hastily throwing yourself into a locker, the clang of the metal door muted by the hissing of an opening door.

Laughter rings out in the room, accompanied by a multitude of heavy footfalls. The light peaking through the vent of the locker momentarily obscures as you count three expendables pass by, completely unaware of your presence. They are loud and boisterous, a harsh rhythmic squeak of their boots resounding as they run through the hall, the dull thuds of drawers being pulled out to their full extent in a fruitless endeavor to find more loot. They don’t stay long, and soon enough you hear the hydraulics of the door once more and the footsteps dissipate.

You wait a minute before exiting the locker, hurriedly making your way to the fiftieth door. There is a low, agitated hiss drawing out low from the ground, echoing through the tunnel next to your calf. Crouching down, you crawl on into the vent, your elbows clanging against the thin metal.

Emerging on the other side, you find yourself once more in the confinement of Sebastian’s shop. It’s possibly the smallest room in the facility, the walls looming over you in a claustrophobic fashion. Or, perhaps, it’s just overcrowded with stacked crates strewn about, the floor littered with various gadgets inoperable by you, and piles of paper files scattered across the floor. Your eyesight leads to probably the most useless thing in the room, roaming over the giant tail fin flicking against the wall and up the elongated tail it was attached to.

Sebastian is rubbing furiously at his eyes, lure blinking not dissimilarly to the way the room lights do when in the presence of Z-283. He’s grumbling low beneath his breath, mumbling incoherently between rushed clicks and growls.

When he’s done, he acknowledges your entrance with very little care,

“About time. Stock’s so low, I’ve had to sell half-charged flashlights to the last gaggle of idiots,” his arms drop, and he glares to you. “What the hell took you so long?”

The messenger bag drops from your shoulder with little care, the metal of the flashlights clinging with the floor through the thin material. You fix him with a similar expression to his, squinting up at him.

“Trying not to get caught, asshole. If you want shit sooner get it yourself next time.”

He chuckles sardonically at you.

“Please, I’ve got better things to do,” he responds. “You keep up your half of the deal, and I keep up mine.”

You roll your eyes pointedly, breaking away from the staring match when the brightness of his lure starts to cause dark spots to swim in your vision. Crouching down, you begin to rifle through the bag. He looks unimpressed at the pitiful amount of batteries you set beside yourself, but you do notice the room getting ever so slightly brighter when you pull out the black light.

“Just keep being a good little errand boy, and your efforts won’t go unpunished,” he purrs. You clench your teeth, face warming in anger.

“Oh yes, your part. Totally. I go out, digging around for junk, risking my neck to monsters and delinquent prisoners, while you get to sit in here and play retail worker,” you ramble, frustrated, rolling the gummy flashlight over to his general direction with a not too gentle shove. “Fairest trade in the world.”

Your heartbeat picks up ever so slightly as you feel a shadow cast over you, the bulb of Sebastian’s lure hanging overhead as he leans down towards you, slow. You urge yourself to keep his gaze and stay there as his smile stretches into a sharp grin, light glinting off the razor sharp fangs. His hand stretches towards you, and your shoulders jolt in a half-flinch as they reach towards your neck. You don’t look down from his eyes as his claws pull at your lanyard, the thin fabric brushing against the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows furrow as he pinches the card between his thumb and index, his claw sweeping over it’s laminated surface.

“Would you like to switch roles, ‘doctor?’”

You reach up, and promptly slap his hand away.

Instead of retaliating, Sebastian merely laughs at you.

“I didn’t think so,” he drawls, before slowly ascending back to full height, away from you.

The bag, now empty, sits lightly on your shoulder as you pull it over your head. It’s weight is nearly nonexistent. You approach one of the stacked storage containers and with a tired groan plop down, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you.

It’s instantaneous relief, you note, your joints popping in rapid succession of one another as you stretch your arms up, crossed at the wrists. Your shoulders are practically buzzing, no doubt having been pinched at some point during your venture in the facility. Your knees creak and ache from crawling through vents and desks, your legs stiff and feet beyond sore. After your stretch, you slump down in your seat with a sigh. Finally, you get to relax.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Ugh.

“Resting, Sebastian.” You respond dryly. “I’m freaking tired, okay? Leave me be.”

Sebastian simply scoffs. You don’t acknowledge him as your eyes draw shut.

“Go somewhere else for that, I have a business to run.”

“And where do you suggest I go? Where is there that doesn’t have a wall dweller lurking or some other hellish atrocity waiting to get at me?” You argue, opening your eyes to challenge him with a glare.

“That isn’t my problem,” he leans down slightly, arms crossed and third arm tucked in awkwardly. “Leave before someone comes in.”

You mirror his pose, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up at him.

“Get out.”

You shuffle in place, legs crossing. Sebastian scowls, growling low in his throat. His arm shoots out, pointing to the vent and shouting.

“Get OUT!”

Your shoulders jump, but you’re stubborn. Drawing your arms around yourself tightly, you shout back.

“Screw you, man! There isn’t anyone coming!”

Sebastian hisses, the only warning you get before he darts down toward you, your arms pushed into your chest as he holds you in a tight grip, claws pinching your skin underneath the thin fabric of your coat.

He is directly in your face, eyes glowering at you as he spits,

“You absolute, goddamn MORON. If you do not LEAVE-”

He cuts himself off suddenly, and in your peripherals you catch the way the fins on the side of his head seem to twitch bizarrely. Soon you hear the pang of metal resounding off the walls of the vent and echoing into the room. With a quick, uttered curse, Sebastian quickly draws back, but he doesn’t let you go, instead pulling you up and with him.

Your arms sting in his hold, your face twisted in a grimace as suddenly your feet are no longer touching the ground. The weight of your body hangs as he effortlessly lifts you up.

“What the hell???” you wheeze. “Let me go!”

A cold hand slaps over your mouth harshly, clasping your face nearly entirely as Sebastian growls.

“Shut the hell Up!”

You get little warning as Sebastian all but stuffs you behind him, crowded by his tail. You try and leverage yourself with his tail, pushing up with your arms as your chest pressing uncomfortably against him. His tail coils and folds in response, pushing over your chest and weighing heavily till you fall back to the floor. The air punched out of your lungs, and you let out a strangled gasp. Panic seized you as you wriggled beneath him, writhing in place to try and breathe. Noticing your struggle, Sebastian lifts his tail ever so slightly, no longer crushing you. You jumped at the opportunity, attempting to sit up before Sebastian’s third arm came down, hand tangling into your hair and shoving you back down.

“Stay down,” he says, low, with a hint of a threat tracing the edges of his voice.

The weight of his hand on your head disappears, and you watch from behind him as his attitude immediately shifts from disgruntled to a calculated calm.

“Welcome, welcome!” he greets, near automatic and practically off a script. You cannot see who he is talking to from your position, but based off the sound of shuffling and whispers, you assume another group has just entered. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna hurt you. Despite what you have seen, heard and/or been told, my name is Sebastian.”

He goes on with his typical spew, and you surrender to the solid weight laying over you. It’s a bit awkward for Sebastian, you realize, as he attempts to move along with his usual transactions now that the upper part of his tail is occupied keeping you hidden. You feel almost smug about it, counting it off as a win in the mentally constructed chart in your mind that keeps loose tabs on the constantly tipping scale between you and Sebastian. It’s not like you want to be seen by the expendables, as it risks the possibility of them reporting back to Urbanshade that one of their esteemed researchers were still alive down here and working against them with the active saboteur. Though, given how long you and Sebastian have spent down here, you highly doubt that is likely to happen anytime soon. The expendable project was a long going mission that has yet to bare any fruit.

As Sebastian drawls on, you can feel his voice reverberating through his tail. As much as you hate to admit it, the rumbling was soothing. The weight of him was less of a burden than it was before, instead it became rather pleasant in grounding you, not unlike a weighted blanket… and a cooled one, at that.

The transaction seemed to be dragging on longer than usual, or maybe that was just you. The events of the day quickly starting to catch up with you, slowing your perception of time as you stared up hazily at the ceiling, with Sebastian’s elbow and back occasionally coming into view. Pressing against the wall, you could feel the way the facility subtly rocked in the waters. Holding your ear to the ground, you could almost hear the ocean, the cold metal soothing against your flushed face.

You could barely make out the voices of the prisoners, and what you could you pieced together that they must be attempting to negotiate. Puffing under your breathe, you smiled, bidding them luck with that endeavor as your eyes drew shut.

When your eyes opened once more, the room was dark. You could no longer hear the prisoners, or even Sebastian for that matter. Lifting your head, you realized also that the weight over you seemed to have disappeared. Sebastian was no longer laying over you.

You couldn’t make out what was in front of you, but you still attempted to look around. Your thoughts were slow and disorientated, but slowly you discerned that you must have fallen asleep. How you managed in such an inconvenient expression, next to Sebastian of all things, you couldn’t fathom. You suppose you were more exhausted than you originally thought.

He must’ve moved you, you think. You could imagine the sneer he must’ve made at realizing you had fallen asleep. Where did he put you, exactly? You jostled awake fully at the thought that perhaps he threw you out in the cold, or simply dumped you in the nearest, darkest room to be preyed on by the experiments.

At this thought, you rushed to push yourself up with your hands, having awoken on your stomach. The floor was… odd in texture. It was rougher, not the smooth, biting cold metal that you were accustomed to. It was, also, ever so slightly warm. As you pushed against it, you noticed that while it was solid it also had a little give to it. Your mind reeled for answers, trying to piece together just exactly where or what you were laying on, when all of the sudden you realized you were moving. Or, more like, the ground was moving.

Your breath quickened as you slid ever so slightly down, and it registered finally that your legs weren’t supported by anything, instead hanging over an edge. Your thighs held together as your arms scrambled to hold on to whatever it was you were on, leaning forward with your face pressed up against something cool.

You could smell an an odd, distinct combination of what you could only describe as leather and fish. Cold air gently brushed down your forehead as you heard someone sigh.

Adjusting to the darkness, you could finally make out what was in front of you– or below you, rather.

Below you was a chest belonging only to Sebastian.

Clad in a white dress shirt and draped in a rough leather jacket, his chest rose steadily under you, raising you in tandem. Looking to his face, all three of his eyes were closed and you couldn’t make out his lure in the darkness. His expression was… peaceful. Relaxed. Despite this, you could see the dark crevices in his forehead and eyes, groves crafted and paved by long-term stress that he refused to let on existed. He was completely unguarded and vulnerable, and considering your position you concluded that he had willingly put himself there.

But why?

You couldn’t comprehend it. Maybe it was a mistake? You had never seen him asleep before… Given all of the traits he was spliced with, you wondered how long he could really go without sleep? Maybe he slept when you were gone? That wouldn’t make sense. He’s a research-fiend by nature, he’d never let a potential customer pass him by.

However, looking more closely, you took in his features. Unlike the rest of his body, his face was smoother; More akin to a human. Between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose, there was a very faint line– barely noticeable even in the light– a paler blue than the surrounding skin. A scar he had when he first came into the facility as a convict. As a human…

You doubt even Sebastian could reject the very notion of sleep. Beneath it all– the razor sharp teeth, the blue scales, and thin web veils on his ears and clawed fingers, you never stopped believing that he was human. You doubt he did, either.

It still didn’t make sense for you to be here, but that didn’t matter, because there was the definite possibility of him screaming at you when he woke up and saw you there in despite of his protests.

You gently tried to creep down, stretching your leg and trying to feel the ground with your toe. You stretched and stretched, flexing your foot before realizing that even at this angle you couldn’t feel the floor. You were up too damn high. Looking down, you could hardly make out the messy floor.

In the midst of your struggling, you felt a rumble pass through you from Sebastian’s chest. His hands, which you hadn’t at first noticed were resting on your hips, slowly caressed over your back before stopping at your shoulders. You laid there, frozen, peaking cautiously up at Sebastian to see he was, thankfully, still asleep.

Your situation got that much more difficult, you realized, as his arms laid heavy over your back and prevented you from moving any further without disturbing the serpent, likely into waking.

Huffing a sigh, you relented.

You still couldn’t see very well in the darkness, and you would no doubt sprain something trying to dismount Sebastian. He’s so cranky awake, you don’t want to imagine what he’d be like shorted a few hours of beauty sleep.

And as much as you loathed to admit it, the position wasn’t… uncomfortable. You felt warm, but not stuffy despite the room. Sebastian was like a pillow with two cold sides, and you discovered that as you sunk back down into him, that his skin seemed to absorb your heat.

You shut your eyes.

There was no point in struggling to leave, or worrying about Sebastian’s reaction right now. Bottom line is, you could go for a couple more minutes of rest. Chances are Sebastian would tell you to hop right back to work first opportunity he got, so you might as well take advantage of the situation.

Your breathing slowed, and as you relaxed you could just barely make out a very soft rumbling crackle coming from Sebastian’s chest, reminiscent of a cat’s purr. His fingers absently curled over your shoulders, the weight of them strong and comforting. You could get used to this, you thought, and didn’t bother to fight against the absurd belief as your thoughts slowed down, sleep creeping in.

A shrill scream roars outside, and the body beneath you jolts violently, jostling you in the process. You hear lights flicker discordantly, before hushing entirely.

You don’t dare to open your eyes as you feel Sebastian move under you, hearing him exhale loudly. From behind the lids of your eyes, you notice the room get slightly brighter. Sebastian is awake.

You brace yourself to be grabbed, or even thrown, as his claws curl that much tighter over your shoulders. But that doesn’t happen.

His hands go lax, and you feel him sink back down, his third arm coming to rest over your lower back. The upper arms gently soothe down your back before brushing back up. Your brows furrow in confusion when a hand rests on your head, combing through your hair.

Warm breath ghosts over you as he leans down with a sigh, arms pulling you further up his body as his chin sets down over your head.

You dare to peek your eyes open, met with the light blue hue of Sebastian’s neck, gaze tracing over the smooth transition between human skin and scales. You feel Sebastian’s clawed hand leave your scalp, once more joining it’s counterpart in soothing up and down your back, the third hand picking at the frayed edges of your shirt.

You can see the bob of Sebastian’s throat as he swallows, coughing lightly in an attempt to clear his throat. His nose presses ever so slightly further into your hair, and you have to suppress the sudden need to jump when the third hand traces up your back, under your shirt.

Your hands brace against him, ready to launch yourself upward and ask just what the hell he is doing, before acknowledging that his hand doesn’t go any further than that. You decide to wait it out, see what he does. Maybe you can catch him doing something embarrassing, and use it as leverage in your next argument. Another point to your metaphorical score.

The other arms continue to stroke over your back, albeit more slowly, as his third hand continues to trail up your spine, leaving a path of goose bumps. The hair of your back raises at the temperature change. His hand is freaking cold. Colder than the rest of his body. Why is that?

As this continues, you feel him slump ever so slightly, all three of his hands slowing to a stop. His chest evens out once more, and you realize, he is asleep.

The hand under your shirt has become significantly warmer, and that is when you realize; Sebastian is cold blooded.

Well, you didn’t just realize, you knew this from the start. It explained his bizarre actions though, and as you took in your position you pieced together you were no different than a weighted blanket you accused his tail of being not long ago. A heated rock for his comfort. Like a snake or lizard basking in a lamplight, you were his source of heat.

Your mouth twitched into a smile. You were totally going to hold this over his head.

[mononijikayu]

cry baby — gojo satoru.

"You're trembling." you said, glancing at the tall, jittery man beside you. "I am not, I am…I’m not really!" Satoru replied indignantly, though his knee bounced at a speed that could launch satellites. "I’m just… alert. Observant. Ready for anything." You side-eyed him. “You're literally afraid of a five-second injection.” “I’m not afraid!” he scoffed at you, trying to act so strongly. “He might be. I’m empathizing. It’s called being a compassionate father. Look it up, will you?”

GENRE: post hidden - post inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORD COUNT: 3k

NOTE: indulging myself on the idea that gojo satoru is the type of dad to be a cry baby when it comes to his kids. i feel like he's the very emotional, very tender father. and i wanted to write it. anyway, i hope you enjoy it a lot <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, GOJO SATORU KNEW HE HAS SEEN THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER. He’s seen and fought curses that tear people apart. He's known the many betrayals from all his allies, powerful or not.

He's known the fragility of life in its ugliest forms. Of course, if that was the case, he knew he would have been quite a different man. But this was a different matter entirely. 

You knew that the moment your son was born, your husband would be more of a different man. Your young boy was the most important blessing in your lives, after all.

When it comes to his son, his precious baby boy, his beautiful and brightly shining Satoshi, everyone just knows that Gojo Satoru becomes a mess.

You had always known that protectiveness becomes instinctual, it comes with the word parent. Your husband can fight a thousand curses without blinking, but the moment a nurse walks into the room holding a syringe?

He’s sweating bullets. This was how he was now he has become a father. He’s become more overbearing than when Satoshi was a baby. Perhaps even more than you.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust medicine at all. He does, very much so. Logically. Intellectually. He knows that it’s safe, and science proves it. Yet, Satoru completely explained it to you before. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have approved for his little boy to get the medicine. 

But emotionally? He’d rather swap places with his son in a heartbeat than let Gojo Satoshi feel a moment of discomfort. He would rather feel every inch of pain than see his precious little boy cry in his arms with such a miserable face.

At doctor’s appointments, he’s that parent. The one hovering too close. Asking too many questions. Looking up medical journals five minutes before the appointment and citing studies the pediatrician already knows.

He’s Gojo Satoru, so of course he thinks he knows better about all of this. Even when the poor nurse just wants to give Satoshi a routine vaccine.

And the irony of it all is that you’re the calm one. Level-headed. Reassuring. You’re the one who gently keeps Satoshi distracted with a lollipop or a little toy while Gojo Satoru paces behind you like a caged tiger in his Gucci tracksuit. 

You don’t wanna judge your husband, though. Maybe it comes with being a Zeni’n. Your father was the opposite of every other Zeni’n out in the world. He was a gentle sort of man, jovial and tender too.

But he too didn’t bat an eye when you were getting the injection or when you scrapped your knee or even when you ended up injuring yourself during training.

Though come to think of it, your mother was the same too…..Maybe it was just a familial trait for you to not feel like its the end of the world to see your little one face the world one step at a time. Starting with a needle.

The pediatrician’s office smelled faintly of disinfectant and bubblegum stickers. Little Satoshi somehow has become fond of the smell, which your husband was rather horrified about. You were used to it by now, though. 

Six year old Gojo Satoshi checkups were always like clockwork. It was rather easy, almost too easily the routine that comes once every few months. They were supposed to be done within thirty minutes, maybe even less. At least, they were supposed to be. Instead, they never are what they should be.

"You're trembling." you said, glancing at the tall, jittery man beside you.

"I am not, I am…I’m not really!" Satoru replied indignantly, though his knee bounced at a speed that could launch satellites. "I’m just… alert. Observant. Ready for anything."

You side-eyed him. “You're literally afraid of a five-second injection.”

“I’m not afraid!” he scoffed at you, trying to act so strongly. “He might be. I’m empathizing. It’s called being a compassionate father. Look it up, will you?”

Across the room, Gojo Satoshi was perfectly unbothered, legs swinging off the exam table, face buried in a dinosaur book the nurse had handed him. You leaned back in your chair, amused. The precious young master of the Gojo clan seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Young master Gojo Satoshi is sitting on the exam table, swinging his legs. Brave. Calm. Almost eerily relaxed, considering his dad is pacing like the world is ending. The little boy started humming to himself. You were quick to pick up on the Digimon soundtrack.

“Son, how can you be this calm?” Satoru cried out. “You’re getting needles on you! Ah, this is a bad idea!”

“It’s one needle, 'toru.” You shake your head at your husband. "He’s fine. You’re the one breaking a sweat."

"I'm just saying!" Satoru muttered, voice dropping to a hiss. "Needles are unnecessary. Painful. Medieval. There are better ways. I could reverse-engineer a technique that boosts immunity naturally. Something with cursed energy and kale."

You gave him a look. “You're not turning our son into a science experiment.”

"Technically, it’d be a wellness experiment—"

The door opened, and the nurse stepped in with a warm smile and a tray in hand. “Okay, Satoshi-kun! Just one quick poke and you’re all set, sweetie.”

Gojo Satoru shot to his feet like she’d entered with a grenade. “Wait, wait—what’s in that? Let me see the vial. Is that a fresh needle? Did it come out of a sealed pack? What about his arm, should we ice it first—?”

"Gojo Satoru.” Your voice was gentle but firm.

He glanced at you. Then at Satoshi. Then at the needle. Then back at you. Gojo Satoru felt like he was outmatched by the Zen'in blood in both of you for a second.

Satoshi rolled up his sleeve without a word. “I want the dinosaur sticker, miss nurse!”

“Well, we will definitely have to give you one! Since you’re a brave boy, no?” The nurse smiled, swabbed his arm, and in one smooth motion, it was done.

"Are we finished now, miss nurse?" Satoshi asked, beaming bright. "I want the Doraemon stickers!"

"We don't have Doraemon right now." The nurse retorted back to him, looking through the drawer for a band-aid. "How about Pokemon?"

"Wah, if there's a Steelix, hand it over, please!" He replies all too jolly, leaning forward.

"Alright, there's some here." She says to him. "But let's be patient. I need to put a band-aid on you before I go on and give you some stickers."

"Okay!"

Satoru blinked. “That’s it?”

“All done!” the nurse chirped, sticking a band-aid over the injection site.

Satoru was pale. “Are you sure? I remember this being longer.....And he didn’t even flinch…”

You ruffled your son's hair. “Because he’s braver than his papa.”

Satoru dropped to his knees beside the table and took Satoshi’s hands in both of his hands, his son enjoying the Pokemon stickers. “You’re a warrior. A legend. My strong little man. I’m so proud.”

Satoshi looked unimpressed at his father’s sudden burst of pride. He looks up as he pockets the stickers. “Can I get the ice cream now?”

Satoru sprang up. “Yes. Absolutely. Two scoops. No, three. And whipped cream. And gummies.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to spoil him if you keep doing this, 'toru.”

“I should spoil him. He’s a hero. Did you see him? He just stared a sharp piece of metal in the eye and didn’t even blink. That’s our son, babe.”

The nurse chuckled. “Would Dad like a sticker too?”

Satoru turned slowly toward her, dead serious. “…Do you have any with pandas?”

"I think so." The nurse says to him in reply. "Are you sure you don't want Pokemon?"

Satoru scoffed. "I'm a Digimon stan."

Soon after, they were in the car travelling to Satoshi's favorite ice-cream joint. It wasn't that far from the hospital which was good since you wouldn't have to drive very far.

When you arrived, your husband all but ordered so fast. Then started bragging about how brave Satoshi is, and Satoshi started to brag about his Pokemon stickers. It was a lot but the dream of ice-cream felt worth it.

A little while after that, you were walking out with a sugar-high Gojo Satoshi clutching more stickers from the ice-cream shop in one hand and a bubblegum ice cream on the other hand. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Gojo Satoru kept glancing down at his son's arm, where the nurse had playfully slapped a panda sticker. You looped your arm around his, trying to get him out of that worried trance.

“Are you good now?”

“I wasn’t not good before, I suppose…..” he replied, then paused. “Okay, maybe I was a little stressed.”

You smirked. “Just a little?”

“Fine. A lot. Happy?”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Very.”

He grinned, finally relaxing. “I just want him safe. That’s all.”

“I know that.” you whispered. “And he is.”

He glanced down at precious son, Satoshi, who was all but skipping ahead of you both, already excitedly talking about where he'll put his new favorite stickers. Gojo Satoru's smile softened, full of warmth at the joy his son was feeling.

“Yeah, yeah.” he said quietly. “He really is.”

EVERYTHING WENT BY TOO FAST. But it started innocently enough. Fushiguro Tsumiki had been cleaning out the storage closet when she found a dusty old camcorder tucked behind a box of outdated holiday decorations.

Of course, that led to her brother, Fushiguro Megumi, to go and dig out the charger almost just as quickly. You encouraged them, finding yourself excited to see what would come up in the camcorder.

And before you knew it, your massive living room had turned into an impromptu family theater to enjoy a little bit of a movie night while Satoru was on break. Of course, it was complete with various kinds of popcorn, all of the floor cushions, and everyone’s curiosity dialed to max. 

"These are from when Satoshi was born, I think." you said, settling onto the couch.

Satoru flopped beside you, smug. "Prepare to witness peak fatherhood, everyone."

Megumi shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“Hey, don’t doubt your father like that!”

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Hm….That’s just to save face, I totally get that!”

“How did you even get to that conclusion?”

Tsumiki giggled at their commotion and soon hit play. The screen blinked to life, grainy but colorful, showing newborn Gojo Satoshi swaddled in a too-big hospital blanket.

A much younger Gojo Satoru appeared onscreen. One could see his signature blindfold pulled up onto his forehead, hair a mess, face exhausted but beaming.

Satoshi grinned. "That's me! Look at me, I'm so.....I'm so small, so cute!"

"You were that, kiddo." Satoru laughed, looking at the clip again. "Ah, it was just like yesterday all over again."

"Everything about that day was so memorable, it was just....Nothing could ever be like that again." You admitted to them, leaning back into the couch. "It's unexplainable, you know? Being there, it was just too much."

You all cooed appropriately when Satoshi's lips quivered into a small pout. Even Megumi who did it so discreetly. Satoru puffed up with pride.

“Look at my little jelly bean! He was so tiny!”

“Like, terrifyingly tiny, truly.” you added, smiling fondly at the screen. “I kept checking to make sure he was breathing.”

“And I kept checking to make sure you were breathing too.” Satoru chimed in, throwing an arm lazily across the back of the couch behind you. “You were so out of it, I thought I’d have to run diagnostics.”

“I had just pushed a whole human being out of my body, you know. Rather harshly, if I may say so myself.”

“A tiny, perfect human being, with all your will power, which I adore about you.” he said, undeterred as he kisses your hand. “Though, he has my impeccable cheekbones the moment he was born, for sure.”

“Cheekbones?” Megumi muttered, deadpan. “He looked like a potato.”

Tsumiki covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “A cute potato.”

“Thank you, 'miki!” Satoru said, pointing at her dramatically. “Finally, someone with taste in this family.”

The video continued: hospital lighting, that sterile tint softening as the camera adjusted. Onscreen, you were in bed, hair a little plastered to your forehead.

Your eyes bleary but full of something too tender for words. Satoru sat beside you, cradling Satoshi in his arms like he was holding the very first star ever born.

“I was so scared I’d break him, you know?” Satoru murmured suddenly, quieter now. His voice, both onscreen and beside you, had dipped. “But then he grabbed my finger and didn’t let go. Like he was already telling me to get it together.”

“He did that to me too!” you whispered, leaning into his shoulder. “Even then, he had you wrapped around his little finger.”

“I am not ashamed about that at all.” Satoru said proudly. “I would go to war for that baby.”

“You cried, didn't you?” Megumi pointed out, as the video showed a very misty-eyed Satoru trying to pretend he wasn’t misty-eyed.

“I was moved, okay? It’s called emotional maturity.”

“It’s called being dramatic.” Megumi replied.

“I am dramatic.” Satoru declared. “And a fantastic father.”

The camera angle shifted as the nurse behind it said something about the first injection, and on cue, you and Satoru visibly tensed. Everyone on the couch hushed, watching the past version of you both steel yourselves while baby Satoshi squirmed gently in your arms.

“You were ready to punch the nurse, weren't you?” you said softly, laughing.

“She was a nice nurse!” he defended, throwing up his hands. “But yeah, I was ready to fight. That needle looked like a sword to me.”

“I had to remind him it wasn’t a duel!” you said to the kids.

Onscreen now, Gojo Satoshi let out a shrill cry at the prick, and real-time Satoru winced all over again, clutching his chest dramatically. Tsumiki let out an awestruck sound, while Megumi was just intently watching everything, like he was memorizing it.

“I felt that.” he said, slumping sideways until his head rested in your lap. “That day shaved years off my life.”

“Yet here you are, fully recovered and annoying as ever.” Megumi said.

Tsumiki leaned forward, smiling. “But it’s kinda sweet. I mean… seeing you like that.”

Satoru grinned up at you. “See? Told you I peaked early.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing your fingers through his hair absently. “You haven’t peaked. You’re still climbing.”

He caught your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Then I’ll keep climbing as long as you’re with me.”

Megumi groaned. “Can I leave now?”

“Nope.” Tsumiki said, patting his shoulder with a teasing grin. “You’re part of this dysfunctional sentimental family now. No escape.”

"Megu-nii! Please stay." Satoshi said, almost standing up to go to Megumi.

"H—" Megumi lets out a sound as he saw Satoshi's bright eyes. He gulped. He knows he can't say no to him, after all. ".....Fine, I'll stay."

"Yay!" Satoshi cheered, getting back to his comfortable position once again.

"Oh, I think the clip is changing again." You say as the video ends. You looked at Satoru. "Weren't there multiple reels here?"

".....I think so, i don't really remember." He admits to you. "I mean, we did take a lot of footage. I just don't remember which this upcoming one is."

“Alright, Satoru!” Ieri Shoko’s voice was in the back, likely holding a camera as the new video starts. “Stop crying already!”

“Can you not right now, Sho? I’m nervous here!” Satoru’s voice comes into the zone. “I hate you! This is the worst day of my life and you’re being cheery about this.”

“Yeah, your misery is my business too, big baby.”

“Now, now.” Your voice ended up following suit. “I don’t think you should be doing this here—”

“But she started it!”

“Yeah, yeah! Cry baby!”

“Sho–”

“Oh, it’s auntie Shoko!” Tsumiki cheers as she hears the voice. “I didn’t know she was there.”

You nodded at her with a small smile. “Yeah, she drove us there since she was the one who knew the doctor who did Satoshi’s injections.”

“Gojo–sensei losing it is hilarious.”

“Megumi, you really have no mercy for your father?”

“Again, you’re not my dad!”

Tsumiki looked at you. “But wait, where were we when you guys were at the hospital with ‘toshi?”

“You were with grandma, she picked you up from school too.” You said, patting her head. “She made those muffins with you, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right!”

Satoshi’s mouth went agape, eyes opened wide. “But I look so small, don’t I? I could fit in your hands so fully!”

“You did.” Satoru nodded at his son, letting himself stare at him fondly. Even when he wasn’t going to look back to him. “You truly did fit in my arms, because you were so tiny.”

“Ehhhh, but now I’m big!”

“That you are.” You giggle, patting his head as you gaze at his enthusiasm at the screen. "Too big to be in my arms like that."

Then the screen cut to a new scene: a shaky shot of a baby clinic, the kind with pastel animal decals peeling slightly at the edges and a faint antiseptic smell you could almost imagine through the screen. 

Gojo Satoshi, just a few months old, lay bundled in a soft blue blanket on the exam table, cooing obliviously at the mobile spinning above him.

Shoko slowly let the camera lingered on his tiny face, round and pink with sleep, then panned shakily to Satoru. Still pacing, anxious, out of place in a world of lullabies and latex gloves.

You were in the frame too, half-seated on the plastic chair beside the table, one hand gently smoothing the blanket over Satoshi’s legs, the other reaching instinctively for Satoru’s sleeve each time he passed close enough.

He kept walking, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, jaw tight, bright blue eyes flicking from the baby to the nurse prepping the syringe. He looked almost like he was the one who's getting the shot.

“He’s too little for this.” Satoru muttered under his breath. 

You offered a small, tired smile. “He’s supposed to be little. He’s a baby.”

“Yeah, Satoru, calm down.” Shoko says behind the camera once again. “It's not like he's going to be angry about it for the rest of his life.”

“That’s exactly my point! He could feel like that!” he whispered, crouching beside you, peering over the edge of the table to look at Satoshi. “Look at him. He trusts us. He has no idea what’s about to happen.”

“He’s getting a vaccine, not a betrayal.” you replied, voice low, teasing, but not unkind. "It's for his health, he'll understand."

You were trying to hold steady for both of them, especially with Shoko pushing Satoru’s button too. Your baby and your husband, who looked more panicked than either of you had ever seen him during exorcisms or emergencies.

The nurse came over, cheerful in the way professionals are when they know something small is going to hurt. “Okay, Mom and Dad, this’ll be quick. Just a little pinch.”

Satoru stood up so fast his chair scraped backwards. “Wait—should I hold him? Or should you? No, you’re better with—actually, maybe I should—”

“I’ll hold him, don’t worry.” you said gently, lifting Satoshi and cradling him to your chest, careful to leave one thigh exposed as instructed. 

Satoshi blinked up at you, unaware, still calm. Satoru hovered, arms twitching like he couldn’t decide where to put them. He looked at Shoko for a moment and then you.But then quickly stared at his son, more warmly than ever before.

He crouched closer to you again, face closer to his son. He finds himself whispering at him, “You got this, little guy. You're stronger than your old man, I can already tell.”

The needle went in. Satoshi’s face scrunched. His bright blue eyes screwed shut. A second passed. Shoko points the camera at Satoru’s face. Almost instantly, there was that resounding wail. That tiny, sharp, helpless cry pierced straight through you.

Gojo Satoru flinched like he’d been struck. You rocked Satoshi immediately, whispering into his ear, shushing, soothing, kissing the crown of his head. Satoru reached out a hesitant hand to touch the baby’s arm, then pulled back like he wasn’t sure he had the right.

“He’s okay.” you said softly, your own throat tight. “He’s okay, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t ready for that sound. Oh my god. I feel like crying....holy—” he said, sitting beside you, shoulders folding inward like someone who’d taken a punch. “That… that shouldn’t be allowed. Babies shouldn’t cry like that. I feel like I need to fight someone.”

“Fight the syringe?” you teased, brushing your cheek against Satoshi’s. “I think the nurse already won.”

Satoru exhaled a half-laugh, half-sigh. “I should’ve held him. I should’ve done something.”

“You’re here. That’s everything already, you know?” you said, and turned so he could see Satoshi’s face, already settling, eyes blinking drowsily again, the wail fading to hiccups. “Look. He’s already forgiving us.”

Satoru leaned in, resting his forehead briefly against yours, and then against the side of Satoshi’s soft little head. “I’ll make it up to you, kid.” he whispered. “Ice cream. At six months. Or sooner. I’ll figure it out.”

Shoko laughed, more fondly than ever before. “Now, that’s just promising to spoil him the way you were.”

“Of course, my kid deserves the whole world!” Satoru retorts back to his friend. “I’ll spoil him rotten!”

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, hm?”

The camera zoomed out, capturing the three of you: a little family, wrapped around one small moment that, later, would become legend.

The day Gojo Satoru learned what helplessness really felt like and how deeply he could love something, someone. And that had changed his entire world. Just as much as it did yours.

The footage trembled slightly, then faded to black. You let out a small sigh and looked at your husband who was just shaking his head. His gaze trailed at you, leading to him shaking his head soon after.

Tsumiki burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you were losing it, Satoru–san!”

"Now, don't get too happy about that, 'miki! I was a wreck!"

"Was that snot falling down your nose?"

"Megumi!? I would never!"

"But there was some, I saw it—"

On the lower echelons of the sofa couch, you started to notice sniffing. Your face scrunches. You turned to your son. All the sudden, Satoshi’s bottom lip trembled.

“Wait, are you crying? Are you okay, Sato-kun?”

The six-year-old wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Papa loved me so much… Papa! Papa, you loved Satoshi so much?”

Satoru immediately swooped in, pulling Satoshi into his lap. “Of course I did! I do! You’re my whole world, buddy!”

You leaned over, rested your chin on Satoru’s shoulder, and whispered, “You were crying more than the baby.”

Satoru looked at you, eyes wide. “That was a vulnerable moment, okay? I was being emotionally transparent. And you and Shoko were filming me instead of comforting me, by the way.”

You smirked. “Oh, I comforted the one who needed it most and that is my precious Gojo Satoshi.”

"But I'm also your precious husband!" Satoru pouted.

"Hm, but that's another thing."

"Hah!? No, it's not!"

Tsumiki giggled, shaking her head. “This is so going in the family group chat.”

“No, don’t!” Satoru shakes his head. “Your auntie Shoko’s going to make fun of me again! After I put it all behind me, you're giving her more ammunition!”

“Good.” Megumi crossed his arms but smirked faintly. “I mean, I always knew you were dramatic about being a dad. I just didn’t know it started this early in Satoshi’s life.”

Satoshi sniffled into Satoru’s shirt. “It’s okay, Papa. I don’t remember the betrayal.”

Satoru gasped. “See?! He knew!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, placing a kiss on your husband’s temple. “You big softie.”

He pouted. “You’re lucky I’m cute for you and only you, hm?”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it, hm.” you said, eyes twinkling. “It’s a curse I bear. A very loud, very overprotective, very sticker-loving curse.”

Satoshi, now fully recovered, perked up. “Do I get a sticker for crying this time?”

Satoru grinned. “We all get stickers tonight.”

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about not only the specific people lucanis pulls in to represent the 'locks' in his psyche, but the storytelling that happens in the structure/order of them. the underlying ideas are presented something like:

the lucanis who went into the ossuary never came back out again; he died down there (the boy caterina raised is gone forever) -> you're putting yourself in danger doing this (by being close to me), you should leave because I can't bear it if you get hurt because of me -> it doesn't matter even if we do try this, it won't work anyway (again because of me) ('you know what he's like, you can open the door but he won't walk through it' :'( oofie doofie) -> what if the real secret is that there was never anything but the monster in here from the beginning. you should leave, there was never anything here worth saving in the first place. (implicitly: what if I deserved what happened, all along.)

it runs pretty cleanly from outward-oriented attachment anxiety ('caterina won't even want me back like this, she won't recognize me (the same way I no longer recognize myself)) and gradually deeper inwards until we reach self-image and self worth. or you know, the harrowing basic lack of it lol.

"careful -- they'll know we're not right," spite says in one of their first scenes... but clearly, some very deep part of lucanis has feared or suspected for much longer than that that there's something inherently not right at the core of him, way before any demon entered the picture. and the voice he gives those lines to is the person who should know him better than anyone in the world, who he has loved more than anyone in the world -- and who deliberately chose to hurt him so horrifically anyway. 'It's better if I'm just a monster and deserved what happened than it is to allow for the idea that the brother I love doesn't really exist and maybe never did'. it's better if he's fundamentally flawed in some way that needed fixing to help him survive, and that's why caterina chose to hurt him again and again -- out of love. (this one I think he might have a very sad wakeup call on one day if he ever ends up with the responsibility and care of a child of his own in some way and realizes just how alien the idea of ever intentionally hurting them for any reason is to him. oh buddy. also interesting that he keeps caterina as the outermost lock -- there IS a distance he keeps there that he hasn't with illario. he doesn't resent her 'anymore' he says, but he also keeps her carefully further away from his deepest self.)

as far as I could tell the only note in the mind prison that's fully hidden and needs to be uncovered is the sad painful helpless stupid little truth that even after all this, even knowing what happened... he still loves his brother. is there anything illario could ever do that would make lucanis completely stop loving him, do you think? sometimes the trouble with unconditional love is that it is, well. unconditional, even when some terms and conditions probably would have been in order haha.

that's the pattern you see there again and again; he would rather destroy and abandon and imprison himself at every turn than let go of love, even when it's just scraps, even when there's only ever enough of it to hurt him. it's only when rook shows up and as it were takes his hand and walks along with him that he can entertain the idea of changing the story of what walking out the door might mean in the end.

[star-suh]

Helping Hands

Ateez ot8 x Male Reader

—

san loves his boyfriend yn so much that he wishes he can get pregnant and will do anything possible to get it, every time his big cock enters yn's tight hole he prays that his seed impregnates him. “san silly stop that, you know i can't get pregnant” yn caresses his cheek, “maybe i just need to try a little bit more” san and yn's foreheads touched while he keeps on pummeling yn, “or maybe i could use some help”. the door of their dorm opens, one by one of san's friends enter massaging their clothed bulges. “san what's this” yn's heart beating fast and loud that it looks that it would burst out of his chest, “maybe with enough cum you'll finally get pregnant”.

the rest of his friends discarded their clothes, dicks springing around free, growing and getting hard watching the scene unfolding in front of them, yn squirming under san –flustered and shy– covering his face, “don't worry pretty, you're gonna feel soo good”...

yn's hole gripped on san's dick like he doesn't want it to let it go, his moans muffled by seonghwas's dick, his hands occupied with jongho and yeosang and the rest strokes their dicks and share some kisses between them.

“isn't he a pretty cocksucker?” seonghwa grunts, pulling out to let wooyoung use his mouth too, “right and a skilled one too. you trained him good san” wooyoung said.

seonghwa stands near jongho –putting his dick near jongho’s– “stroke it” seonghwa demanded and yn complied, the action wetting jongho's manhood too with the remaining saliva on the taller's dick. the action was repeated again but this time with woo's wet dick near yeosang's.

junho was now mouthfucking yn, his big dick forming a bulge on yn's neck due to the forced deepthroats. san pulls out and quickly yeosang takes the charge of fucking him, his already used lubed hole engulfing his meat without any problem. “such a good toy you got san” hongjoong patted san's shoulder while stroking his dick with the other hand, “yeah, that’s why i need to get him pregnant”, hongjoong laughed at san's idea, it's silly but cute.

it was mingi and hongjoong's turn now, mingi stroke his dick a few times to then ramming it with no mercy on yn's hole, his tip scrapping his walls so good that he squirms and moans but just in time hongjoong's mouthfucks him, said moans reverberating on his cock making him feel so much pleasure. wooyoung watching how yn's dick is being neglected decides to straddle him and ride it “you might not be the only one coming out full tonight” he rock his hips with a fast pace, making the bed creak and by consequence made yn fuck himself into mingi and hongjoong's dicks, his moving body going up and down on the rappers’ dicks.

mingi sat on the bed with yn still riding his dick, “come on hongjoong, there's room for one more” he taps at yn's hole, “he's been eating a lot of meat today let’s give him a little more”, inch by inch hongjoong's dick entered, yn's hole engulfing it completely “man, what a whore” he blurted out. “ok mingi lay down” wooyoung once again wanting to fuck himself into yn, “if we're gonna use him as a toy might as well use all of it” he leaned on top of mingi –his back facing him– and guide yn's pole towards his hole, “fuck yeah, open me up”, mingi was unable to move at all because now he has wooyoung's weight on top of him, but still he was feeling like in paradise. yn tight walls hugging his dick so tightly while hongjoong's rubbed itself against his fuck! what a feeling.

“okay boys that's enough or you'll cum now” they nodded, pulling out their dicks and the other hopping off of yn's. “do you think he can take it more?” jongho asks yeosang while spreading yn's cheeks, “yeah i think so” the other replies. yn's ass bounced up and down two pair of cocks sticked together, he went up and sat all the way down their shafts –balls deep– both males grunting in pleasure, “how can he be so good at this?” jongho says, panting, “is like he was born for this, to take cocks” yeosang said. “i want moo~” completely fucked dumb at this point all that was crossing yn's mind was dicks, dick and more dicks so it was the group's obligation to give him what he wanted. he was still being plowed by both yeosang and jongho when san and wooyoung stand in his sides “open up baby” san demanded, both cocks made their way into yn's mouth, when one enter the other goes out and vice versa or yn just stick his tongue out and they slid their cocks in there until it's all slobbery, dripping wet.

the group kept on railing yn into oblivion, taking turns to dp him, everyone wanted to feel that pleasure of rubbing cocks together while being inside yn. that sensation felt like a drug to them, they could spend all day doing that and not get tired of it. “fuck i almost came” seonghwa pulls out inmediately with a pop followed by junho's. “san i think it's enough edging for us, i won't last much” wooyoung complains, “you're right let's get him pregnant then”. yn was in the bed face down ass up, his legs spreading so they all can have a good look at his abused hole, dripping with their bodily fluids. first was jongho, he decide to stroke his cock and shoot his load inside him, “god this was such a good fuck” he slaps yn's ass and went out of the room to get himself cleaned. next in line was junho, he did the same as jongho, he shot it on top of his hole then scooped it with his dick tip and pushed it inside, “open up, we don't wanna waste a drop, aren't we?” he winked at yn making him blush and moan. yeosang rubbed his dick in between yn's cheeks, the friction prompting him to cum very soon, as soon as he felt his orgasm coming he thrusted inside yn and kissed him, biting his lower lip in the process, “good boy”.

wooyoung sat on yn's face, who was now laying on his back, wrapping his arms around his waist to keep his ass up, “suck it like you mean it” he demanded yn to do while stroking his dick. while this happened mingi and hongjoong positioned themselves around yn's abused hole, stroking each other's dicks, “you should lends us this pretty too again san” mingi groaned, “i say the same” hongjoong supported the idea, “let me think about it” san replied. ropes if cum came from the rappers’ dicks, “sorry i'm a shooter” mingi said when his cum landed everywhere but yn's hole –including wooyoung's face– “i'll make it up yo you ynnie” the man said, using his tongue to scoop all the cum he could to then spit it inside yn, “damn man that was hot” wooyoung spoke, his dick leaking and ready to burst, “fuck!” he exclaims, putting only his tip inside to squirt all the thick liquid inside, “fuuhhh~” he pants “need more of this” he murmurs before leaving the room.

the last one on the room were now seonghwa and san, “your turn man” san prompts seonghwa to empty his balls inside yn, “let's see if you can hold this fat load i have in store for you”, “fat load?” yn asks, curious, “how much?” san asks to which seonghwa responds “a week worth of cum” his veiny dick pummeling into the splooge smeared insides until he finally explodes, his cock throbbing inside with each pumping making yn roll back his eyes, “such a pleasure yn” seonghwa caresses his cheek and kisses his forehead –waving a goodbye.

“so much cum, you're finally getting pregnant” san fucks yn wildly in a mating press position, the room echoed with skin on skin sounds mixed with yn's pleas and whimpers. his body squirming due to the overstimulation, making him cum undone, "need to churn all this milk inside you and then add mine to the mix”. san's dick went in and out, covered in foamy bubbly cum not realizing how some of it was leaking due to his beastly thrusts. “get ready for it yn” with a few more thrusts, he slid his arms under yn to hug him while his cock throbbed, spurting loads and loads of sperm. san pulls out and realizes how much of it was leaking into the mattress but then recalling what mingi did he did the same, his tongue collecting every drop of it, opening his hole with his fingers and spitting inside it all of it, kissing gently the puckered hole, “this was amazing, you were a good cumdump and i'm gonna be a dad soon”, san showered yn with kisses and caresses. “san.. for the gazillion time i can't get pregnant”. san shushes him, “shush you're still dumb for all that cock and sperm, let's shower” san carries him towards the bathroom, still coating him in kisses.

[takeyrregrets]

Another idea!! Okay so, delinquent reader x a childhood friend who made a mistake.

Oc and reader were completely inseparable since childhood after their parents introduced them to each other. Oc was an energetic kid, always begging his parents to meet up with reader, while the reader was more shy. But him being shy didn't mean that he hated the company, actually he absolutely adored the other, looking up to him in a way. Everytime they would play oc would effortlessly make temporary friends on the playground, and everytime his playground friends tried pushing Reader away since he was quiet oc wouldn't allow it.

Until they started highschool, oc made friends with the “popular” kids. He started hanging out with them more and more, slowly pulling away from reader. Until one day he got an ultimatum, either to stay with them or reader, and he chose the popular kids. What oc didn't know was that his new friend group would start bullying reader, at first he's shocked, trying to stop it, but after a while.. he just starts silently watching.

This causes the reader to disappear from school for months after it got severe (bullying was for a few years). But when he came back, he was different. Snappy, temperamental, a delinquent. Oc seeing this realizes how much he's changed, that he's no longer the cute shy kid that looked up to him. Oc starts trying to fix things, but you choose if it works in this fic or not.

I'm so fucking sorry this is so goddamn long 💀

-💀

𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀? 𝗖𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀? 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘅 𝗗𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗠𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 just realized I never made a title for this oh my god anyways heres the updated version

You weren’t supposed to come back.

That was the unspoken rule, wasn't it? Once you vanished—after the bruises, after the rumors, after the final time someone shoved you down the stairs and Elian just stood there—you were gone.

No one expected to see you again. Not the teachers. Not the kids. Certainly not him.

But here you are, pushing open the gates of West Ridge High like you own the damn place, teeth bared in a half-lazy, half-daring grin. It’s not real, of course. Just something you wear now, like your beat-up leather jacket and scuffed boots and that permanent slouch in your shoulders that says just screams problem starter.

And yeah, maybe you do start problems

Your hair’s longer. You’ve got a lip ring and bandages across your knuckles from a fight you didn’t win, but refused to lose. The office staff barely recognize you when you sign in.

Elian definitely doesn’t.

You catch him staring during first period.

It’s almost funny, the way he freezes when you walk in. Like a ghost just entered the room instead of a guy who used to braid clover chains for him during recess.

You take the seat furthest from him, ignoring the way he keeps glancing over like you might evaporate if he blinks too long.

Too late for that.

You’ve already disappeared once.

By third day back, everyone knows not to mess with you.

Not because you’re loud. Not because you fight much, though you have made a name for yourself in backlot scraps behind the gym. It’s just the way you are now—quiet like thunder in the distance. People hear it, and they don’t wait to see the storm.

Except him.

He corners you behind the vending machines after school, his hands stuffed deep in his hoodie pockets like he’s scared you’ll break his fingers if he tries to reach out.

"Can I—" he starts, but you already know.

You don’t look at him. "No."

He flinches. "You don’t even know what I was gonna say."

"Doesn’t matter."

There’s a pause. You hear him shift, like he’s about to walk away. But then—

"I didn’t choose them over you. I—" He exhales, and it’s shaky. “I thought I had time. I thought you’d always be there.”

That stops you. Just a beat.

You turn, finally meeting his eyes. They're the same ones that used to sparkle when you brought him wildflowers. Now they're red-rimmed. Guilty.

"You watched me get torn apart," you say, voice low. “For years. Not once. Not twice. Every damn day.”

He swallows hard. “I was scared.”

"So was I."

Another pause.

He looks at you then—not like you're some broken thing he wants to fix, but like someone he misses. Truly, achingly. Like he’s been walking around half-alive and only just found the part of him he lost.

“I never stopped—” His voice cracks. “You were my best friend. My only real one. I just... I got so caught up trying to be liked. Trying to be safe.”

You’re quiet for a long time.

Then, without thinking, you say it.

“You could’ve been safe with me.”

After that, he doesn’t push.

Not for a while.

But you notice things.

An extra juice box left beside your locker. A sticky note on your desk that says “math test Friday” in familiar chicken-scratch. Someone tripping in the hallway only for Elian to be at your side a second later, ready to fight whoever touched you—until he realizes you handled it first.

You don’t say anything.

But when you sit down at lunch one day and find him already at your usual spot, tray untouched, hands clenched in his lap, waiting—you pause.

He looks up.

Just once, he smiles. A little lopsided. A little broken.

“Hey.”

You sit across from him.

You don’t say anything.

But your leg brushes his under the table, and this time, you don’t pull away.

Healing isn't clean.

You still snap at him some days. Still storm out when something hits too close. You still hate the way he flinches sometimes—like he's expecting the worst from you.

And he still cries sometimes. Not in front of you, but you hear it in the way he says “I’m sorry” like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

But he shows up.

He listens.

He doesn’t ask for forgiveness. He just stays.

And maybe… maybe that’s enough for now.

Because there’s a quiet night—late spring, air smelling like rain—where you’re sitting on the hood of his mom’s car, both of you staring at the stars like you used to, and he whispers—

“Are we still friends?”

You don’t answer right away.

But you lean your head on his shoulder.

And it’s the first time he doesn’t cry when you touch him.

[vrystalius]

The best gift

It’s the best time of the year — gifting season! So, your husband decided to gift himself to you as a gift… how will they do it?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyuu x gn!reader

MDNI- Minors do not interact please! This is slight NSFW/very suggestive.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

After pondering and visiting all kinds of stores across Japan while he’s supposed to be hunting and slaying demons, Sanemi figured the best gift he could give you is himself. What more would you want besides snacks and your dear husband? But since it’s the holiday season, why not present himself like a proper gift.

Sanemi tried to bind himself with the help of thick ribbons, but one can only do a good job with one hand and under time pressure to get ready before you call him over to open gifts, so his appearance now looks more like a last minute thought rather than a carefully thought out plan to seduce you with him being presented to you like a beautiful gift you could use all for your needs, whatever they might be.

After binding his hands together, Sanemi slapped one last bow in the center of his naked chest (and a smaller one right above his crotch area) as a finishing touch and proceeded to seat himself next to the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, waiting on you to notice your impatient, half naked husband trying to appear alluring while also not being able to move too much without compromising the ribbons.

“What are ya waiting for? You want me to oil up as well or something?!”

Actually, thanks to the tape he used, after being freed and unwrapped by you, Sanemi got a very cheap hair removal job. You had to treat the burn marks while he fussed about them not being a big deal.

Kyojuro Rengoku

After taking Tengen’s joke about gifting himself to his wife for the holidays too serious, Kyojuro bought multiple packages of red and gold wrapping paper, sparkly ribbons and a large bow as a final detail. First, he tried to wrap every limb individually but realised that he looked like a very unloved robot with all the tube looking shapes and wrinkled paper, so Kyojuro tried again. This time, he wrapped himself whole and just kinda sat beside the decorated tree in the living room, looking like a sack of potatoes that was decorated by golden ribbons and bows. Despite his appearance, your husband was waiting for you to finally unwrap him.

Although he does feel slightly guilty for just making a scrap book containing all of your memories together that looks more like a toddler’s art project rather than a sincere attempt to eternalise the best memories of you two and then wrap himself in wrapping paper and present himself as your second and probably better gift.

But as you free Kyojuro from the paper prison he put himself in and help him get untangled from all the mess, he was delighted to hear you laugh at his ridiculous idea and unforgettable sight of Kyojuro being wrapped in wrapping paper with just his head being exposed.

“A-Ah, I’m glad you enjoyed… well, me! I suppose you can now whatever you like with me, I am at your complete service!”

Gyomei Himejima

Believe it or not, Gyomei’s first idea about gifting himself to you were a little less than innocent. You never knew about this, but your husband is actually quite knowledgeable when it comes to Shibari— a bondage method that is not just purely for sexual purposed but rather for the aesthetic appearance of a carefully and thought-through bondage of a body and the trust needed to submit to your partner. Thanks to Gyomei’s build and stature, it can be hard for him to submit to you fully, as he can easily and accidentally break free from any restraint, ruining the fantasy. But with Shibari it would be much easier, more intimate too.

Instead of making it a surprise that he himself is the gift, your husband suggested that you could bind him with deep red ropes while Gyomei instructs you on what to do in every step, together creating a beautiful art piece out of your husband’s body, the ropes deliciously highlighting his soft chest and relaxed muscle and made Gyomei shiver in delight multiple times throughout the process, sending all the excitement down to his groin.

By the end of tying him down on your bed (the link is from google and sfw), your husband slightly regretted giving up all of his power to you like never before, as you could now tease and play with him until he is in tears, although Gyomei wouldn’t mind that much. You just need to loosen the ties around his crotch a little, it’s getting very tight down there.

“Please don’t tease me too much, I’m not sure how much I can handle, pearl.”

(Normally, praying away the impure thoughts always helped with his bodily reaction, but you gently tugging on the ropes and being fully at your mercy awakened something in that man that was not possible to be prayed away.)

Giyuu Tomioka

He actually had no idea what else he could buy for you as a gift. Giyuu buys you a fresh batch of flowers after every mission, he cooks and cleans whenever he is able to, he gets you small gifts like trinkets, accessories and clothes throughout the year anyway, so what else can he give you? Standing inside a gifts shop stressed him out severely as he was worried about if you either already have the item he was looking at, if you really would appreciate this neat gadget he found or even like the cute plush he found.

Giyuu then just bought a ribbon and wrapped it around his neck and decorated it with a cute ribbon, then awkwardly stood in the door frame of your bedroom, trying to look at least a little alluring by posing slightly.

“This… is rather stupid, but I am all yours. Your gift.“

After standing there for a couple of seconds in silence, Giyuu sighed deeply and let the cringe overtaking his body.

“Never mind. I’m getting you something else.”

💠

Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone!! I am back from my break and Demon Slayer brainrot found itself back into my brain after getting access to VR Worlds and joining a couple kny worlds as Mitsuri and my Douma cosplay arriving— I still need to style and trim it a little but I am SO EXCITED FOR IT!! Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well 🫶 I wish everyone happy holidays and a lot of fun, good food, wanted gifts and a warm home <33

Anyways, again, make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough <3

Take care of yourselves <3

[choochooboss]

Submas Sketchdump Vol. 4 July 2022 Part 2!!

I knew that particular month beat my all time record for productivity multifold but I had forgotten SO MANY PIECES from the original collection!! I think I finally got them all?? More stuff under the cut!!

BREAKMAS!! WIP of the first piece I posted of them, here's the link to the final version! I tried coloring this first but the black & white had ultimately more impact so I went with that!

TRAINS!! I like this base color version too! Link to the final version!

The top sketch is a direct reference to Cluedo! A spinoff game, "Missingo", starring certain familiar characters trying to figure out what happened to Ingo/trying to prove their innocence in the case! Also WIP sketches for these two Breakmas comic pages!

As you may know I adore butlermas! For the classy and stylish look which appeals to me in general, and coincidentally I had played PLA & got hit by submas train only one week before butler Ingo's banner rolled out! The pure bliss of finally meeting both twins in a game I felt was incomparable!! This moment in the Curious Tea Party event was really entertaining to me! We got to see submas get serious and stand up against this selfish collector thief! Two towering train twinks with commanding voices looming over the unfortunate guy was enough to make him change his mind ahah! They truly are the protectors

1-hour submas challenge prompt "Descend"! This is the actual one hour result before I continued rendering this!

Mmmmm not my first attempt at drawing them hug and definitely not my best OR last. I want to make that moment something very special when I finally go all out on it!!

Comic cover vibing~

The scrapped last page for this silly comic! Sorry the dialogue is all over the place on the first piece, might be hard to read! I wasn't happy with how I presented Elesa, I wasn't familiar enough with her character back then so I thought of her carrying a toy taser to threat her friend even as a joke was too much and I couldn't come up with anything else for it. This held me back from posting the other three pages for another 5 months! In the last panel

I prefer to not mess up the twins too much but my brain is still very curious and conjures some peculiar stuff like this sometimes.. I think I may have broken his arms there looking at the anatomy, ooops! I hope you don't mind the photo quality or the two weird guys in the corner, they escaped containment!

Idea of warden Ingo, being projected to modern era by his Alakazam, walking through crowd on a train platform & Emmet standing inside a passing train. Their eyes meet for just a few seconds...

Pokemas Ingo practise!

Another WIP of a piece I posted! I started this piece like this but then later I decided to flip the whole thing.

YET another WIP of something I already posted! No idea why I went and mixed up his suits but I like this sketch! They rarely end up looking this clean haha

Sketch version of the self-defense practise piece! I love getting creative with action stuff! I barely ever think of how difficult they are to draw, I just get so excited and fixated on visualising the scenes in my mind I just keep at it, pull out refs and pose in front of mirrors until it looks good to me! I want to draw more action scenes but besides being challenging to draw my brain comes up with more silly and cute ideas than cool ones unfortunately ahah

One more WIP, here's the link to the final results!! I really like how genuine their expressions look here even if the faces are a little off. I recall spending a long time figuring out this perspective. I thought it would be fun to you to see how all these pieces started and... looking at the sketch above and the stuff before that, you can compare some range of my style!

RANDOM SUBMAS MISSILES GO

OHHH looks like some nasty passengers got the best of them!! If I recall correctly there was no fight because they managed to paralyse the two before they could act. Fully awake yet completely helpless... how convenient unfortunate. Thank you so much for checking these out!! Not every sketch is that exciting but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on these!

Previous posts: Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 1 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Zayne

Zayne definitely shows his love through his actions.

He's the type to be nervous the weeks leading up to his proposal. He won't show it though his coping mechanism would just be to work more hours to avoid thinking about all the reasons you'd say no. So you'd barely see him for weeks.

Don't worry though trust he's planned everything down to the last minute. He even tried to plan how the conversation would go. He quickly scraps that idea when he remembers he can never predict your response considering the way you always surprise him with your antics.

He's private about your relationship (Private not a secret read that again twice). He wouldn't want a crowd or prying eyes he'd want a cozy afternoon at home with you. The PERFECT cozy afternoon. He'd have you sit down on the couch as he'd bend a knee and give you the most Shakespearian speech you've every heard in your life before ending it with a......

Zayne: I know I've told you before nothing last forever but I'd like to be your nothing and last forever .... Will you marry me? MC: You're my everything Zayne Zayne: Is that a yes? MC: Yes yes of course

How could you even think of saying no? He would also turn you every which way but loose to celebrate. The aftercare would consist of a hot jasmine scented bath with you to relax your muscles. That nap would hit different after that cozy afternoon. ;)

Rafayel

Rafayel is so silly he'd stumble and drop the ring down a drain or something. I bet you thought thats what I'd say huh? Wrong number babes.

He can be serious when he wants to and he'd want his proposal to be perfect as well however he would want to have fun prior to asking just to calm his nerves. He'd take you to a festival or a farmers market or the arcade anything to take his mind off his racing heartbeat for his plans later.

When the time comes he would take you to a quiet gorgeous beach at sunset (A place where he feels the most calm) and right when nightfalls. Fireworks. Perfect timing huh? Coincidence? I think not!

He always finds you beautiful no matter what. He could stare at you for hours and never get tired of looking at you. There was something about you in the moonlight mixed with the awe on your face while watching the fireworks. You were unreal.

He'd wait until you're completely enamored by the fireworks before subtly mentioning something further down the beach. You'd turn quickly seeing beautiful candle light set up complete with a heart shaped flower archway covered in Flame Lillies. It was ethereal.

MC: Oh my gosh someones getting proposed to Rafayel: Lets get a closer look MC: No we might ruin it let's stay here Rafayel: It'll be fine I know the person proposing they haven't got there yet we can go look MC: Fine but quickly

Rafayel would lead you over directly in front of the archway where you would pull at his sleeve to try and leave. Because why does this man got you in the middle of someone else’s proposal set up??

MC: Your friend could be here any minute we should leave Rafayel: He's here MC: *Looks around frantically* Where?!? Rafayel: It's me MC: *Turns to see Rafayel on one knee*

His speech is an absolute tear jerker. He'd promise to love you endlessly and passionately. "I promise to chase you to the ends of the earth even in death I'd find you in the next life"

Rafayel: So ... will you be my beloved bride? MC: YES!

Me personally I'm tackling his fine ass in the sand after he slips that ring on

Xavier & Sylus here...

[molsno]

I don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying kids shows as an adult per se, like that's obviously fine by itself. however I think the fact that there are so many Queers™ that almost exclusively watch shows made for children, and that most of those shows were produced by disney, is indicative of a broader trend of reactionary ideologies in mainstream queer society. often they praise these shows for having "queer representation" in some form, such as a gay couple, usually comprised of young children given who these shows are usually about. of course even these meager scraps of representation are often enough to get a show canceled, but the fact is that for them to even be on children's television in the first place, they must be extremely sanitized. disney in particular is notorious for scrubbing any and all content that any hypothetical evangelical conservative might take issue with from their shows, but this is a problem inherent to children's tv.

I say this not to disparage people who like these shows, but to point out that these shows serve to impose heterosexual norms onto queerness, and it concerns me how many queer people seem to be completely fine with this. why should disney channel and cartoon network get to define what an acceptable level of queerness is? the most radical thing you can expect to see is a same-sex couple briefly kissing. they are wholly sexless and sanitized, stripped away of any challenges to heterosexuality, cissexism, monogamy, and patriarchy. Straight People get the idea that they don't have to worry about queerness, as long as it conforms to their sensibilities and doesn't threaten their dominance.

but worst of all is that queer people themselves approve of this sanitization. I suspect the reason that so many queer people's media landscape revolves entirely around these shows is because they seek acceptance into Straight society, and must prove that they won't rock the boat too much. in doing so, they seek out only portrayals of queerness they consider "safe", and eagerly distance themselves from any form of "degeneracy". queer sexuality, for instance, must be a wholly private endeavor, as it is something shameful. any form of kink that isn't acceptable under wider heterosexual norms is something they must vehemently abhor, and engaging in it must be responded to with violence, whether social, physical, or both.

to be clear, I'm not saying that exclusively watching children's shows causes queer people to be reactionary. on the contrary, I think it's the other way around. queer people who already hold reactionary beliefs flock to these shows because it allows them to see themselves in media while still being able to gain temporary, limited access to the heterosexual project and the privileges doled out to its participants. this is deeply disgraceful. not only is the queer project of assimilating into straightness an inherently harmful one given that it necessitates intentionally throwing queer people who can't assimilate due to being trans, black, disabled, poor, etc under the bus and subjecting them to violence; it's also a fool's errand, given that straight people ultimately still hate the queer people that do try to assimilate and will discard them the moment they stop being a useful tool.