#now that is a sound i do not hear on a daily basis and could not explain

[ahalliance]

as much as i am a boogara i do not think the average american ghosthunter could manage living in a 100 year+ old european house with the amount of weird cracks and wood settling and pipes clanging i hear on a daily basis

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[justporo]

Astarion sees you're almost falling asleep and will drag you to bed now!

I would need this on like a daily basis. And I guess so do many of you - so let the vampire drag you to bed and GO! GET! SOME! SLEEP!

It was so late it could have been called early. Outside you could already hear the birds chirping, cheerfully greeting a new day. Which meant that it was more than high time to crawl into bed. And doubly so because you lived with a vampire who fared even worse with sunlight than you.

But you were still crouched over your desk and the papers there.

Your eyes were tired. You barely saw what you were working on anymore. And you knew you could get this done when you were fully rested and it would only take a matter of minutes. But you were so desperate to finish this.

Unfortunately, you had a tendency to be very determined (someone else usually called it stubborn but you always pretended you had gone deaf all of a sudden when that happened). But this tendency had brought you this far and probably saved your life more than once. And you wouldn't be bested by this piece of work!

But your head was slowly falling, your eyelids growing as heavy as lead.

And you only jumped back up when you heard that certain someone enter the room, being purposefully noisy to make you aware of it. You were grateful for that because if the vampire had snuck up on you, like he was fully capable of, it might have not ended well with you being this exhausted.

“Slacking off on the job, are we?” you heard his familiar teasing voice as he came closer. You felt his presence as he leaned on the table around you - basically caging you with his arms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as usual. His lips were awfully close to your ear and the hairs on your neck stood on end as you didn't dare rip your eyes from your work.

“Don't you think this can wait, love?” he whispered now directly into your ear causing a hot and cold shiver to run down your spine.

But with this he had pushed the wrong button. Almost involuntarily you felt one of your eyebrows rise up and your lips forming a pout: “No, Astarion, I don't think it can wait.”

You turned your head around to face him and saw him smirk, making you even more annoyed at him. He leaned in closer, causing his chest to brush against your head now, his hands moved to cover yours.

“Do you really think a stack of papers can't wait more than your caring lover craving your calming touch?” he murmured with a pout that mirrored yours while his deft fingers freed your writing quill out of your angrily clenching fingers. You couldn't resist him long. His hands were used to open up more difficult things than your desperate grip on your writing utensils. Also his absolutely instrumentalized big red eyes he looked at you with were absolutely working their usual enchanting magic on you.

Not enough though for you to not make a snide remark about what was happening.

“Well, for starters the stack of papers doesn't talk back.”

“You think I'm funny, my love.”

“It also isn't as full of itself.”

A mockingly offended gasp while Astarion’s hands moved the papers out of your reach.

“My heart, you hurt me.”

“Ah see, it also doesn't guilt trip me.”

The vampire's hands wandered up over your arms to your shoulders. “I can't do right by you tonight, can I?”

“You could just let me keep working on my thing.”

A dramatic sigh and Astarion let his head fall forward and onto your shoulder. Then he let go of you and took a step back.

“Do you really want to keep working, dear?” he sounded sincere now and you suddenly felt true guilt as you looked at him. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes still awfully wide and shining.

But the urge to not keep business unfinished still had you in its claws.

After a few heartbeats you opened your lips to answer, but-

“Too bad, you're coming with me now, my love.” Astarion exclaimed and with rogue quickness grabbed your chair by the armrests to drag it away from the desk and turn it around to him. “You need your beauty sleep, I can't be seen walking around with a walking corpse!”

You squealed when you felt your body get yanked around so quickly while your tired brain was almost incapable of catching up. Thus you were almost confused when you had ended up on Astarion’s shoulder a moment later.

There was no energy left in your body to resist this infuriating man any longer so you just played the part of dead weight draped over his shoulder - since he had already coined you as such - and couldn't stop yourself from giggling.

“See, darling, I told you: you think I’m funny.”

“It's just sleep deprivation talking.”

“Ah, so you agree with that too.”

You resisted to answer him with something he would only twist around again to fit his agenda. Instead you just slapped his butt you had quite the delectable view of at the moment.

Astarion hissed and just slapped your behind in return. You only giggled more.

“I should have left you at your godsdamned desk, let you fall asleep right there to drool on the papers,” he murmured under his breath and ended it with something about how ungrateful you were while he threw open the bedroom door; your favourite drama queen.

Then he made quick work to get you off his shoulders with an exaggerated groan which you were sure wasn't fully acted.

As soon as your body hit your soft bed the last of your energy decided to evaporate into the aether. You were almost falling over if not for the vampire's quick reflexes catching your wrists.

With quick fingers and more snarky remarks you had no power to reply to anymore he undressed you to your underwear.

And with more overly dramatic groaning and a roll of his eyes since you provided absolutely no help did he turn you to lay down. He carefully placed your head on the pillows which you thanked him for with a dreamy sigh. Your eyes closed on your own. The blanket was thrown over you and more rustling told you that Astarion was quickly undressing as well.

When the mattress shifted under the vampire's weight as he got into bed next to you you barely even noticed it anymore.

With final efforts Astarion dragged you onto his chest. Your arms slung around him and your legs tangled with his automatically - you had done so hundreds if not thousands of times already.

“All this work just to get you where you belong,” Astarion whispered to you and clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he began rubbing lazy circles on your back. You only hummed contentedly as you felt your body relax fully into him and his touch.

Your last half-coherent thought as you drifted off to sleep was that, indeed, you had to agree with him on this one: you were right where you were supposed to be.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐍

SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 tries to be a better man but others seemed to be testing his limits. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 x Reader (gender isn't impiled/mentioned/specified) Tw. blood, description of wounds, violence, cussing, smoking, possesive behaviour, reader is called darling

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"I hate bastards like you." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 breathed out under his nose and despite being physically active for the past hours. He turned around on the squeaking, old chair he was occupying and calmly took out his silver and amber cigarette case from one of his coat’s pockets which was hanging from the back of the furniture. Now with his possessions at hand, he returned to his previous position. "Ya want one?" 

The man messily sprawled on a wooden floor could only whine pathetically like a little baby.

"Alright." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 shrugged, taking the whine as ‘no’. Without any care in the world, he himself took one of the cigarettes from the rectangle case. He furrowed his thick eyebrows as he lit it up using his trusty lighter. "Like I've said...where was I?"

Silence fell on the dingy room like a thick blanket, choking everyone with its density, except the one who caused it in the first place. 

"Ah! Right!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 facepalmed, shaking his head in disbelief that he forgot what he was talking about in the first place. "I absolutely HATE bastards like you."

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 leaned down, his fitting shirt accenting his lean and tense body, to tightly grasp his victim's hair in his iron grip and harshly brought the idiot up to be face to face with him. The man screamed painfully, choking on his blood that kept pouring from his mouth and nose. One of his eyes began to turn black and was tightly shut from how puffy it had become. The rest of his body wasn’t in any better shape.

"The ones that lure in a place where they don't belong. The ones who believe they have a chance with someone who is clearly taken. But most importantly, the ones who dare to ignore me."

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 continued his speech like he wasn’t talking to a man beaten half to death. He deeply breathed in his cigarette and after holding it in for a few seconds, he blew toxic smoke right in this man's face, watching with satisfaction him fall into a coughing fit. The victim winced and began to cry, mainly because of his broken ribs. "I was so generous and took my precious time to politely inform you to stay away from my darlin'. I remeber explicitly advising you to search for a good fuck somewhere else. Right?"

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 harshly patted the bruised and bloody cheek of the said man after noticing him falling unconscious. The man gasped and cried harder, weakly nodding.

"Right! And what did you do?" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 took a deep breath from his cigarette, gritting his teeth in rage. "Like a swine decided you know better than me and went for it! You...you fucking bastard..." He began panting and letting this powerful emotion take control over his whole being. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 couldn’t help but begin to laugh like he heard the best joke. It sounded so houting, echoing in the small room which the victim occupied on a daily basis.

"You bastard fucked with a wrong darlin'." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 summed it up and took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then he took another deep inhale of his cigarette, before taking it out of his mouth since it was almost burnt out completely. He flexed his aching jaw and gripped the man's hair tighter, satisfied to be hearing his high pitched whine. "MY darlin'."

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 didn’t hesitate to bring the still burning cigarette to the man's forehead and put it out there. The man screamed but didn't trashed much. He didn't have any strength in him to do so anymore.

"And I won’t tolerate it."

And he didn't.

“What happened to your hands?” You asked the very next day and carefully took them in yours. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 basked in your attention, especially loving skin to skin contact initiated by you. 

“Ah, it’s nothin’, really.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 laughed it off and took this chance to burn the image of your concerned face in his memory. You looked so adorable. So gullible…

“You don’t need to worry your pretty head over this, darlin’.”

“But – !”

“Ah!” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 tutted, cutting you off and moved his aching and bruised hands to take yours instead. He squeezed them affectionately, looking lovingly into your eyes. “How about we go to buy that clothes we saw yesterday? You looked so darling in them!”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[clawsdevour]

how many floors left

wc: 1.7k content warning: public sex, smut, fingering, kissing, established relationship, not proofread, multi-fandom x reader

•°. *࿐

Entering your workplace which is a big tall glass building with about 70 floors, you come in your professional attire daily. Hair and makeup nicely done, wearing your pencil skirt, an ironed blouse and black stockings which matched with your shiny black heels. The jewelry you picked today complemented your eyes and matched the rest with your outfit. You worked under the CEO of the company, as his assistant. Little did the whole company know that you were secretly dating him.

Dating at work was strictly prohibited to ensure that the work environment is productive, and not filled with gossip and toxicity. You crossed over a few rules with this. One, you started dating one of the people you have to engage with on a daily basis at your workplace. And two, the person you were dating is the CEO, the person you work the most with. It was like he was bending the work rules for you. However, you both were able to put up a front where you’re both completely professional on work grounds. But not whenever you were in his office with him alone.

You scan your ID card to clock in before heading to the elevators. You noticed how unusually empty it was that day. Am I late, or am I just way too early for today’s scheduled meeting? You pondered to yourself for a moment. Usually to prepare for meetings you decide to come at least 20 minutes earlier than when the gathering is held. It’s normally bustling at that time, with some people here asking to clarify the documents and some people still finishing up their papers. About to press the call button for the elevator, you hear a clicking sound coming from behind. A male figure was walking towards you and the elevator you’ve chosen to use even though there were plenty available. His finger touches the button before you could hit it. Looking up with a stern look on your face to see who beat you to the race, it was no one else other than your boyfriend who you’ve been dating in secret.

“Good morning, Miss. I see you’ve come earlier for today’s meeting,” extra emphasis on the Miss to toy with you. He’s holding himself back from smirking to keep it professional in case anyone's around. He cleared his throat, turning his attention to watch the number of floors race down to your level.

“Morning Mr. CEO. I see you also came early but what for? I’m the one who’s preparing the meeting for you,” you’re looking at him like he’s got something up his sleeve. Typically he comes to the meeting right when it’s starting, you never see him come early because you actually do your job right.

“Just wanted to help. I’m your boss overall, I’m here to help you submit your work to me,” he chuckled. Rolling your eyes, the elevator stops at floor one. Smoothly opening its doors upon entry, you both step in. 

About to click the same floor, he exchanges a look that says You can press it. Returning the favor, you press it for him. The meeting was located on one of the top floors of the whole building, floor sixty-nine. The doors closed, creating that gravitational pull as the elevator is about to take off into the air. You stood shoulder length apart with your boss.

“Sooo… now that we’re alone would you mind telling me why you’re such a tease this early morning? What did you do before getting here..?” Naturally you’re curious why he was in such a good mood, this early. Usually he’s the grumpiest and coldest person alive in the morning. You pondered, He must’ve done something devious, but what would he do before even getting to work besides eating and getting dressed? Catching his attention with your words, he looks down at you, practically beaming with joy. 

“Because I wanted to come early to.. I don’t know.. get some alone time with you, since you know.. the rules, even though I’m basically running this company” he’s stepping towards you, making you walk into the wall backwards. Your ass touches the handrail of the elevator leaving you nowhere else to run. His actions have your mouth parted in surprise. You always thought he didn’t even know his own rules, he’s just a man living carefree while running a big company. 

Finger on your chin, tilting your head up so you’d look at him. His sinful eyes narrowed looking into your eyes. You’re starting to turn a light pink hue as you grasped onto the handrail, as if it was gonna help you achieve anything. 

“Do you really want to do this.. at work?” Both of you are very aware that there’s just a one in a million chance of getting caught this early in the office. You just have to pray that no one’s already on one of the floors pressing the button for their departure. 

His lips lightly brush against yours, a simple peck that you wanted more of. He knew that of course. Noticing that you’re currently at floor 17, it was gonna be a long ride up and you both had time to waste while you stood in the traveling structure. Pulling his head down to meet yours with your hands, your lips meet once more. His hands tightly gripped your waist to draw your body closer to his as you two shared a long passionate kiss. Sliding your hands down to his shoulders, you held onto him as you sloppily fought with tongue for dominance.

His right knee gradually started to come in between the soaring heat your legs produced. Slamming you down against the wall for support as he started to rub his knee harshly against your stiff pencil skirt, getting it to scrunch up at your waist. Enough to edge you on, he’s grinding his knee against your damp and sensitive clothed clit. You can’t help but moan into the kiss, sparking more arousal to catch onto your panties. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you part from the kiss, head laying on his shoulder feeling the sensations he’s creating from under. He’s kissing the crook of your neck. Fluttering your hazed eyes, you were currently at floor 24. Getting a lot of fun before prepping the company meeting in a timely manner that’s worth the same time as traveling seven floors up, not bad. 

Your worries and concerns dissolved when he put two fingers on your clothed cunt. Feeling your wetness increase due to the thrill, he snickers at you.

“How many floors have we got left baby?” Whispering in your ear, his hot breath makes your skin flinch. You squint back at the small digital screen displayed above the buttons. 

“Umm.. 39. Wait no, 36 floors. Well it’s moving up,” enjoying the adrenaline he plants another kiss on your lips. 

“Haha, that’s so much time to let us get down.” Looking down, you feel a slight tug on the sides of your panties. His hands were at work pulling them down just enough to have your bare cunt exposed, leaving you to quiver as the chilled office air touched your wet pussy. His fingers on your clit, you’re holding on to his biceps covered by his blazer as he moves his digits in slow small circles. Breathing out whimpers of pleasure, he kisses your collarbone, inhaling your scent. 

“I love the smell of your perfume. How do you smell and look so good every morning? I know I don’t show it, but whenever I see you running around the office I can’t help but stare. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He cooed, increasing the pace of his fingers that traced your clit multiple times with no end. You’re whining, trying to push his right arm off your clit, overstimulated. 

“We’re nearing.. floor 50 M-Mr. CEO” stuttering, high off the pleasure. You can’t help your legs as they start to twitch and shake from him teasing your swollen clit.

“Oh, please.” Resisting your hands that try to push him back, he plunges his fingers into you. His left hand takes your weak grip off him, leading you close to his freshly shaven jawline, landing a kiss on your knuckles. 

“I’ll make you finish before we arrive,” giving you a defiant look, he finds your sweet spot. Your back arches against the traveling elevator wall as he pokes and curls his fingers inside you. Secreting more fluids that started to drip down onto his knuckles, the squelching noises grew audibly. His head was slightly glancing over his shoulder to count down how many floors were left. Currently, at the 59th floor of the building. Feeling the sparks grow unignorable down there, the build up from the pleasure started to occur, your orgasm was awaiting to be unleashed. 

“I.. I’m gonna.. gonna, cum..!” Pulling your head back as you surrender yourself to the pleasure, soft kisses being planted on your jawline. His speed increases rapidly probing at your incoming release, creating a line of milky white froth on his fingers. 

“Cum for me, Miss. On my fingers. I want to feel you clench tightly around my fingers when you cum,” were the words you heard come from his mouth when you orgasmed. Your legs twitched as you felt the gravity in the elevator shift, coming to a halt. Shit. Why did the elevator come to a stop? Your mind was blank, trying to recover from the slightly numb sensation and regain your composure. 

Looking at the floor number, you were only on floor 66. Did someone come in earlier than you to also prepare for the company meeting? He’s looking back with a shocked look of worry flashing in his eyes. Covering your body and exposed bottom with his big build, he puts both his hands at the sides of your head, against the wall as if he’s shielding you from the door. His face screamed out, It’s gonna be okay, you’re not to be blamed. You’re breathlessly trying to look behind him, gazing at the elevator buttons, then with the floor number trying to figure out why it stopped moving. 

You see the elevator doors open where you make eye contact with your coworkers as they peer back at you, as well as the imitating male figure that’s facing towards you, the CEO.

*.༄ TETSUROU KUROO, MIYA OSAMU, TOORU OIKAWA, SATORU GOJO, SUKUNA, KAMO CHOSO, SUNA RINTARO, HAWKS, TARTAGLIA, WRIOTHESLEY, TENGEN UZUI (ALL AGED UP/POST-TIME SKIP), and of course any of your favorite characters!!!

masterlist here

[2-dsimp]

I remember hearing from bird owners on the internet never to pet a bird's wings and back due to it arousing the bird, so many bird owners say to just pet their heads.

So, if someone where to "accidentally" brush past a certain Harpy's wings and lower back, or to playfully mess with the feathers a bit, how would said harpy react?

Love to mess with others and want to rile up Lynx a bit heh

Cw: Fem! Reader, NSFW🔞 creampie, knotting, praise, Lynx being a horny birb, overestimation, cum inflation, breeding, exhibition, use of public toilet stall, possessive/obsessive tendencies. Slight degradation.

Synopsis: You decided it would be a good idea to figuratively and literally ruffle the harpy’s feathers and you ended up getting more of a reaction than you bargained for.

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:

"My muse~ you know how I can’t bear to resist you on a daily basis.”

The harpy scolded, his voice low and husky with desire. Using his clawed hands to cover your lips in order for your explicit sounds not to escape the bathroom stall y’all were currently boxed inside of.

“So Why would you do that when I was just about to be handed my Grammy?"

The singer could feel himself getting closer, his own pleasure building up inside of him as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. He struggled to hold on, gritting his teeth as he tried to savor the five minutes. That he so desperately asked for, just to momentarily hold off on accepting his trophy for having the best selling album.

Using the excuse that he needed to use the bathroom to get rid of his cold feet. When in reality the moment you ruffled his sensitive feathers. Lynx damned near almost snatched you up and fucked you on stage. But thinking about his managers pleas on not causing havoc. The birdman instead hustled you into the nearest bathroom stall.

“You must’ve done this on purpose. Did you really want me to give you my knot that badly baby?"

He panted, relishing in the harsh wet smacks of his balls against your plump ass. His long lashes fluttered shut as he humped you frantically knowing that time was running out. Twitching sporadically as his fleshy pointed cock. Kept spurting out copious amounts of clear precum which continually fattened you up.

"Fuck! You’re sucha bad girl, getting me all worked up. I can feel your juices splashing on my knot, such a dirty chicky you are~”

The Harpy no doubt felt his impending orgasm threatening to burst from his leaking dick. like a pressurized dam, his family jewels throbbing to unload his hot jizz inside of you. As he felt you squirting on his meaty rod that was hitting all your weak spots.

"Imma stuff you up with so much cum, that your gonna leave a snail trail wherever you go. That way people will know that you’re taken."

Lynx trilled melodically, his tail feathers swishing as his plumaged fluffed up from the sensation of your cunt clenched down on his length that was bullying its way against your womb.

“You’d like that right? My pretty mate? Of course you would!”

He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck biting and licking at the sweat dripping from your skin. Not even taking not of how you were crying fat tears of overstimulation from being stuffed to the brim with his growing knot lodged inside your clammy walls. His shaft still fucking itself into your weeping quim as he prepared to let go. Since it was almost time for him to get back stage and accept his reward ceremony.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of you more later on, so for now just open up that cute womb of yours so I can flood it with my hatchlings yeah?”

With a bodily shudder racking through him he pressed his body flush against you. His wings hugging you within a protective cocoon. Whilst he released his hot harpy sperm deep inside of you, filling you up completely with his seed. He let out a breathy, guttural keen of exhilaration as he continued to ride his high inside of you, his knot still expanding in depth within your pussy as he proceeded to ground himself empty completely inside of you.

"Mmm, you feel s-so good, my muse… You think I can squeeze in one more load inside of your pretty pussy?"

Lynx drawled out , his voice scratchy and needy as he slowed down his movements. The Harpy stayed inside of you, his cock still twitching as he enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside of you. From hearing your small moans in response his penis already returned to half mast eager to fuck another batch of his baby batter inside you.

[withleeknow]

minho and https://open.spotify.com/track/4gAIUEY7VkeiKQOPwIYaYb?si=oZNdDS-aTUm9V7bEycscDQ 🩷🩷

flower.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, a teeny bit angsty?; minho's pov word count: 0.7k note: i am very sorry if this is bad i wrote most of this while half asleep so please forgive me kshdkfhsk

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

one day if a flower blooms in your heart would you be able to understand me?

Flower - DANIEL

minho has been up for a while now, just lying here with you as you snuggle close to him like you can't help but gravitate toward him even in your sleep. one of his hands slips under your shirt where he gently traces the smooth skin of your waist, careful not to rouse you from slumber.

he fails though. maybe a particular swipe of thumb over your body was too ticklish.

"you're so warm."

the words come out a little slurred, a little muffled from where your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, safe and sound on this chilly saturday morning. you stir awake for long enough just to say that, and before he knows it, you're off to dreamland once more, from where you probably won't return for at least another hour or so.

minho halts instantly. you're none the wiser, still sleeping peacefully with your soft breaths fanning his collarbones.

cold, mean, unwelcoming, standoffish, callous. you could name any synonym of these words and he's probably been called that before, by friends and by strangers alike. some of them didn't utter it with malicious intent, but rather it was only a passing comment said in a teasing manner, with a lightheartedness that they didn't think he would mind because, well, apparently he just didn't have enough heart to take it as anything other than a joke.

he's used to it, he's gotten numb to it. somewhere along the way, minho accepted that maybe his name is merely one of those synonyms. it's fine, it doesn't matter. he doesn't really mind it because at the end of the day, none of these people could ever be you.

you're the only person whose opinion he cares about. when all is said and done, he doesn't care if the rest of the world thinks cold and heartless, as long as you know who he is. you're the only thing that matters; everything else just simply... falls away.

he's always struggled with opening up, even if the person on the receiving end is you. it doesn't come naturally to him at all. minho was never raised to be openly affectionate, and it just isn't an inherent trait that he possesses. he's not the kind of guy that tells you he loves you every hour of every day, nor is he the type to smother you with gifts and kisses and grand gestures on a daily basis.

no, minho's love comes quietly, rooted in almost every mundane aspect of life that it's often easy to miss if you don't know where to look. his love comes in the form of packed lunches and home-cooked dinners, of a blanket draped over your form after you've fallen asleep at your desk while working on a project for work. of his hand holding tightly onto yours when you get overwhelmed in crowded places. of his eyes always looking at you as though you're the eighth wonder of the world and he'll never get tired of being mesmerized by you. of texts asking if you've eaten. of sporadic videos of soondoongdori simply sleeping or munching on treats, accompanied by no other message or explanation.

there's a million ways that minho cares for you; he doesn't have to shout it from the rooftops for you to know. you do know, and that's enough for the both of you.

but it's not until you uttered those simple words just now that minho realizes how much he needed to hear them out loud. he's well aware that you didn't mean it like that. you meant it quite literally, because sometimes he does run hot and you've always loved that. your personal human furnace to keep you nice and toasty whenever you wanted. he knows it and yet, he still lets the words wiggle their way inside his ribcage and make a home there. they settle somewhere beside his heart and mend something in him that he didn't notice was cracked and chipped, worn away after years and years of people telling him he was callous.

minho isn't sure how long he's been holding his breath, but the very second he inhales again, everything feels lighter, like he's finally leaving behind some of the weight that he's been carrying with him his whole life.

his fingers resume their ministrations on your soft skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead. he holds you a little tighter, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

even in your half-asleep state with your mind completely elsewhere, you still manage to take his breath away. maybe you really are the eighth wonder of the world after all.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 19.05.2024]

[abbyshands]

abby drabbles for vday <3

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; hey, all, happy valentine’s :) i was originally gonna have a fic for this but i was only able to do a few drabbles today &&& i don’t like any of them but it’s fine. also, woeeefully i have carpal tunnel, so with that and me needing to focus more on speaking out on palestine, fics will be more inconsistent (dw btw i am very much fine, just need to rest my hands <3 [which i obv did not do when i wrote all of these so quickly!])

♡ INCLUDES: sub!cam girl!abby bench pressing w/a vibe between her legs, dom!rival prosecutor!abby fucking you in her office, sub!football abby x dom!nerdy!reader

P.S.; please keep in mind that palestine is very much still bleeding. please look at the below links to learn of ways that you can help the people in gaza, and how you can learn more about this ongoing issue overall. please don't stay in the dark about this: like each post, reblog them, etc. if you like my work, then i am asking, demanding you to take the side that i'm on. free 🇵🇸, always.

LINKS: ways you can help | 🇵🇸 masterpost | MORE ways you can help I places to boycott, and families you can help escape | learn more

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; ib by this post! <3

♡ imagine cam girl!abby, 185 pound barbell in her veiny hands as she pumps the load up and down, muscles flexing under the pressure. her face is red, body slick with sweat as her figure caves. you’re looking at her from the end of the bench, poised between her legs as you watch her workout. you crank the setting of the vibrator up for a third time, feeling your own heat build up as you listen to her whine and whimper. “come on, baby. just a few more reps for me, you got it,” you coo, knowing how close she is, hands weakening as the pleasure bubbling up in her core battles to take control. her filming camera’s in your hands, the one she used to go live and make videos with on a daily basis. you pan it to the wet spot that’s visible on her gym shorts, the smirk on your lips widening as the view nearly makes you drool. “look at her. so pretty like this, such a desperate girl,” you whisper more to yourself than to abby, earning a whorish whine from her lips as she pushes the bar above her head again and again. “mmm, s’that feel good, baby?” you coo as you bring a finger up to rub her over her soaked bottoms. abby’s face scrunches as she throws you a bit of an attitude. “y- you know it does,” she nearly snapped at you, and you can’t help but laugh. “hear that? she’s getting bratty with me,” you say, making sure to zoom in on her shaking legs as you give her thigh a small slap, earning a yelp from abby. you know full well her fans are going to go wild for this video, perhaps even more than you. when abby finishes her reps, body too weak to go on, you prop the camera up beside yourselves and place your hands on the sides of abby’s thighs. “good girl. did so well for me, didn’t you?” you ask, the only other noise being the buzzing of the vibe and the sound of abby’s little whimpers. “y- yes, ma’am, i did. n- now please let me cum,” she begs, and you feel merciful. you crank the vibe to the highest setting, and apply more pressure to her pussy with your fingers. you thumb her clit in circles, and watch as abby’s abdomen begins to tense. you push her shorts out of the way for better access, and remove the vibe to pump your index and ring into her soaked pussy, fingering her like a fucking pro. “f- fuck, so close, please, don’t stop,” she whines, and it’s not long before you’ve got the cam girl drenching your fingers in her cum, hips bucking for both you and the camera as it captures every little second <3

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

♡ imagine rival prosecutor!abby, who you just won a huge case to, grabbing you by the wrist the second she could, and yanking you into her office. she was bending you over her desk at a rapid speed like she had so many times in the past, forcing you to take the seven inch strap that’s considerably a part of her at this point. “fucking whore. always fucking up my cases. let me show you how that, fuck,” she says as she thrust into you, deep, “fucking feels.” you only get to feel her when you make her lose a case, being the only way she can properly get her anger out. sometimes, you almost want to lose your cases on purpose. “well, maybe you should do your job better,” you challenge her, and, god, she does not like that. she grabs you by the neck as she pounds into you from behind, thick fingers digging marks into your skin. “don’t talk to me like that,” abby remarks as she pushes herself as deep inside you as she can possibly go. she’s so down and dirty with you, using your body like a toy, then discarding you until the next time she loses a case. “f- fuck, a- abby,” she’s got you stuttering soon enough, brain foggy with your own arousal. abby quickens her pace the second she can feel you getting closer to your high, chuckling. “yeah, you like that, huh? get so cockdrunk off this dick every time,” abby grunted. when your moans get too loud to the point where she thinks you’ll make the whole office hear, her large hand covers your lips, muffling those sweet, little noises. “shhh, shhh, baby. you’re my whore, mine alone. don’t want anyone else to hear those cute moans of yours,” she teases. soon enough, she’s got you soaking her cock in your cum, a whiny mewl of her name muffled by the hold she has on your lips. once you’re finished, she very briefly cleaned you up. but then, once she was done, negligence. “abby—“ you begin, ready to beg her for a little more of her attention. but she cuts you short. “none of that. you know this, sweetheart. i’ll fuck you when i lose.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; very much inspired by this :3

♡ imagine sub!football!abby (x nerdy!reader) winning the last game of her season. there’s an after party, of course there is, but the buff girl who’s dominant in every aspect of her life, almost, can’t resist spending some time with her girlfriend first. “yeah, honey. played so well for me, didn’t you?” you coo as abby grinds her pussy desperately into your body, your hands digging into her hips. abby’s gorgeous nipples are bouncing up and down before you, perfect, and you make sure to take one of them into your mouth whenever one’s close enough to your face. “mmm, f- fuck, i did, baby, i did,” she moans, voice needy as she thrusts her naked body into your own. the friction she feels from the denim material of your jeans drives her crazy, rubbing up on her clit in the best way possible. your glasses fog up each time you pull her down for a sloppy, wet kiss, tongue dancing with hers as she grinds her pussy into you, desperate. “such a good girl. that’s it, reward yourself, baby,” you encourage her as she goes on, rutting herself into you. she moans as your pants brush up on her clit, burying her face into your neck to bite it, stifling the whiny moans falling from her lips. your hands grab her ass, gripping it as she pushes herself against you as hard as she could. “f- fuck, i love you so much, love you so much,” abby lets out in a whiny moan, easily making you smile. when you’ve got her on the brink, you take one of her breasts into your mouth, tongue swirling skillfully around her nipple. you give her a few small slaps on the ass as she chases her high, cumming all over your jeans in the end. you smile as you cup her reddened cheek, kissing the tip of her nose as she panted out heavily above you. “there’s my football star.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

[wonysugar]

i beg you write playing with karinas boobs please please please

now... karina being the most likely to enjoy getting her boobs played with in aespa let's talk about it!! btw reader is the 5th member of aespa :] also karina has an unnie kink i don't make the rules

it doesn’t come as a shock to anyone to say that karina has pretty big tits, like let's all be real for a second wbk. she's obviously very aware of it too, and isn't at all afraid to wear revealing clothes and such, she wants to flaunt that gorgeous body of hers as much as possible and tbh? as she should! you could even go to the extent of saying that she's pretty much obsessed with herself with how much cleavage she shows on a daily basis.

even when she's fingers deep into herself, her other hand tends to fixate on her chest area the most, groping and gently pulling at her nipple as she quietly moans into her own pillow.

no seriously, she would die for her own tits you do not get it.

so, hearing the other girls compliment her innocently in regards to that? oh it brings her a feeling that can't even be described with words. especially when the one giving the compliments is none other than y/n.

she knew y/n liked staring at them, whether it was in public or not. at an interview, an award show, a livestream? it truly did not matter. she stares at them whenever and wherever, and karina's aware of it. she likes it, even; it brings her a sense of... superiority, observing how the other girl looks at her, with such admiration, such curiosity. it drove her insane. y/n could say something as trivial as "jimin unnie i'm so jealous, how do they sit so well?" and it would get said girl inexplicably riled up. no seriously, the honorific does things to her every time.

so when karina has the opportunity to be alone in the dorms with y/n? oh she makes sure to very quickly take it. doing things like wearing extra tight clothes (sometimes barely any lol), not wearing a bra, etc. she takes this shit very seriously and is absolutely set on making y/n worship her tits!

now of course, the latter isn't stupid. she catches on pretty quickly that karina is practically in heat for her, and who is she to not give her unnie what she wants?

bumping into karina and groping her 'by mistake' before noticing how the older girl blushes at the situation, her breathing getting slightly heavier. seeing that, y/n starts teasing her about it! (well yess as you do, of course)

"oh, i didn't know you were like that, jimin unnie.. what a pervert. you wanted me to do that, didn't you?"

AND THEN SHE NODSSS?? it's quite literally over for her, there's a pool growing in between her legs already, she's getting hotter by the second and you're blatantly staring at her chest right in front of her. what else is she supposed to do in this situation?

satisfied with her unspoken answer, it doesn’t take long for y/n to slide her hands up the other girl’s shirt and… oh well would you look at that she isn’t even wearing a bra! but then again, after hearing karina repeatedly whisper something along the lines of “please touch me.”, she kinda figured that the older member wouldn’t waste time in putting on something as useless as a bra.

at this point?? her shirt is OFF, her bra is ACROSS THE ROOM, and she’s sitting on the couch getting marked up BY HER FELLOW MEMBER.

this is all she could’ve ever wanted, of course, the only thing that would possibly made it better would be to have the rest of the girls watch and potentially even join in, but that was unfortunately reserved for another day. for now? karina was perfectly content with being groped by her dearest member.

y/n, on her end of things, is in a whole completely world! (what a loser LOLLL amirite) seemingly put into a trance by the sight of her leader’s bare tits before her, “fuck unnie, they’re so.. so pretty.. and so soft.” as her fingers gently trace around her nipples, grazing her thumb against one of them. and the sounds karina let out in response to that? music to her fucking ears.

y/n wanted to make her scream. and she might’ve, with how each one was louder than the previous at every movement she made.

but she wanted it louder.

she wanted to make her leader feel good.

so, with no warning whatsoever, she settles her mouth right on one of karina’s nipples, sucking at it gently whilst still groping and massaging the other, the girl’s moans fueling her to continue roaming her tongue all over, sloppier and messier with each second that passes.

“mmh— y/n… t-that’s right, make your u-unnie feel good baby—“ is what karina says as she rubbing the back of y/n’s head and looking down at her. the sight of her closing her eyes, licking and sucking on her boobs like this… making such a mess… practically drooling on them while also gently twisting and playing with the other nipple… it all felt too good. and to top it all off? being praised for her undeniably smoking hot body as she’s getting her tits marked up all prettily?

it wouldn’t be completely insane to say that she cums just from that alone.. right?

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Loose Lips — Part Two (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Finally got round to writing a part two to this after a sudden burst of inspiration. Here is Part One if you missed it.

This isn't proofread, so sorry if it's a pile of dicks. Enjoy!

Warnings: smuttysmutsmut 🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

The forest was undoubtedly beautiful. A place of sure serenity. Somewhere you’d always found peace.

Right now, you felt like nothing short of a thunderbolt in its flawless midst.

You shifted on your feet for what felt like the millionth time, pressing your back against a tree and crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t be able to relax until this meeting was over with.

Rhysand’s violet eyes flicked over you, and he frowned. “Are you alright? Why are you so restless?”

Because we’re here to meet with Eris and the last time I did that I somehow, kind of, maybe ended up fucking him—

“Fine.” You quickly answered. “Pain. My cycle is coming.”

Rhys’s eyes softened. “We’ll make this as quick as possible. Once the prick actually deigns to show up.”

You didn’t have a shred of doubt that Eris’s tardiness was deliberate — a power play. And he could play all the games he liked, so long as he kept his damn mouth shut.

As if you’d summoned him with a thought, the Autumn male appeared out of a chill-kissed breeze, his crackling-fire-and-cinnamon scent enveloping you. You tried desperately to block it out — and the sinful thoughts that accompanied it. Of bare skin. Panting breaths. Moans—

“Afternoon.” Eris smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. He offered Rhysand a cursory glance before turning his attention on you. “You’re looking radiant today, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips. Kept your mouth shut. You weren’t getting into it with him — weren’t giving him any ammunition to spill the truth of what had transpired a month earlier.

His lips twitched as he studied you. “What, no smartass response?”

“Cut the shit, Eris.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Share your information so we can get out of here. We don’t wish to be subjected to your tedious company for any longer than is necessary.”

He cocked his head, and you hated that you noticed he’d cut his hair since you’d last seen him. “Do you not like my company?”

You knew his words were directed at you. He’d come here to play games, and you were having none of it. He allowed his gaze to linger on you for a second longer before turning to your High Lord.

“Well?” Rhys cocked an eyebrow.

Eris folded his arms. “The King of Hybern…”

You didn’t allow yourself to hear the rest of his sentence. For the first time in your career as Rhysand’s courtier, you tuned out, taking in none of the information that was being given. You didn’t hear a word of their discussion as you stared fiercely at a fallen leaf on the ground. You couldn’t.

Because it tortured you on a daily basis that you knew what the redhead’s voice sounded like when he was falling off that precipice into blissful release. The way it had hitched when he’d groaned deeply and spilled into you. It was all you could think about, and you couldn’t bear it.

Guilt had eaten away at you ever since. Guilt and regret. You should never have given yourself to Eris fucking Vanserra.

You only felt safe enough to tune back in when Rhys turned his gaze on you. He gave a subtle dip of his chin, and you returned it — the signal the two of you shared when you’d gleaned useful information to tuck away.

Never mind the fact that you didn’t have a single clue what that information may be.

“Alright, then.” Rhys spoke tersely to the Autumn lord. “Keep me updated. I’ll be in touch when I next need to meet with you.”

“Will it be you, High Lord?” Eris’s lips turned up. He glanced at you. “Or her? I must say, I find her far more appealing to look at.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise. Something to look forward to in your sad little life.” Rhys turned to you, holding out a hand. “Ready?”

You shook your head. “You go. I promised Madja I’d collect some herbs for her while I’m here.”

A small, pathetic part of you wanted to beg Rhys to stay; to keep you company and not leave you alone with Eris. But he was a busy male — far too busy for the drama you’d created for yourself. You plastered a smile on your face.

“I’ll see you at home, then.” He smiled. And without a goodbye to your tentative ally, he disappeared before your eyes.

Eris smirked as he turned to you. “And then there were two.”

“Leave me alone.” You pulled your foraging knife out, turning on your feet. You didn’t look back as you began to kick through leaves and twigs.

But, of course, he was hot on your trail. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody who made you cum not once, not twice, but three times.”

You clenched your jaw, ignoring him as you knelt down in front of a cluster of plants. You would do better this time. You wouldn’t allow your mouth to run you down a path you couldn’t come back from.

He didn’t make it easy, though. Not as you tried to focus yourself solely on gathering the herbs Madja had listed. Despite the lack of conversation — or even acknowledgement of him — Eris pressed himself against a tree and watched you, absentmindedly cleaning his nails with the point of a dagger.

How could you ever have fallen into bed with him? You were such a damn idiot, risking everything for a few fleeting moments of passion. You tucked the herbs neatly away, pushing to your feet and brushing dirt and leaves from your breeches. You turned—

And stopped as Eris appeared in front of you. He smirked. “I’m still waiting, Y/N.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For you to thank me for not spilling your dirty little secret.”

Prick. You shoved past him, ignoring his warmth, his scent.

He was at your side in seconds. “Aren’t you so relieved that I didn’t slip up and tell Rhysand about your little ride? I still could.”

Every last drop of your sensibility fizzled out. You couldn’t stop yourself from rounding on him. “Are you truly in a position to be threatening me? Both of us fucked up that night. What do you think Beron would have to say if he found out you’d bedded someone from the Night Court, of all places?”

“My father doesn’t care who I bed. I’m free to do whatever I please, so long as it doesn’t distract me from the ultimate goal.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

His amber gaze glittered, catching the sun. “World domination.”

You rolled your eyes. “How very cliche.”

You made to push past him again, to get the fuck out of there, but his hand was suddenly gripping onto yours. In seconds, he had you pressed against the body of a tree.

You clenched your jaw. “Get. The hell. Away from—���

The remainder of the sentence didn’t have a chance to so much as form as Eris’s mouth found yours.

The press of his kiss was hot and needy, and as his lips moulded with yours, he groaned.

It was that action that made you realise just how little space existed between your bodies. His hips were pinned to yours, keeping you in place, and the warmth of him seeped into you as your breasts brushed his chest. Within seconds — mere seconds of him kissing you — you felt him harden in his breeches. His groan seemed to vibrate through every part of him and into you.

And then he was tearing his lips from yours. Staring down at you. “Fuck, you taste amazing. I’ve thought about nothing but this,” he rolled his hips against you, making sure your attention went exactly where he wanted it, “for over a month, now. Tell me you’ve been just as crazed.”

You had been. Perhaps more so. But you swallowed. “I can’t.”

That didn’t deter Eris from slanting his lips over yours again. His tongue swiped out, brushing against the seam of your lips, and you were powerless against your need as you opened your mouth and allowed him to dip in.

You gasped at the first taste of him; something cool and crisp and smoky. And you knew you were done fighting, telling yourself you didn’t want this, as you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and hauled him more firmly against you.

He grunted as the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against your stomach. His lips slid from yours, dragging slowly over your cheek, and then the cut of your jaw, down to your neck.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He panted, pressing quick, chaste kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Tell me to stop.”

You swallowed, knowing there was no chance in hell of that. “No.”

And that single word — as much as it pained you to say it — dragged such a delicious, guttural noise from him, that you forgot entirely about who you were and why this was wrong. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than what Eris was doing.

Your mouth went so very, very dry as he pulled away to meet your gaze. And then lowered himself to his knees before you.

He was utterly uncaring of the dirt and leaves that stuck to his breeches as he clasped your legs. And the hard press of his hands felt scorching through your own pants. You wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’d turned the clothing to mere ash he dragged his palms up the backs of your legs and cupped your ass.

“You’re fucking mouthwatering.” He dipped in, pressing a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “I need to taste you.”

“Holy gods.” You cursed, your head falling back against the tree. “Do it, then.”

Like a male entirely starved and desperate, his nimble fingers moved to the buttons on your breeches, making quick work of getting them undone. The second they were loosened enough, he yanked them down with a feral command that had heat rushing between your legs.

And he could scent that. You knew it. He inhaled deeply, and his responding moan was sinful.

“This is wrong.” Your voice was weak, useless, as your head fell back.

“So wrong.” Eris hooked his fingers into the thin waistband of your undergarments. Tugged them down..

You made no move to stop him. “And stupid. And selfish. And—”

Your words turned into a moan as he dipped in and dragged his tongue up the very centre of you.

A satisfied grunt left him, and he lifted your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. It had you at a better angle, closer to him, so he could feast on you.

And feast, he did.

His mouth and tongue were renowned for wielding wicked, barbed words, but this was a different language entirely. His fingers dug into your legs as he buried himself between your thighs, licking and lapping and fucking devouring. He made his way up, scraping teeth over your clit, the sensation both pleasant and unpleasant. Before you had a chance to react, he soothed over the area with the pad of his tongue, and a bolt of white-hot pleasure surged through you.

“Oh, gods.” Breathy words escaped your lips. Thank the Mother above for the mammoth tree at your back that gave you the support to move as you wished to move, undulating your hips, grinding against Eris’s face.

And from the way he growled and feasted on you harder, you knew he liked it. He was becoming coated in you, painting himself with your wetness. With the roll of your hips picking up pace, he didn’t falter once.

“Look at you.” He breathed, eyes flicking up to drink you in. “You’re a fucking vision.”

“Stop talking and make me—oh.”

Your hips bucked as he slid a finger into you, the friction of his callused skin like a sinful bite you wanted more of. You didn’t know if you vocalised that, or if Eris simply read you well, but he quickly added a second finger, pumping them in and out.

“Just as you felt around my cock that night.” He panted. “Squeezing me like that.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, needing to just…to just grab onto something. He seemed to like it as you pulled, and he thrust his fingers faster in return.

“I’m going to make you come on my fingers.” His tongue stroked at you. “And again on my cock.”

Somewhere, some steeled part of you wanted to give a smartass retort. But you were far too gone, splintering into tiny shards of pleasure against that tree. There was nothing, in that moment, besides the sensations Eris Vanserra dragged from between your thighs. No long-lived feuds or tentative alliances or right or wrong.

It was just him. His fingers. His tongue.

And it sent you hurtling right off that blissful cliff edge into release.

As you came, you thought you maybe shouted loud enough to frighten the birds from the trees. Your pleasure was a fearsome force as it stormed your body, your mind, your soul, until you weren’t sure who you’d be without it. How you could survive not experiencing this weightlessness again.

And Eris…he seemed to enjoy your pleasure as much as you did. Even though his cock strained through his breeches, touched by nothing but torturous fabric, his tongue and fingers continued to guide you through your climax, and he peppered in filthy, scandalous words that you were far too fractured to make sense of.

Until he pulled back to look up at you again. “I’ve wanted you since the second I first saw you.” He said.

You weren’t sure you could deny, any longer, that this truly had been going on for that long. It didn’t start with that one night of bad decisions driving you into bed with him. It had been years and years of thinly-veiled threats and barbed words and insults and vitriol soaked in lust.

Every bit of hatred you’d ever directed at each other had been to try and avoid this — giving in to a carnal need that had existed between you since the first ever time your eyes had met.

You knew you didn’t have that strength, that resolve, anymore.

“I need you inside me.” Your voice was rough, raw. You reached down, shamelessly yanking Eris to his feet by the fabric of his jacket, not caring that your desperation showed. “Fuck me.”

You wanted it — him — hot and hard and fast and certainly not gentle. You wanted the bark of the tree biting into you as he pounded you from behind. You wanted him roaring as unguarded as you had.

“You’re a little brat.” Was all he responded. And then he was kissing you again.

You allowed him the control of your lips as your fingers tore at the front buttons on his breeches. Nothing was moving fast enough, and you were hot all over, desperate to feel him pulsing deep inside you—

Y/N. I need you back here.

Rhysand’s voice in your head was akin to be plunged in ice-cold water. Damn daemati. You froze in place, your hands falling still.

Eris didn’t seem to notice as he kissed his way along your jaw.

Y/N. Rhys spoke into your mind again. Get back as soon as you can. Need to discuss Azriel’s report.

You sucked in a breath, planting your hands on Eris’s arms. You pushed him off you. “I have to leave.”

He paused, surprise crossing his face. “What?”

“I can’t — I’m needed back home.” Clarity was dawning on you more and more, paired with guilt. You’d fucked up again. You tried to shake the feeling off as you yanked your underwear and breeches up in one go. “I can’t do this.”

“Seriously?” Eris cocked an eyebrow. “You’re leaving now?”

It was an effort not to glance down at the very unsatisfied bulge still pressing through his breeches. “Rhys just spoke into my thoughts. He needs me back.”

“How convenient.”

Of course he didn’t believe you. You had to admit, it didn’t look great — getting an earth-shattering orgasm out of him and then leaving.

But perhaps it was a blessing from the Mother. Perhaps she was stopping you taking it too far a second time.

“Believe what you want.” You pushed past Eris, buttoning your breeches up. “I answer to my High Lord first and foremost.”

“Go running back to him then.” Eris shrugged. And if you weren’t mistaken, you thought that a strange quality lay in his tone. Perhaps hurt, or…or jealousy. “He says jump and you say how high, right?”

“You have your High Lord, Eris,”  you smoothed over the wrinkles in your clothes, “and I have mine.”

He pressed his back against the tree, watching with an unreadable expression as you checked yourself over.

And then the corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’ll be back, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “That is a very, very bad idea.”

You winnowed out of there before he could respond.

[furiousgoldfish]

I didn't see this right away, but my parents refusing to teach me anything really got to me, and not only in the way of lacking survival skills. I was being told things like 'how old are you not to know this' and 'you should know this by now' constantly, but nobody ever took the time or patience to explain or demonstrate to me how anything works. I had school education, so I was able to absorb information, but that was still, me being one of the 20+ children sitting down, with one adult who spent more time trying to keep us disciplined and quiet, than managing to explain anything. If I didn't get anything, I was too afraid to ask. I was being told I was stupid on a daily basis anyway.

My parents insisted that I was too stupid to get anything, too clumsy and ignorant and incapable, so it wasn't worth trying to teach me anything, it was a waste of energy. I was supposed to absorb knowledge by looking at what they're doing, but they would often give me other tasks to do, I wasn't free to observe. I believed that I was specifically dumb and incapable, and this was the only reason why I didn't have any skills. I actually believed that I was clumsy, stupid, incapable of doing anything correctly. I didn't think I was worth teaching, worth mentoring.

There was one time I was in my friend's house, and there was a guitar. I touched it, fascinated, since I've never had the chance to touch one before. My friend's father saw my interest, and offered to show me how to play. I was flabbergasted. He showed me how to hold it, how to press my fingers on the strings to create different chords, how to make sound happen. It took maybe 20 minutes. But it was the first time an adult showed me how something worked, and I felt.. unworthy. I didn't understand how could I deserve so much of someone's time and patience, because it had never happened before. I couldn't retain the knowledge, because that was the last time I ever touched a guitar, I never got the chance again. I still feel indebted for that 20 minutes, it feels like too much spent on me.

I thought back to those moments a lot, thinking about how special I felt for an adult to believe that I was worth teaching. If someone gave me a guitar now, I'd be ecstatic to try and learn it, because I remember that someone thought I could, someone showed me how. All of the other skills, I had to learn while already thinking I would fail, that I couldn't do it, and had to deal with extensive negative mindset before even trying to start. There is no skill that one can do perfectly on the first time, we all start by being awful, and then slowly get better with practice. But, with the 'I fail at everything and even if I try it will go bad' mindset, the awful start feels like a confirmation that we cannot do this, that we're too incapable, or stupid, or lacking in talent. Since all my work was heavily criticized no matter how well I've done, I had to go back and figure out what things I actually do okay, and criticism was unwarranted, and where I've actually been lacking in knowledge. And that is a complicated thing to do, when all of the criticism feels so painful, and even trying to do something makes you hear the words of ridicule, degradation and berating in your head. It makes you want to go the route of perfectionism, to try and do things so well they would be above criticism in general, but that's impossible. Criticism we receive in abuse is not actual criticism, it's often directed at us only to hurt our feelings, to discourage us, mock us, make us feel inadequate, sometimes even out of jealousy or because our capabilities present a threat, so they need to run that down. But how would we know? If all feedback is negative, it's impossible for us to sort trough what is a confirmation of being awful, and what is a jealous remark created to sabotage our good work.

Sometimes it feels bad learning everything on my own. Finding online tutorials and youtube videos for every skill imaginable, sifting trough forums to find information on finances and economy, trying to put together how society works by analyzing how people live and not daring to ask them to explain how they got where they are now. I had no guidance, and sometimes things would be too complicated, and I would give up. I often wish I could ask someone to explain it to me, instead of typing questions into google. The information is stored differently when it comes from a human, it creates warmth and the knowledge that someone cared enough to explain it to me, that I didn't have to put it together from various sources myself.

Learning basic survival and life skills was unnecessarily painful for me. I still have things I cannot do, just because of how much pain is associated with them. But to think everything could have been as simple as that guitar! If every time I showed interest in something, an adult who knew how it worked sat down next to me, demonstrated it, gave it to me to hold, put my hands in the right places, and directed me to what I should do. Would I ever have trouble believing in myself? It wouldn't have crossed my mind that there's anything I can't do. Or that I would fundamentally be bad at anything, just because I'm bad at it on the first attempt. When you're a kid, you don't even know if you're doing good or bad, if your first attempt gets a 'good job!', you're incentivized to do it again, until you do get good at it. That's why we encourage children, not to lie to them, but because we know how painful it is to be told off on your first try, and that it will make the second try unlikely.

Today I understand that all skills are gained trough practice, and that I can pick and choose what skills I want, and I can get them with enough practice. I can and do give up on some that are too frustrating, and that's okay too, we are all more inclined towards some activities, while others feel bad even with improvement.

As a kid I was enveloped by fear of not being able to do anything, not being useful enough to be kept alive, never being good at anything, not finding any kind of place in the world, just because I can't do anything right. All of that fear was necessary, there's tons of stuff that anyone can do, with some more complicated stuff that one needs to be specialized in, but it's not necessary for survival, or even for earning a place in society. We all have a place, by birthright, and just having skills is not as important as with what purpose you're using them for. You can be extremely skilled and using those skills to exploit, destroy and do damage to society, or even to isolate some members of society who you can then hurt. Or you can have very few skills but be insistent on using what you do only to help those around you be safe and sound.

[saturnicos]

Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 03:12 A.M 」

tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋

a part of gojo's love entries

“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”

it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.

yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.

satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”

his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.

“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”

“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”

“ice cream mochi!!”

“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”

“but...”

“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”

“no! want it— now!”

satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.

“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”

“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”

“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and completed the deed splendidly!”

“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”

he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”

“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”

he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”

you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—

“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.

“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”

“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.

and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.

he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.

each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.

you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.

“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.

and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.

“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”

[mikamuse]

2:13 AM — GOJO SATORU

it’s not like you wanted to be like this.

constantly coming to satoru for comfort. it’s not like you want to be crying in your bed, currently trying to keep your sobs quiet as not to alert satoru, who is in the other room, to your plight. he had other bigger things to deal with that didn’t include comforting you after having a bad day. you wouldn’t even call it a bad day. it was just a few unfortunate incidents that happened through out the day.

things that are minor compared to the strongest having to deal with curses, training his students, etc. it’s not like he would get annoyed at you. satoru would drop everyone and everything in an instant if you called. if it were someone else, he would’ve laughed but with you—he wrapped you up in his arms, smother you in kisses, and ask you what happened.

he’d do anything to cheer you up. to see that smile that he adored. the shy little smile you would give him while attempting to evade his kisses. he’d tell you some stupid joke to get you laugh. satoru adores your laugh. he adores the way your eyes crinkle. he adores the sound of your laughter. if you didn’t want to talk, he’d just hold you until you were ready to talk.

the sound of your muffled cries drowned out the sound of your bedroom door opening and closing. you don’t notice his presence in your room until you feel the bed dip. a hand gently turns you towards him.

“what’s the matter, sweetheart?” a soft voice calls out. you sniffle as you try to turn away from him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. it’s stupid to cry over these things. satoru frowns—cupping your chin turning your head towards him, “hey what’s wrong? someone bully you? you accidentally hurt yourself again?”

you shake you head at him, “‘s nothing.” he tilts his head at you, giving you look that said, ‘is it really nothing?’ it really was nothing compared to the shit he deals with on a daily basis.

“alright, c’mere” he sighs before leaning over you, wrapping an arm around your waist, “you don’t have to hide in here, ya know? you could always come to me. i love holding you—with and without a reason to.”

“i’d rather not bother you with minors issues…” you mumble, tracing shapes into his arm. satoru looks down at you, shock written on his face.

“minor issues?! baby if it’s upsetting you, i’d say it’s a major one! come on, lay it on me! it’s nothing i can’t handle, i am the strongest for a reason.” he winks.

“it was just a few mishap that just kept pilling up all day… it’s nothing really, satoru” you pout, looking away. “‘s not really a big deal.”

“it is too me!” satoru whines. “i don’t like it when you’re upset. it makes me upset!”

the sight of his pout makes you laugh a little. he smiles when he hears your laugh.

“there it is. that laugh that i love so much!” satoru brushing his hands against your sides forcing another laugh out of you. “feelin’ better now?”

“hmm a little… maybe a kiss would me me feel even better…” he grins before swooping down to press a kiss to your forehead, to the corner of your eyes, to your nose, and finally to your waiting lips, whispering an ‘i love you’ in between pecks.

this is very self-indulgent bc it been a rough few days 😞 i just wanna be wrapped up in his big, beefy arms and kissed by him 24/7 <333 i miss you pookie 💔

©️MIKAMUSE

[coffee-and-tea-time]

𓆩♡𓆪 ｢better that sleeping pills｣ 𓆩♡𓆪

Hi! Coffee being delusional speaking! This time I was wondering

How did you deal with your sleep problems, dear?

TW: stalking, yandere behavior, delusions, insomniac reader, sleeping pills mention, somewhat willing reader, light paranoia?

Yet again another night dealing with insomnia, being told over and over that you should stop using the phone at night and, instead, pretend to sleep, that eventually dreamland will come to you like that. People that don't know what it is to be alone with thoughts and exasperation. But once again, you try to do so, hoping that maybe this time it would actually help.

tik tok tik tok tik tok

How much time has passed? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? You try to keep your mind on blank but it's impossible at some point.

An unexpected sound catch quickly your interest although you can't really recognize it, trying to dismiss it, thinking must've an hallucination or something outside, in the silence of the night, people tend to be more perspective to any sounds, right?

And just like a bad plot, once your body relaxes, you hear that sound again. . . Unconsciously welcoming the return to old habits, covering more with the blankets and turning around with the eyes still closed, as if that will make a safe shield.

Alright, this isn't your first rodeo, your brain's favorite hobby surely is playing tricks to scare the hell out of you. Taking a deep breath to relax once again, choosing to be delusional to forget everything has to be the best option right now.

What about if the sounds are because a stalker helplessly in love with you just broke into your house? A good night kiss on the forehead sounds lovely, maybe the dark romance or Tumblr posts are affecting your brain already but why care? Cuddling to sleep with someone that loves you unconditionally sounds like a perfect situation, you wouldn't really mind your sleeplessness if you could have that.

Although the normal will be calling the police, why do so if it's not a threat? In your mind, you picture your perfect obsessive s/o, no need to worry about being cheated on if the only thing in his eyes is you, no need to worry about being too much, no need to worry about his feelings ever fading away, isn't that perfect? Yes, it may come with some disadvantages like everything, but nothing you can't handle, you just need to love them, and they will be happy on a daily basis.

As you smile because of your silly fantasies while looking 'asleep' on the outside, you hear an even more unexpected sound. . . a whispering.

“oh, are you having a good sleep? It worries me how long it takes you to sleep every night, it's gonna end up being awful for your health. Maybe it will be better if I start using sleeping pills on you? You always do so much, you need a good rest, my cherry”

You stay still, unable to think what to do, a light but sweet smell invades your nostrils. Does this count as manifestation? Why is he already calling you by a pet name?

“My lovely cherry, my heart ache when I think about how exasperating must feel to hear the constant naging of those who don't really care about at least try empathize, if only I could help with something, I won't think it twice”

Feeling a gentle caress on your hair makes you wonder, this doesn't feel bad at all. Common sense screaming that you need to worry but the warm feeling of his touch disperse that though faster than you're willing to admit.

“Mmm, maybe my desires are taking over my brain already? But I think a perfect medicine for you will be if you snuggle in my embrace, I promise to have the right temperature for you to be comfy all night… if you just let me kiss that addictive face of yours, it will be enough payment for even my soul if you wish to have it”

His voice… sounds familiar, do you know him? 

Even if you recognize that self-preservation should be a top priority, it's hard to care when his voice is this honeyed, using the exact words that attract you like a bee as if he can read your mind. As you feel a faint kiss on the top of your head, you start to ask yourself…

Is bad manners not to reply when someone speaks to you, isn't it? Or maybe it's better to keep pretending to sleep to see what he usually does?

Decisions decisions…

➤ keep pretending

➤ Say something

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Six

TW: choking, noncon, dark shit, Julian

You’d be a liar, if you said you weren’t floating on a little cloud, as you go about your duties at the hospital. You’re smiling stupidly to yourself for no reason at all–and it’s all Tom Ludlow’s fault, of course. 

Later, when you’re sort of able to think clearly, you marvel at the way that man let you have your way without actually getting mad about it. You weren’t really sure what you were getting into, as you snapped the cuff into place. And maybe you’re still not sure who actually manipulated who. 

Maybe it doesn’t matter. 

All’s well that ends well…and that ended very fucking well, if you don’t say so yourself. 

You’d actually almost managed to forget about Doctor Julian for a little while. That is, until you hear a crisp click click outside the door when you’re getting something out of a supply closet and you jump three vertical feet in the air.

Ok, maybe not that high, but your soul certainly attempts to leave your fucking body. 

When you whirl to confront him–he’s gone. 

Bastard. 

Then several cases come in one after the other. Two gunshot wounds, a stabbing, a car accident, a gnarly burn. You are too busy to think about anything else but saving lives. 

Looking back, Julian undoubtedly banked on that, near the end of your shift. You are exhausted, and covered in grime, and hungry too because you missed out on your sandwich. It turns out that man can move stealthily as a cat, sneaking up without a sound behind you, until it’s too late and he’s bundled you into the lab, which sadly is rarely if ever occupied. 

You struggle, of course, to little avail. The way he bares his teeth as he pins your arms behind you betrays his enjoyment of this little ambush–too fucking much. His mouth crashes over yours, a punishing kiss that clashes teeth and bruises lips. He draws away just as you try to bite down on his wicked tongue. 

“Get off of me,” you snarl, though even now you're conscious of drawing attention, keeping your voice down. 

“Just wanted a little preview of our weekend festivities. Are you looking forward to it as much as I am?”

“No.”

Too late, you realize that’s exactly the answer he wanted. You can tell by his pleased smirk. He doesn’t want you to enjoy this at all. It would absolutely take the fun out of it for him. He makes it seem easy, to hold both of your wrists together in one of his large hands, his other lifting to brush away a stray lock of hair from your face. In any other circumstance the touch could have almost seemed tender–but you are a lamb in the jaws of a wolf, and you begin to tremble in his grasp. 

They do this–abusers. They lull you with some nugget of sweetness, put you off guard so that the violence is even more satisfying when they strike. It’s strange in a way, to compare this outwardly dignified man to the handsome redneck who used to knock you around back in Kansas. But really they are just two sides of the same fucking coin. 

You should fight back. Knee him in the groin, or maybe try out a headbutt. But your limbs seem to have forgotten how to function–and Julian has that little piece of damning lead in a baggie that could completely upend Tom Ludlow’s world. 

He feels it, as you remember that, the fight leaking from your bones.  “I’m proud of you, y/n. Someday, you won’t fight me at all.” 

You’re smart enough not to tell him this will not be an ongoing thing. Once you have that piece of evidence in your hands…you are gone. Maybe you’ll have to switch to a different hospital. Anything, not to have to deal with this asshole on a daily basis. 

Or, you could tell Tom, and this motherfucker will be unalived faster than you can say workplace harassment. Ok, maybe that’s not a good option, but it feels good to think about at this moment, when you are helpless in this monster’s clutches.

His touch migrates to your jaw, squeezing just this side of too hard. “I’m feeling…peckish, y/n. I think I’d like a little amuse bouche to tide me over until Saturday.”

Your heart drops to your feet.

“Amuse bouche? Who do you think you are, the Marquis de Sade?”

“Funny you should mention him. I think he had some very interesting ideas.”

“Julian…we’re at work.”

He just smirks, that cold glint in his eyes like a bared blade. 

“I think you mean to say, ‘Yes, Doctor.’”

You glare at him, and he waits, squeezing your wrists in his vice of a grip uncomfortably. 

“If you break my hands you will be in so much fucking trouble.”

He only finds your threat amusing at best. “Useful thing about being a doctor. I am well versed in the limits of the human body.” He squeezes harder, and you gasp. It makes his eyes shine like a kid outside the gates of Disneyland.

“How’s this for a limit? If you mark me up, Tom will come after you. He sees me naked every day.” You’re not sure if it's a good thing you mention this, but in the heat of the moment your protector’s name spills from your lips, invoked like your household saint. And you will admit, it feels good, to see Julian’s eyes darken at the mention of your intimacy with Tom.

“I think you're forgetting who holds the cards here to your boyfriend’s future. You had better come up with some good lies for Saturday, because I intend to leave my marks all over this beautiful skin.” He lets go of your wrists, but only to run his hands over your forearms, raising gooseflesh as he goes.

“How’s it feel to be a fucking creep?” You ask, genuinely, actually curious about the answer, trying not to give any reaction to his fingers teasing higher up your arms, putting every single nerve on high alert. 

His hand envelops your throat, fingers pressing against the sides and closing just enough to make it hard to breathe. “Please, go on,” he nods, looking down at you with a snarling grin. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction. You let him choke you in varying degrees and intensities and angles, saying nothing while he works at your throat like a he’s learning an instrument; what makes you cry, what makes your eyes roll back in your head, what makes you sputter and cough and gasp for the sweet air he’s depriving you of. 

Maybe you wish he would just strangle you to completion, instead of torturing you like this. Every time he lets you breathe it just makes the next instance of his huge hand around your throat that much worse. 

“Beg me to stop,” he hums against your ear, snaking tongue flicking at your soft dangling skin. 

You do. You beg, sweetly even. You beg for breath, which is something you never thought you’d have to do again after the freeing age of 18…and then after the horribly abusive first ex. 

But here you are.