(ON HIATUS) 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄!

DOTTORE HCS THAT ARENT HORNY?? BUT FLUFFY??? this is so cute oml

hiii, if your requests are still open, can i request headcannons of dottore and reader in the sumeru academia (romantic)? Have a nice day 💕

♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐮 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: The prestigious Sumeru Akademiya was filled with interesting and unique characters. But none of them came close to the man shrouded in rumors and loneliness, Dottore.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: Of course I can! This was very fun to write, as I love this idea so much. I hope you enjoy this!

Even though you had grown up in Sumeru amongst the greatest scholars and had access to knowledge, you never wanted to become a scholar and go to the Akademiya. You had seen people suffer for years over their research and take half of their lives to graduate. In no way did you want a strict and consuming life like that. You were quite content with being an adventurer for the Guild, as you were very strong and could hold your own easily. That was until you found out your parents had signed you up for the Akademiya without your knowledge, and all your items were moved to a dorm room there. You were highly upset and wanted to leave immediately, but something stopped you. Maybe it was because you were already here, and it’d be a pain to go back and face your parents immediately. And maybe some of those smart scholars could help you with some fighting techniques. So you decided to stay to test the waters, just to see what the Akademiya life was like.

You still didn’t try that hard though, and instead struck deals with other scholars. You found out that many of them weren’t very strong. They couldn’t test their devices, or go to old ruins or dangerous places for their research by themselves without paying a large fee to hire someone. So instead, you would do anything fighting-related for them, and they would help you with the work in return. It was really good actually, whenever you were partnered for some group project with some random person, you’d do all the fighting while they did the academics. This resulted in good results from their research, so the professors at least briefly knew of your existence out of the mass amount of students. It helped that you were patient and kind, so many people grew to like you. This is why many people ran to warn you about the man named Dottore you happened to be partnered with this time.

Apparently, he was a teal-haired man with red eyes who always donned a mask, so no one knew what his real face looked like. Rumors about his dubious experiments and malpractice always floated about but there was never any concrete evidence to convict him. Despite this, he was so incredibly smart that even the top professors acknowledged his intelligence. He rarely left his room, but when he did, the hundreds of students in the hallways would scamper to the side, leaving a clear-cut path for him to walk. No one would dare talk to him, and some were even scared to step close to his dorm room after Dottore’s only roommate left, saying they’d rather live on the streets than with that “madman.” While many people begged you to ask the professor for a change of partners, you were intrigued by this so-called freak and monster. Maybe since you’ve already seen all kinds of monsters in the wild so you weren’t that scared, but you wanted to meet this Dottore.

You walked down the hallway in which Dottore’s room was. It was a normal hallway, with normal rooms, and Dottore’s room all the way at the end of the hall was no different. It was a bit funny to know how people were scared to do such a mundane thing. And so, you raised your hand to knock but before you could, the door opened a crack and a distinct red eye peered at you. How’d he know you were there? You faltered a second but composed yourself, ready to make your introduction, but he sharply interrupted you.

“I already know who you are, and why you’re here. No need to waste time,” Dottore said dryly, noticing as you blinked awkwardly at his less than pleasant attitude. He didn’t say anything else as he eased the door open some more, letting you come in.

It was darker than normal because much of the curtains had been pulled shut. You gazed at your surroundings. His room was more of a workshop and lab than a living space. Different kinds of tools scattered about, clipboards and papers, oh, and he even had Ruin Guard parts?! Wait, was that a syringe? 

Dottore eyed you carefully, arms crossed. He was already secretly surprised at your boldness, as no one besides him had stepped foot in here in ages. In truth, he hoped to drive you off with his usual rudeness and questionable room, so you’d go and ask the professor to let you have another partner, so then he could work alone in peace. Oh, how wrong he was.

“Wow! Your room is so cool!”

A moment passed in silence as Dottore had to make sure he didn’t hear things. “What…?”

“I’ve never seen any other student’s room look like this!” You bounced over to a random desk and squinted at some papers. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone research this kinda stuff before,” you hummed, trying to hold it up to the light to read.

It took Dottore another moment to process what you said, but he quickly grabbed the notes from your hand. “These aren’t for your eyes, idiot,” he scowled, for once not sure what to say because no one had ever said that to him. He became even more confused when all you did was laugh.

This was Dottore? You were prepared for a lot worse from the rumors, but definitely not this. And furthermore, he was quite attractive even though he had a smart mouth. You shook your head, feeling as though this would be quite interesting.

“Hey, why don’t we start that project already? I promise I’ll be of good help to you.” Thus began your days as Dottore’s assistant in Sumeru Akademiya.

Dottore was still internally shocked that you willingly volunteered yourself as his partner. Initially was super suspicious of you - you had to be lying, or playing a prank, or planning to leak all his work to outsiders. Barely said a word and brushed you off at first, but found it harder to keep up the act when you continued to be sweet and patient with him. Eventually gave up when you kept barging into his dorm for his company and beating the shit out of his tormentors in front of him.

After the two of you finished the first group project, his chest twinged a bit, a feeling he only felt long ago, when he was chased out of his town with pitchforks and his first few months of being shunned at the Akademiya. He questioned why. Oh - it was because now that the project was over, you’d never talk to him again. But this thought only flitted in his mind, as he refused to think about it any longer, quickly resuming his research. Oh, how he would be wrong again. A few days later, there was a familiar banging on his door, and he unconsciously moved quicker than usual to open it.

“Oh hey Dotty! Move over, I gotta move my stuff into your room?”

“What?” This conversation was starting to feel too similar to the first one he had with you.

“I’m your new roommate starting today, of course! Haha!” You laughed merrily as you handed him the transfer papers. He was too shocked to berate you.

“Hey, is your bed the top bunk bed or the bottom one? I can’t tell because all your science stuff is on both.”

You and your unusualness were going to be the death of him.

After Dottore warms up to you, it is impossible for him to let go. You will forever be with him. Unfortunately pre-relationship, he comes off like an asshole despite him trying his best since he actually likes you. When he tries to convey how he’s glad you’re his roommate now, he probably ends up saying something dumb and insulting, and then cringes in private later at his horrid social skills. Please tell him your feelings first, he keeps screwing it up and you’re probably tired of that. When you confess, he acts so confident but is questioning himself and you so badly - how can you really love someone like him? Buries these conflicting thoughts and is genuinely eager to finally someone who cares. He was one who has no one else in this world besides himself, but he now you too. 

Room dates!! This man doesn’t like leaving his room due to all the stares he gets, and he doesn’t like when you’re not with him, so a lot of dates are in the comfort of his room. Well, you’re the one who made it comfortable, after organizing all his messes and buying new decorations and soft blankets for cuddling. I don’t know how the Akademiya is structured, but imagine you and Dottore lying against each, looking out from your high-floor dorm room window out at the city at night <3. (Dottore is in no way a sap for this kind of stuff, but it makes you happy, so he can deal with it.) Dates where you help him tinker with stuff. The two of you buy something, dismantle it, and then rebuild it for fun. Dates where he rambles on for hours about his new theories and future experiments, and the plans that he will fulfill. I don’t know if you can consider experimenting in his room a date, but yeah. Also, you spoon feeding him food because if you don’t he’ll forget to eat.

Dates where he takes you to different locations and makes you fight enemies that he wants the material and drops of. You make him hide behind rocks so he doesn’t get hurt, but he secretly takes notes of all your fascinating moves. Would give you advice after on how to save the most stamina and energy, which moves would give you the most power. Honestly, he could make you a lot stronger with just his observations and words. Dates where he takes you to ancient domains and ruins. Dottore takes notes of all the ancient scribbles and puzzles for his research while you fight for both of your lives. Since he’s a student he still has more free time, he just chooses to spend it on research. Dates where you forcibly drag him out for picnics at night so no one can bother the two of you or stare. Tells you about how all the stars in the sky are lies, apparently. Thinks reciting complicated formulas and scientific facts is romantic.

Dottore carries you easily in the Akademiya. He could do two different reports on the same topic and make them completely different. If you ask him to do so, he’ll moan and groan but ultimately get it done quickly because he’s a genius, and also he loves you too much and would kill a man if you really wanted him to. You don’t need any other partner besides him, Dottore insists. No one can explain the concepts better than him, and no one would take hours to explain them to you either. But he is a bit competitive so if you happen to do better on a test or assignment, Dottore would get all pouty. He likes being the smarter one in the relationship. (You have to convince him that he definitely is and that you got this far with his help.) Also, you taking off his mask so you can kiss his face. This takes so much trust, and it probably happens first in the pitch darkness where you still can’t see his face yet.

Times where the two of you make fun of the people who bullied you. Dottore can be real nasty especially when people are mean to you. You have to calm him down. Study dates happen quite often as well. But you have trouble focusing on all of those hard things so you try to distract and bother Dottore by wrapping your arms around him and snuggling into his neck. He gets all grouchy but gives into cuddles after some persistence. Even though you still didn’t have much desire to graduate from the Akademiya, you vowed to remain Dottore’s loyal assistant for however long. You hoped these days would continue forever, but all you knew was that no matter where Dottore went, you’d follow after, much to his pleasure. Neither of you would have it any other way <3.

taglist: @heyhazelnut101, @peepopeepopeperoni

YOU👏HAVE👏EVERY👏MFING👏RIGHT👏TO👏BE👏PROUD😩😤😩😤🤌🤌✨✨🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Helping A Friend Out

cw: sub!thoma, dom!reader, gn!reader, crying, handjob, penetration, cheating (implied ayato and thoma relationship)

a/n: this is probably one of the best i’ve ever written ngl

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Thoma could feel your stare digging through his back as he talked with the Traveler and Paimon. The thought made him nervous, although he tried to regain his composure while he continued his conversation.

“Thoma, are you alright?” Paimon asked him, seeing him a bit shaken up.

“Oh, me? Of course! I’m doing just fine! What was it you wanted to ask again?” He pardoned, this time actually listening to whatever the two in front of him were saying.

Despite giving an ear, he couldn’t ignore your eyes. And when he looked over, he shivered when he saw you lick your lips as if you were undressing him with your eyes. Thoma couldn’t help but to imagine himself being rimmed by your tongue, causing him to feel a slight disturbance from under.

“Thoma! You’re not listening to Paimon at all! Hmph!”

“Excuse my friend over here, it seems he’s a bit sick. Probably overworked himself at the Kamisato’s” Your voice lingered in his ear, before he knew it, you were placing your head on his shoulder.

Moreover, what were you insinuating with your words?

Paimon gasped as the Traveler remains unbothered. “A friend of Thoma’s? He’s reaaaally nice, you know? He always gets Paimon and the Traveller discounts when he treats us to food!”

“Is that so? I guess Thoma gets paid a lot by the Kamisato’s, huh? I wonder why…” You make eye contact with Thoma, who’s feeling a bit under the weather.

“Well, duh? Thoma’s the nicest!” Paimon exclaimed, making you laugh at her words. She’s not wrong at that.

“Sorry to cut off the conversation, but I must escort him home. A sick person should stay inside, after all.”

Traveler stepped in forward as if saying that they’d be willing to help. You only left them a smile before leaving, a suspicious look being given to you by the savior of Inazuma.

The walk to your abode was silent. However, Thoma could hear his heart pounding of what’s to come when he enters. Opening the door, you urged him to go inside.

“I see that you’re the talk of the city.”

“N-No, they were just exaggerating!” He defended himself, even knowing that you probably wouldn’t believe it.

“Well, I suppose that one’s money mustn’t go to waste. After all, Ayato surely must pay a lot for a night with you.” You had him fumbled, how did you know that he had a relationship with him?

“I-It’s nothing like that.”

“No need to lie to me, Thoma. So, how much is it?”

“It’s really nothing like what you’re thinking of…” He answered once more, Thoma didn’t seem to be lying to you from your observations. You finally concluded on what he was referring to.

“So lovers then. That would make sense. Still, of course Ayato would gift such extravagant riches, wouldn’t he?”

Ayato knew that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be responding to your flirtatious manner, just because his lover was currently busy doesn’t mean that he should be participating in such affairs. But who was he to say these things when he was having such lustful thoughts of you just from earlier.

“Aah!” Your hands feeling up his crotch accidentally made him moan, head rolling back to your chest.

“It must be hard having such a busy partner, right Thoma? He’s got you all pent up like this…”

“N-No! Hmm! Aah—hah! S-Stop it, (Name)…” You now travelled to his cock already erect and leaking precum just from your slight touches. He’s touch starved, poor thing.

Thoma is quivering from your strokes, it just felt so wrong but so, so good! What were you doing this to him? “Aren’t you so unfaithful? About to cum from a friend’s hand…”

“I-I’m not!! Hn!” He stuttered out, his cock being unable to take no more of your fondling.

“Hm? Why were you already hard while talking to the traveler then? Surely, you must not think I’m a fool to not realizing that you were fantasizing about me?”

Thoma cried out holding his best not to cum from someone else than Ayato. “I-I wasn’t thinking o-of you!”

“Yes, yes. Keep lying to me, darling.”

Thoma screamed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face as he orgasmed not to his partner, but you. Before he was able to sort out his thoughts, he fell unconscious much to your demise.

That was the first and last time that Thoma would ever swore to go near you. Unfortunately things did not go to plan as he rests on his bed alone, no one next to him to give him warmth and instead of calling Ayato, he thinks of you.

Unbeknownst to him, his feet reached your door and you gladly opened up your place to him whenever he wants.

That was when his actions became a repetition and a routine. He couldn’t even count the nights he had spent in your place.

“(Name)! Agh! M-More!” Thoma wept for you as you continued hitting his prostate, pounding against him until he drools on the bed sheets like a dog.

His walls were yours now, you’ve done it so many times it actually felt like you were a part of him and it just felt wrong for you not to be inside him.

“Mm! Aah! S-So good!”

You spank him hard, making him choke on his own moans. He unconsciously drizzled some of him cum, dripping down to his thighs as you push him to the point that he faces the wall.

“(Name), P-Please! Let m-me!” He begged you, knowing that you’d get mad at him for finishing without your permission.

“Say it then, Thoma. Say what you truly are.”

“Aah! T-Thank you! I’m a little cumslut! I’m y-your cumslut! Only yours!”

“Good boy.”

Thoma finally orgasmed, every part of his body aching as you let him fall onto the floor on his own. Streaks of his fluids showered the wall, tainting it with all of his juices. Sadly, despite how many times you two had sex, he knew it would never blossomed into something more even if he knew he was starting to fall for you.

He returned to his place alone, thighs shaking from too much pleasure that you had given him only to be surprised that Ayato was right there waiting for him.

“Where were you, love?” He was worried for his lover, tired and breathless. Did someone ask him to deliver something this late at night?

Ah, he was so kind to him.

“I was helping a friend out.”

THE SPICE WAS AND IS STILL SO SPICY 🌶️ 🛐🛐

Lost and found - Chapter 2

adult Neteyam x female human scientist

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Neteyam hates humans. One day, he finds you all alone and lost in the forest, but quickly decides against killing you. What might be the odd reason for that?

Warnings: explicit smut, oral, somnophilia, kidnapping, non-con elements, Na‘vi in heat, scent kink, size difference, semi-public, biting, fingering, p in v, language barrier

Notes: Here is the long awaited pt2 and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the first one 🫶🏻 (check my masterlist to view all parts)

The tiny human looks so peaceful in her sleep.

With her chest evenly raising and falling, soft noises of dreams leaving her parted lips and hair in a mess.

Neteyam was lucky he arrived at high camp way past the eclipse and everyone was already sound asleep, otherwise he wouldn’t have managed to sneak her into his marui without anyone noticing. His parents would most definitely skin him alive the next morning anyways, when they find out his chosen mate was not only a human but an RDA scientist too. Maybe he could hide her for a few more days of peace, if he could somehow manage to make her understand that she wasn’t allowed to leave his marui and make any noises.

But that was something he didn’t want to waste a thought on right now. He would have to think about a solution for this little problem in the morning. Right now, he was entirely too busy watching her sleep.

Her sweet scent still lingers in the air. Usually it wears off after the first mating but he knew that his heat would probably last a while longer than that. A day or two maybe, he didn’t know. Maybe even longer, given how potent her scent was when it first hit him. Originally, Neteyam wanted to give her space and let her rest for a while, at least until he truly couldn’t bare it no more and had to mate with her again. But it seemed like this case didn’t even need to occur. He hadn’t even reached his physical limit yet, and already couldn’t withstand her any longer.

Neteyam made sure to be as quiet as possible, as he got up from his current position and moved over to her. Utilising years of experience in stealth as a warrior and skilled hunter, he pulls the thinly weaved blanket off of her, to reveal her bare limbs. She was still naked, no surprise after he had left her destroyed clothes behind in the forest. She wouldn’t need them anymore anyways. Tomorrow, he would make her some new ones. Some that didn’t made her look even more like the alien that she was.

Carefully, he repositions her to lay on her back, her soft thighs spread wide enough to make room for him. Neteyam places a gentle kiss on her inner thigh, both eyes fixed on her face. Her features are clam and relaxed, eyes still closed shut and he smiles to himself. He knows it’s probably not the best idea, knows he’s testing his luck but it’s just so hard to resist her.

He kisses her again, on her pubic bone this time. A quick look to her face –still nothing. Another kiss is left right on her core and when she’s still seemingly sound asleep, Neteyam knows he’s good to go. His tongue is gentle on her, sliding from her clit, leaving soft kisses here and there, to her entrance. She tastes as sweet as she smells and he can’t help the excited sway of his tail moving behind him when he realizes. A small gasps leaves her lips, when the tip of his tongue experimentally dips into her. Neteyam stills for a moment and musters her face before he continues.

He’s still gentle but there grows a force behind it, a need desperately restrained because he doesn’t want to wake her. He wants her so bad, yet he knows the human needs her sleep to fully recover. She’s just so fragile, he didn’t want to break his newly found mate.

Neteyam carefully spreads her open with one hand and finds her opening with the other. Deceptively small, but surprisingly elastic. She seems so tiny until his dick was splitting her open, swallowing him up, hugging him deep and tight. He traces his name over her clit with his tongue, marking her most sensitive part for himself, before he slowly slides a finger inside her. She moans quietly in her sleep, her cheeks now flushed red and Neteyam hopes her dreams are as sweet as she was. 

She was getting wet –like, really wet.

He smirks as he laps up some of her slickness where it leaks around his finger and his eyes roll all the way back into his head from her taste. He’s getting hard, too. Playing with her like this was a lot more fun that he thought it would be. Neteyams eyes fall closed as he devours her, relishing in the sweetness of her arousal. He doesn’t even realize how her breathing increases until suddenly, her tiny hands find the crown of his head. She mindlessly brushes through his braids, not fully awake and aware of what was happening yet. But then she tugs on his hair, just as he sucks on her clit. She hums, a confused sound leaving her lips before she fully registers where she is and Neteyam opens his eyes to look up at her. "Sleep well?", he asks her, using the very few words in her language that he actually knows, with a kiss to the little nub that brings her so much pleasure and her hips jerk.

"What the–", her eyes widen in shock and she tries to close her legs around his head, but a pair of strong hands effortlessly keep them apart. Neteyam is quick to hush her. "Shh, be quiet", he whispers, "I‘ll make you feel good, but you have to stay quiet for me."

"Listen, I have no idea what you’re sa— ah!" Before she can finish her complain, Neteyam lowers his head again. Expertly, he finds her clit and sucks. He circles it with his tongue, but when a moan escapes her lips, he stops. His gaze flies up to find her face and he simply looks at her with his brows drawn together. No words are exchanged, until the only sound that‘s heard is that of her rapid breathing. Only then, Neteyam lowers his lips back down again, eating her out like a starved man.

Her thighs quiver in his hold and her hips jerk, desperately trying to get him where it feels best to her. At one point, Neteyams tongue slides over her entrance and dips inside, as far as he can reach and she moans again. And again, Neteyam stops. His eyes find hers, a stern look on his face and she swallows thickly.

"Okay, okay I get it", she murmurs quietly between breathless pants, "Quiet. I‘ll be quiet."

What a smart girl, Neteyam thinks with a grin. The second he closes his lips around her clit again and sucks, he could feel heat spread through her entire body, heralding her impending orgasm. With the way she squeezed her eyes shut, her lower lip sucked in between her teeth to prevent herself from making any noise and the way her hips bucked up —She was begging him wordlessly to make her cum and so he pushed another finger into her, pumping in and out of her wet center. When she starts to tug on his hair again, in an effort to get him exactly where she wanted him, Neteyam can’t help but grind his hard cock against the ground, desperate to get to his release himself.

He then forces another finger inside her and she throws her head back, whimpering quietly. "You’re doing so well, so good for me. Cute little human", Neteyam coos in a whisper, comforting her. A new wave of her sweet scent suddenly rolls off of her, as if she was reacting to his words or his actions, he didn’t know, but he wonders how she was even doing this. For a faint moment, he wonders if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he feels his heart hammer inside his chest and it felt like he had been set aflame. His body was reacting to her scent instinctively. The sensation was particularly acute between his thighs, where an aching need throbbed, beating to the frantic tune of his heart.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

There was that yawning, aching void inside her, and her body needed something to fill it. Her body needed to be filled, Neteyam was sure of it. Her cunt pulsed, clenched around his digits and then a feverish wave of shivers went down her back, making it arch off the floor. Neteyam chuckled and the vibration against her core almost sent her over the edge. But then he draws away from her and sits back on his heels.

Her eyes fly open and it’s almost adorable how she looks at him, as if she was disappointed that he had stopped. Keeping eye contact with her, he licks his fingers clean of her slickness and watches her cheeks turn red– a quality his people did not possess. It told him that she was embarrassed. Flustered. She really was an adorable thing. Still a human, but a cute one.

Neteyam settled himself between her spread thighs, hooking her legs over his arms to fold her into a weird position where she was trapped, not only under his, but also her own weight. A soft whimper escaped her at the sudden closeness and Neteyam cursed the mask she was wearing, because he was close enough to kiss her like this but the thin glass hovering over her face prevented him from it. Instead, he choose to bury his face in the space where her delicate shoulder met her neck. He felt her pulse, rapidly beating, where he pressed his nose against her.

He kissed her soft skin there, while his cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum, glides between her wet folds. He grinds himself against her for a while, relishing in the feeling of her slickness covering him like a second layer of skin until he was nice and wet and ready for her. He draws back a little more, until his tip catches on her entrance and then he pushes himself inside. She’s still so tight, clamping down on him with enough force, it makes him hold his breathe in order not to groan out loud.

Neteyam was doing what his body was clamoring for. He kept filling her, his cock stretching her walls, making room for himself inside of her. She was tiny, but she was taking him. Even better than the first time, he remarked. Her body released more of her slickness to ease the way and finally, he was flush with her. Connected like two pieces of a puzzle. She was keening as quietly as possible but when he moved his hips and thrusted into her for the first time, a moan slipped past her lips.

Where he had left soft kisses earlier, Neteyam suddenly bit down on her neck. Not hard enough to draw blood or actually hurt her, but enough to remind her what she had learned earlier.

"Quiet, remember?", he whispers into her ear through gritted teeth and her breathing hitches. He feels her shift and quickly nod her head as if she understood what he just said. Not the words maybe, but their meaning.

Neteyam feels how she focuses on breathing, on getting air into her lungs. What had once been such a simple, effortless task was now a struggle. He could hear her whimper softly as she gulped oxygen in small gasps and when he thought that she was ready, he snapped his hips against hers. Every part of her tensed, her bottom lip sucked in between her blunt, human teeth but she kept quiet. "That’s a good girl", Neteyam says against her skin, kissing the marks his teeth had left on her.

Unfortunately, the only thing neither of them could keep quiet, where the slick, obscene noises at every stroke of his cock inside her pussy. Neteyam had to grit his teeth hard to keep himself from groaning, cursing and praying in his mind that nobody could hear what was going on in his marui.

The pace in which he was fucking her in switched constantly, trying to make the sounds less obvious just in case any of his family members would wake up. From short, deep strokes, to fast, rapid thrusts that had both of them panting into each others ears.

The little human was close again, he could feel it. She was trembling on the edge of it, squeezing around his cock painfully tight. Instead of the groan he wanted to release so bad, a huff of breathe escaped him. Just barely.

"You know, you really don’t make this easy for me, little one”, Neteyam whispered as she kept clenching around him. Her small arms had laid themselves around his neck and pulled him close, like she was trying to hide herself underneath him.

The little punched out noises she makes every time he thrusts into her and the mewling whimpers she can’t stop every time he pulls out are music to his ears, but she’s just too fucking loud like this. Her noises are barely above the sound of a whisper, but still enough to be heard by any Na’vi– thanks to their distinct hearing.

"Shhh", he coos, "I know it feels good, but you need to be quiet."

Neteyam knows he’s asking too much of her, yet it makes him all the more proud when she finally comes and not a sound falls from her parted lips. It’s a silent scream, like she’s choking on her vocal cords. But in exchange, he soft, velvety walls suck him and clench around him, squeezing tight enough until he’s unable to pull himself out. To him, it felt like she was trying to milk him dry and suddenly, it felt like the whole world came crushing down on him.

Neteyam couldn’t help it.

He buries his teeth in the crook of her neck, bites down onto her sweat slicked skin as he comes –because if he didn’t, he would’ve been moaning for the whole clan to hear. The human twitches below him, her hands clawing to his back as he fills her with his cum. It’s on the edge of overstimulation, but he keeps trusting into her a few more times just to make sure that every last drop of his pleasure was pumped into her pussy, before he finally pulls himself out.

They’re both covered in sweat, panting and trying to catch their breaths as Neteyam sits back on his heels to admire her. Her eyes are half lidded and she’s seemingly on the verge of falling asleep again, much to his amusement. He was going so easy on his mate, yet the little human could barely keep up with him.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s not like they could just sit there and talk, let him explain anything to her, so he quickly settles to lay beside her. He would let her rest for a while longer and then, in the morning, he would decide on how to handle the situation.

The sounds of her odd breathing mask were a little annoying at first, but at the same time strangely comforting. It reassured him of her presence, even when he closed his eyes. Thanks to this, he could pinpoint the exact moment where her breathing evened and she fell asleep. He curled himself around her smaller frame, his tail coming to rest over her thigh, gently swaying over her skin to comfort her in her sleep. She was so tiny and fragile, a very primal part of him made him want to protect her even more because of that. He pulled her closer until her back was flush with his chest, her head coming to rest on his arm.

Neteyam laid with her like this for a while.

He wasn’t sleeping though, still cautious of any noise that could imply that his parents or siblings were awake. But the only sound that reached his sensitive ears, where the ones coming from right next to him– the low grumble of her stomach. She was hungry.

Carefully, he slips his arm out from underneath her head. He redresses himself quietly, before he moves outside, in order to find something suitable for her to eat. Fruits would probably do, he saw Spider eat them once. If he could consume them without further complains, she could too. Neteyam didn’t want to let her try any meats or other things for now. Based on her blunt teeth, he wasn’t sure if humans were even meant to consume meat. He would have to ask her what food she preferred, once she had learned how to communicate with him.

A small smile spread over his lips by thought of that.

But when he pulled the woven cloth that represents the entrance to his marui to the side, his heart stops for a beat and his smile drops instantly.

The sight of his brother standing right there in front of him made him swallow dryly. With his arms crossed over his chest, Lo‘ak glances over his older brothers shoulder.

"You’re gonna be in so much trouble, bro."

Oh great mother help him.

There is no slut shaming in this house, only slut encouragement

amen hon🙏

Genshin Fandom Leave the VAs the Fuck Alone Challenge.

Elliot’s been part of the community for barely a week. Y’all didn’t even give the poor man time to breathe before pulling some bullshittery on him. Yes, a lot of the English Genshin VAs are active in the community (some a bit too much so), but they’re not your buddies.

Who the fuck in their right mind sees lewd fanart of a character and goes “You know who would really like this? Their voice actor!” The only VA I can think of who might be fine with that is Griffin, and even then it’s just common fucking decency to not do that. He’s a grown man. If he wants to see R34 of Childe he can look for it himself. He doesn’t need some Twitter rando tagging him.

Randomly tagging VAs in shit is not normal behavior, and if you think it is, you need to get off of social media for a while. I’m being completely serious about that. That kind of attention seeking is a sign of someone who’s not getting enough offline social interaction.

I am literally begging at this point, leave the VAs alone. This is why the rest of the internet fucking hates us.

Support me on PATREON or Ko-fi 💕

Gojo not taking care of brats more

・゜゜・． tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

◌ wc: 7.3k ◌ summary: you teach gojo how to love.  ◌ warnings: wrote this with f!reader in mind but idt i mentioned anything specific so it should be gn as well!, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues  ◌ a/n: this piece relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love? but isn’t necessarily a sequel to it! explores a lot on gojo internal struggles and beliefs (or at least the version of gojo i envision for this universe)! timeline is a bit ambiguous because it hops through a lot of in-betweens but it’s linear for the most part! also placed my own (optimistic and probably unrealistic) predictions of how things will pan out but i don’t go too much into it! i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!! ◌ part ii of conversations on love: i | ii

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signatures of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles a little. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

And you’d think this a rejection if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the red blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

────────────

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

────────────

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

It’s the last few leaves of fall and Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You follow, shaking your head but smiling; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child. 

You gasp, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see red, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Just as Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, like he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

You catch his eyes widen briefly, just a little bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms, your own version of his infinity, just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon. 

────────────

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. And the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through. 

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud. There are too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes; he isn’t wearing his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around already to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

────────────

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

────────────

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you the way he always has.

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan, just to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

And while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. In the many years you’ve known Gojo, you notice that he always comes to places like this to think; you also know that he’s been here almost every single night since being unsealed. 

Sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his six eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him and shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he’s everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m okay,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

────────────

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he can’t name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. Your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

────────────

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does go, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. There are still people filing out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them before clearing his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he speaks louder, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie to you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway. You intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his office; the mini living space still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking an index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

There’s a war in his head right now—a million thoughts and one. Why has he been avoiding you? 

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all wrong. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. The part that hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, you still see eyes holding the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward standstill of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, creating tingles on your knees.

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say; you want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper like it’s fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

────────────

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

────────────

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen like he owns the place, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you (considering he’s never before). 

“Too sweet,” you say, your face scrunching at the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

“Like me, right?” Gojo winks from beside you. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, taking a sip and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand goes over yours for a moment, still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he wraps a hand around yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down but his hand takes yours, interlacing your fingers together. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together—a recent evolution to your hand-holding. But this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. He hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

────────────

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you hear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo, and you aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and he closes his eyes, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he doesn’t know it, but he does the same. 

────────────

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking of how to brush it off like it didn’t just happen. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, putting down your spoon. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s learned leaps and bounds to back out now. So he clears his throat and composes himself then says, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

•

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pulling him in by the hand and lingering there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

It’s insane, now that Gojo thinks about it, how he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

•

It happens during an assignment to exorcise curses out of town. They aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group playing on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is actually pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby areas for other suspicious activity contributing to such a large curse, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam. Gathering your things, you head straight in. 

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind but you still don’t know what it is, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, almost like an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his cheeks so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tries it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped in your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of something steamy in the air. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and red cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in god but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

FIRST ANGST FIC??? BABE the AMOUNT of DESCRIPTORS I COULD FEEL WHAT WAS DESCRIBED OML

permafrost

kaeya alberich x reader

inspired by @hiraya-rawr’s post here

notes: established relationship, heavy angst, slight gore(?),

tw: major character death

Despite his seemingly friendly exterior, Kaeya Alberich was a cold man. His touch could give frostbite, and his words could leave one frozen. Life had him build walls of ice around his heart. A fortress impenetrable to all except you.

You, with your sunny disposition and comforting warmth. You, a traveling merchant who settled in Mondstat. As long as Kaeya had you by his side it felt like sunlight was warming him from head to toe, soothing the chill in his heart. You were like a fireplace on a freezing night, one that Kaeya couldn’t help but huddle closer to. The pain of his past was all worth it if it meant he could have you.

Kaeya didn’t realize the true meaning of “the light of my life” until he married his.

A newlywed man shouldn’t be working the day away, he muses to himself while eyeing paperwork. Kaeya had stayed in bed with you that morning for as long as he could, peppering kisses against your bare skin. Maybe even lingering by the doorstep to give you “one last kiss” goodbye.

Fidgeting with his wedding band (part of a matching set, with a sapphire in it’s center), he truly couldn’t wait to go home. It was funny how things he used to think of as mundane were much more pleasant when with you. All he could think about was having dinner together then relaxing with you in his embrace until he fell asleep.

Another busy day for the ever inefficient Favonius Knights. Kaeya found himself at Windrise with his order. It turned out that caravan carrying imported goods from Liyue had collapsed during a raid. 3 dead, 4 wounded. Kaeya planned to finish this efficiently yet as quickly as possible, so he could once again resume newly-wedded bliss.

Then, at a glance, he saw it. The faint glimmer of blue that he saw every morning in your shared bed. On the hands that passed him a cup of coffee before work. On the fingers that caressed his face, around his blind spot, during intimate moments. A glittering blue stone embedded in a silver band. A symbol of his love and hopes for the future.

Kaeya walked hesitantly to the the wrecked carriage paying little mind to the frost that followed him in his wake. His boots thumped heavily against the soil. Tendrils of ice scattered over pebbles and grass. You had told him that morning, over your morning coffee, that you were going to oversee a shipment of goods from Liyue. You had told him, when he kissed you goodbye, that you would see him at home.

Kaeya believed in your words like a devout worshipper, like a faithful man before the Divine. You were the only truth in a sea of a hundred lies. If you said you would be home, you would be. You had never lied to him. Not once.

Until today.

The hand found under the rubble, wearing a sapphire wedding ring, was devoid of life. Kaeya bent down and gave it a squeeze. You didn’t respond. He gripped you again, a little harder this time, and yet you remained limp in his hand. The metal band felt bitterly cold against Kaeya’s palm. A mockery to his belief that his happiness could last forever.

It felt like an eternity and a minute before they could get your body from under the wreckage. Kaeya scooped you into his arms and held you against his chest. He rocked you back and forth while burying his face into your hair. Kaeya felt his own chest rise and fall against your unmoving body. Whatever semblance of warmth you had left, he would take it. Kaeya would soak you into his skin until he was swallowed whole.

“Please,” he whispered, “it can be anyone. Anyone but you.”

You didn’t respond. You did nothing except lie still in his arms. Kaeya laced your hands together, so that both rings were touching. He wanted to scream. Cry until his voice was shattered. Yell so loud that it was certain you would hear him from the other side. Instead Kaeya pressed his lips to your face, staining your cheeks with his tears.

“It’s so, so cold.”

Windrise, with all its greenery, felt like an icy tundra, and he was a straggler caught in its snowstorm. The world had suddenly dropped a hundred degrees, and you had taken all of it’s warmth with you.

————

a/n: hello everyone! probably will rewrite this in the future because this is my first angst fic, but I hope you liked it :))

yum

Kiss your Genshin best friend to see his reaction

Summary: You’ve been best friends for a whilenow, and you definitely have those little feelings of maybe wanting to be more but you just don’t know how to convey it. So you take a leap of faith, put a hand on his cheek, and give him a peck on the lips. Something you’ve never done before. Hey, actions speak louder than words, right…?

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: inspired by an old tiktok trend even though I don’t have tiktok cause it’s banned in my country, lol but it was also a request by an anon, not proofread

Aether

Stunned does not even describe the entirety of it

He’s speechless and staring at you for a good five seconds before his brain starts to work again

“Wait, what was–” touches his lips to try and recall if that really happened or if he was trippin’

“Wait, hold on,” starts laughing at you and grabs at your wrist.

Proceeds to stare at you for another 5 seconds to process the information overload.

“Would you…wanna try that again?” with a loopy yet unsure grin

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