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doobea · 5 months

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YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.

tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat

MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST

contents: fem!reader, spoiled rich boy!gojo, acts like an ass to everyone but hopelessly falls in love with you at first sight, feels like a really bad hallmark movie, mentions of wealth class differences, reader isn't a tsundere - she's just indifferent for the most part and introverted word count: 7.5K (idk i will uh make the fics shorter in the future) a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! idk if this is what you wanted but hopefully you like it!! :3 everyone also give a round of applause to @popponn for beta reading this big mess LMAO

Satoru Gojo has a lot of expectations, but this certainly isn’t one of them.

He isn’t particularly excited about spending a week away from his big city penthouse to be rotting in a small town motel in the middle of nowhere but, his father, CEO of Gojo Corporations, heavily insisted that he ‘needs this’ and that ‘it’ll be good for the company’ — whatever that means. Satoru is confident that his father thinks he’s incapable of running the family business after last month’s run with the paparazzi and his third fling of the month. It wasn’t his fault that they got caught doing drugs at one of Zenin's parties, everyone else was doing the same thing, it just so happened that the cameras were only focusing on him.

Well, that’s what he gets for signing up to be the son of one of the richest men on Earth.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he recalls his father slamming his fist down at the desk before throwing a bottle of Henessy at the wall. “I don’t want this company to go bankrupt just because I have a son who only thinks with his dick.”

Ouch… but he’s not wrong about that.

So now Satoru finds himself driving up a winding road somewhere very deep in the mountains. Exactly five hours away from the city. And, for the past three hours, all he’s been seeing are miles and miles of pine trees, sheets of snow, and — he had recently learned this from Suguru — sugar shacks. Apparently when you’re out over a hundred miles into wilderness territory these sap houses are littered everywhere. The fact that Satoru is beginning to count more shacks than designer cars on the road is really starting to get to him.

“This whole thing is so fucking stupid,” Satoru has also been talking to himself throughout the journey in order to not lose his mind. “He could’ve just sent me door to door caroling instead of whatever this is.” Satoru doesn’t know how to sing well, but he does know all the lyrics to ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ and that usually gets him all the tips. He wonders if he can manage to make a small side hustle when he starts wasting his week here.

He takes a sharp turn up around the hill before finally recognizing a big red sign with the name ‘Mistle Town’ as seen on the postcard his dad left him before leaving. It takes him another five minutes of driving through said small town, which is quite literally something out of one of those really bad holiday movies that his mom would force him to watch when he was little, before arriving at the inn. Upon arriving, Satoru is noticeably disappointed at the lack of valet assistance and, the size and design of the inn, is rather lackluster.

First, it just looks like a regular white farmhouse. Maybe having a max of ten rooms, none of them being penthouse sized, Satoru assumes. There are a couple of flowerbeds out front, all covered in a couple of inches of snow, and there’s subtle signs of holiday decor slowly bleeding its way outside. He sees someone dressed in an oversized puffer by the entrance, arms occupied with red tinsel and large white ornaments, and figures that the first nice thing he’ll do is to help out a random stranger — just to prove something to his dad.

Satoru parks his Rolls Royce in a spot furthest away from everyone else in the parking lot and sends a ‘im alive and well’ text to Suguru, because he’s very much so going to be in frequent contact with him for the remainder of the trip, before heading up.

“Need a hand?” He points out the obvious but still manages to throw a smile as if he’s already fixed the situation unfolding in front of him.

Satoru’s presence seems to pull you from your busy trance. You wiped your body around, nearly smacking the damn tinsel in his face, and made a small surprised noise.

“I’ve got it,” you muffle out and he looks entirely unconvinced but, whatever, he tried anyway.

Satoru gives you a few encouraging pats on the back before heading inside, failing to realize his strength and causing you to lose your balance, making a few ornaments tumble to the ground. Thank god they’re all plastic though.

He pretends to not hear you yelling after him as he enters the double doors, immediately greeted by the scent of roasted coffee beans and leather. It’s the precious hour in the morning where nobody comes by, right after the cleaning staff had just finished vacuuming, when he struts in. He immediately spots someone vaguely familiar by the front desk. Long black hair, a red poofy bow tie in the back, and a distinctive scar across her face. The woman isn’t working alone, a man with another facial marking is next to her, brewing two cups of coffee by the espresso machine.

Satoru looks at the woman again and outwardly smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Ugh,” Utahime’s composure immediately falters at the sound of his voice, not that it’s a big shock. “Helping the family business, what else?” she throws back with a certain sharpness to her tone, and waves off the casual talk. “Have you even mentally prepared yourself for what you’re getting into?”

Satoru simply shrugs and saunters over to a nearby seat by the counter. “Nah, honestly just planning to fuck around till I get back.”

Utahime flushes a little, though it’s mainly from frustration. “Satoru Gojo, you really are—”

“Utahime,” the man next to her speaks, handing her a cup of coffee, and slides Satoru a freshly brewed one, too. “I can explain the details to him, if you would like?”

The older female rubs the bridge of her nose and exhales a long, overdue sigh. “Please do, Choso.”

“Yeah,” Satoru leans into the counter, lips pointed down at this new face. “Please, do tell.”

“You’re basically our little Santa helper.” A new voice rings out from behind him. It spooks Satoru from his seat and he whips his head around to be met with your narrow eyes.

“Huh?”

“Also think of this as an unpaid internship.” You start laughing when he gags on his own saliva at your statement. “Okay, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Satoru swallows. “U-Unpaid…?”

Now it’s Utahime’s turn to speak, she huffs and tosses a couple of stockings into his arms. “Your father sent us a lengthy email a few days prior regarding your bratty behavior. So, of course, we came prepared.”

“Prepared…?” He feels the fabric in his hands and whines at the grainy texture. This is so not 100% real wool.

If Satoru thought he had any chance of actually taking over his father’s company, because he knows the difference between supply and demand, he’s wrong.

Customer service is not his forte. He’s always thrown emails and sponsorship paperwork at his many assistants, and Satoru doesn’t even know his own email log-in password. So, when you walked up to him first thing the next morning with a brown apron, the inn’s logo large and embroidered in the center, telling him how to function all these coffee machines that he’s seen behind hundreds of counters, it invoked some fear into his already wrecked nerves. Plus, no one dared to warn him about the clientele during a holiday rush.

“I want a venti peppermint frappe with two pumps of chocolate, three pumps of hazelnut, replace it with almond milk, one shot of espresso, and top it off with a drizzle of caramel on top.”

He slumps against the counter. “You sure you want all of that?”

“Can I please get a half dozen sfogliatella and a cannoli?

He starts picking at his cuticles and sneers. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

“My change is supposed to be five dollars, you only gave me three back?”

Satoru groans. “You’re trying to scam me, aren’t you?”

By the end of his four hour shift, Satoru feels like he’s just done more charity work than he’s ever done in his life — actually, maybe this could also be comparable to the time where he did the ribbon cutting ceremony at Chanel; gotta support small businesses, right?

“Gojo.” You’re seated across from him behind the counter, arms crossed and pursed lips.

He barely spares you a glance as he idly plays whatever shitty mobile game that’s number one on the app store. “Mhm? What is it?” He clearly knows you’re upset, your voice practically screams ‘I will end you’ in the most monotonous way possible. But can you blame him? Of all places, Satoru does not want to spend his winter break here.

You jerk your head to the side, fingers rhythmically tapping away on the counter, clearly unimpressed. “It hasn’t even been a full day and you’ve managed to piss off every single customer.”

Satoru expression shifts, brow creasing, and sighs, grabbing a handful of mint chocolate from the freebie candy jar by the register. “Don’t be dramatic,” he rolls his eyes and shoves three pieces in his mouth before jabbing a finger at a young man. “I didn’t piss him off!”

You glower, cheeks slightly puffed out. “That’s Yuuji and he’s practically a family friend and Choso’s little brother, so he doesn’t count,” you explain before adding, “Plus, he’s literally nice to everyone. You’re not special.”

And for a second, Satoru considered arguing that fact. Having been born into wealth, granted whatever wish he wanted, his butlers and maids are always on speed dial, that’s the lifestyle he’s used to. Placed on this tiny rock called Earth just to take over it one day, is what his father used to always say to him. But how can he, Satoru Gojo, take over when he’s stuck working a minimum — scratch that, unpaid — wage job as punishment?

Instead of fighting, Satoru slumps against the counter and pouts, like a little kid who just got their toy taken away. You and your sister Utahime have a clear advantage over him, by somehow being close, yet distant, friends to his family. Maybe karma is real.

“I’m putting you on ski lessons later.”

Satoru’s ears perk at this. “Oh, so I get some employee benefits, right?”

You roll your eyes, digging deep in your pockets to pull out a sheet with his name next to a list of others. “Wrong. You’re in charge of teaching five year olds how to ski.”

“Huh?”

Somehow that sounds even worse than being a barista. Kinda.

By the end of his first day of unemployment, Satoru tries to convince himself that a full change of scenery is nice. Well, he has to convince himself, otherwise he’s stuck dreading each coming day for the rest of the week.

“Tired yet, Gojo?”

You flop down on a spare armchair in his room, squishing his Canada Goose jacket underneath. He’s too tired to yell at you to get off and tumbles onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge, letting out a loud groan when his face immediately makes contact with the rough wooly blanket. Surprisingly to him, everything just feels so comfortable that the quality of the products doesn’t even cross his mind.

Sure, the air in the room is a bit musty, and he can feel his cheeks flaring up from the sudden change in temperature and the dull aching nag in his legs from demonstrating ski tricks to toddlers, but there’s an odd sense of fulfillment swelling in his chest just about now. He almost suggests taking over Choso’s lesson but, according to the hotel pamphlet, there’s going to be an ice fishing tournament tomorrow and he kinda wants to check that out, too.

“Exhausted,” he mumbles into the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Satoru wiggles his body around for a few moments before slipping out of his snow boots and stares out the window, noticing flickering green and purple lights in the night sky. “Woah, are those…?”

He hears you laugh beside him. “Yeah, northern lights. We see them all the time during the winter.”

“Only seen them bitches in ‘Polar Express’.” Satoru finds himself saying whatever’s on his mind right now, his brain too whipped out to control his mouth. “You guys are lucky to see this every night.”

“I know you’re all pooped out from today but,” he feels the mattress dip by the edge and your fingers poking at his thighs. “Did you wanna head up to the balcony and watch them for a bit?” you say this experimentally, waiting for his reaction.

Satoru might be a stranger to most natural phenomenons, having to zone out all the time whenever he did go on family vacations to a fancy national park when he was younger. Though, during the short time of spending his time here, it makes him think about packing up and leaving behind the fast paced city life for a bit of natural beauty and brightness.

“Carry me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re like a giant.”

He manages to gather some energy to sit up on his elbows. “You should at least have some form of hospitality to a family friend, you know?”

You eye him for a long moment, and then finally huff, breaking the contact to kick your feet into the festive carpeted floor. “Alright, just don’t lean your whole body weight on me.”

“Wouldn’t count on that.”

Both of you end up tumbling onto the balcony rails around one in the morning. As expected, Satoru couldn’t keep to his promise, throwing his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders, and whining the whole way up the stairs. It’s not his fault that the inn didn’t have an elevator installed. In all, it’s not a bad day — a bad night, even.

You straighten him against the railing before throwing a blanket over him. The fabric is thick and heavy, and Satoru forgets the ache in his limbs as he watches the way your eyes focus, eyebrows knitted, when you’re making sure he stays bundled up against the winter air. Once upon a time, Satoru never would’ve thought he would actually enjoy being in the company of someone who’s actively trying to teach him a lesson.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, almost like a reminder that you need to breathe, and pull away from him once he’s wrapped tightly like a swaddled baby.

You both sit in silence for a moment, and Satoru feels the urge to fill all that silence. He supposes maybe that’s why most people find him so annoying. He never really shuts up, always wants to add the last comment to everything. Though, with the help of Suguru by his side, it’s gotten slightly easier and bearable for others but, when his head is big and full of loud thoughts, it’s so hard trying to calm the buzzing noise in his head and —

“Gojo, look,” your pointer finger darts at the illuminated skyline in the distance and he snaps his head, following the trail, before gasping.

He feels your other hand tugging at the blanket when he finally makes out two faint bright lights in the distance. You squirm slightly next to him, to the point where your shoulders touch, and Satoru finally breathes, because suddenly, there’s heat rushing in. The loud, rough winds around him seem to die down and he’s aware of the slightly gazed expression on your face as you look into the far distance.

“Did you make a wish?” he finds himself whispering.

You grin. “Yeah, gonna make you work here for eternity,” you reply back in good natured spirit.

Something stirs inside Satoru. Something important. Well, Satoru-level important, so in the grand scheme of things, not very — but still. He unravels parts of his blanket and throws it over your head, making sure that it messes up your hair, and laughs when you throw him another pout.

“Did you make a wish?” you adjust the blanket so it covers your shoulders, moving a little closer to him, avoiding the cool breeze.

Satoru nods but presses a finger to his lips. “Not telling, though. Might not come true if I do.”

“Oh, shoot. Maybe I should’ve kept mine a secret then.”

He rolls his eyes and nudges your waist with an elbow. “You will definitely not see me here again.”

Satoru realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it might not be the bad kind of different.

Over the course of the next few days, he’s practically glued to your side as you’re showing him all things related to hospitality that his father tried to drill into him when he was a pre-teen. Obviously, it didn’t work at the time. Satoru’s known for being defiant just because he wanted to, and eventually his father stopped with the after school etiquette lessons. You, on the other hand, unfortunately have him tied around your fingers.

“You need to tidy up the edges more, Gojo.”

“There’s barely a wrinkle in these sheets!” He points at the bed sheet on the mattress, the one that he’d been working on for the last ten minutes in vain while you stood next to him with slightly concerned eyes. It’s a room service type of lesson today and, even though Satoru has never made his own bed before, he’s positive that he didn’t leave behind any smudges that might catch anyone’s eye.

“Did you check tuck in the sides? Or are you trying to get off easy for today?” You say, there’s a mild accusation in your tone when you speak, smiling as you step aside.

And, despite the warm smile, Satoru frowns a little, because guess who forgot to tuck in the sides?

When Satoru ducks his head around the mattress and sees a good loose chunk of the sheets hanging off and groans when you’re right. “It’s not my fault that they’ve made them so big for no reason,” he replies, somewhat embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.

You roll your eyes and stick a tongue out. “You’re getting the hang of it though, maybe even faster than Yuuji when he first offered to help.”

He flushes at the unexpected praise and quickly fixes the sheets, turning his whole entire body away from your sight. “Better than Yuuji, right?”

“Oh? So, you only work better with compliments, Gojo?” You sound amused, as if a lightbulb just popped on top of your head.

Satoru flattens out the bed once more, strangely now feeling satisfied with the final outcome before turning around, sticking out a tongue of his own. “Only if it’s from you,” he answers, honestly.

You laugh, and hopefully it’s not at him. “I thought you would be more annoying to deal with.”

“So, I’m just regular amounts of annoying?” He points out, with a fake frown, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the sheet.

You turn your gaze, seemingly in deep thought, before responding with a small shrug and grin. “Possibly a perfect amount of annoying.”

Satoru feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, again. “Well, of course, it’s the perfect amount because I’m perfect,” he replies, instantly, but suddenly he’s shy and feels the need to go to the next room to fix their stupid sheets before he combusts in front of you.

“Gojo,” you say, almost hesitantly.

He swallows and rubs the back of his neck, wiping off evidence of his sweaty palms. “Yeah?”

“You missed a spot,” and your pointer fingers direct at the far right corner of the bed frame. He must’ve pulled the sides too hard and it caused the other side to flip over. Ugh, he’s not cut out for this at all.

“I’m… uh, still better than Yuuji, right?”

“Mhm, getting there, Gojo.”

By day four, Satoru has surprisingly adjusted to the rules and responsibilities. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten him mildly well behaved, Suguru is a bit surprised by the daily updates being less… aggressive and whiny. What started as long vent paragraphs about the lack of heated flooring and needy customers, soon turned into photo albums of kids face planting into the snow and unconsented selfies with you in the background. Satoru absolutely makes sure you end up looking the worst out of the two because he’s gotta let his best friend know who’s the prettiest and he’s definitely racking up a blackmail album of all of your worst moments in case anything happens in the future.

It’s closing time and he just got back from the reindeer shed out in the back, covered head to toe in all things hay and snow. First things first, and no one bothered to tell him, but reindeers smell bad. Like, really bad. Especially at the end of the day, where their pens are covered in shit and countless carrots and apple bits from the little kids overfeeding them. Satoru is vaguely aware of the fact that he smells, just like he’s vaguely aware that the hotel lobby is oddly quiet from the usual banter between you and the usual workers.

Utahime and Choso are sitting by the cafe bar, seemingly deep in conversation about ordering more supplies for next week. Satoru thinks about interrupting their session with probably an unrelated dumb question, but the idea dies when Utahime notices his presence and motions him to come over.

“You stink,” Satoru casts a half-glare at Utahime and begins picking out some of the scattered hay pieces stuck to his sweater.

“For the record, I became good friends with Rudolph and Vixen today,” he grumbles back and Choso throws him a pat on the back.

“Hey, I don’t mind your stink, by the way. Smells kinda nice,” Choso offers up, but Satoru only shoots him a very unhappy look.

“If you think I smell nice then I’m really worried about what you think smells bad,” then he turns over to Utahime again, who’s engrossed in whatever is on her clipboard right now. “So, what did you need from me?”

“My sister,” she starts and taps away at the clipboard before handing it over to him. It’s pages upon pages of invoices from the past month. “Could you hand this to her? She should be in the back.”

“You treating me like an errand boy?”

Utahime scoffs. “What? Don’t wanna see her?”

“No, I do,” he responds, a bit too fast for his own liking, and straightens out. “Uh, is that all?” Satoru hopes his face doesn’t betray how much he’s a bit excited to interact with you, given that today was a full day out in the trenches, and he absolutely needs to hear you say his name at least twice a day in order to have a good night’s sleep.

Choso is trying really hard not to laugh, and Satoru takes it as a sign that he currently has a cheesy smile on his face — go figure. “One of the corner rooms upstairs requested a weighted blanket, mind also doing that too?”

There’s a certain relief that floods through Satoru and he thinks maybe he can take on a few more tasks for the night if that means spending a little more time with you, even if his body is screaming that he needs to take a two hour long shower.

“Hey,” he starts to say when he rounds the corner, “Where’d you put those weighted blankets again?”

Satoru expected to walk in on you neck-deep in paperwork. You’ve mentioned earlier in the week that this year would be the busiest and there’s a bunch of stuff due. Something about end of the year tax returns and inventory counts, it all goes out his ear but he remembers something similar that his father told him in a prior conversation. He thinks he could probably help you figure out some of it, but that might be a bit much.

What he walks in on, thought, is you sitting in your little makeshift office. You’re on your laptop, the screen’s tilted just right enough that he gets a glimpse of what you’re looking at. You’re looking at flights and hotels, even got a whole spreadsheet on the second monitor. From what he’s seen of you so far, you didn’t come off as the type to talk about your future that much.

His voice catches you by surprise and your expression flickers from something vaguely focused to embarrassment real quick. You hastily close out the tabs and go back to the hotel’s homepage.

“What is it, Gojo?” And there’s this awkward, oddly frantic moment of you fumbling around with the keyboard and mouse, like a teenage boy who’s just got caught looking at porn.

“Ah,” Satoru thinks seeing your flustered side is rather adorable, to say the least. “You tryin’ to plan a vacation or something?” He struts over to your desk, placing a firm hand onto the back of the chair, and there’s this smile on his face that just screams ‘gotcha’.

Your face scrunches up but it’s not out of annoyance. “Kinda?”

Even with a grumpy look, it’s a good look on you. Makes you kinda dark, brooding, and beautiful, and it turns your eyes into dark storm clouds, or some other weird, waxy poetic shit that Satoru can’t figure out the words to. Either way, Satoru thinks you look cute and can’t stop noticing your little facial movements. You’re more expressive than you would probably imagine.

“Ooh, where to?”

You sigh and start playing with your thumbs. “Malaysia. My friend told me great things about it and I’ve been meaning to go for a while now but time and money are always iffy.”

“Makes sense, I can imagine that being an inn assistant doesn’t pay all the bills.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. You huff and glare, an icy-death glare, at him. If looks could kill, Satoru is sure that he’ll be six feet underground by now.

“Weighted blankets are on the second floor closet by the laundry room,” you answer his initial question curtly before shutting the laptop. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“It was just a question,” he mumbles slowly, and maybe even a little dangerously. “If money’s an issue—”

“Gojo.” Your voice is fixed and rigid, one that leaves absolutely no room for debate. “Your dad was right about you; you always just fall back to your fame and wealth.”

As you’re busy staring, Satoru realizes that you’re kinda being a total ass to him right now.

“That’s not fair,” his voice is rising and can’t seem to put a stop to the words spilling out. “Don’t bring my dad into this conversation.”

“Or what? You can go back to your privileged life anytime you want. This is just a field trip for you while others actually have to try hard and make a living.” You spit out.

“No one forced you to become an inn worker, you know? If you’re so worried about money then you could’ve just found another high paying job.” Satoru wrinkles his nose and his volume continues to rise.

You immediately offer him a dark glare and it comes off in a cut-throat way that shuts Satoru up mid thought. The rest of his counters die in his throat when you start making hand gestures at the office exit and he gets the hint: ‘leave before I lose my shit’ is the calling he sees.

And it works, because he finds his tone shifting a little, awkwardly kicking the floor and backing off. “Whatever…”

That was last night and, by now, Satoru is realizing that he’s kind of a giant asshole and the guilt is slowly eating away at him. Was he always like this? It couldn’t have been — he’s only met you a few days ago, and this is only meant to be a quick, ‘vacational’, getaway. Sure he might be a bit selfish and a dick, but he had been able to function perfectly fine before all of this, hadn’t he?

Satoru’s not really sure.

It’s noon, and he’s lying in bed. Choso had asked him to cover his shift at the cafe, and he’d agreed, readily, even though it’s supposed to be his day off, because you’re working. Choso had texted him, though, saying that you had simply said you’d work the entire shift by yourself.

Of course. It’s absolutely not funny anymore.

Satoru sighs. He’s going to apologize, that’s for sure. It wounds some of his pride, yeah, but whatever, this tension between you guys, though, isn’t worth it. He finds himself wasting his entire morning away rotting in bed. There are things that he could be doing, that he looks forward to, like feeding the reindeers or demonstrating basic ski moves to little kids. Choso and Yuuji totally got him addicted to yelling out ‘pizza’ and ‘french fry’ at every chance he gets. They also got him addicted to a shitty relationship forum they both browse, but somehow the idea of reading other people’s relationship drama, when he’s facing drama of his own, is kinda mentally exhausting.

On second thought, maybe he should post on that forum, actually.

It might not be such a bad idea.

Or maybe he could reach out to Suguru and ask how to apologize?

His best friend is a bit more grounded and attuned with other people’s feelings compared to him, afterall. Satoru’s not good at this stuff and he’s always just cut others off whenever they do argue, but this feels different. And, well, for the first time in forever, Satoru is desperate.

“I fucked up big time and I need to apologize, help me out here?”

Suguru scoffs over the line. “Wow, what happened to saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Hi, hello. How are you? How do I make a sincere apology?”

“I’m good, thank you. Now, for your request, depends on how big the fuck up is.”

He bites his tongue, finding the right words to essentially not sound like a huge dick but, no matter how he wants to rephrase it, the outcome is the same. “I might’ve implied that she’s poor and needs someone to take care of her?” It sounds so stupid, so mean, and so degrading now that he’s saying it out loud.

He hears Suguru sucking in his teeth and sighs. After a couple of pauses, his best friend finally speaks. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

Satoru frowns. “Okay, yeah, it is,” and he sits up in his bed when a snowball makes an impact against the window. It’s Utahime. And, currently, she’s throwing him the nastiest glare that a woman has ever given him in his life. “Um, I’ll call you back, buddy…”

“What? I haven’t given you—”

“Don’t have time for unwarranted advice right now.”

“You called me!”

“Bye!” Satoru ends the call before shuffling towards the window, swallowing a hard lump, and inches the glass panel just small enough for him to hear coherently and not big enough for her to punt him across the face. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

But Utahime is in an obvious shitty mood and Satoru’s lack of charming antics aren’t going to work this time. “I’m going to apologize, I promise,” he tries to insist.

“This is all your fault,” she immediately gets to the point and it makes him shrink back just a tiny bit. He’s starting to see that the bluntness runs in the family. “Just get your ass to work.”

“But my shift doesn’t start till—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Utahime starts to form an even bigger snowball and raises it to the window panel. “Ass out of bed, now.”

Okay, so as much as Satoru had tried to tell himself that this week wouldn’t be bad, it’s really starting to get fucking awful.

Everyone’s in a shit mood. Yuuji tries to crack some jokes but the usual crowd isn’t having it. You’ve been throwing Satoru dirty looks while working behind the cafe counter together and he’s been put on drink duty — which is his worst nightmare — while you’re attending to the customers because you’re young and cute enough for them to be nice to you. Satoru has spilled hot coffee and chocolate on himself like four times so far, and the shift just started. He’s terrified that the rest of this week is going to be like this.

“Can we talk?” Satoru whisper shouts over the espresso machine.

He sees your shoulders tensing up but immediately relaxes them afterwards. “Did you hear something, Yuuji?”

The boy looks up from the bar counter, it’s his day off and he’s catching up on some homework, but the seemingly growing tension that’s unfolding in front of him is making it painfully hard for him to focus on anything engineering related. Yuuji scratches the back of his neck before darting his eyes back and forth between the two of you. Normally, he would be the voice of reason, but Satoru doesn’t blame him when he shakes his head.

“N-Nah, must’ve been the wind or something...”

Great, he’s been reduced to an air draft.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you agree without missing a beat. As the next customer in line spends an eternity holding everyone up, debating whether to get the seasonal muffin or french toast to go with their drink, you continue, “Thought I heard a rotten brat for a second.”

He absolutely doesn’t expect the harsh insult. Satoru widens his eyes at the outburst and there’s a small pause, the silence ticking in between everyone, and he’s sure that you’re glaring him down somewhere in a small reflection on the counter.

Satoru debates whether to call out your name and shake some sense into you, but Yuuji quickly swallows and makes a motion with his hands to his throat, a universal signal saying — ‘I wouldn’t test the waters, if I were you’.

And, after the customer finally decides that they didn’t want any pastries with their coffee order, you finish the transaction before announcing that you’re going on a small fifteen minute break to “stretch”. Though, anyone could see that you’re planning to cool off before you manage to actually blow up in Satoru’s face.

“How the hell am I going to talk to her?” he groans to Yuuji once you’re finally away. He’s managing the cash register and, surprisingly, finishes taking the remaining orders quite smoothly compared to his first day. At least he can pat himself on the back for this.

“You’ve really pissed her off, dude,” Yuuji replies and Satoru just rolls his eyes because that’s all he’s been hearing from everyone else all day today. “You should talk to her when she’s not… charged up.”

“Way to point out the obvious.” Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji is a bit oblivious. How is he doing so well as a mechanical engineering major?

Yuuji makes an audible ‘pop’ and whistles. “What did you even say to her?”

Satoru groans into his hands. “Did she not tell you?”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly in a chippy mood to talk about anything this morning — outside of work, that is.”

“Here’s a little TLDR version: might’ve said something classist.”

“Might’ve?”

“Okay, definitely said something classist.”

“Then…” Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. “Y’know, whenever me and Megumi fight, I always invite him out to the movies to try and cheer him up. Might not be applicable to you but…”

Satoru blinks. “Are you suggesting a date would help?”

“Maybe not a date—”

“No, I’m sorry for calling you dumb, you’re so right—a nice date might work!”

“You never called me dumb, though?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, kiddo.”

Satoru unravels the ribbon on his apron and throws it in Yuuji’s general direction, not caring if he tossed the stained uniform directly in his face. He hops the counter and pats the younger male on the shoulder, flashing him a genuine smile because, hey, maybe Yuuji actually is smarter than he looks.

“Gonna totally invite you to the wedding.”

It’s no secret that Satoru Gojo hasn’t been on a proper date in a pathetically long time.

He has swiped right on a number of highly influential celebrities and figures on dating apps before. Matched with nearly all of them. Gone on…maybe a lot of first dates with not a lot of second dates coming right after. Who cares though, everyone’s just there for the photos and followers anyway. Satoru knows that he’s attractive and that he personally loves big, lavish dates but, at this point, he knows you enough to understand you absolutely hate big gestures.

After a short winded conversation with Suguru and Utahime, separately, Satoru has concluded on not buying you first class tickets to Malaysia.

“Are you trying to get her to hate your guts?” Was the general consensus of the conversation with said people.

So, what’s the next best option if he can’t fly you out to Malaysia? The answer is pretty simple — bring Malaysia to Mistle Town. And no, he’s not going to be relying on his black card for anything, even though the back of his mind is telling him otherwise.

Choso blinks several times at Satoru’s printed out proposal. The colorful letters and Google image photos of beaches and coconuts slapped poorly onto the document screams back at Choso and Yuuji, bright and early on Christmas Eve.

It’s unusual for Satoru to be bouncing excitedly in place for someone other than himself. So this catches everyone off guard.

Yuuji whispers something intangible to Choso, but Satoru is able to make it out as, “Do we even have coconuts here?”

To which Choso replies, “It’s winter, so I don’t think so.”

And Yuuji moves onto the next question in queue, “What should we do about the lack of palm trees?”

A patient sigh from Choso, “We could always trim the pine trees outside?” He lamely suggests.

“It’s a good idea, no?” Satoru jumps right back in, completely missing the flat vibe from the brothers. He frowns. “Why are you guys giving me that look?”

And, like his best friend and your sister, the brothers throw him a confused head tilt.

“Well,” Yuuji weakly starts, “Your plan ‘Project: Bring Malaysia here in hopes of Y/N falling in love with me’ doesn’t really sound that great… even on paper.”

Satoru grins, fully expecting that to be the response. “I’ll order the things, don’t worry about it. I just need to borrow your lungs for this project.”

Yuuji scratches his cheek in confusion, laughing nervously again. “Our lungs…?” he echos.

“How long do I have to keep this dumb blindfold on, Choso?”

“U-Um,” Choso shoots Satoru a brow as he carefully guides you through the hotel lobby.

It’s currently decked out from head to toe in all things yellow, green, and pink beach themed inflatables. Choso and Yuuji reminded Satoru last night that maybe two flamingos would’ve been enough to get the message across, but seeing that he ordered a whole colony? Yeah, he’s sending the rich boy prayers as he reels you in further, avoiding collision with the colorful balloons and seven-foot tall palm trees, too.

“Choso?”

He squeezes your shoulders when Satoru shoots him a thumbs up. “Ten seconds.”

Satoru quietly walks over to both of you, tip toeing so the sounds of his loafers are minimized against the flooring. Once he’s inches away, Choso retreats off into a different room, mouthing to him words of final encouragement, which Satoru gladly took.

You appear restless under the blindfold. “I swear to god, if I take it off and there’s a giant pile of reindeer shit in the middle of the lobby I will actually kill somebody—”

And Satoru quietly debates whether or not he wants to keep you like this for a little while before revealing the big surprise. Seeing you flustered and confused is a very cute look on you, after all. But, he’s gotten you this far and it would absolutely kill him to leave you on such a bad notice. It’s now early evening, and the sun’s just starting to set enough that the golden rays illuminate your features from this angle. It takes Satoru back to his first private meeting with you on the balcony and he remembers why he’s even doing this in the first place.

Carefully and slowly, he slips down the blindfold and softly calls out your name. “Hey, take a look around you.”

Your eyes are blown wide when you see his face. Anger and frustration dissipate from your face when you soon realize that Satoru carries a soft expression. He watches as the emotions wash off as quickly as they came. Then, you finally take a look around your surroundings and gasp. “You—You did all of this for me?”

Satoru tenses a little, a bit on the edge. “You want the short or long answer?”

You don’t notice because you’re too preoccupied with the numerous fake flamingos around you. “On second thought, maybe no answer would also work.”

He laughs at this, slightly, before turning shy again. He feels silly, ashamed, and it makes his cheeks flush. “I wanted to say sorry again for what I said earlier.”

“You finally want to talk about it?”

He looks at your idle hands and then back to your face. When he sees that you don't move them away as he inches closer, he takes both of them into his palms, giving them a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I was a big idiot and I thought I was trying to help in the beginning but I just sounded—no, I am—a giant ass.” Satoru concludes.

The atmosphere grows quiet and heavy again. The air humid and thick despite the opened windows and you’re looking at him. Then, there are tiny little smiles that break out on your face, like freckles and stars in the sky.

“You’re such a pillow princess,” and he outright blushes ten shades darker at the nickname, “you’re lucky you’re cute.” Coming from you, that’s as good as a love confession.

I like you, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. He really likes you and doesn’t want to fuck this up.

But, everyone knows that Satoru Gojo is a child at heart.

Satoru doesn’t know who gives in first; realistically, it might’ve been one of those stupid, rare, impossible moments where it’s completely shared. Suddenly the gaudy blow up palm trees and inflatable pool blur from his vision and he feels the world roaring around him when your palms rest on his cheeks. He ducks his head down but you’re the one who closes the distance between.

You taste like strawberries and lavender, smell like warm cocoa, and feel softer than any sherpa blanket he’s had. Satoru closes his eyes and his vision goes white, his hands shakily snake around your waist, pressing you hard against his chest as if you might disappear at any moment. Satoru sighs into the kiss, it feels pleasantly warm, that throb in his chest, it’s a slow, steady thrum of simmering desire and comfort. He’s pretty sure he’s adding way too much tongue, the drool and saliva that comes dripping between you two will be uncomfortable soon, but for now, it adds to the blissed out, satisfaction you’re both basking in.

Finally, you pull away, shortening yourself a good several inches from planting the rest of your feet on the ground. Your eyes are glossed over, watery and looking at him without vexation. “You’re something else.” You say, but there’s no bite.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a moment. He’s too focused on the feeling of your warm fingers sprawled all over his heating face. Too focused on the dull pulse of both nervousness and infatuation slowly spreading through his body because you’re giving him that look. This all feels romantic and stupid, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, again.” The words are quiet, hesitant, and Satoru almost regrets them the moment he speaks.

You shift around a little, now dancing on the balls of your feet, but the grasp you have on his cheeks is still relatively firm, even applying a bit of more pressure as if it’s your way of showing reassurance. You tip your head; your eyes are so vivid and bright, it sends a shiver down Satoru’s spine. In this moment, he remembers every single thing between them in shocking detail — the awkwardness, the tension, the frustration, the dumb banters, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed.

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a private city tour,” you laugh. “And come back to work with us again next year.”

Satoru offers a small smile. “Unpaid?”

“Will you say no if it is?”

He hugs you tighter, a chuckle bubbles in his throat. “I don’t think I can say no because it’s you.”

Though, while some might think that Satoru is the real loser here for being whipped so hard over a small town girl, you know that deep down the real loser is you. Because you managed to have the son of a CEO wrapped around your fingers and now you will never know peace again. But you’re not really complaining; instead, you’re working even harder to save just enough to eventually see your dream destination while Satoru whines and sends an ungodly amount of selfies everyday when he’s back home. And you won’t allow yourself to get snappy because, well, you’re very much head over heels for him, too.

#event: i got my eyes on youೄྀ࿐ˊˎ #doobea writing #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x female reader

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject.

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text.

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow.

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock.

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again).

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him.

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught.

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with.

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request.

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in.

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide.

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me?

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you.

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.”

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek.

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw.

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue.

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing.

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

Text

i can’t close my eyes alone ; satoru gojo

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep.

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there.

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek.

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue.

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub.

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow.

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting.

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes.

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic.

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him.

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn.

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it.

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow.

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid.

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do.

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help.

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression.

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two.

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless.

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly.

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue.

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress.

and satoru stifles a coo.

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu.

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology.

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him.

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

#im not arguing w satoru gojo lol . whatever u say princess ! <3 #this is an old piece that i polished a lil (lot) phshdh so the writing might not b anything special but !! i kinda like this toru .#just sleep-deprived n grumpy <33 #gojo has this duality where he can be silly n goofy but then also serious when he needs to be… n kinda gruff….#but then he also has this. Sincere Tenderness to him. that i think would bleed through w someone he loves #hhhhh i love this man w all my heart T_T #usually i make all my fics gn but. smth abt satoru gojo …. callling u his pretty girl………… yeah. sorry. for being this way #me personally i would fold immediately but i respect reader for trying #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you

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voidbeomgyu · 11 months

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ALONE (Teaser)

In which you meet your bias in the worst circumstances.

PAIRING Idol Jake Sim x Fan Fem Reader

GENRE Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Burn, Romance/Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive (Maybe smut, not sure yet.), some fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MDNI, Descriptions of violence, death, blood, etc., All members except Jake died so keep that in mind (I'm sorry), Cursing, Crimes, Mental health talk and experiences, Death, Sickness (Throwing up), Making out, Smut(?), It's an apocalypse!au idk how else to warn about that LOL

SUMMARY The group Enhypen get on a plane to the US and when landing are met with the worst. Jake makes it out alive... but alone. Since the dead are attracted to areas where the population is saturated, your best bet is to stay low in the areas usually considered dangerous (alleyways, abandoned buildings, etc). He made his way into the country and found a nice cabin alongside a lake. His further inspection led him to believe it was abandoned for whatever reason, maybe it was a vacation home? Little did he know his inference was correct, and soon he was met face to face with a member of the family who owned it. How would she react to seeing her favorite artist rummaging through the cupboards of her new--hopefully permanent--home? And how would he be able to explain to a loyal fan of his that he was the only member left?

TEASER WORD COUNT 1,625

RELEASE DATE To be determined.

TAGLIST Comment on this post or send an ask to be added. (Have your age on your profile or you will not be tagged)

Endless walking while trying to find a suitable place to stay was slowly driving Jake insane. The exhaustion from travelling, fear of death, and anguish from the scene at the airport was weighing down on him heavier and heavier every second. Having watched his best friends, his brothers, his family all being taken away from him without being able to do anything but listen to the oldest’s words, “Run”.

Jake had not yet cried, there was no time for it. It’s been almost thirty six hours since then, he’d stolen a bike around a mile away from the airport. It’s helped him a lot on his journey to safety. He never stole, he wasn’t like that, not that type of person. But in the moment he didn’t have the time nor energy to feel guilty about it.

Jake didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted quiet. Not knowing wether or not it’ll be safer in the city or the country side, he chose the latter. Cities are crowded with people, meaning they must be crowded with the dead by now, right? No matter; either way he knew he’d feel much better being in the middle of nowhere, or at least in the middle of what looked like nowhere. All alone in an abandoned farm house, maybe a lake house, any house on the country side would do. He was being too optimistic, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Finding a safe home to live in alone with no one around for miles sounded comforting.

The Jake from two days ago would’ve shivered at the thought of being completely alone. Though no extrovert, he needed people. He needed that connection, that interaction. His reasons to smile and laugh were mostly based around the people around him or the entertainment he consumed. Entertainment was out of the question now, and it seemed like people were too. Most dead, and others probably too violent to give Jake a chance due to the circumstances.

All he held on him was his and Sunghoon’s carry-on bag from the flight. Note to self, don’t try to save your friend by holding onto their bag. Thoughts like this crossed his mind every few minutes, tragedies sentenced as jokes but he wasn’t laughing. What’s wrong with me? How could I think something like that? Maybe it was the dehydration, starvation, overall fatigue? He hadn’t eaten anything since the flight and was savoring the small amount of water he had on him. Either way, thinking of his beloved friends didn’t do much to help his mood. Trying to think of the good times? Those good times will never happen again, they’re gone forever and I’ll never get them back.

More days passed like this. With a stop at a gas station probably being the reason he’s even alive right now. It was abandoned, for the most part. It was the early morning, and he was literally starving now. The cashier was still there, but his neck was chained so tightly to the wall that it was on the edge of ripping his head clean off. Oh, he was a living corpse too. Jake could tell that much by just looking at him, muffled grunts and groans coming from the pale body every minute. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care much of Jake’s criminal activities there. Stuffing whatever foods and drinks he could into the bags he had on him. They were even heavier now, but he couldn’t feel anything. He was numb to all feeling, mentally and physically.

At day four he had started keeping track of how many days passed with a calendar he found on the wall of the gas station that morning. He didn’t stay there though, he didn’t have it in him to kill the cashier, and he knew that if he somehow got loose while he was sleeping it would all be over. The past few days he hadn’t slept or rested much at all actually. Napping for at most an hour at a time, waking up to the slightest noises and scurries of nearby wildlife. He knows he’s incredibly lucky to not have encountered any of the dead, besides the one at the gas station, but it’s a little stressful to not have seen any either. Where could they all be? He had made it out of the city, the once bustling streets on day two, he knew many people weren’t out here to begin with. But knowing there are creatures that could kill him in seconds lurking while having no idea where they are was terrifying.

It’s been six days. His legs started feeling numb just hours after finding his bike due to the frantic pedaling, now he felt like his legs were asleep all the time. The feeling of pins and needles covered his lower body as they worked on auto pilot to keep him going. His back felt horrible, slouched from his broken spirit. Endless cramping and soreness of his hands and fingers from gripping the bikes handles for hours at a time. His knuckles were white, and now so was his once tanned and alive skin.

His lack of proper meals, sleep, and rest was now obvious. Jake hasn’t seen himself since that day in the airport, but from looking at his now thinner, paler, vein visible arms, he could take a guess at what his face looked like. Hell, he could feel the bags under his eyes whenever he blinked now.

It’s been quiet and empty for a few miles. Nothing but grass, and a dirt trail he’s been following in sight. How long is this damn trail? he thought. Jake started following the trail at the sunset of day five; he remembers because of his calendar. It was coming to the end of day six, the sun starting to set in the distance behind him. He found a flashlight at the gas station and used it to find himself a place to “rest” for the nights he faced, it neared the time to find a spot to sleep.

Trees were all around him now, the area looked more alive here, not dried out and dead like the miles before. He must be getting close to some sort of building, forest trails usually have a building as a starting point, right? Unless this trail wasn’t made for hikers, in that case he was hoping in vain.

It was almost completely dark now. Jake had usually found somewhere to stay by this time, but something was telling him to keep going. Using the flashlight to illuminate the shadowed forest, he heard his friends voices cheering him on over and over again.

“Keep going Jake!”

“Just a little longer!”

“You’ll be okay!”

Tears were unconsciously streaming down his face now, though he still didn’t feel anything. His body just gave up on the effort of keeping them in.

Jake pedaled faster. He couldn’t hear anything but his heavy panting, it felt like someone had covered his ears with their hands and muted the sound of everything around him. He saw something in the distance, the roof of a building; he padaled faster. A house, the roof made of wood, looked like a cabin; he padaled faster. He could hear the muffled sound of streaming water; he pedaled faster.

Face to face with a cabin, going so fast he couldn’t stop himself from crashing into the wet grass below him. Still struck with adrenaline, he pulled himself up quickly and dragged his bike to the front door. His broken and unused voice sounded through his pants as he tried frantically to open the damned door.

The door handle had a key hole but was locked with a rusty padlock. He could turn the handle and wriggle the door, that padlock was what he needed to remove. He pulled a hammer out of his bag; he grabbed it from the gas station floor, it was covered in dried blood. Obviously used by someone prior to leaving it there. Jake slammed the hammer into the padlock, over and over again. The loud bangs from striking the lock were null to Jake’s ears, his desperation coating over all his sense.

Smash. The padlocks body is broken away from its handle and the door is free from it’s hold on the wooden frame.

Jake shoves his way inside, throwing the bike onto the hard floor of the entry way before turning to lock the door. It was locked from the outside but had a perfectly working lock on the inside, though he didn’t care to question it. He made it, he was safe, he felt like he could faint.

He had no time to think, let alone find a good source of light before he threw up. Keeling on the once clean floor, liquid from his stomach poured out from him. His throat burned and ached at the feeling, like his throat was made of sandpaper. Falling back he sat on the floor, staring at the door and the mess he made on the ground. He laid back and let his eyes rest for the first time in nineteen hours. Jake fell asleep there on the hard floor, knee propped up on the backside of a couch.

If he was thinking clearly, he would’ve checked the entire cabin, then scavenged for any foods that may be there. But he was broken, body and mind. Luck had been on his side since the beginning though. The home was completely vacant before he entered, and when he wakes up he’ll have found himself a place to live in safely. Away from the corpses living in the surrounding cities, and away from any still living people, all alone.

(A/N: Hello friends! I'm finally writing LOL I've had this wip since December and I'm finally going to finish it. This post is just to see if people would even be interested lol. The total fic word count I don't know yet because I haven't finished it, but I am close! I won't give y'all any hints but I will apologize in advance for the angst I'm about to put y'all thru<3 sorry love you guys muah. Don't know exactly when I will publish the full fic, maybe right when I finish it, maybe a month after I finish it IDK I haven't written seriously in months so I'm not too confident anymore but I am excited. Hope y'all are as excited as I am :D )

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atticrissfinch · 9 months

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You're a Mansion with a View (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+) | oneshot

pairing: daddydom!joel miller x fem!reader summary: After a rough day, Joel gives you exactly what you need. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] established relationship, light ddlg dynamic, dom/sub, daddy!kink, softdom!joel (who even am I), oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, referring to reader’s pussy as her “kitten” ig if that squicks you, this is like really soft and fluffy d/s idk what happened word count: ~2.2K | ao3 a/n: coming out of a little writing rut and wanted to try and get something out! Shout out to @javier-penas-wifexx420 for a request they sent to my inbox featuring a completely submissive reader in a ddlg dynamic (i'm hoarding the real ask in case i want to write something a little more ~spicy for it since this is so light 😌). But I hope y'all enjoy a little softer dom!joel 😊 Masterlist | Kofi

You’re already on your knees in the foyer, stark naked, by the time Joel’s key is rattling in the door.

You don’t always do this. You like to surprise him every now and then, and he likes the surprise.

When he successfully unlocks the door and opens it to see you, supplicant and willing on the floor for him, and you see the anxiety and stress melt off his face into an expression of warmth and affection—that’s what you do this for. That alone makes it worth it.

And he doesn’t disappoint; he never does. He stares at you with that awe and wonder, like it’s the first time. He kicks off his boots and presses the door shut.

And then he’s in front of you, tilting your chin up with reverent tenderness. “Hi, babygirl.”

A smile breaks across your face and your eyes flutter closed as he strokes your cheek. “Hi, daddy.”

“You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“I try, daddy.”

“Well, you succeed.”

Your heart surges at the praise, and you feel a prickling start in your eyes.

His thumb fusses with your bottom lip, smoothing across it and pulling it down just to let it pop back. “Why this today, baby? You need me?”

You ease your eyes open and nod up at him and his creased brow. “Yes, please.”

You can go over the details later. About how shitty your day was, how out of control your own life is feeling around you. You just want to focus on this. What you can control. Or, more suitably, what Joel can take off your plate for you. The way you trust him implicitly, give yourself over to him so he can care for you in a way no one else ever has, ever could.

He nods his head back in understanding, the backs of his fingers tracing up the side of your face until he’s petting down your hair with a steady hand. “It’s okay, babygirl. Daddy’s here for you. I’m gonna make it all better, alright?”

You rapidly blink out the tears forming in your eyes as you nod again, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” He guides, helping you to your feet and pulling you in close to him with a solid, sturdy hug. “It’ll be okay,” He reassures again into your hair.

“I know.”

Once you’re in the bedroom, he prompts you to your knees again, this time on the much more forgiving carpet with a pillow underneath them.

“Are you gonna make daddy feel good?” He asks, sliding his belt from his jeans and unfastening them.

“Yes, daddy,” You reply, second nature this far into your relationship. Almost everything is yes daddy or no daddy when you’re like this. No pressure from him to articulate cohesive, flowery responses. Just affirmatives and negatives. Easy.

He allows you to turn off your brain and just be. Just do as he says with one unified goal: make him feel good.

You couldn’t care less about yourself, your own pleasure—although Joel does. He never leaves you out to dry. But you never ask for it. He just knows, he’s always known. Like his sixth sense is knowing what you require that you never verbalize, or maybe that you don’t even know yourself.

He’s hard and thick as he strokes himself tantalizingly in front of you. “Come get your treat,” He encourages, his voice already going deep and raspy with his own arousal, “Get your reward for being daddy’s good girl.”

He never has to tell you twice. He says it, you do it. You know some submissives like to argue, like the back and forth of the power struggle. That’s never been you. You derive the most pleasure from the thought of his unwavering hand above you, driving you to do exactly as he desires. You think you won the jackpot with Joel, with a man who never takes advantage of your submission and always shows appreciation and humility at your choice to submit to him.

He does get rough, and he does like to use you, but never in a manner that is unwelcome. You’re two sides of the same coin. He’s the head. The brains for both of you. And you? Well, you’re the tail. And you both like it that way.

You take him in your mouth with an eagerness that has him laughing breathlessly above you. “Oh, you needed this, huh, princess? That’s all you need, isn’t it? Just daddy’s cock.”

You moan around him as you sink further down on him, working the base with your hand. You love how he fills you, love the gentle, yet unyielding hand at the back of your head as you move on him. He coaxes you deeper until he’s tickling the back of your throat, far enough that you have to remove your hand for him to feed you more of him.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” He moans as your throat relaxes around him in well-practiced precision. “Always take me so fuckin’ good. Little throat was made for daddy’s cock, wasn’t it?”

You choke briefly on it as your lungs claw for air, but you force them into their own kind of submission in your efforts to please Joel. You can feel your throat pulsing around him in desperation until you at last detach yourself, your saliva clinging in slippery strings to his shaft and your breath rushing back in harried and refreshing.

“Good fucking girl, baby. Now back in. You know.”

And you do. You’re already halfway down his cock again when he says it. His hand tugs at the hair shy of your scalp as he feels your throat wrapping around him again, gripping him like you never want him to leave. Never want to allow you to come back up for air.

His hips buck into you, smashing your nose into his hip bone as he claims you like he has hundreds of times before. You know precisely when he’s getting close, because his thighs beneath your hands begin to shake.

He yanks you off to save himself from shooting down your throat, his fingers forming a vice at the base of his cock and behind his balls to stem his release. “Fuck, babygirl. Throat is so goddamn tight. So fuckin’ wet. Every fuckin’ time. Never get used to it.”

You beam with pride, shining and messy with your own spit and tears, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to his hip as you gaze up at him like he hung the moon just for you.

You’re scrambling onto the bed as soon as he directs you, your pussy drenched and begging for him between your legs. His broad shoulders spread your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders as his face greets your glistening heat.

“All this for me, babygirl?” He teases, running a knuckle over your throbbing clit and through your slick folds. And as much as you want to watch him work, the flood of pleasure you derive from that single motion has your head flopping back against the pillows.

“Yes, daddy,” You whimper as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, “All for you. Always.”

“That’s my girl,” He mumbles before closing his lips around your clit and preemptively strapping an arm across your waist, already anticipating the way your hips always strain to get closer.

“Fuck,” You whine breathily, your hips twitching into his mouth as his tongue flicks at your bundle of nerves, already spiraling you close to the edge. And as he reads your body, he tapers off, diving his tongue back down into your folds in broad strokes. You shiver as your climax evades you, but you don’t complain. Joel knows what he’s doing; he always does.

The tip of his tongue penetrates your hole, and a heavy sigh breaks free from your chest. He fucks you leisurely, and even through your tightly shut eyes you can feel his own burning holes through you as he winds you up.

His thumb rubs tight circles over your clit as he fucks you open around his tongue, and you’re teetering on the edge again. You feel your core tightening, and he’s not letting up. Even though you know what his answer will be, you know to ask anyway.

“Fuck, daddy, can I…can I please…please come?”

His breath is hot on your cunt as he green lights with a “Yes, babygirl,” and plunges his tongue back inside you, his thumb on your clit shoving you headfirst into your orgasm. You feel your pussy pulse around his tongue as you throb under the ministrations of his hand, your fingers diving into his hair for purchase on something to ground you.

Your hips thrust into him in aftershocks, hindered by the arm still thrown around your waist. “Daddy, please,” You whine as the sensitivity takes hold and Joel’s mouth sucks kisses up and down your cunt. You can feel his smile in his actions, finally relenting when he deems you’ve had enough.

“Just such a tasty little kitten you’ve got, babygirl. You know I can’t help myself,” He says, his chin perched on your hip with a smug grin. “You need daddy to fuck this little kitten too?”

“Yes, please, daddy,” You whimper, tugging lightly on his hair.

Joel only leaves the bed long enough to strip himself down before rejoining you, guiding you onto your side and molding himself into you from behind. His hand parts your thigh upwards and he positions it into the crook of his arm, spreading you open for him.

His mouth sucks kisses into your neck as his hips grind against your ass, the slick head of his cock gliding between your bodies. His nose outlines your jaw up to the shell of your ear. “Put daddy inside it, babygirl.”

A pitiful whine escapes at his words. Your hand slithers between your legs, reaching back to grip his cock behind you. You free him from between you and notch him at your opening. Joel grunts in your ear as the tip breaches your hole, rocking his hips forward teasingly.

You sigh at the stretch—and it’s always a stretch, as big as he is—and give yourself over to him.

As if you were ever your own since you’d met him.

“That’s so good, baby. So tight around daddy.” He pushes himself all the way in with one continuous thrust, burying himself into you with a devastating intensity. The gasp that leaves you has Joel exhaling a light, groaning laugh. “Does daddy feel good, babygirl? Does he fill up your kitten nice and full?”

“Yes, daddy,” You moan, your hips already seeking him out, trying to suck him in deeper. “Need you, please.”

“I know, baby. Daddy needs you, too,” He moans as he begins to fuck into you with hunger and heft. “Need to be so. Fucking. Deep inside you, babygirl,” He grunts, punctuating his words with his hips.

Your head tips back to rest on his shoulder in a silent cry as he spreads you open wider, snapping his hips into you as he pants into your ear.

“Kitten takes me so fuckin’ good. Gives daddy exactly what he wants, huh? Opens right up for me.”

“Yes, daddy,” You keen, your hand flying to grip his hair and pull his face into your neck.

“Oh, fuck, daddy’s gonna come right inside your kitten, babygirl. Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full.”

“Fuck, yes, daddy,” You whine, desperately grinding your hips back onto him, meeting his thrusts. “Please come inside me,” You beg, your breath hitching as his teeth scrape at your skin.

“God, you beg so pretty for daddy. Get ready for it, baby. Gonna—oh fuck,” He chokes out as his hips slam into you again and again, groaning out his release and flooding you just as he promised. Just as you crave constantly.

Even after his climax has long receded, he keeps you plugged, full of his cock and his come. Giving you time to soak him in, feel him inside you physically the way he is emotionally at every other second of the day. Your leg slips from its temporary home in the crook of his elbow and hooks around his leg behind you, urging him forward as if he could get any closer to you than he already has been. His arms clutch you to him around your waist, your feet tangled together, your heads craned to satisfy the lazy drag of your lips against each other’s. And you just exist for a few blissful moments, unable to extract one of you from the other.

“Daddy loves you so fuckin’ much, you know that, baby?”

Every ounce of tension, every trace of stress, evaporated in the presence of those words.

“I know, daddy. I love you too.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now.” Not in this perfect moment with him. Not with him inextricably attached at every square inch of your body. Maybe later. Much, much later. When he’s fucked another load inside you. When the sweat has dried on the sheets from whatever number of orgasms he sees fit to pry from your overstimulated pussy and vibrating thighs.

And he kisses you again because he doesn’t need you to say any of that. He just knows.

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow@atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

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taglist: @bbyanarchist @within-the-depths @livingdeadmaria @cool-iguana @a-roving-woman @koshkaj-blog @asideblogformyficreading @totallynotastanacc @adaslittleblog @walkintotheriveranddisappear @pr0ximamidnight @sinfulrock @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kyloispunk @pinkiec6-rubi @vickywallace @pattwtf @chiyo13

#dom!joel miller #daddy!joel miller #dom!joel #daddydom!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #katy wroted fic

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theemporium · 9 months

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Idk if you like to write about like real life events but maybe a daniel fic or a daniel x sunshine about Daniel and his injured hand and just like looking after him and sunshine fussing over him super fluffy🥺🥺

it doesn't really fit with the daniel and sunshine timeline, but i made it a normal danny blurb! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“Oh, baby.”

Daniel’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, something in his chest easing when he saw you standing in the doorway of the hospital room. Everything had been a blur since the crash. His focus had been on the pain in his hand, the uncertainty of whether he would be able to drive this weekend or not. He had been going back and forth between different doctors and nurses and medics, it exhausted him.

But now, here you were and something about the whole situation felt so much easier.

“Do I really look that rough?” He asked, his brows raised when he noticed the small moment of hesitance in your step.

“I just…I was so worried,” you admitted as you slowly made your way to his bedside. “Nobody knew if you were okay, and they wouldn’t tell me anything—”

“Hey, baby, shhhh, it’s okay,” he murmured as he lifted his good arm to reach for you. The second you were close enough, he tossed his arm over your shoulder and tucked you into his side. “I’m fine. They did an x-ray, it’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” you grumbled with a sigh. “They wouldn’t even let me see you in the medic tent.”

His brows furrowed together. “How did you even get here?”

“I…borrowed Max’s car,” you said slowly.

Daniel glanced at you warily. “Borrowed?”

“He may not be aware I borrowed it but I’ll thank him nonetheless,” you said with an innocent smile.

Daniel snorted as he pressed his lips against your temple. “I’m glad you’re here.”

When the doctor came back with the news that his wrist was broken, you could see how disheartened and upset he was. He was trying to put on a brave face for everyone: for the nurses who were putting his cast on, for the team he felt like he let down, for the cameras so the fans wouldn’t suspect anything.

But the second you made it to the hotel room, you saw the way his shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Danny?”

His head turned to look at you, his eyes a little glossy and his smile shaky, but it was enough for you to open your arms and let the boy sink into your body.

“Let it out, baby,” you cooed softly, rubbing your hands up and down his back as he let out a small sniffle.

“I just wanted to prove them wrong,” he murmured against your shoulder.

“I know, honey,” you sighed, turning your head to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “How about a night in? We can watch some Ace Ventura, order some room service…anything you want.”

Daniel let out a soft chuckle. “That would be nice.”

“Go get changed into something comfy, big boy,” you grinned before nudging him towards the bathroom. “Better yet, wearing nothing at all.”

He snorted. “Subtle, baby, subtle.”

“It’s my specialty,” you said with a shrug.

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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usernameforaboredcat · 8 months

Text

Black & Red (Shanks X F!Reader X Mihawk) SMUT

Anonymous request (I got chu)

Just a simple day at the beach drinking turns into something way more hot and steamy than expected.

A long fic, have fun babes

Warning ⚠️: age-gap, threesome, groping, double penetration, deep throating, maybe some others that I forgot idk its sex ya know the type of shit youre signing up for.

“Shaaaanks, come on! It’s too early to drink, we’ll be up all night again”.

“Don’t worry about it so much sweetheart! It’ll be fun!”.

That’s the last coherent conversation I remember before getting shit faced and passing out on a beach with Shanks. No matter how many times I tell myself ‘you gotta stop doing this, I don’t care how hot he is I can’t be drinking this much’ but do I ever listen? No of course not! Have you see him? That man is so hot and fine, all I can do is easily submit to anything he asks. I mean it's not the first time he's easily made me submit to something, which ended in a lot of hookups or alleyway deepthroating. Hehe...

I awaken from my slumber as I feel myself being shaken. “Wakey wakey sweetheart”. I hear an all too familiar and soothing voice. I groan and snuggle more into his chest. “Nooo. You made me drink and gave me a hangover”. I mumble. “Does it make you feel better knowing that I have one too?”. He asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“A little”.

I yawn as I walk back to the cove the crew was camping at, coming back from some private business time…I had to pee. I see the crew already partying and drinking again. Seriously? “Hey! (Y/n)!”. I look towards Shanks, seeing him drinking with an unfamiliar man with a large sword sitting next to him, a long coat and a large hat. “Have you ever heard of the 7 warlords?”. Shanks asks me, the man turning to look at me. “Uh yeah…I’ve heard of them…”. I answer nervously, I think I already know where this is going before he can even finish. “This is Mihawk! An old buddy of mine! He’s one of the warlords”. He explains, using his free hand to usher me over.

I walk over to the two men, Shanks pulling me over to sit on his lap. "Come on (Y/n), don't be shy now and say hi!". He tells me, as if I'm a child. Sir, I'm 20. I turn to look at the warlord, man is he an attractive man. "Hello". I greet him. "Hello, young lady". He greets back. I turn to look up at Shanks, tugging on his shirt to draw his attention to me. "So what's this about? Why are we partying again?". I ask him, tilting my head slightly. He smile and laughs. "Ya know that Luffy kid I told you about? He finally got his first wanted poster!". He answers happily.

I remember him talking about that Luffy kid. Shanks told me how he met him years ago, the dumb little kid who cut his cheek and ate the gum gum fruit. He isn't any younger than me, the more I think about that the more it kinda makes me feel weird. Still, I'd like to meet him one day.

"Huh, look at him". I mutter under my breath, but I know Shanks heard me. As if the conversation is forgotten about, Shanks now holding out a filled cup of booz to me. "Enough yappin! Take a sip, dear". He orders me. 'Uh, I really don't wanna drink'. I take the cup from him, taking a sip from it. "Atta girl". He coos, his hand now sitting on my hip, rubbing up and down with his thumb. I feel a shiver runs down my spine, the feeling of his hand running straight to my core. He knows exactly what he's doing, he knows how to get my body going.

'God, I hate him'.

My breath quickens as I feel a jolt run through my body, whimpers slipping through my lips no matter how hard I try to hide them. "Ssshhh, not so loud baby". Shanks whispers into my ear, his finger not stopping it's abuse on my clit. I throw my head back into his board shoulder. "Sh-Shanks, pleeeease~". I whimper out. "Hm? Please what? Need me to fuck you already?". He asks in a deep tone, his hot breath down my neck. "I-hhh I!". I stumble on my words, needing him to give me just a second to cum. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Shanks". I feel my body freeze, but Shanks doesn't stop. "Oh, hey Mihawk". He pulls his hand away, my legs giving out and I collapse to the forest floor.

"What's up? You leaving already?". Shanks asks the other man. "I was thinking that, yes". Mihawk confirms. "Oh come on, you just got here. Why not have a little fun with (Y/n) and I? I don't mind sharing that pretty face". He offers the man. 'HUH!?'. I turn my head behind me, looking over to the men. I look over to Mihawk, seeing that he's already looking at me dead in the eyes with a hungry look. "You're too open with sharing your toys, Shanks". He comments, taking his sword off his back and setting it against a nearby tree. The two men walk over to me, Mihawk standing in front of me as I feel Shanks crouch behind me. "You don't mind, do you sweetheart?". Shanks asks me, pulling me back so my back is against his hard chest, using his hand to rub my chin. "N-No". I stutter out nervously, looking up into Mihawks almost glowing eyes.

Shanks chuckles as his hand goes down to my shirt, pulling it up to expose my bare chest. "Good girl~". He hums into my ear, nuzzling into my neck. I shiver and shut my eyes as Shanks's cold hand goes down to my chest, groping and grabbing at my tit. I let out a soft moan, feeling him twist and play with my nipple. Shanks's head rises once again, nibbling on my ear lobe. "Come on baby, show the war lord what that mouth of yours can do". He orders. I hum with a nod, finally opening my eyes to look up at the warlord.

I break eye contact to see a growing bulge in his pants, only half hard. I grab the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down. His half hard shaft rises up slightly, hanging straight out from his body. I reach up and grab him by the base, Mihawk letting out a very quiet groan. I lean forward and close my lips over his tip, licking his tip. I look back up to look into Mihawks eyes, slowly moving my head back and forth as she stares down at me. "Oh don't try and ease me into, unless Shanks hasn’t taught you properly”. He comments in an unimpressive tone.

Shanks chuckles from behind me, his hand sneaking up to the back of my head. “She can take it, I have her working that throat of hers every night like the slut she is”. He responds, gripping my head and moving my head for me. I moan into Mohawks cock as Shanks moves my head for me, shoving me down on his cock more. I cough as I feel myself getting shoved deep down, feeling him deep down my throat. Shanks moves his hand away, but I keep the pace he set and continue to deep throat his cock. “That’s better”. Mihawk compliments. “Yeah, she’s a good girl, aren’t ya sweetheart”. Shanks chuckles, sliding his hand down my back. My body jolts when I feel Shanks’s hand back in my panties, running his finger through my wet folds.

My body shivers as I feel Shanks use a free finger to poke it in and out of my aching pussy, causing me to just need more friction. My body was already so close to being filled, but now we're back to square one. My body is tingling painfully, needing release finally. I start to moan painfully onto Mihawks cock, breathing through my nose quickens as tears build up in my eyes. I try to move my body, needing more than just the tip of Shanks's fingers inside me. "Shanks, your pet is getting restless". Mihawk tells the red head. Shanks chuckles. "I can tell, she's trying to suck my fingers in". He confirms. Mihawk then grips the back of my head aggressively, speeding up his pace and slamming down into my throat. "Don't worry dear, you can get fucked as much as you want once I'm finished". He tells me, his penis tip punching the back of my throat.

Shanks chuckles again. "Look at you, you'll get all the cock you want. I bet a whore like you is loving this". He whispers into my ear. "I can't wait to see you drenched with cum". He adds in a deeper tone, licking up my neck. "Take it, take Mihawks cum, take all the cum like I trained you to". I shut my eyes as tears spill from my eyes, struggling terribly to breath. My body feels like it's going to explode, ready to gush all over Shanks's hand. With a few twitches of his cock, Mihawk slams all the way down my throat his warm cum fills up my throat. I cough on the cum, gulping it down. Mihawk slowly pulls out his dick, sucking on the left to leave not a single drop. "Good slut". Shanks compliments. "You did train her good, I commend you that Shanks". Mihawk tells him. "Wait till you feel her pussy, perfection". Shanks respond.

Shanks pulls his hand away from me as I let out an annoyed whimper, pushing my body slightly to let my body fall to the ground on my hands and knees. I breath heavily as I try to catch my breath, my body shaking and loosing its mind from not be able to cum again. A cold hand on my ass makes me jump, I look lazily over my shoulder to see Mihawk kneeling behind me. I turn to look in front of me, looking up to see Shanks looking down at me with a smirk. He gently grabs my chin, rubbing it with his thumb as his smirk turns into a loving smile. "You're such a good girl, if I wasn't clingy I'd let people pay for them to fuck you. You're perfect mouth, pussy, ass, everything. Other men wish they could get one night with a goddess like you". He praises, his words going straight to my core. The mental image of getting fucked and covered in cum while Shanks watches, full bukaki as he just sits happily.

"Would you like that? Or would you rather some weak desperate men pay to watch me fuck you, show them how to really please a woman". He adds. That hit my core harder, Shanks cucking a guy. Some poor bastard watching Shanks fill and fuck my pussy full of cock and cum. I feel a warm tip rub against my folds, rubbing at my tip and poking at my hole. "Go ahead Mihawk, I wanna see the faces she makes when being filled by another man". He tells the other man. Then without warning, Mihawk easily slides his cock fully inside me. A whimpered moan escapes my lips, my legs shaking at the feeling of being filled finally. "Now isn't that a pretty face". Shanks points out, palming himself through his pants. "Sh-Shanks~". I whimper out, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I need...yoooooou". I moan out, craving more. I struggle to keep my body steady as Mihawk ruthlessly pounds into my body, slamming deep inside me. It feels weird to have another cock inside me, being so used to Shanks monster in his pants. Mihawks length is kind of refreshing, feeling his tip slamming into my curvix.

Shanks chuckles as he looks down at my wanting face, eyes begging for something from him. "You really have been a whore all along, being stuffed with cock and still needing more". He hums. He sits up more, pulling his pants down and his cock smashing me in the face. "Go on then, take the cock you so desperately need". He tells me. He slides his cock into my mouth, my body quickly jolting back and forth. I moan onto Shanks's cock, breathing rapidly through my nose. I can't breath, my body is shaking so much. 'FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM AND WE'VE JUST STARTED! FUCK BUT I NEED TO CUM!'. I give in, moaning loudly as my body finally releases as my body shakes violently. Mihawk hisses, pounding faster. "What's wrong buddy? She cum and squeeze ya?". Shanks asks him. "Indeed, she's trying to strangle me". He responds, causing Shanks to laugh.

"Props to you, I would have cum at her clenching like that". He chuckles. "You're just weak". Mihawk comments. I'm surprised I can still comprehend what they're saying, my whole body is weak and my head is fuzzy. I can't go on, cumming and still being fucked is driving my body crazy. I can tell that I'm finally giving out, because now I can't hear properly what the two are saying. Everything stops, feeling arms wrap under my legs and I get hoisted up with Shanks's cock popping out my mouth. I feel my back press against Mihawks chest, him holding me out spread legged. I see Shanks standing in front of me, he strokes my cheek loving me. "Sh-Shanks...". I pant out. He pulls his hand away, letting me lean my head against Mihawks shoulder.

My body jolts, fulling waking up at the feeling of Shanks sliding into my insides. I pant at the pain, reaching to grip hard onto Shanks shoulder. "That's it, you can take it". Shanks reassures me in a soft tone. My body relaxes, feeling the two men filling and stretching me out. My body felt so stuffed, I thought I was going to rip in half. The feeling didn't get any better when the two started to thrust in sync, thankfully going slow on me. Every breath was a loud moan, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Their pace speeds up, my mouth drooling from them massing up my insides. The feeling is indescribable, being fucked hard and stuffed to the brink of ripping. I felt like I was gonna pass out, I don't even know if I could cum again.

Their paces speed up, going full speed in and out my pussy. I cry and scream out my moans, digging my nails so hard against Shanks's shoulders that I wouldn't be surprised if there was blood. I could feel my freedom apporting, feeling the two older men twitching and their thrusts growing sloppy to out of sync. Next minute, Shanks lets out a groan as he finally cums. He sits and stays there panting, staying inside me. Soon enough, Mihawk cums again for a second time. The two pull out of me, Mihawk moving me to be laying in his arms. I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out, my brain fuzzy and hazy. A warm hand strokes my face softly, a soft kiss on my forehead. "Good job baby, you can rest". Shanks soft voice luls me to sleep, I finally pass out in Mihawks arms.

[bonus]

The two older men walk out the forest and back onto the beach, the other pirates noticing the passed out younger girl in Mihawks arms. "Is she okay?". Benn asks. "Did something happen?". Yasopp asks. Shanks waves them off. "Don't worry she's all fine, just a little shaken up". He reassures. "Why? Did something happen?". Benn asks. Mihawk chimes in. "Just some scary monster".

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece shanks #one piece shanks x reader #one piece shanks x reader smut #one piece mihawk #one piece mihawk x reader #one piece x reader smut #red haired shanks #red haired shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader smut #dracula mihawk #dracula mihawk x reader #dracula mihawk x reader smut

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loveforsatoru · 2 months

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hello !!!!!!!!!

I don't have anything specific, so idk, satoru with a five years old daughter? he would be such a cute and loving father 😓 i’m done, this life where I can't have satoru’s baby is killing me!!!!

this idea is so cute. i literally think about satoru as a dad all the time and it gives me major baby fever.

—

you never once thought that you could ever be this happy. what did you do to deserve it? maybe it’s the universe paying you back for all the times you’ve suffered in life both alone and your relationship with satoru. you’d been dating since high school, but it wasn’t easy. there was so much ache, time spent apart, and issues that you didn’t know if you could overcome. sleepless nights, occasional arguments and interference from your jobs drove your relationship into rocky paths, but at the end of the day, he never forgot to tell you he loved you even when you felt like the most unloveable person alive. through all the difficult times, the highs and the lows, he was always there and never once intended on leaving, so he sealed that promise with a ring and his vows.

you got married a couple years after high school. you were only 22, but your life couldn’t have turned out more perfect. it’s been 10 years and the love never died down. if anything, it grows with each passing day. now that you have a five year old daughter together, there’s only more to look forward to in the days to come.

satorus been away on a mission for a few weeks and you still have no idea when he’s going to come back. it hurts your daughter just as much as it hurts you. everyday, she asks when he’s going to come home and it breaks your heart to tell her, “i don’t know, but it’ll be soon.” when you weren’t even sure yourself. thankfully, satoru could never forget about the two most important people in his life and remembers to call in the morning and before your daughter goes to sleep, never missing a day.

besides today. your phone hasn’t rang once and it’s making you uneasy, your head racing with the worst possible thoughts. you have faith in satoru and his strength, but you can’t help but worry about him. he works a dangerous job and coming home is never a 100% guarantee.

you’re snapped out of trance when you feel a tug on your dress and little voice. your daughter is looking up at you, small hands tightly balled around the fabric of your dress while her blue eyes, identical to her fathers start to well up with tears.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask, picking her up into your arms and brushing a strand of white hair away from her face.

she doesn’t say anything at first and just buries her face into your neck where she begins to cry.

you attempt to calm her down, patting her back and getting her to look at you once more, “please dont cry… tell me what’s wrong and i’ll make it better.”

she speaks through uneven breaths, chubby cheeks now stained with tear streaks, “i called daddy but he didn’t answer.” speaking these words only caused her to cry again and it breaks your heart.

“don’t worry, he’ll come back. he’s okay and he’s safe. he’s just busy.” but the words are a form of consolation to you too. you’re trying your best to remain strong for your daughter, but it’s hard. being a mom is hard.

you walk over to the couch in the living and sit down, setting her on your lap while you wipe away her stray tears.

“listen to me for a second, okay?”

she rests her head on your chest, her breathing still ragged, but she’s no longer crying.

“your dad works really really hard for us. he wants us to live a good life, so he can’t always be home and he can’t always pick up the phone, but he tries as much as he can. we just have to be patient and wait for him to come home again. but he loves you very much. if he doesn’t answer the phone, it’s because he’s busy, not because he forgot about you, okay? the last thing he wants is for you to think he’s forgotten about you.”

she nods her head in understanding before asking one last question, one you don’t know the answer to.

“but when will he come back?”

now, you’re the one who has tears prickling in the corners of your eyes as your throat begins to sting, “i don’t know.” you wish you knew. you wish you could tell her he’s coming back today or the day after, but the uncertainty nips at your thoughts constantly.

what you don’t expect is for satoru to be standing right outside the door to your shared home, overhearing everything you just said. it tugs at his heart strings, but he’s here now.

he digs through his pocket and pulls out his key to unlock the door, the familiar jangle echoing through the house and your daughter immediately runs up to the door, squealing when he makes his way inside.

he scoops her up into his arms and litters her face in kisses, holding onto her tightly, “i’ve missed you so much, munchkin.”

you stay frozen in your spot on the couch, going wide eyed as another tear falls down your cheek and you don’t even notice it.

he gives you a smile from across the room while your daughter babbles on and on to him about what he’s missed. he listens intently, cherishing the moments that she’ll be little for as long as he can.

“and at school, we went on a field trip to the park and i found a butterfly but it flew away,” she pouts, “daddy, can you get me a butterfly?”

he chuckles and nods his head, “of course i can.” he would never say no to her. she could ask him for a piece of the moon and he’d do it.

you watch as he tickles her belly and she erupts into laughter, grabbing onto his shoulder for support.

“i have a surprise for you,” he whispers, giving her cheek another big kiss.

she claps her hands together, “what is it?” excitement laced in her voice which makes satorus smile grow wider.

he shifts through his briefcase before pulling out a small box of munchkins, “munchkins for my munchkin!”

she lets out a near scream and takes the box in her grubby hands, already popping one in her mouth.

“daddy, say ahhh,” she says with a mouth full of munchkins.

satoru does as she tells him to and opens his mouth enough for her to feed one to him, “thank you, munchkin!”

your heart swells watching them interact. he’s a good dad. you both talked about being parents together so many times and now that it’s happened, it still doesn’t feel entirely real, like you’re dreaming, but if this were a dream, you wouldn’t open your eyes.

you stand up and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, tighter than usual, inhaling his scent which you’ve spent all this time missing. you feel whole again and your nerves have eased up.

he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “hi, sweetheart.”

“i missed you.”

he wipes your tears away with the pad of his thumb before wrapping an arm around you, the other holding your daughter, “i missed you more. both of you. gosh, i felt like i was gonna die if i had to be away for another day.” it may sound like an exaggeration, but to satoru it’s nothing less than the truth. it was agonizing to be apart from his wife and the mini version of him. he missed waking up next to you, missed helping your daughter with her homework and reading bedtimes stories before bed.

but you’re together again and that’s all that matters. you’ve never been more relieved to watch a familiar face walk through the door.

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bimbo-baggins86 · 2 months

Text

Backdoor Promises: Sam Monroe

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CW: MDNI!! 18+!! Dubcon, noncon, manipulation, unprotected sex, anal, p in v, please for the love of god do not go back to front like this!, afab!anatomy, use of petnames, Sam calls himself daddy

A/N: idk this was just something to get over my writer’s block:) also idk why I write for Sam so much.

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“C’mon..I promise, princess. It’s not actually sex. You’d still be a virgin.” Sam tries to convince you still for the umpteenth time.

You fidget nervously with the hem of your skirt, “I..I don’t know Sammy..won’t it hurt?”

He sighs, “Don’t you want to make me happy?” He gives you a pout and his best puppy dog eyes as he trails a finger up and down your arm softly.

It’s hard to tell him no. And that’s how you find yourself on all fours on his bed, tears streaming down your face that’s pushed into his flat pillows.

“S-stop Sam..it hurts..” You sniffle.

He continues to inch himself into your tight little asshole that’s slowly accommodating his length. He shakes his head, not like you could see anyways. “No..can’t do that..you’re almost there..it’s ok..” His words are clipped as he exhales through his nose.

You try to pull away but his hands grip tighter onto your hips, locking you in place. He tuts, “Stay still…promise it’ll be worth it..” He eases more of himself into you. Your cries grow louder as the pain intensifies, clutching onto the old sheets under you so tightly your knuckles are turning white.

If he wasn’t thinking with his dick, he’d feel bad over your sounds of pain but god your tight little hole was squeezing him so hard he felt like he could cum any second.

As he stuffs more of his thick cock into you, your body involuntarily jerks away again. He grips the back of your neck harshly and shoves your face harder into the pillows. “I said stay still,” He grits out, “fuck..t’s so tight..” The sounds of your muffled protests only seem to spur him on further. “..just be a good girl and take it. Make daddy happy, baby.”

Slowly your puckered hole eases more to accommodate for him and gradually that sharp stinging blurs into an intense pleasure. Sam’s ears perk up hearing your sniffles turn into little whimpers of enjoyment. He makes note of how your feet cross over one another at the ankles. He grins to himself slowly starting to roll his hips into you. “See? That’s much better.” He coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your spine.

Thats the last bit of tenderness you get before he’s ramming into your wrinkled hole mercilessly. Your body trembles under him. He can feel your slick dripping out of your pussy and down his legs. He knows he promised he’d just use your asshole but he can’t help himself and he dips two of his thick digits between your folds.

You yelp and shake your head against the pillows, “Mmph…you promised Sammy..”

He tuts, “I know Princess I know, I’m not doing anything wrong…fingers don’t count baby.”

If he wasn’t balls deep in your asshole maybe you’d think clearer but that’s not the case. He ruts into you over and over again, feeling your pussy practically drooling onto him. He barely had any willpower to begin with. He grips tighter on your hips in preparation of what he’s about to do.

Sam lets himself get a few hard thrusts in before slipping all the way out and just ramming his dick into your tight virgin pussy earning a loud mewl from you as you jerk away. You try to push him off, whining about how he promised and how you wanted to remain a virgin.

He shakes his head, breathing heavy, “I know princess, I know…just slipped..’m sorry,” He says with feigned empathy, but it didn’t stop him from beginning to grind himself into your gummy walls. “…can’t stop now..feels too good…’sides…your little pussy wants it. Can tell.” He gets the words out between panted breaths.

You hate that it feels good and that your protests fall at your lips to be replaced with moans of pleasure. “There she is..” Sam coos feeling as your pussy relaxes more now. “..good girl…”

“J-just don’t..cum in me..please..” You ask him, the words a bit muffled by the sheets.

“I won’t…promise..” You shouldn’t trust him though. He’s already broken all his other promises in the span of minutes. But it feels so good and you can’t help but to rock back against him.

“Fuck…there you go baby..” He praises and it makes your walls flutter around him.

The soft squelching spurs him on more, letting instinct take over and he pounds mercilessly into you from behind. He feels like he’s gonna burst any second. Sam snakes a hand between your legs, finding your little clit and rubbing it. He might be selfish but he at least wants you to get off too.

“S-Sammy!!” You moan, feeling a new kind of warmth washing over you, your whole body shaking.

“Let go baby..’ts okay..I got you..”

He feels your pussy clenching tightly around his cock making it hard to move. Sam’s balls scrunch up before he’s dumping his load in you. You’re too disoriented riding out your first orgasm to realize that he’s gone back on yet another promise. He slips out of you with a grunt. He kisses your lower back sweetly, “Good girl..” He murmurs.

You feel something dripping out of you and it takes you a second to process it before your eyes widen and you’re whipping around to glare at him over your shoulder. “Sam!” You scold feebly.

“Sorry princess. Your pretty pussy was asking for it.”

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Liked this? Check out my other work here

#sam monroe smut #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe hayden christensen #sam monroe life as a house #life as a house #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #life as a house smut #life as a house sam monroe #rain works ˚₊‧꒰ა 🌧️ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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greg-montgomery · 11 months

Note

hiya!! this is my first time doing a request or anything like that buttt i wanted to ask if you could do one where the team is put up in a hotel for the night, everyone is sent to their own separate rooms but hotch called them in to his room bc he had some last minute thoughts about the case, right before they all go to sleep and y/n shows up in a cute sleep set and everyone is like oh but don’t say anything. they talk about the case for a bit and slowly everyone heads off one by one leaving aaron and y/n but plot twist she’s been quiet bc she snoozed off in the seat in the corner. aaron wakes her up and she apologizes, they start talking a little and she realizes how tired he looks and she idk gives him a massage on the shoulders, it can have innuendos in there but i mostly want her to take care of him, maybe they fall asleep together or something fluff it up plss 🫶🏽

hii!! <333 you're so sweet for sending to me your first request!! i'm sorry it took me a thousand years lmfao i really really hope you like it!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

With your eyes shut and both of your fists rubbing your eyelids softly as if they could take all the tiredness away, you weren’t able to see the looks your current outfit had earned you.

It wasn’t your usual attire for when discussing an unsub’s profile, but Hotch was the one to blame. You were getting ready for bed when JJ knocked on your door and announced that your boss wanted all of you urgently in his room. If he wasn’t your absolute soft spot, you’d be very pissed off about it.

Aaron seemed to have some new ideas about the case, and since the man apparently never slept, he thought all the rest of you would have the same energy as him. And maybe he wasn’t that far off for the others; but you were extremely tired, running only on three hours of sleep. So you just chose the comfiest looking spot on the couch of Hotch’s room and snuggled with two of the pillows you found there, simply observing the conversation that was taking place and only jumping in for a comment or two. It was already an achievement for you managing to stay awake for an extra hour.

Or so you thought.

“Y/N…” a gentle voice whispered your name. “Y/N…”

The hand on your shoulder shaking you, just as gently, suggested that said voice was trying to wake you up. But you were so comfortable and so sleepy you chose to ignore it. The whispers were lulling you back to sleep anyway.

Before you managed to drift off completely again, the hand moved to cup your face. A thumb was rubbing your cheek as the voice talked to you again. “You’ll hurt your neck.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and slowly blinked, finding the figure of a man sitting next to you. “Hotch?”

“Hi,” he chuckled. “I thought you’d never wake up.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you rushed to apologize. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“That’s alright.” He smiled at you.

Aaron was right about the neck thing, you could already feel the pain growing and you used your hand to massage it as you switched to a more appropriate sitting position on your boss’ couch.

“I tried to warn you,” he said, lifting his brows. “I wake up sore from every single jet nap.”

“Yeah, I noticed you couldn’t even turn your head when talking to us the other day,” you giggled.

“Don’t make fun of the elderly,” he scolded you. “I’m actually suffering from the pain."

“I’m sorry.”

You were still laughing so Hotch didn’t look entirely convinced by your apology. “Yeah, I can see how much.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you repeated more seriously this time. There was a short pause before you spoke again. “You know…I have a friend that’s a physiotherapist and she’s taught me how to relieve neck pain. I could give you a massage. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

He looked surprised by your offer and you worried you overstepped.

“It’ll be my official apology,” you added.

You saw him letting out a heavy sigh and got yourself prepared for rejection, but instead Aaron nodded, “Sure, why not?”

“Nice!” you clapped twice, hoping you didn’t seem overly excited at the thought of touching him that intimately.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t fixated on his large body and broad shoulders. So placing your palms on his toned muscles had your heart racing to the point you were scared he could hear your heartbeat.

Aaron’s heavy breaths when you started massaging his neck sent sparks all over your body. You wondered if he sounded like that during other moments in his life and you had to shake your head to send all the inappropriate thoughts away. Still it was next to impossible not to drool over him; touching him and watching him so up-close.

“Is that nice?” you asked.

“Mhm…”

“You have to be careful of how your posture is when you’re sleeping though. You warned me about it, but won’t do the same for yourself.”

“Maybe we can remind each other,” he suggested.

“Well that sounds like a good idea, but sadly we’re not always together when we’re sleeping.”

“Sadly, huh?”

Your hands froze on his shoulders and you could feel them shaking as Hotch started laughing.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, covering your face embarrassed.

“I know,” he reassured you with a small laugh. He reached out behind him for your hands as his head fell slightly back to make eye contact with you. You were still covering your face, so he grabbed your wrists gently and moved them down. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m embarrassed.”

He used his grip on your hands to drag you next to him so he could look at you properly. It didn’t need much effort on his side to make you take a seat by his side. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because you’re Hotch.”

“And?”

“And it’s self-explanatory. You either get it or you don’t.”

“I see.”

You sat next to each other in silence for a bit. Embarrassed or not, you didn’t want to go. This side of Hotch was very rare to be seen, and you felt grateful you got to witness him like this for once. You weren’t ready for it to end.

“Should I go?” you asked hesitantly.

“Do you wanna go?”

It took you a few seconds to reply, trying to make up your answer. You chose to be honest. “Not really.”

“Then stay.”

“I might fall asleep on your couch again,” you warned him.

“Hmm…there are worse things that could happen to me I think,” he said holding back a grin, and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against his chest.

You couldn’t agree more.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #hotch 🪐#ask

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genshinluvr · 1 year

Text

Another Small Problem

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After the first incident of your boyfriends turning into children (except for Zhongli and the newly added men to the harem), the men find themselves having to deal with another small problem that relates to the previous issue. You turning into a child.

Note: This is part 2 of "A Small Problem." Sorry it took me a while to make another part for "A Small Problem," I had a lot of things to do, and I didn't really get to plan the story out until way after the first part had been posted. My finals week is officially finished, and I have no idea how I did! I'm actually pretty scared because idk how I did, and I really hope that I did well 😭 anyway! I am officially on my winter break! >:D until I have to deal with the worst schedule for my winter quarter 🥹 Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔 Pierro is kind of mean to Itto and Itto got sad after it 🥺

Word Count: 11.4k

Read part one of Another Small Problem here: [A Small Problem]

You’re at the Harbingers’ estate, in Dottore’s lab, assisting him with one of his experiments with Albedo and Tighnari at your side. The three men are scattered around the blue-green-lit laboratory, scribbling down notes onto a sheet of paper and the other instructing what to add to the mixture. You stand to the side and let your eyes wander around the fascinating lab. You’ve been inside a few laboratories before but have yet to see a laboratory like Dottore’s lab at the Harbingers’ estate. The contrast between Albedo and Dottore’s lab is fascinating, and here you four are, inside Dottore’s lab, assisting Dottore with an experiment.

“Here, drink this,” Dottore says, handing you a glass vial that contains a turquoise-colored liquid inside of it. You reluctantly grab the glass vial from Dottore’s hands and lift it up to your face, your eyebrows knitted together with skepticism.

You clear your throat. “What’s this supposed to be?” You ask, holding the glass tube beneath your nose to get a whiff of it. The liquid is unscented, but you’re worried about what it’ll taste like. Dottore looks over at Albedo, who takes his goggles off and lets them hang around his neck.

“I recall you wanted us to make an elixir that will help you focus on your studies. Therefore Dottore, Tighnari, and I have come up with this potion for you to drink that should make it easier for you to concentrate,” Albedo says.

You nod your head slowly and bring the glass tube up to your eyes to examine the liquid inside of it. You swirl the turquoise liquid in the vial and clear your throat quietly. “This better be flavorless because I just ate some delicious Liyuen dish, and I do not want it to come back up my throat,” you mutter.

“It shouldn’t taste like anything, really. There’s a faint taste of mint and maybe a little bit of henna berry,” Tighnari says, peeking his head from between Albedo and Dottore’s shoulders.

You continue to stare at the glass vial in your grasp, debating if you should take the elixir or use it whenever you’re studying. “Do I need to drink it now? Can’t I drink it whenever I’m studying?” You ask.

“We don’t know how long it’ll take for the elixir to kick in, so you might as well take it now,” Dottore says, crossing his arms behind his back as he, Tighnari, and Albedo waits for you to drink the experiment.

You nod your head before downing the liquid. You make a face and shiver when the elixir slithers down your throat. You hand the test tube back to Dottore and stare at the three men in front of you. “Now what?” You ask, rubbing your stomach when you feel your stomach heats up and tingle.

“Now we wait!” Tighnari says.

Albedo looks over at you. “Again, we do not know how long it’ll take for the potion to kick in, so we might have to wait a while for the effects to show,” Albedo says.

You look over at the clock on Dottore’s desk and notice that it’s almost ten in the evening. You stretch your arms in the air and clear your throat when you feel a burp coming up. “It’s getting late. I think we should stop the experiment for today. Hopefully, we’ll get our results by tomorrow morning,” you said.

You, Albedo, and Tighnari leave the Harbingers’ mansion, bidding the four Harbingers goodbyes before walking back to your estate. When the three of you walk into the estate, the rest of the men are already asleep in their bedrooms. The light in the living room was your, Albedo, and Tighnari’s source of light. You each bid each other goodnights before departing ways and walking to your bedrooms. You quickly change into your pajamas and brush your teeth, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy with each passing minute. You rinse your mouth, brush your hair and walk out of your bathroom, turning the lights off behind you. You collapse onto your bed and roll yourself into a burrito with your blanket and close your eyes, slowly drifting to sleep.

Morning soon rolls by, and every person in the abode starts to wake up from their slumber one by one slowly. Diluc is in the kitchen brewing his coffee, leaning up against the counter while reading the Teyvat newspaper, his hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Zhongli enters the kitchen, dressed for the day; he fills the kettle with water and places it on the stove.

“Man, I slept like a baby last night!” Childe says, entering the kitchen with a bright smile on his face.

Diluc rolls his eyes. “Must be nice not to have to sleep in a bedroom that is close to someone that does snores in their sleep,” Diluc mutters, looking over at Itto, who stops in his tracks and gives the men a sheepish smile.

“Listen, if there’s a way for me to control it, I would! But guess what? I can’t control my snoring, okay?” Itto retorts, giving Diluc a dramatic pout with his arms over his chest.

Thoma walks into the kitchen and scratches his head, still tired from his sleep. Thoma yawns and walks to the refrigerator to pull a few ingredients out and places them on the counter beside the stove, waiting for Zhongli to make his cup of tea.

“Has anyone seen [Y/N] today? I know they got back from the Harbingers’ estate late last night with Albedo and Tighnari, but both Albedo and Tighnari are awake,” Thoma says, opening the cupboard to pull out a pan, whisk, and spatula.

The kettle begins to whistle; Zhongli grabs the handle of the tea kettle and pours the hot water into the teacup, waiting for the tea to steep. “It is the weekend. I’m assuming that [Y/N] has decided to take a day off from their studies to get extra sleep,” Zhongli murmurs, turning the stove off and placing the tea kettle off to the side.

“If that’s the case, then that’s good to hear. [Y/N] needs to get more sleep considering they’ve been staying up late to study for school,” Diluc murmurs, pouring his coffee into his mug and blowing on the coffee, taking a small sip from it. Before any of the men could say anything else, a loud crash coming from upstairs startled the men, making them jump.

“What was that crash?” Childe asks.

They trade looks before rushing out of the kitchen and heading towards where the loud crash came from. There stands Tighnari and Albedo, looking down at something, appalled. The glass tubes that once held a turquoise-colored liquid are now broken and shattered on the ground in front of Tighnari and Albedo.

“What happened?” Cyno asks, walking out of his bedroom, his hair messy from his sleep.

Al Haitham and Kaveh look at the ground of shattered glass. “You’re going to need to clean that up before any of us steps on broken glass,” Al Haitham says, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a slow sigh through his nose. Tighnari and Albedo didn’t say a word. Instead, they continue to stare at the small bookcase on the second floor.

Kaveh cocks an eyebrow at Albedo and Tighnari. “What are you guys staring at?” Kaveh asks.

A tiny sneeze fills the silence. “Bless you,” Venti says, looking for the source where the sneeze came from.

“Thank you,” answered back a small voice.

Dainsleif grabs onto the back of Childe’s shirt and pulls him to whisper into his ears. “Is that a voice of a child?” Dainsleif asks, looking at Childe from the corner of his eyes. Childe slowly nods his head without answering Dainsleif’s question, his eyebrows narrowing as he stares at the small bookcase with scrutiny.

Xiao slowly steps out from behind the men and approaches the bookcase; his jade spear materializes in his hands, and his grip tightens around the base of his polearm. “Reveal yourself this instant,” Xiao orders, glaring at the bookcase.

“Xiao, I don’t think we should be pointing weapons at anyone. Especially a child,” Baizhu warns, holding his arm out in front of Xiao. Xiao looks conflicted for a moment before hesitantly letting his polearm disappear in thin air. Baizhu walks towards the bookcase and kneels, peeking behind the bookcase.

“Who’s behind the bookcase? The suspense is killing me!” Aether says loudly.

Heizou smacks Aether upside of his head and glares at Aether, shushing the blond man by pressing his index finger on his lips. “Keep your voice down, Aether! [Y/N]’s still sleeping, remember?” Heizou whispers loudly.

“Should we go check up on [Y/N]?” Gorou asks, his eyes wide with concern.

Kazuha shakes his head. “I don’t think we need to check up on them….” Kazuha trails off, not taking his eyes off where Baizhu is kneeling. Gorou gives Kazuha a questioning look, only for Kazuha to nod his head toward Baizhu’s direction. Gorou looks over at Baizhu; Baizhu stands up and turns around, holding a small child in his arms. The small child is wearing a t-shirt that is way too big for them; the child is staring back at the men with wide eyes that are filled with tears.

“Who’s baby is that? Last time I checked, none of us got [Y/N] pregnant,” Scaramouche says, scratching the back of his neck while staring at the child nervously.

Baizhu bounces the small child in his arms, a small smile on his face. “Everyone, this is [Y/N],” Baizhu says.

Thoma clears his throat and turns to the men. “It looks like we may or may not have another small problem on our hands,” Thoma says, laughing nervously.

“That’s [Y/N]!?” Aether exclaims, his eyes widening with shock, pointing his index finger at your tiny form. You cling to Baizhu before burying your face into Baizhu’s neck, tears wetting his neck. Baizhu chuckles and pats your back as you whimper into his neck.

Heizou laughs nervously, turning to look at Tighnari and Albedo. “Care to explain how [Y/N] turned into a child?” Heizou asks, propping both of his hands on his hips while waiting for either man to give him an answer.

“Great! First, we turned into children, and now it’s [Y/N]’s turn to turn into a child,” Kaeya says, running his hands through his hair while examining your small trembling body.

Ayato tilts his head to the side; a smile appears on his face. “So this is what [Y/N] looked like when they were a child,” Ayato mused; he crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you cling to Baizhu for dear life. You’re just too cute!

Childe walks up to you and Baizhu, squatting slightly in front of you. He gently pokes you to grab your attention. You peek from Baizhu’s shoulders and lock gazes with Childe. Childe gives you a smile and gently brushes your tears away.

“There’s no need to cry, [Y/N]. I know you’re scared and confused, and that’s okay! But the most important thing right now is to make sure you’re aware that you’re not who you originally were,” Childe coos. You blink away your tears and nod your head slowly, clinging to Baizhu tightly.

“I think the most important thing is to make sure that [Y/N]’s okay,” Xiao says, glaring at the ginger-haired Harbinger.

Venti giggles lightly and pats Xiao’s head. “I don’t think you should be making a scary face right now, Xiao. You’ll scare little [Y/N],” Venti coos, trotting over to you and rubbing the top of your head gently, trying his best not to scare you.

“From what I can tell, [Y/N] is very well aware that they’re not in their original form. Being aged backward scared them, and they didn’t know what to do. Isn’t that right, [Y/N]?” Baizhu looks down at you, continuing to rub your back.

You nod your head shyly, loosening your grip around Baizhu’s shirt and flinching when Changsheng hisses softly and gets close to your face. You and Changshang stare at each other for a moment before you turn to look around helplessly, trying to find an escape route to get away from Changsheng. Even though you know that Changsheng isn’t going to harm you, your mind, which is now reduced to a child’s mind, sees the complete opposite.

Gorou frowns, and his ears flatten on his head. “Aw, it seems like [Y/N]’s afraid of Changsheng,” Gorou says softly.

Baizhu slowly places you down on the ground, and you stand there awkwardly. You make eye contact with Scaramouche before slowly making your way over to Scaramouche. Once you’re halfway across the room, you sprint towards Scaramouche, hoping to escape from Changsheng. Scaramouche kneels and opens his arms out wide; you run into his arms and cling to him, face burying into his chest. Scaramouche wraps his arms around your torso and stands up, fixing your bedhead.

Itto stares at Scaramouche with his mouth agape. “Wow, I didn’t know that this little fella is fond of children,” Itto says.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Kazuha whispers to Itto, who nods his head in agreement.

“Why don’t we all go downstairs and get ready for breakfast now that everyone is awake? Albedo and Tighnari can pay the Harbingers’ a visit after breakfast to discuss the situation with [Y/N],” Zhongli says.

Everyone begins to slowly trickle to the dining room one by one while Scaramouche stays back with you still in his arms. Scaramouche looks down at you; you’re looking up at him with those wide eyes of yours, making him blush.

“Have you brushed your teeth yet?” Scaramouche asks.

You shake your head in response. Scaramouche sighs softly and walks to your bedroom with you clinging to him tightly. You’re not much of a talker, are you? Scaramouche helps you brush your teeth and makes sure to brush the knots out of your hair. As for clothing, Scaramouche isn’t so sure about that considering all of your clothes are way too big for your current size, so you’ll have to parade around the estate in an oversized shirt for now.

Scaramouche hears your stomach growl; your face pinches up with discomfort, your tiny arms hugging your stomach. Scaramouche carries you out of your bedroom and down the stairs to the dining room, where everyone is waiting for the both of you.

“Ah, so this was the issue you two were talking about,” Pantalone says, eyeing your tiny body with mirth. Scaramouche glares at Pantalone and sits at the furthest part of the table, and sits down with you on his lap, looking around to see if there’s any temporary seat for you. What Scaramouche can recall is that last time, you mentioned to Zhongli about getting a high chair for those who turned into children, but you never got one because you assumed that the situation wouldn’t happen again; unfortunately, you were wrong.

“I’m sure [Y/N] can still sit in their seat with a little assistance,” Dainsleif says.

Kaeya tilts his head to the side and looks at Dainsleif quizzically. “Oh? And what would that assistance be, Dainsleif?” Kaeya asks, taking a bite out of his pancakes.

“We can make a temporary high chair for them by stacking their textbooks on the chair and letting them sit on it,” Cyno says, getting up from his seat and walking over to where your backpack is lying and pulling out five textbooks that are the same width of cinderblocks. Cyno places the textbooks down on the empty seat where you usually sit and adjusts it close to the table.

Scaramouche gets up from his chair and walks over to the empty chair that is occupied with your Akademiya textbooks. Cyno moves the chair back and lets Scaramouche place you down on the makeshift high chair, making sure that there’s no way for you to fall out of the seat. Cyno pushes your chair close to the table and pats the top of your head awkwardly. Usually, he would kiss the top of your head, but since your mindset has been reduced to a child’s mind, Cyno and the rest of the men are going to tip-toe around you.

“You three need to find the solution to the issue as soon as possible,” Pierro states, looking over at Dottore, Tighnari, and Albedo with a stern look on his face.

Ayato huffs. “I’m sure they’ll find the solution in no time. After all, the last time this had happened, the effects only lasted twenty-four hours,” Ayato says, poking his breakfast with a fork.

“It better be within twenty-four hours because [Y/N] has a final presentation to do at the Akademiya,” Kaveh says, scooping up the scrambled eggs into his spoon and taking a bite out of it.

“Do you know the date of when [Y/N] will need to present?” Capitano asks.

Al Haitham nods his head. “I remember [Y/N] telling Kaveh and me that their presentation is on the seventh,” Al Haitham says, looking over at you.

You reach for the fork and lift it to your face, staring at it with amazement, your mouth agape and eyes wide. Thoma walks over to your table and begins to slice the huge pancake into bite sizes, making it easier for you to eat without having to use a knife with those tiny hands of yours.

“And what day is it today, exactly?” Pantalone asks, looking around the estate for a calendar.

Pierro replies, “Today is the currently the fifth. Their presentation is in two days, and they need to change back to their original size before their presentation.”

“Do you three think you can do that? Make the concoction and reverse the effects of the elixir that [Y/N] had ingested that landed them in this situation?” Capitano asks, looking over at Dottore, Albedo, and Tighnari.

Albedo nods his head. “If we get started on the experiment as soon as possible after breakfast to make the concoction to reverse the effects of the elixir that [Y/N] has taken, then we should have it ready by either tonight or early tomorrow morning,” Albedo says, stroking his chin.

“That is if we have the ingredients and plenty of time to make the concoction. The main issue is that we do not know how long it’ll take for the concoction’s effects to start kicking in to reverse what has been done to [Y/N],” Tighnari says.

Dottore crosses his arms over his chest. “Another issue that we’ll need to figure out is how long [Y/N] has been a child,” Dottore mutters.

“Let’s figure everything out once we’re done with breakfast,” Thoma says slowly, bringing his fork up to his lips and taking a bite of the slice of pancake.

While everyone is eating their breakfast, you’re struggling to eat your breakfast because of how clumsy you are. Due to you being a child around the age of three years old, your motor skills are lacking and clumsy, causing you to knock over a glass cup of water, spilling it all over the table. Silence falls over the table; everyone looks over at you with wide eyes, unsure of how you’d react. You end up mistaking their silence and reaction as a bad thing, so tears begin to flood your eyes, your bottom lips start to tremble, and you begin to let out small sniffles.

“No, no, no! Don’t cry! It’s okay!” Childe reassures you, quickly getting up from his seat and cleaning the spilled water off the table with a cloth napkin.

You begin to hiccup as you cover your face and wipe your tears messily. “‘M sorry,” you hiccup.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s nothing to cry about,” Ayato coos, leaning towards you and wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“I made an oopsie,” You whine, kicking your little legs with a deep frown on your face.

Itto gives you a sympathetic look. “It was an accident, onikabuto booboo bear. You didn’t do it on purpose,” Itto says softly, gently rubbing your back.

Aether clutches Heizou’s arms and bends over, clutching his chest with his other hand. “[Y/N] called it an oopsie. I’m going to cry; my heart can’t take this much cuteness,” Aether grunts.

“Just when I thought [Y/N] couldn’t get any cuter, they continue to prove me wrong,” Heizou says, pressing his hands to his chest with a pout on his face, trying to refrain himself from throwing himself at you and squeezing you in his arms.

Cyno strokes his chin while analyzing your pouting face. “This makes me wonder if their vocabulary changes as well,” Cyno murmurs to himself.

Kaveh looks over at Cyno. “Did you not hear [Y/N] call the accidental spill and ‘oopsie’?” Kaveh asks, propping his hands on his hips.

You cross your arms over your chest and let your fork clink on the ceramic plate loudly. You have an evident pout on your face, your cheeks stained with tears, your eyes bloodshot red from the crying you’ve done.

“How about I feed you, hmm? You won’t have to worry about making an oopsie,” Scaramouche says softly, kneeling beside your chair.

Al Haitham’s eyes widen. “Oh? How sweet of you, Scaramouche,” Al Haitham crosses his arms over his chest with a small amused smile on his face. Scaramouche shoots a quick glare over in Al Haitham’s direction before turning back to look at you for a response.

You nod your head and throw yourself at Scaramouche. Scaramouche laughs softly and pats your head, placing you back down on your makeshift high chair. While Scaramouche was feeding you, Diluc couldn’t help but notice how your hair would get in the way whenever you were eating. Diluc finishes his breakfast before excusing himself to go to the kitchen to wash his plate.

“At least [Y/N] isn’t a picky eater. Children that are picky eaters are nightmares,” Kaeya says, watching you chew on your pancakes, your cheeks puffed up while Scaramouche and Zhongli gently tell you not to stuff too much food in your mouth or else you’d choke. You nod your head while slowly chewing on your pancakes, making sure not to rush or else you’d choke on the pancakes. Just when Scaramouche is going to feed you another slice of pancake, you shake your head and stare at the small piece of pancake on the fork.

“Oh? Are you full?” Baizhu asks.

You nod your head in response and place your hand over your tummy. “‘M full. No more pancakes,” you said softly.

“That’s okay! We’re happy that you ate breakfast today,” Gorou says, smiling at you happily. You look over at Gorou, and your eyes immediately light up at the sight of his ears. You point your dainty fingers in Gorou’s direction, slowly looking over at Zhongli and Scaramouche.

“It looks like [Y/N] is curious about Gorou’s ears,” Venti whispers, nudging Gorou lightly as he walks behind the general.

“Careful now; children like to pull on things they can get their hands on,” Pierro says, cracking a smile as he watches you get off your seat with the help of Zhongli and Scaramouche.

You pout at Pierro and cross your arms over your chest. “I won’t pull, I promise,” you said.

You waddle over to where Gorou is kneeling and stand on your tippy toes, reaching up for Gorou’s ears as he bows his head forward. Your tiny hands brush against Gorou’s ears before you let out a soft gasp. Gorou looks up at you through his lashes, a small smile on his face as he watches your eyes grow wide with awe.

“So soft,” You said, rubbing your fingers against the furs on Gorou’s ears.

After petting Gorou’s ears for some time, you finally release Gorou’s ears and look at the men blankly. Gorou gets off the ground and ruffles your hair affectionately, a shy smile on his face. Once Diluc returns to the dining room from the kitchen, Diluc stops in front of you and kneels in front of you, gazing at you with the softest smile.

Diluc brushes your hair away from your face. “Do you want me to put your hair up to make sure your hair won’t make you feel itchy?” You look at Diluc and then grab at your hair, feeling it tickle against your flesh.

You nod your head shyly at the redhead. “Yes, please,” you said politely.

Diluc smiles and stands back up, holding his hand out for you to take. You grab Diluc’s hand and let him guide you out of the dining area of the estate. Once you and Diluc are out of earshot, the men begin talking amongst each other.

“[Y/N] is a cute kid,” Pantalone says softly, finishing up his breakfast with a smile on his face.

“They’re….” Capitano trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence, “they’re an anxious child, I notice,” Capitano murmurs, his eyes trailing over to where you and Diluc had exited.

“Do we know much about their childhood? Perhaps they’re not an anxious child when they were in their world,” Dainsleif says slowly.

Zhongli sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “Other than them having separation anxiety when they were a child, [Y/N] has never mentioned anything about their childhood,” Zhongli replies.

Xiao crosses his arms. “They probably didn’t mention it for a reason. They’ll tell us more about their childhood when they’re comfortable with it. Let’s not push them to talk about their past,” Xiao states.

The men nod their heads in agreement. The silence was soon occupied with the sounds of tiny footsteps running through the hallways on the second floor, small panting and giggles echo the estate.

“[Y/N], be careful. Don’t run down the stairs, or else you’ll fall,” everyone in the living room hears Diluc say.

“Sorry,” you reply meekly.

Diluc holds his hand out for you to take. You grab his hand and let Diluc guide you down the stairs of the estate. Once you reach the last step of the stairs, you release Diluc’s hand and hop down to the ground. You look at the men with a big smile, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

You reach up to your hair and lightly touch it. “‘Luc tied my hair,” you said softly with a bashful smile on your face.

Childe walks up to you and squats in front of you, smiling at you. “Aren’t you a cutie?” Childe coos, caressing your face in his hands and lightly pinching your cheeks affectionately. You feel your face heat up before you cover your entire face with your tiny hands and run back to Diluc, hiding behind his legs and peeking out from behind Diluc, looking at Childe shyly.

Pantalone chuckles. “It looks like the little one has a crush,” Pantalone coos, giving you a teasing smile.

You feel your face heat up, and you grumble under your breath, clutching onto Diluc’s pants before burying your face into the back of his thighs. Diluc reaches behind and places his hand on the back of your head, lightly stroking your hair. Childe stands back up and chuckles, running his hands through his ginger hair. He looks like a prince.

Kaeya crosses his arms over his chest. “Usually, I would say that the ponytail on top of [Y/N]’s head makes them look like a radish, but they look cute with it,” Kaeya says cooly, smirking at his brother.

Kazuha laughs. “Usually? Are you implying that you would call them a radish whenever their hair is pulled up in a ponytail?” Kazuha asks. Kaeya smiles and nods his head.

Ayato nods his head. “He calls [Y/N] a radish all the time, especially when he’s teasing them,” Ayato says. You step out from behind Diluc and stick your tongue out at Kaeya, who chuckles at your childish response.

“Now that we’re all done eating let's do something to keep [Y/N] occupied while Tighnari, Dottore, and Albedo make a concoction that’ll turn them back to themselves,” Gorou says.

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at Gorou. “And do you know how to keep a child occupied?” Al Haitham asks, looking over at you, who is slowly trailing over to the giant fish tank in the estate, staring up at the fishes in awe.

“We’ll figure something out,” Heizou says, walking over to where you’re standing and gazing at the fishes with you.

Heizou squats beside you and points at the moonfin swimming around the fish tank. You gasp softly, staring at the beautiful fish with wonder. A thought pops up in Aether’s head. He turns to Itto and taps him on the shoulder to grab his attention.

“You’re good with kids, aren’t you?” Aether asks.

Scaramouche makes a face and points at Itto. “That oaf? Great with kids?” Scaramouche asks, letting out a scoff of disbelief and humor.

“Didn’t he make a kid cry after beating them in beetle fighting and taking their candies as a reward?” Thoma asks, the corners of his lips curving up. Itto gasps loudly and begins to sputter out excuses, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning almost as red as his horns. Itto scoffs to himself as he props his hands on his hips, his nose sticks in the air as he lets out a loud huff of breath.

“Hey, hey, hey! I did not make them cry! They were being sore losers and cried because I beat them fair and square in the beetle fight!” Itto says defensively.

You walk up to Itto and stare up at him, reaching both of your hands up and making grabby motions. Itto’s heart melts at the sight of your big eyes staring up at him, wanting him to pick you up and carry you in his arms. Itto squats down and grabs you by your waist, lifting you and placing you on his shoulders so you can sit on them. You hold onto Itto’s long hair and begin tugging at it, making Itto wince and whine softly.

Pierro chuckles. “See? What did I say?” Pierro asks, raising an eyebrow at Itto with a faint smirk on his face.

Itto reaches up and slips both of his index fingers into your hair to get you to release his hair. You end up replacing his hair with his fingers, squeezing them as tightly as your tiny hands can. Itto looks at the other men and smiles in relief when the tugging at his hair ceases.

“Let’s get started on making the concoction. The earlier we work on it, the faster we’ll be finished with the elixir, and [Y/N] should be back to normal by tomorrow,” Albedo says, turning to look at Dottore and Tighnari.

Dottore sighs wistfully and looks over at you; you’re occupied with tugging on Itto’s fingers, not paying attention to what’s going on around you. “It’s a shame that I won’t be able to spend time with [Y/N] while they’re in this form,” Dottore says, his head hanging low.

Tighnari rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, Dottore. It would take some time for the concoction to affect [Y/N]. I’m sure you’ll have a few hours with them before they’re back to normal,” Tighnari says.

As the three men are about to leave the main estate, Venti pats you on the shoulders to grab your attention. “Don’t you want to say bye to the three men before they leave?” Venti asks.

You look over at the door and wave at Albedo, Tighnari, and Dottore. “Bye,” you said softly, getting back to playing with Itto’s fingers, poking at his black nails. The three men bid you goodbye before exiting the mansion and heading over to the Harbingers’ estate.

“So, how are we going to keep [Y/N] occupied again?” Baizhu asks.

Cyno smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. “I have a few ideas in mind,” Cyno says.

Everyone sits in the living room, scattered on the ground, sofa, couch, and loveseat. You sit across from Cyno, sitting on Itto’s lap. In front of you and Cyno are cards; three in front of you and three in front of Cyno.

“Why in the world are we teaching a three-year-old how to play TCG?” Kaveh asks, pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out an irritated sigh.

Zhongli looks at the cards in confusion. “Don’t you think this will confuse [Y/N]? They’re a child; I don’t think they’ll understand how to play this game even if you try to teach them,” said Zhongli, lifting the character cards up to his face and inspecting them closely.

“Perhaps Itto is playing for [Y/N]. Children get bored of things easily, so it seems like Itto will be the one to play against Cyno in this game,” Dainsleif speaks up.

Xiao sighs and rests his head on the couch cushion, closing his eyes. “I have a bad feeling that this isn’t going to end well,” Xiao mutters.

Xiao ends up being correct because Cyno beat you and Itto in the TCG game. Itto demands a rematch so many times but continues to lose. Itto stands up suddenly, causing you to tumble off of his lap and onto the floor. Itto points his index finger at the general mahamatra, his eyebrows furrowing, and his mouth pulls into a scowl.

“Instead of us having a rematch in this rigged card game, I challenge you in a beetle fight! My onikabuto versus your scarabs!” Itto proclaims.

Kaeya walks up to Itto and places his hand on the oni’s shoulders. “Wait a minute, Itto. Don’t people call you Arataki “The Ultimate TCG Champion” Itto?” Kaeya asks, raising his eyebrows.

“What are you up to, Kaeya?” Diluc asks, narrowing his eyes at his adoptive brother, approaching the duo with his arms over his torso.

“Saving him from humiliation, I hope,” Dainsleif mutters under his breath. Zhongli presses his lips into thin lines to prevent himself from smiling at Dainsleif’s comment.

You whine softly and get up from the ground, tossing the TCG cards on the table. “I’m bored! This game is confusing,” You said softly, crossing your arms over your chest. Everyone around you was too busy bickering with each other to notice your small tantrum. “I’m going to sleep,” you grumble to yourself, walking to the nearest room away from the living room.

The closest room you stumble across is the library; it’s quiet, and the temperature is cool enough for you to fall asleep without any problems. You walk to the furthest part of the library and sit on the couch, pulling the blanket from the corner of the couch and tossing it over yourself. As much as you want to continue to be with the tall men, you’re tired, and TCG bores you to death. You sprawl out on the couch and close your eyes, curling up into a ball, feeling your eyelids growing heavier and heavier as you let your body relax on the sofa. Maybe a little nap will wake you up from the nightmare you’re currently experiencing.

Back in the living room, everyone was still bickering with each other, slightly shoving the person they were arguing with. The first person to notice your disappearance was Kaveh after scanning the room to find your tiny head amongst the big heads in the room. Kaveh suddenly stands up from where he’s sitting, grabbing the others' attention. Everyone falls silent and looks at Kaveh quizzically while the blond man looks around the room almost frantically.

“Where’s [Y/N]?” Kaveh asks.

Childe’s eyes widen, and he suddenly gets up from his seat. “Oh shit, did we lose [Y/N]?” Childe asks, running his hands through his ginger hair, his blue eyes wide with fear and worry.

“How did we lose them already? It’s been a few minutes!” Heizou says as he searches the living room for any sight of your radish-looking hairstyle, according to Kaeya, not his words.

Capitano sighs and covers his face (mask?) with his hand, shaking his head. There’s no way these men will be decent fathers and babysitters if they can barely watch over one child. Capitano gets up from the sofa without saying a single word and begins to look for you himself while the other men are distracted with trying to figure out how you managed to wander off without their knowledge.

There was no way you’d wander into the kitchen and dining room because if you were to do so, everyone would’ve been able to see you. So, the kitchen and dining room are out of the question. The next room Capitano decides to investigate is the library, the room where you’re usually at the most other than your bedroom. Capitano peeks his head into the library and slowly walks into the quiet room, surveying his surroundings. So far, Capitano doesn’t see any signs of you being in the library. The more he steps into the room and walks around, the more he hears quiet breathing coming from somewhere inside the library of the estate. Capitano ends up coming across your little study corner, notebooks and books stacked upon each other, a trash bin next to the desk filled with paper balls and scrap paper. Capitano stops in his tracks when he comes across the small sofa that is tucked at the farthest part of the library.

You crack your eyes open when you hear the sound of quiet footsteps walking around the library. You sit up on the couch and rub your eyes with your fist. You look up and make eye contact with the masked man.

“Now, why did you wander off in here, little one?” Capitano asks, squatting down in front of you, gazing at you curiously from behind his mask.

You rub your eyes and yawn. “I’m tired, and everyone was arguing, so I went here to take a nap,” you said, patting the couch with your hand.

Capitano sighs and watches you take your hair out from the ponytail, letting your tresses fall and frame your face. You rub your head and plop back down on the couch, sprawled over the sofa with the blanket draping over you. Capitano lifts his hand up and lightly scratches your head, making you snuggle up against the palm of his hand.

“We should head back to the living room. Everyone is worried sick about you,” Capitano states, looking at the entrance of the library.

You grumble and sit up on the couch. “Okay,” you mumble, hopping off the couch.

Capitano stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You grab his hand and let him guide you out of the library. As the two of you got closer to the library, the voices grew louder and louder with each step you took. You stand close to Capitano when the two of you arrive at the living room where everyone else was at (aside from Dottore, Tighnari, and Albedo).

Aether sighs in relief when he sees you enter the room with Capitano at your side. Aether hops off the couch and rushes over to your side, pulling you in his arms and hugging you tightly, his cheek resting on top of your head.

“Oh, thank the archons that you’re okay,” Aether says, pressing a kiss on your head.

Thoma walks up to you and Aether, squatting to your eye level, and gazes at you worriedly. “Where did you go?” Thoma asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“I went to the library to take a nap,” you said softly, resting your chin on Aether’s shoulders. “I was tired and wanted to find a place to nap,” you add.

Ayato sighs and shakes his head, rubbing his throbbing temples with his thumb and index finger. “Sweetheart, if you wanted to take a nap, you could have at least told one of us instead of wandering off on your own. You made us worried,” Ayato says sternly, causing you to flinch and shrink in Aether’s arms.

Ayato’s eyes widen slightly before softening; he mutters a soft apology before running his hands through his light blue hair. Scaramouche walks over to you and takes you from Aether’s arms, holding you in his arms.

“Lord Ayato doesn’t mean to sound harsh, [Y/N]. Like everyone else in the room, Lord Ayato is just as worried for your safety as we all are, and you wandering off on your own scared us,” Scaramouche says, rubbing your soft cheeks lightly with the pad of his thumb.

You frown and bury your face into Scaramouche’s chest. “‘M sorry,” you said softly, holding onto Scaramouche’s shirt tightly.

“Hey, cheer up, [Y/N]! We’re not mad at you! If you want to take a nap, we could all take naps in the entertainment room,” Venti says, popping up from behind Scaramouche, startling the both of you.

You hum softly and begin playing with the item hanging from Scaramouche’s neck in a daze. “I don’t know if I want to take a nap anymore,” you said softly, resting your head on his shoulder.

Cyno crosses his arms over his chest. “Then what do you want to do, [Y/N]?” Cyno asks, looking at you closely.

You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze, and you bury your face into Scaramouche’s neck for a brief second, slowly peeking from his shoulders and looking at the men around you shyly. Now that you have come out of your easily distracted thoughts, you notice that you’re surrounded by handsome men who tower over you. Tall, attractive men with nice hair and perfect smile are protective over you and would lose their minds if you were to disappear for a few minutes.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and clear your throat. “I need to potty,” you stated, squirming out from Scaramouche’s arms.

Scaramouche squats down to put you down on the ground. You look around the room and walk to the nearest person and tug on their pants. “Can you take me to the nearest bathroom?” You ask, looking up at Kaveh, who stares down at you.

Kaveh opens his mouth to say something but stops himself when Al Haitham and Xiao give Kaveh a look. Kaveh nods his head and reaches for your hand, guiding you to the nearest bathroom on the first floor of the estate.

“Remember not to leave them alone in the bathroom. They could fall into the toilet if they are not careful enough,” Baizhu calls from afar.

The men all collectively chuckle when they hear a faint grumble from Kaveh from afar as he walks to the closest bathroom with you in tow. You push the bathroom door open, and Kaveh turns on the bathroom lights. You quickly walk over to the toilet while Kaveh closes the bathroom door behind you two.

“Turn around and no peeking,” you said, shimmying out of your underwear (which you noticed had shrunk with you as well) and climbing onto the toilet.

Kaveh shakes his head and continues to let his back face your direction while he stares at the bathroom door in front of him. After a few minutes of peeing, you wipe yourself, hop off the toilet, pull up your underwear, and flush the toilet. You tap Kaveh’s calf. Kaveh turns around and looks down at you.

“Can you lift me up to the sink so I can wash my hands?” You ask politely, staring up at the blond man with your large doe-like eyes.

Kaveh nods his head and lifts you up to the sink, helping you wash your hands while imagining what you and his child might look like if you two were to have one together. Definitely a mini abyss mage with blond tufts of hair like their father. Kaveh reaches over to the hand towel and gives it to you, slowly putting you down on the ground.

You wipe your hands on the fluffy hand towel and hand it back to Kaveh. Kaveh hangs the hand towel on the towel rack before unlocking the bathroom door and opening it for you. Both you and Kaveh walk out the door, and you sprint over to Scaramouche’s side, tackling his legs and snuggling up against him.

Al Haitham lets out an amused huff of breath, trying to mask his jealousy. “It looks like [Y/N] has favorites,” Al Haitham says, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Scaramouche lift you in his arms. You snuggle up against the indigo-haired man and rest your head on Scaramouche’s shoulders, playing with the little accessory hanging from his shirt.

“Oh? Is someone perhaps jealous that [Y/N] might have favorites?” Pantalone asks, looking over at the gray-haired man with a teasing smile on his face. Al Haitham rolls his eyes and looks away from Pantalone.

You look up at everyone before shyly saying, “I don’t have favorites. I like all of you,” you said softly, continuing to play with the accessory on Scaramouche’s neck. You squirm around in Scaramouche’s hands; Scaramouche puts you on the ground and watches you walk over to Al Haitham.

You look up at Al Haitham, and he looks down at you; you hold your arms up and make grabby motions. Al Haitham bends down to pick you up and carry you in his arms. You snuggle up against Al Haitham and lay your head on his broad shoulders, playing with the fabric of his tight-fitted shirt.

“So, will today be a leisure day?” Gorou asks, walking over to the couch before sitting on the armrest, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kazuha looks over at you, you seem distracted by the fabric of Al Haitham’s shirt, but Kazuha can tell that you’re close to drifting off to sleep. “That is up to [Y/N] and whether they want to do something or not,” answered Kazuha.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around Al Haitham’s neck. An idea suddenly pops up in your mind, making you jolt up in Al Haitham’s arms.

“Oh? It looks like an idea has popped up in your head,” Zhongli says.

“Can we go outside of the abode?” You ask, squirming around in Al Haitham’s arms like a worm. Al Haitham sighs and puts you down on the ground.

Xiao looks at you suspiciously. “That depends on what you want to do outside of the abode,” Xiao says slowly, raising his eyebrows at you.

You smile at Xiao innocently, swaying left to right with your hands crossed behind your back. Xiao knows you way too well to know what you’re up to, whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Before everyone knows it, they’re close to Dawn Winery, near the body of water where cryo slimes like to roam around.

“Tighnari, Albedo, Dottore, aren’t you three supposed to be working on a concoction to turn [Y/N] back to their normal selves?” Pierro asks, gazing at the three men that are analyzing the mistflower together.

Dottore nods his head. “Of course, we are, Pierro! One of the key ingredients to reverse [Y/N]’s situation is a mistflower,” Dottore says, stroking his chin as he gazes at a particular mistflower that is slightly larger than the ones that surround it.

“This mistflower is strangely bigger than the others,” Tighnari murmurs, looking over at Thoma and gesturing for him to come over. Thoma walks over to where Tighnari, Albedo, and Dottore are standing.

Thoma has both of his hands propped up on his hips. “What can I do for the three of you?” Thoma asks, smiling at the three men politely.

The sounds of your squeals and cheers echos the area as you’re sitting on Itto’s shoulders, holding onto his hair tightly while the oni runs around, chasing a cryo slime with his claymore out.

“Oi! Be careful, you oaf! If you fall, then [Y/N] is going to fall and get injured!” Scaramouche screams from a distance. If people were to look closely, they’d be able to see a giant tick mark on Scaramouche’s forehead as he glares at the loud oni from a distance.

“Pfft! Relax, Scaramouche! I won’t drop [Y/N] and let them get injured! You can trust me!” Itto screams back at Scaramouche, stopping in his tracks and wiping the bead of sweat from his forehead.

You nod your head and cling to Itto’s head, resting your chin on Itto’s head. “I’ll be okay! Don’t worry!” You said hollered back, patting Itto’s head with a smile on your face. Scaramouche sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to remain calm.

Childe pats Scaramouche’s shoulders with a small smile on his face. “It’ll be okay, Scaramouche. Even though I’m just as worried as you are, you can trust Itto on this one,” Childe says.

Itto got back to what he was doing, chasing cryo slimes around with you on his shoulders. Usually, it would be the slimes that attack people unprovoked, but this time, it’s Itto that’s the one that is attacking cryo slimes unprovoked. Itto is mainly doing this because you insisted on chasing cryo slimes around, and Itto didn’t want you to get hurt, so he volunteered to be the chaser while you’re the spectator on his shoulders.

Albedo looks away from Thoma and looks back down at the mistflower in front of him, Thoma, Dottore, and Tighnari. “Can you attack this mistflower?” Albedo asks, pointing at the larger mistflower. “We need the mistflower’s corolla for the concoction,” Albedo says, standing up and backing away from the mistflower. Thoma nods his head and does what Albedo has instructed him to do.

“Great! Now that we got the mistflower, we can finish up the concoction and have [Y/N] drink the elixir to reverse the—” Tighnari gets cut off by the sounds of screaming.

“Watch out!” Aether screams.

The large cryo slime lunges at you and Itto, knocking Itto off his feet and you off of Itto’s shoulders. You fly in the air and plunge into the lukewarm water. Itto groans and rubs his head with Kazuha, Gorou, Venti, and Aether checking up on him to see if he is okay. The other men ran to the edge of the water, panicking over who was going to fish you out of the water while you were flailing around in the water.

You know how to swim, but the longer you flail around in the water, trying to stay afloat, the more exhausted you become. When you plunge into the waters, you accidentally suck in a mouthful of water and breathe in a noseful of water. Your eyes are stinging, your nose hurts, and so does your throat. You cough up water, tears blurring your vision from the water, and you feel sick from the amount of water you’ve accidentally swallowed.

While flailing around in the water, you failed to notice Capitano jumping into the water and swimming in your direction. Capitano pulls you into his arms before swimming back to shore with you in his arms. You cling onto Capitano tightly and bury your face into his neck, feeling shame and embarrassment slowly creep their way up your chest.

“You’re okay, [Y/N]. You’re safe,” Capitano murmurs into your ears, rubbing your back as he walks over to where the men are standing.

You whimper softly and continue to keep your face burrowed into his neck, shaking from the cool breeze that is blowing on your damp body. The men immediately hound you and Capitano, shooting questions in your direction, asking you if you’re okay. You nod your head, refusing to look at the men, fearing that they’ll be disappointed in you (and Itto) for being reckless while messing with cryo slimes.

“Itto, you should’ve been careful!” Pierro says sternly, glaring at the oni, who winces at the volume of Pierro’s voice.

Kaeya glares at Pierro. “He was being careful! No need to raise your voice at him!”

Pantalone sighs and shakes his head. “Even though Itto was being careful, both Itto and [Y/N] were messing with a large cryo slime, thus getting both of them hurt,” Pantalone says.

You peek from Capitano’s neck and immediately look over at Itto, who looks very upset and guilty. You kick and squirm around; Capitano places you on the ground and watches you run over to Itto, latching yourself onto his leg and comforting the tall oni.

You pat Itto’s leg to grab his attention. Itto looks down at you; the way he stares down at you reminds you of a kicked puppy. Your lips quivered, and you immediately buried your face into his thighs, gripping his pants tightly. “Stop being mean to Itto,” you whine loudly into Itto’s legs, letting out a series of sniffles.

“[Y/N],” Diluc says softly.

You shake your head, tears continuing to roll down your cheeks, dampening Itto’s pant leg. You peek at the men with a small glare on your face, cheeks wet with ears and eyes bloodshot red. “You guys are mean to Itto! I don’t like mean people,” you said, swatting away Diluc’s hands when he tried to reach for you.

Childe makes a face and points at Pantalone and Pierro. “Technically, it was the old man over there and Baizhu’s Fatui twin that was being mean to Itto, not us!” Childe says, continuing to point an accusing finger at Pantalone and Pierro.

“Oh,” you mumble, wiping your tears away. You turn to look at Pierro and Pantalone, glaring at Pantalone and Pierro, mainly Pierro, because of the expression he has on his face. “Apologize to Itto!” You demand, crossing your arms over your chest while standing in front of Itto like a lion cub trying to protect its parent from a predator.

Dottore smirks and nods his head. “Yes, Pierro! Apologize to the oni!” Dottore crosses his arms over his chest, entertained by what has unfolded in front of him.

You glare up at Pierro; tiny hands clenched into fists, your small face pinched up with anger, your nose scrunching up. How you see yourself, you see yourself as intimidating, but to the others, you look like an angry kitten ready to throw a hissy fit. It’s adorable, and they just want to pinch your cheeks, but they know if they were to try to, you would most likely bite their fingers off.

Pierro sighs in defeat. “Itto, I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Pierro says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turn to look up at Itto and tug lightly on his pants. “Do you accept his apology?” You ask.

Itto hums for a second and sighs, reluctantly nodding his head. You give Itto another hug and bury your face into his leg. As much as Itto didn’t want to accept Pierro’s half-ass apology, Itto knew that he had to accept Pierro’s apology or else you’ll cause an even bigger scene.

Dainsleif shakes his head and crosses his arms in front of him. “Let’s head back to the abode. You need to take a bath and change into something clean and dry,” Dainsleif says.

You blink up at Dainsleif. “But I don’t have other clothes that will fit me,” you said softly.

“Aw man, you’re right about that,” Heizou sighs, his head drooping.

Ayato approaches you and squats in front of you, brushing your damp hair away from your face with a soft smile on his face. “It’s okay, [Y/N]. We’ll figure something out,” Ayato says.

Once you all arrived back to the abode, Dottore, Tighnari, and Albedo went straight to Dottore’s lab with the mistflower. You were unfortunately dragged to your bathroom that is connected to your bedroom for bath time. Xiao and Gorou turned the faucet on in the bathtub and plugged the drain.

“You’ll be getting a bubble bath!” Gorou says, turning to look at you with a big smile on his face.

Xiao sighs and takes his gloves off, feeling the faucet water to make sure the water isn’t too hot or too cold. “Just don’t splash and make a mess,” Xiao says, not taking his eyes off the bathtub.

“I promise,” You said softly.

While waiting for the bathtub to be filled halfway, you, Xiao, and Gorou hear a knock at the bathroom door. Gorou gets up from the ground and walks to the bathroom door, opening it to reveal Zhongli with clothes in his hands.

“Childe and Pantalone went out to buy you temporary clothes to wear,” Zhongli says, stepping into the bathroom.

Gorou looks over at you, who stares at the clothing in Zhongli’s hands cluelessly. “What if I wake up the next day and the clothes don’t fit anymore?” You ask.

Zhongli smiles and pats your head. “They’re temporary clothes for a reason, sweetheart. We don’t want you to trip and fall while wearing a much larger shirt,” Zhongli replies.

“Oh, I see…. Okie dokie then,” You said, grabbing the clothes from Zhongli’s hands and putting them on the lid of the toilet.

Xiao shuts the water off and hands the bottle of soap over to Gorou, who pours the liquid into the water and begins mixing it. You stare at the water as bubbles start to form. Once Gorou is finished mixing the water and the soap, Gorou turns to you and takes his hands out of the water, wiping his hand and arms on the towel.

“Your bubble bath is now ready! Take your clothes off and get into the bathtub,” Gorou pats your head before nudging both Xiao and Zhongli to follow him out of the bathroom to give you some privacy.

You take your clothes off and get into the bathtub, letting the bubbles cover you from the neck down. “I’m done,” you said, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the shampoo into your hands, scrubbing your hair.

Kazuha peeks his head into the bathroom and gives you a small smile. “They want to give you some privacy. Do you think you can handle bathing alone without any assistance?” Kazuha asks.

You nod your head. “Yes, I am an independent small person,” you said, continuing to scrub the shampoo into your hair. “Oh, wait, how do I rinse my hair? Do I…” you trail off and dunk your head into the bubbly waters before popping out from the waters.

You wipe the water and soap away from your eyes and look at the door, only to see an appalled Venti. “Let’s not drown ourselves to rinse our hair now!” Venti laughs nervously.

“If you need assistance with rinsing your hair, you could simply just say so,” Baizhu sighs from outside of the bathroom.

You reach for the conditioner and squirt it into the palm of your hands. “I know, but it feels awkward having people in the bathroom while I take a bath,” you mumble, massaging the conditioner into your scalp and hair.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t really affect us at all. Plus, this can train us to be parents,” Kaveh comments from behind the door.

You scrunch your face up. “I feel sorry for whoever is going to be your child,” you said. You hear Kaveh gasps in disbelief at your comment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” you said sheepishly.

Kaveh turns to look at Al Haitham. “When [Y/N] returns to their normal size, I’m going to fight them,” Kaveh deadpans.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes and leans against the door frame of the bathroom. “If you fight them, then be prepared for me to kick your ass,” Al Haitham states, narrowing his eyes at the blond man in front of him.

“Why not just have a battle with them in TCG when they return to their normal self?” Cyno asks, rolling his eyes.

You dunk your head back into the water and scrub the conditioner out of your hair. What your three-year-old mind didn’t comprehend was that it was making your hair even soapier with the bubble bath liquid in the bathtub. When you finished “rinsing” your hair and unplugged the drain of the bathtub, you got out of the bathtub and wrapped the towel around your body, waddling to your temporary clothes to change into them.

You open the door and walk out of the bathroom after putting on your clothes. Childe stops you and stares down at you, his hand stroking his chin with one eyebrow raised. “Your hair is still soapy,” Childe comments, reaching for your brush to brush out the knots in your hair.

“You dunk your head into the bathtub, didn’t you?” Diluc asks.

You nod your head.

“We can’t blame them for it. I think a bubble bath is more suitable after we wash their hair,” Aether says, propping his hands on his hips.

“Well, at least they’re cleaned now!” Itto says, patting your damp head with a smile on his face.

Gorou hums and touches your wet hair. “We still need to wash the remaining soap and shampoo out of their hair and dry them,” Gorou says, wiping the soap residue off his hands with the towel in your hand.

“Back to the bathroom, we go!” Heizou announces. He picks you up by your waist and carries you back inside your bathroom to rinse your hair in the sink.

After rinsing, drying, and brushing your hair, you sit at the dining table for dinner (lunch was skipped because you all spent lunchtime at the lake near Dawn Winery, which ended up in a disaster), waiting for food to be made. Dottore, Tighnari, and Albedo walk into the dining room with a cup that contains the concoction in Albedo’s hands.

“We have completed the concoction that should reverse the elixir that [Y/N] drank yesterday,” Albedo says, walking over to you and handing the cup over to you.

“Drink slowly now. We don’t want you to choke on the concoction,” Tighnari says.

You grab the cup and take huge gulps of the concoction. You nearly gagged when the liquid touched your tongue, but you held back the gag and continued to drink the rest of the potion. It tastes like slime condensate (don’t ask) mixed with lizard tail (again, don’t ask) and mint. Once you have finished the concoction, you hand the cup back to Albedo and clutch your stomach with your face pinching up.

“Oh, dear. Is the concoction making you feel nauseous?” Dottore asks.

You nod your head and rest your chin on the table. “I feel like I’m going to puke,” you whine, kicking your legs back and forth.

“Please don’t throw up,” Venti pleads, kneeling beside you.

You sit back in your seat and sigh, resting your head on the back of the chair and closing your eyes, waiting for nausea to pass by. Dinner was the same as breakfast— instead of you feeding yourself, it was one of the men that spoon-fed you. The first time it was Scaramouche; this time, it’s Kazuha that is feeding you dinner because of your poor motor skills and clumsiness.

“You ate the entire thing! I’m so proud of you!” Kazuha coos, pinching your cheeks gently with a sweet smile on his face.

You feel your face heat up and burrow your face into Kazuha’s arms, shying away from that gentle smile of his. You can’t tell if you’re blushing or if it was the concoction that was making your face heat up, like how it made your stomach hot after ingesting the liquid. Kazuha chuckles softly and ruffles your hair affectionately before kissing the top of your head, thus causing your face to feel even hotter than it already is.

Dinner soon comes to an end, and you find yourself lying in your bed, surrounded by your body pillow and stuffed animals that the men have gathered for you when they see something you like. You lay down and snuggle up against your body pillow, looking over at the door and around your room.

The men bid you goodnight about fifteen minutes ago, and you’re not able to sleep. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the number of thoughts running through your mind or if it was because the shadow at the corner of your bedroom looked like a boogeyman, ready to snatch you up. You whine softly and kick your blankets off your body before running out of your bedroom, running to the closest bedroom you can reach. Actually, you didn’t run to the nearest bedroom you could reach; you ran to the ex-archon’s bedroom because of the stories he told you about his prime time as an archon earlier today. Surely a man as strong as Zhongli can protect you from the monsters lurking in the darkness of your bedroom.

You burst into Zhongli’s bedroom, grabbing the man’s attention. He was sitting in the corner of his room, reading a book.

“Oh? Do you need something?” Zhongli asks, closing his book and getting up from the seat, walking over to you.

You nod your head shyly. “Can I pretty please sleep in here? My room is too dark, and I don’t like being alone in the dark,” you said softly, slowly walking further into Zhongli’s bedroom. Zhongli smiles and nods his head, motioning for you to enter. You scramble towards Zhongli’s bed and climb on the bed by standing on the wooden bed frame and burrow yourself into Zhongli’s pillows and blankets while Zhongli closes his bedroom door.

“Are you going to go to sleep too?” You ask as Zhongli approaches you and tucks you into his bed, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“I will go to bed in a few minutes. You can go ahead and sleep now,” Zhongli says.

You stare up at Zhongli. “But I can’t sleep without snuggling up to something,” you said softly.

Zhongli chuckles and presses another kiss on your head. “Alright, give me a minute,” Zhongli says.

Zhongli walks over to the book that he had placed down and puts it back on the shelf. Zhongli walks over to his bed, gets under the covers, and turns the lights off. Once the lights are off, you realize that Zhongli’s bedroom is even darker than your room. You squeak and latch yourself onto Zhongli’s arms, burying your face into Zhongli’s chest.

“It’ll be alright, [Y/N]. You’re safe with me,” Zhongli whispers, wrapping his arms around you and letting you lay your head on his chest, stroking your hair gently. “I won’t let anyone or anything harm you. I promise,” Zhongli murmurs, kissing the crown of your head.

You close your eyes and slowly drift off to sleep, continuing to grip Zhongli’s night shirt as you fall asleep. The very next day, the men didn’t see you in your room. It nearly sent them into panic mode until they crashed into Zhongli’s room, only to see you back to your normal self, sleeping beside Zhongli. Topless.

“You pervert!” Scaramouche screams, grabbing the nearest object on the ground, and chucks it at Zhongli’s head.

Before the book can meet Zhongli’s head, he puts up a shield, and the book bounces off and lands on the ground. You hold the blanket up to your chest and rub your eyes, groggy from your sleep.

“Relax, I went in here last night because I was scared of sleeping alone in the dark,” you said, looking around Zhongli’s room. “Can someone hand me a shirt or a coat for me? I am not leaving this bed without something covering me,” You said.

Childe quickly rushes over to you and tosses his jacket over your face. You grumble and slip the jacket on, and zip up the jacket. You slowly get out of Zhongli’s bed and sigh in relief when you notice that your underwear has at least grown with you as well, unlike the torn shirt on Zhongli’s bed. You grab the shirt and quickly peck Zhongli’s cheeks before rushing out of your room to change into something that actually fits you.

Kaveh looks over at Zhongli and shoots him a glare. “You lucky fucker,” Kaveh grumbles.

Zhongli quirks up an eyebrow at Kaveh before the others slowly trickle out of his room. Zhongli runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “What an interesting way to wake up,” Zhongli mutters, getting out of his bed to get ready for the day.

Note: Since Scaramouche's banner is out, I will be changing his outfit in the story and he will still be electro, but he'll be special and have two visions in the newer fics ✨ I hope all of you Scaramouche wanters have Scaramouche himself :> I got him on my first ten pulls along with Faruzan ^^ He's level 90, but I'm still working on getting him decent artifacts because farming for artifacts is not fun at all 💀 I also prefarmed some terrorshroom and dendro cube drops for Al Haitham, only to find out that he uses a completely different material that'll be released in 3.4 🥹 pain. Anyway! For those who are new here or are returning readers, I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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