Reblog To Kill It Faster

Megumi looks so soft in this omg ( ´▽｀)

Hes so cute!!!!!!!!!!!! I want to devour him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

marry me

gojo satoru x reader.

or, in which, due to a coincidental circumstance, gojo asks you to marry him.

"i think you ultimately become whoever would have saved you that time no one did."

"then don't save me."

based off of this drabble . everyone liked it so much that i decided to finally write it XD i hope you all enjoy !!

ch 1. tossed like a salad (coming soon!!)

as a new student of jujutsu sorcery, you are sent as a transfer student to japan to help out over there. what you didn't realize was how much stronger the cursed spirits are there...

ch 2. hyperactive new recruit

chapter summary coming soon.

ch 3. dropkicked through the ceiling

chapter summary coming soon.

taglist

@05-simply-06-simping @astraea-xx @miizuzu @passw-0-rd @hachichann @yozora7154 @myahfig4 @poepoesstuff @twinkletfout @hibsjebwj @connorsoddsock @typsichryle @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @stromynight @serra10 @shehrazadekey @fos-tis-zois @miskwaadesiwag @minzxec @stickyjellyfishcoffee @driftawayomnichord @maximumuzuamy @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots @ittoscumdump @oceanparadiseblvd @stormeye111 @noodles-icetea @seternic @livelaughloveisagiyoichi @xxsorano @akit4 @simpingismygame @username23345

Basically, I tagged everyone who asked to be & everyone who said to please make it into a fic ヽ(*´▽)ノ♪ if you didn't want to be tagged pls let me know

also, want to be tagged? then pls comment (ゝω・´★) here or on the drabble that this fic came from <3

and pls note that some people couldn't be tagged due to "no blogs found" this can be fixed in your settings (´ε｀ )

I love each and every Junpei fan <3 we’re truly some of the most miserable people in the fandom and I wouldn’t have it any other way <3

synopsis: It doesn't matter which name he chooses to go by; even after 500 years you will call him Zandik. Even after decades, the two of you will be tied by an invisible string. Years come and go but somehow the two of you continue to argue about the same philosophy. He calls this thing a blessing, you call it a curse.

pairing: dottore x gn! reader word count: 5.3k warnings: time jumps, domesticity hints, mentions of hickeys, dottore is complicated and so is your relationship, ngl reader kind of faruzan coded with the curse, proofread but while skimming.

i. spring

The first time he meets you, he finds you annoying.   Laughing about it comes so easy now even if the memory is around five hundred years old, but, back then, on the very first day that you sat down next to him – he undoubtedly found you annoying.  

While answering to the name Dottore, he would never say he got attached to any particular season in the year. Every true scientist knows that change is the only permanent thing because it helps them shape and mold new creations. Chasing after change meant chasing something eternal even back then when he was simply Zandik.  

Yes, he answered to the name Zandik. His classmates as well as fellow researchers from other darshans knew him. There was a certain genius that always showed itself. It was admiration that followed. Those who wanted to partner up with him or those that simply wanted a glance from him; it was a certain privilege he could leverage. But he also had unspoken rules and one of them you decided to cross.  

Everyone knew that when Zandik was inside the library with more than 9 books in his hands, nobody was meant to approach his table. It doesn’t matter how many people were intended to use it; a certain sense of ownership existed. If you wanted to get on his good side, you would not bother to approach him when he was deep into theoretical research. When someone did, they would get a tense jaw, a lowered gaze and red eyes that glimmered. It doesn’t matter that everyone called him handsome, in those moments he was simply scary to look at.  

He thought that this spring day would prove fruitful in answering his passionate research question. He laid down his materials; he was enjoying sketching and reimagining a new model when out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone with a Haravatat uniform approach his table.  

Surely it was a mistake on their part. He placed his hand on the bottom corner and was about to flip to the next page when his hand stayed hovering above the corner he wanted to keep pristine. You were lucky he didn’t grab the delicate paper in between his fingers because he could have risked denting it when you saw down.  

You sat down? At his table? When he had not 9 but 13 books in front of him and his personal materials? Haravatat students did have a certain repertoire for being particularly annoying he remembered. Others found them either too bubbly or too quiet; they were known for their ‘specific’ behaviour, loud debates and their emotional connection to languages. Zandik could respect the few individuals that actually were valuable there but he could not respect someone breaking one of his rules and distracting him from his own research.  

His jaw was already tense but it fell open when he turned his head in your direction and realized you had no shame. Typical of a Haravatat student.   You sat there on the chair diagonally from him; your legs were crossed, your head was leaning against your hand and you were looking directly at him. The book in front of you couldn’t even be used as a cover up.  

It was closed.  You were staring at him.  You felt no shame when he turned around.   God, were you annoying.  

If he wanted his peace back, he would have to make it by chasing you off. To chase you off, he would have to engage with you.   He placed his hands on the either side of his book, he leaned in slightly to get a better look at you. Animals did this all the time – they showed signs of hostility. Humans, as the ultimate animals, were no different. Perhaps this would be enough to activate you own instincts and chase you off?  

… 

It wasn’t.   You were still looking at him.  Analysing him.   You were after something.  

“What do you want?” Just because you were here, it didn’t mean his voice would change. Your presence should have no effect on him similar to that.   He was hoping you would answer fast but you just continued to look at him. Then, you uncrossed your legs in a frustrated motion and you shook your head. How annoying.  Just what was it that you wanted? 

“I will not ask you what you want again. Leave if you have nothing to say.” 

That seemed to strike a nerve. Because for the first time in a long time, someone glared at him. You crossed your legs again and scowl was on your face in a matter of seconds. How animated; how easy you were to read like a creature. You approached his table. You looked at him; so why were you annoyed now?  

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to entertain your foolishness what-” suddenly, your hand stretched out and your index finger was pointing at him. 

“You!” How dare you point at him? His jaw grew tighter and his shoulders tensed. You had not right for this.   “You! What does it mean to be human?!”  

…   Excuse you?   His shoulders fell down and he leaned back with laugher. Not only were you annoying, you were absurd. Who does that to anyone? Who does that to him?  But sure, he supposes he could entertain your little question. His laughter stops and he straightens up.  

“To be human means to chase change.”  

That is what he has been doing all his life. That is what brought him here. Why do you blink up at him like an unimpressed mushroom boar? Is his answer not good enough for you?   You stand up and pick up your own book.  

“So disappointing. I thought a genius everyone mentioned would give an answer not underlined on chapter two. As if chasing change could mean being human. Do you really think change is something you can catch? Absurd.” 

He wasn’t absurd.   You were.   How dare you act like this? How dare you simply turn around with a bigger scowl on your face and walk away from him?  

You didn’t even give him your name and you dared to accuse him of being absurd? Haravatat students will always be so odd. And did you have to do it in a full library so everyone would get a front row ticket to your theatrical show?  

Ah yes, Dottore is sure even when reminiscing.   You really were annoying on the first day he met you.  

ii. summer

“Can you believe he actually implied that she was ugly and then got offended when she dissed him proving she overheard it? And now, suddenly, mister ‘I am rich and your family is poor’ is disappointed because she won’t marry him?!” 

Perhaps never wanting to find out your name would have been more beneficial to him? If he only dubbed you as ‘that-one-library-weirdo', he wouldn’t be listening to this right now. But, Zandik compares it to the months when he hadn’t know you and he realizes doing his experiments in front of this giant machine was more lonely back then.  

The grass and the night sky, a small flutter of the wind that made the corners of his papers turn up; it suddenly feels more full...this place that you share. Somehow, he found out your name and general passions from other students. Then, when you approached him in the library table again without saying anything, he allowed that too; furrowed brow and all.   Then, the two of you had to acknowledge one another in the hallways with a head nod, or a small wave or an occasional ‘hi’ uttered softly.   He isn’t quite sure when and how the two of you started sharing a few notes, sitting next to one another in the same elective the next semester or even going out for food and drinks.  

He once said it was odd and you told him that is the whole problem with his philosophy. Change just happens; you cannot catch it as it unfolds. You said it would always be that way because humans functioned for eons with it. You said he should think of it as a natural law and he would have, had you not decided to suck on the straw of your drink so loudly the hair on his head stood up.  

Still, this was a welcome change to him. He tends not to dwell on it too much; after all, those thoughts were your job.   Yes, he let you sit in the grass next to him while he fixes up this machine.   Yes, he didn’t completely tune you out.   And, yes, he might have told that stuck-up blonde man in his darshan that you were in fact not single. It isn’t like lying and manipulation were out of his character; Zandik swore he would get what he wants and reject anything he deems unworthy. That blonde man whose name he didn’t even bother to remember was unworthy of you. Simple as that. Nothing more.  

For the first time since he was a simple child, Zandik felt like he had made a genuine friend. Having to share a table with the two of you both annoying him would have been torture.  

The new mechanical part needs 5 screws. One. Two. Three. 

“Zandik, are you listening to me?” 

Four. 

“Yes, yes – I don’t know why you called that man a ‘standard’ of romantic literature if he acts like that.” 

The fifth one. The last one is always the worst.  

“I don’t have time to explain that again. I have something more important to tell you.”   “Mhm.” 

If he could just get it to fit right and make this work, he would be at the end of his experiment. Just a few more twists and- 

“I am leaving Sumeru tomorrow morning.” 

He halts. The screwdriver stands still not having finished the mission assigned to it. Something inside the machine cracks and for a second Zandik wonders if that noise came from inside of his own body. Shouldn’t he be mad? Upset? This is the first time you’re telling him about it. Wait, if so, it must be a silly trip that is meaningless and so insignificant you forgot to mention it.  

“Oh, are Haravatat students setting up camp somewhere again? Your darshan really likes to have bonding experiences.”  

Zandik continues to twist the screw; the machine failed but he will see this through to the end. Looking up at you when he already knows the answer from the silence that settles between the two of you would show his weakness. Zandik has no weaknesses anyone knows of. Zandik has a prideful disposition he will keep up regardless of what happens.  

“It is just me...remember how I said this romantic book is fascinating? I didn’t mean the romance of it; I meant the ruins that are described only briefly. They’re too detailed to not exist somewhere in Natlan! I am sure of it! I got permission to make them my thesis. Isn’t that great?”  

You never talked to him about your thesis plans. He was forced to listen to 5 hours of why the female lead’s arrogance was important in the novel but he wasn’t privy to something more intimate of your plans.  

He didn’t tell you much about his childhood and judgments of his villagers or classmates. He didn’t reveal anything significant about himself but...that library table was his intimate space which he allowed you to occupy. Nobody else.   And this place? Do you know how meaningful it is to him? To his dreams and aspirations as a researcher? Do you know how many nights he spent on the grass you are sitting on right now just trying to get his research to work? And, if it didn’t, the hours he spent hoping and cursing at the parts?  

Zandik suddenly felt cold towards you. He let you inside these intimate spaces and what did he let in return? Less loneliness? The two of you clearly didn’t connect as human beings. What does he know about you? He knows the way you write in the margins and the shapes you’d draw on his papers, he knows the way you talk when passionate – how he has to take one step to the left when you start debating a syntax issue unless he wants your outstretched hand to hit his cheek – he knows the annoying sound you make when drinking from straws; fuck, he even knows the patterns to your walks.  

Was this what you truly meant when you said humans cannot catch change? The fact that just now he realized how much he knows about you yet not enough to have predicted this?   The worst by far, is that he cannot find it in himself to yell at you for how he feels. He can’t yell at you for not knowing this... He knew that everyone travels for their thesis, so, he should say he expected it.  

You don’t need to know how he thought the two of you would travel to the same place but with different research objectives. Still, what else can he do besides let you go?  

He looks at you. Finally. But you wish that he hadn’t. This is an expression you’ve never seen on him before; an expression that makes leaving such a hard task even when you rely on not saying goodbye.  

Zandik sometimes reminded you of stoics; the way he would take every failure and success as equal opportunity without getting derailed. But, only now do you see his red eyes glow; the way they’re looking at you while hardly blinking – like he is trying to remember as much of you as possible to carry with him.  

You never could have guessed how right he was; how even that millisecond meant remembrance that haunts.  

The two of you don’t say goodbye that night. You wish each other luck and promise to compete on who can finish their thesis faster.  

Neither of you do.  

Zandik gets expelled for how obsessive he becomes.   And you get lost to time. Lost to Natlan.  

The last news Zandik hears about you does not come from any of your letters – they were only three after all. He hears from the Matra that you rushed inside a ruin and were lost forever. 

The word forever always had a special ring to him; that was the first time he hated it. If you were lost forever, he would simply be better than you. He would live forever and make sure to do everything he wanted. Ample time leads to ample rewards.  

Zandik, when he changes his name, abandons everything that grounded it. He throws away your letters and he throws away you. Only he knows what was harder to discard.  

iii. autumn

Dottore sometimes has to stand inside of his own lab to admire his work. The vastness of it and all the success and trust he has as well as the fact his clones are more advanced than ever; it all proves just how right he was. And just how wrong they were. 

Turning down a genius and trying to stop his advancement? Foolish.   Those people in the village that ostracised him? Insignificant. As well as their offspring that he never saw.   Only a few people had what it takes to contribute true research to this world. And they were lost or boxed in or stopped by something so trivial as the academia or governments.  

He stands above it all. As the ultimate showcase of unrivalled genius and absolute freedom. Nobody asks him what it means to be human anymore. They don’t consider him such; and every single day he slips down the path of being something that cannot answer that.  

His test subjects often shout about humanity and how he has none. He wonders if they realize how it means nothing. Seeing humans struggle and break does light up something in him. And he decided to chase that long ago.  

“Lord Harbinger.”  

He stays silent. Lord Harbinger is a title he refuses to answer to. Why should he turn his neck to the same words his inadequate colleagues do? If the person calling him doesn’t immediately correct himself, they know what happens next.  

“I mean, Doctor!” Good. Humans knew how to adopt quickly after all. He finally tilts up his neck towards the man. He takes off the mask covering his face just so that his subordinate could see the glare.  

“What do you want?”  “Something very odd is happening in quarter 7, section 31!”  “Odd? I didn’t even experiment in there recently and nothing important was placed there from my machinery.”   “We have no idea what is happening! There is a glow but no smoke or fire or anything else. We only thought it would be right to notify you.”  “A glow you say? Ah, perhaps it is a jinn lamp where a weak soul of older days slumbers. We did place the gifts of those nobles from all over Teyvat there. I told Pierro I don’t need them but he insisted I should keep them.”  

He twiddles with his pen.  

“That section is insignificant to me. I hold no care about it at all.” He takes a deep breath. If only it was section 37 instead. There, he was working on an experiment involving lay lines and ghostly souls. 

“Either way Doctor, the light just keeps on growing and we are afraid it will expand to other sections. What if one of the nobles turned against us? What if-”   “Shut your mouth, I will go. No matter how many times I look for capable people, they never meet my expectations.”  

Dottore gets up from his chair but with no zest. He saw bottles like those of jinn all the time years ago. The only thing less exciting about seeing one again are the white hallways he has to walk through to get to the room. The underling follows behind him, scurrying like a bug. Cosmically insignificant. To think that this bug’s energy will one day get the same treatment as those ghostly souls that actually matter.  

He opens the door and sees a bright blue light. There is no imminent danger. Perhaps the being inside this lamp recognized another presence inside the room and they are reacting to it? He shudders at the thought of having to deal with another ex-lovers pair that vowed revenge on one another.  

Dottore walks over to the source of the light. He cannot see the centre of it. It gives off a warmth however. And he wanted to roll his eyes at the way his subordinate shakes. But, his curious nature could never lay dormant for a long time.  

He realizes that he feels warmth from it, but his insignificant bug feels chills. Whatever this is, it could come in handy for his experiments that require temperature changes.  

Dottore reaches to grab it.  

“We tried that before Sir! Nothing changed!” 

Sir again. Not Doctor. The same second mistake cannot be forgiven.   Dottore’s hand grabs at the light core. He expects the feel and the weight of a marble.  

But it completely disappears.   Dottore’s face drops as does his excitement. The poor underling has no idea he will suffer for both his own actions and the fluctuations of Dottore’s moods.   The room is pitch black again. There is no sound coming from anywhere. The other subordinates ran off because they thought the light was dangerous. Dottore clicks his tongue in realizing he will have to replace them all again.  

Then, the bug behind him shrieks. He can hear him tumble onto the ground and run off as soon as he gets up. What a fool. He is yelling at the top of his lungs. Perhaps pulling out his tongue should teach him to be quiet.  

When Dottore turns around, he feels warmth engulf his body. He digs his heels into the floor to stop himself from moving. He hears a sound he hadn’t heard in years.  

“Zandik? I-Is that you?”  

He can hear your voice. He can hear you call out that acursed name. Why are you here? Why are you on the floor, hunched over and kneeling?  

“Zandik?” 

Stop saying that! Stop it! He can feel his right hand shake; he can feel his heart beat. Worst of all, he can hear the things the other clones are saying about this memory. It is becoming a part of the collective. He can hear the collective hope and heartbreak.  

“That is you. Isn’t it?”  

Your voice is so weak.  

“I haven’t answered to that name for 200 years now.”  

He cannot find it in himself to say anything else. The other clones are creating a ricocheting cacophony inside his brain. He should have thrown out more of his humanity. Didn’t he burn those letters? Why is he suddenly remembering lines from them? Why is one of his clones crying?  

“200 years..?” he can hear the bewilderment in your voice. When he looks down at you, he can see the tears in your eyes. You are afraid; they no longer hold any light.  

He kneels down and touches your shoulder to calm your shaking body. Only then does he get hit by the ugly revelation that you are laughing but there is no sound. You look like you are breaking in every sense of the word; he never managed to drive his test subjects to these limits where they would lose everything at once.  

He clicks his tongue. He shakes your shoulders with a grip that makes you yelp. Only then do you actually begin to cry. He takes it. He takes this breakdown over the utter lack of humanity you displayed before.  

“Zandik I-I"  “Dottore. My name is Dottore now.”  

He says it even if he is sure you can’t actually hear him. His voice can’t reach out to you even if he is kneeling down next to you, embracing you as a surprise to himself. You’re crying into his shoulder, slobbering and hiccupping.  

You ask him what it means to be human again.   He cannot answer you. He became something else.   You say that you aren’t sure about it anymore. That hurts more than his own lack of an answer. You should have come back in a different way. You should have come back pointing a finger at him, yelling to him about his choices. Maybe even yelling at him for not looking for you. Not like this. Never like this.  

Only when you faint in his arms does he notice the cuts and bruises on your body. For the first time since he changed his name – Dottore decides to treat someone like a real doctor. His subordinates have to live with that – seeing the ruthless harbinger who terrorizes them show some care. Command it even.  

It isn’t natural. It shouldn’t even exist. Seeing humanity from a man like that makes them question everything. He goes into your room 5 times a day, doesn’t let anyone else do anything besides keep guard. And then, in between those visits, he tortures children and experiments on them with poison and toxic remains. He gets blood all over his coat and then puts on a new one when knocking on your door.  

They can’t fathom it. It simply shouldn’t exist. And they start avoiding that door; because pretending like it doesn’t exist and pretending like their master is only ruthless makes it easier to live. 

And when you do wake up – it is impossible to ignore how their master’s humanity makes itself known. 

iv. winter

“You know I quite like this little habit of ours.” Dottore’s voice reminds you how wrong your predictions were. Since he came back earlier from Sumeru than you bet on, you now owe a large sum of mora to a certain banker.  

“I was not aware that it was a habit. You just come here whenever you please.”   “There is something to come to. Be a dear and fetch another tea cup for me, would you?” Typical him. Only he would be able to say such a line; implying that whatever this was between the two of you reminded him of a home.   But, even if you click your tongue, you get another tea cup and pour him some. At least you can remember your own humanity when your cold hands touch it and suddenly warmth seeps through. As a child, you loved to do it. You would put your hands in cold rain on purpose just to feel this simple warmth. You have a habit of taking off your gloves when drinking tea, he keeps his on. He has a habit of sitting next to you in the same way he did all those years ago.  

“Now, let me engage in ‘pure bragging’ as your lovely lips like to put it. Are you ready to hear of Sumeru again and just everything that I accomplished?”  

Something tells you not to give him that satisfaction. So you put the cup down and point a finger at him.  

“You’re more human now, Zandik.”  “How many times must I tell you not to use that name?”  “Until you figure out a way to go back into the past and change the name on your birth certificate to Dottore, and then glare at me in the library like you did when we met – I will continue to use it. That is your true name after all. Erase all records if you will, but I will remember it.”  

He doesn’t think about bragging anymore.  

“That library just looks more grand now, the people calling themselves researchers are anything but that.”  

You can feel when he dangles a hook in front of you. Taking it would give him far too much satisfaction.  

“He cried, you know.”  

He grips the handle.  

“I felt it, no need to mention it.”  “The youngest one, the one I was most fond of, cried when you killed all of them.”  “And some swore revenge. Are you trying to get me to focus on the feelings? You probably are, you’ve been annoying since the first day I met you.”  “And you still haven’t realized you cannot chase change. Tell me, were you surprised when she asked you that? Were you hesitant? Aren’t your clones proof of everything you ever wanted?”  “It is a shame you hadn’t gone with me.” He deflects it. “The archon would certainly like you. She too, kept asking about humanity and the lines I crossed.”  

Your tea has gone cold by now. Zandik always had a way of distracting you for longer than you’d like. 

“And were your answers to her something I would approve of?”  “You said I seemed more human now, is that not enough for you?”  “I am glad to see only one version of you now. I will take that as a start.”   “Unbelievable, by a stroke of luck which you call misfortune, you were granted even more time than me but you hate it.”  “We always differed in our definitions. I wasn’t blessed with this, I was cursed. I entered those runes to learn more of humanity but I was punished by my eagerness to lose my own.” 

He has to roll his eyes. 

“Just because you were blessed with so much time and can make a legacy like myself, it doesn’t mean you are no longer human. Would you like me to take you to see all those monsters? Perhaps some of my own research experiments?”   “You forget I am free to leave this place whenever I wish. And, neither of us have legacy.”  “Speak for yourself. You left and came back all those years ago because you said you hated me. Yet, here we are, drinking tea like always.”  “I came back because I was jealous of true humans.”  “And I pity you for being jealous of inferior creatures.”  “And I pity you for thinking you will ever leave a legacy that is fond of remembering.” 

“Careful there, your hateful gaze might make me forget you love me.”  “I don’t love you.” 

Dottore leans back in his chair and he laughs.  

“But you do. That is what proves your humanity. Always paradoxical and complex, disagreeing with my actions but realizing I am perhaps the only human that relates to you. We call the same thing by different names; but it won’t change either way.”  “I just don’t know why I came back to you from that forsaken ruin.”  “Should we call it fate?”  “You gave it an abstract name? Does it still bother you that you never found a way inside?”  

He places his hand over your own on the table. He looks at you, now knowing that the two of you were right not to exchange goodbyes that day. And you relax. There is always a memory that triggers when he is next to you, there is always that realization that he knows you as much as you know him. You share time now but you shared it all those decades ago. There is something to come back to; there is someone that remembers, calls out your name and responds to the one that leaves your mouth.  

Some invisible and intricate connection always existed between you. And, you could leave, you could stand up at this very moment and travel to wherever you wish. But, you would lose that. You would lose the feeling that someone knows you and you’ve always believed that to be know is to be loved.   People learn old languages because the love those that came before. Humans have a habit of desperately clutching onto their humanity even if it is smaller than a grain of sand. And, if you must, to keep yourself grounded and to stand there until he realizes his own mistakes and humanity – you will hold onto him. It has to be worth it in the end. There has to be a reason you share his existence and were teleported back in front of him on your knees.  

You just hope it means something grander that will constitute your own legacy. 

v. evermore

That night, he traces the hickeys he left on your neck. It is one of the few times he takes off his gloves so that his human skin meets your own.  

“Ask me again.”  “I will not ask you for another round.”  “No,” he clicks his tongue, “ask me that question.”  “Are you aware that you are more obsessed with humanity than me, oh doctor? Laughable.”  “Just ask.”  “Fine. What makes you human?” 

He moves his hand down to your waist and pulls you closer to him. How could he ever ask you to use the name Dottore when his eyes have been the same all these years whenever he looks at you? You don’t get a chance to marvel at them for too long, he buries his face in your neck.  

“You. Having you here keeps me human. Sometimes I think we were destined to be together.”  

Nobody else knows this side of him. And in your opinion, selfish as it may be, they don’t deserve to know. 

“Oh, is the genius doctor now speaking about fate and destiny? What grand words you use. We weren’t destined to be together, we were doomed to be together.”  

There you go. Ruining a romantic moment by reminding him how differently the two of you look at this situation you’re in.   He groans. Perhaps you will come around one day, even if it has been 300 years since your return. What matters is that you returned to him by fate and by your own choice after travelling.  

“Hey! Zandik, bite my neck one more time I will force you to sleep on the couch.”  “If we were indeed doomed to be together, we might as well make the most of it and – are you trying to bite me back?”  “Your teeth were always annoyingly sharp!”  “And the noises you made 500 years ago when drinking are still annoying to this day.”  “That’s it. Go sleep on the couch, I don’t want to look at you right now.” 

a/n: legit this is so self indulgent cus it is how I imagine my relationship with this red flag would be. it isn't really toxic it is just philosophies not matching up. dottore is too fond of humanity without realizing it and i will make him suffer for it. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. hope dottore anon likes it.

Another nurse has arrived! 🧪

First fic i've ever written has been posted ! Give it some love ^^!

An angel disguised in pink!

Aged up! No curse AU!Megumi Fushiguro x Jirai Kei! Reader

Summary : Megumi just turned 21, and has already received an invite from Gojo Satoru - to go drinking. It's Gojo, after all. He's seeing faces he vaguely remember from college, but fresh faces were uncommon, even in a Gojo party. You, dressed like an angel in pink, piqued his interest.

WARNINGS : people getting DRUNK, you can tell i've never been to a party and drank, mentions of addiction to host clubs, a smudge of angst maybe if you squint really hard, mostly fluff though

Word count : 1.4K (it's so short!!)

AUTHORS NOTE!!: Hello everyone... I started writing this like yesterday and wasn't aware today was his actual birthday..... ALSO this is my first time writing and i'm not 100% in my english..!! I'm not familiar with posting on tumblr as a whole, so with the layout and all that, i'm not quite familiar. Please give me some leeway with that kind of stuff. also, my laptop kind of broke while i was trying to post this, so im typing this from my touchscreen ipad. It's a little annoying, but oh well..

This was also LIGHTLY inspired by @lokissweater 's mlb megumi... i know its not anything close to their levels of writing, but i was kinda inspired to write megumi for my Landmine reader from her and how she writes Megumi.

I talked too much, i'll just let you read it already ^^"...

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The club Megumi found himself in wasn’t particularly big, but it buzzed with energy. The space was packed with familiar faces—classmates, acquaintances, and a handful of people he’d crossed paths with at one point or another. As soon as he’d turned 21, Gojo had dragged him along to this club, boasting about it being owned by one of Geto’s many “connections.” What Gojo failed to mention was that it was a private party. Not that it mattered much; Megumi realized he wasn’t exactly out of his element.

Most of the crowd blurred together as people he vaguely recognized, but there were a few exceptions. Two were Shoko’s friends, chatting animatedly by the bar. The third was a girl—you—whom Megumi didn’t recognize at all. The strobe lights bathed the room in eye-numbing neon green, but even through the haze, the soft pink of your blouse stood out.

You caught his gaze from across the room, and when your eyes met, you offered a small, awkward smile accompanied by a polite nod. Megumi’s eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks warming with the faintest blush—thankfully hidden by the poor lighting. Still, he managed a curt nod in return, stiff and reserved as ever.

Nobara, watching the interaction from her spot by the bar, smirked to herself. She’d invited you along partly because she knew you enjoyed the club scene, but mostly because an idea had begun forming in her head. You… and Megumi… Yeah, that had potential.

While most of the party (including a very drunk Gojo and Shoko) had taken over the dance floor, Megumi stayed firmly planted at the edge of the chaos, arms crossed. He sighed, his gaze flicking between the reckless dancing and his untouched canned beer.

Adults.

Gojo, currently in a drunken dance battle with Itadori, was reason enough for Megumi to swear off drinking tonight. Witnessing the sheer level of intoxication his mentor had achieved was enough to keep him sober.

Lost in thought, Megumi didn’t notice you approach until he felt the chill of a bottled green tea press against his arm. He startled slightly, turning to find you standing beside him, a tentative smile on your face.

“Figured you might want this. You didn’t touch your beer all night,” you said, holding out the tea.

For a moment, he just blinked at you, caught off guard. Then, taking the bottle, he muttered a quiet, “Thanks. Uh…”

“Oh, right. Um, I’m Y/N.” You dug into your pink MCM bag before pulling out a similar bottle of green tea for yourself.

“So… you’re not a fan of alcohol?” you asked, idly adjusting the lace on your skirt.

Megumi shrugged, taking a sip of the tea. “Not when Gojo’s around. Someone’s gotta stay sober enough to drag him home.”

“Fair enough. He does seem… like a lot.” You cast a concerned glance at the “honored one” himself, doing the Worm on the floor.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Megumi said, the corners of his lips lifting subconsciously. For the first time, he felt like he was actually enjoying himself that night.

A comfortable pause settled as you both observed the other guests.

“You’re… friends with Nobara, right?” Megumi turned his attention to Nobara, who was on the dance floor with a cocktail in hand, her face flushed red from the alcohol she’d ingested, and a feather boa draped across her shoulders like something out of a ’90s movie.

“Yeah. She dragged me along tonight. Said it’d be fun. And I just figured I’d come over and say hi since you looked kind of… out of place.” You laughed softly, his plain shirt and baggy jeans a stark contrast to the vibrant, flashy outfits in the room.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair he hadn’t cared to style.

“A little. You’re the only one here who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

“I’m just not big on crowds. Or neon lights. Or drunk people.”

Another moment of silence passed as you nodded in understanding, observing the dance floor growing even more chaotic.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” Megumi said, cocking his head toward the unfolding disasters (Geto spilling his drink onto a very pissed-off Nanami).

“I, uh, I’m used to the nightlife. I used to frequent a lot of bars and nightclubs.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Used to? You don’t anymore?”

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the green tea bottle in your hands. “Not as much, no. I… got addicted at one point, I guess. I was filling a void in myself. But I realized it wasn’t healthy.”

Megumi’s expression softened, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to curiosity. “Addicted?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Not just clubs—host clubs, mostly. I’d go out all the time, spending way too much money just to be around people who’d tell me what I wanted to hear. For a while, I thought it was fun, but… I guess I was filling a void. They hook you in, you know? They leave you alone, and when you start getting desperate, you spend more.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Host clubs?”

You glanced at him, gauging his reaction, and let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s not the most… admirable thing. But when you’re feeling empty, it’s easy to get addicted to the attention. They make you feel special, even if it’s just an act.”

Megumi took a moment to process your words, his gaze steady but without judgment. “What made you stop?”

You smiled faintly, your expression a mix of self-awareness and vulnerability. “I realized it wasn’t real. I was paying for affection, not earning it. And honestly? It wasn’t making me happy—it was just a distraction. So I quit and started focusing on myself. It’s not easy, but… I’m trying.”

He nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “That… takes a lot of self-awareness. Most people wouldn’t even admit they were doing it to fill a void.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks. I’m not sure if it’s self-awareness or just running out of money.”

That earned a soft chuckle from Megumi, and for the first time that night, the tension between you eased.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting the focus. “You don’t seem like the type to… well, pay for attention.”

He leaned against the wall, thinking. “Not really my thing. I guess I’ve always been more focused on the people I already care about.”

You nodded, impressed by his grounded perspective. “Must be nice. Knowing you’re enough without needing to hear it from someone else.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “I think everyone needs to hear it sometimes. Just… not in that way.”

A quiet moment passed between you, the chaotic energy of the club fading into the background.

Finally, you broke the silence with a teasing smile. “So, if clubs aren’t your thing, what is? What would you do for fun?”

“Honestly?” Megumi said, his lips quirking in a rare smile. “Probably stay home with a book or go to a quiet park. Somewhere peaceful.”

You grinned, leaning closer. “A book and a park? You’re a walking cliché.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t seem annoyed. “And you’re not, Miss ‘Host Clubs for the Guys’?”

“Touché,” you said, laughing softly. “But hey, if you ever get curious, I can recommend a few places.”

“Pass,” he said, shaking his head, but the amusement in his voice made it clear he wasn’t dismissing you.

“Your loss,” you teased, taking another sip of your tea. “But seriously, thanks for not judging me. Most people wouldn’t be so… understanding.”

He looked at you, his expression earnest. “Everyone’s got their reasons.”

Your chest tightened slightly at his words, and you found yourself smiling in a way you hadn’t in a long time. “You’re a lot deeper than I expected, Megumi.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, but there was warmth in his tone.

And just like that, the club felt a little less overwhelming, and the two of you felt a little more connected. Fein by Travis Scott played in the background of the packed bar at 1:23 a.m. Gojo and Geto slumped over each other groggily as the alcohol took its toll. Itadori darted around, still inexplicably full of energy, while Nobara stood barefoot, heels in hand, complaining to Maki. 

Somehow, amidst the chaos, this moment felt peaceful.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

(I hope everyone liked this... I probably will write a continuation or maybe make it a series when i have the time to.)

To Have A Heart

ೃ⁀➷ fluffvember calendar

ೃ⁀➷ beta read by @xiao6ao because she's a queen

ೃ⁀➷ scaramouche x gn!reader | angst - fluff / reverse comfort | even after his three betrayals, you never left him

Among the bed of flowers, he laid, breathing in the chilly breeze that shouldered his scattered thoughts. A seed of unease grew ever more deeply within his chest, a place where he always yearned for a beating heart to live. Yet no matter how hard he had prayed to the gods, his pleas were never heard. Instead, a dreadful emptiness had filled him, and followed him in every waking moment.

The grass beneath him prickled his back as the blooming petals drew closer to caress his arms, a bittersweet sensation he silently rested in as the glowing sun cast shimmering specks across his glistening face. Eyes drifting shut to the waves of a nearby river, he decided then that he’d let the melody of nature distract him from the burdens that seemed to weigh heavier on his chest with each passing day. He was almost at peace with his mind— that was, until he heard the familiar chirp of his name, frantic steps accompanied by earth’s crunch underfoot growing near.

"Kuni! Ah, I thought I was too late."

And of course it was you, the one person that constantly occupied his mind— more often than not against his will.

He couldn't escape you, he realized; even after his third betrayal, you trailed along behind him like a lost duckling in pursuit of its mother and hunted him down whenever he tried to flee. He couldn't fathom why anyone would go through such a hassle for a puppet— a defective puppet like him— but deep in his conflicted mind, he realized he lived for every ray of your light, no matter how adamant his calling became.

The smile you gifted him beneath every gaze, the food you would cook and plead for him to taste, the joyous laughter you blessed him with whenever he did something “funny” or made an expression you deemed cute; they were enough to turn his porcelain skin a cherry red, a color he tried to hide by turning away, tugging his veil closer to his tinted cheeks, though it did little to conceal his flustered self. His denial only seemed to encourage your antics, you poking and prodding at his cheeks before he inevitably gave in with a sigh.

He wanted to be mad at the world. He wanted to breathe hatred upon the creator that deemed him worthless, to never again entrust his fate in so-called family, to no longer find himself relying on the pathetic lives of those fragile and simple-minded mortals... but he couldn't, because you had yet to break your promise and abandon him as well. He was a needle, hanging by your everlasting thread, unable to cut the lines that held onto his every limb, unlike his former master.

Your figure cast a soft shadow across him as you came to a rest beside him and leaned over. Wisteria hues fluttered open to meet your beaming face— a face he was always so fond of.

You smiled. "I missed you, you know."

"Why?" He questioned without skipping a beat, startling you. A pained expression conquered his features momentarily as he thought of all the reasons why you shouldn't miss him. All the reasons why you should have long parted ways, yet... He turned to you, the grass beneath him balled into his fist, struggling in his tight grasp as hurt became evident in his words.

"Why haven't you left me... like all the others?" Your heart ached, daring to crack alongside his voice. He could do nothing but feel vulnerable under your watchful gaze, withering away like his resolve for a better life.

Fear bubbled in his chest as tears threatened to break free from his lashes, twisting every fiber within you. And it was then you realized, he was waiting. To him, he didn't see the need of you prolonging your time with him, waiting for you to end this fruitless game and to become his fourth betrayal so the pain of your departure wouldn't hurt so bad.

You sighed, melancholic eyes settling on the discarded vessel that was this boy. The warmth of your hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into your touch, despite his conflicted feelings. If only he could rest in a grave of flowers with your touch for eternity. But eternity would be the death of him, because eternity will mark the death of you. Yet, eternity could wait, for every moment he spent with you was to be cherished like it was your last, but only in the absence of fear that tended to crawl agonizingly across his being.

You leaned in, capturing his shocked gaze as it glistened over with something akin to adoration, and Kunikuzushi swore he felt a fluttering in his chest when you whispered gently against his skin.

"Because," Your lips caressed his soft ones, stealing the worries and doubts he harbored and replacing it with a familiar yet foreign emotion. In seconds, he drowned in your embrace, sinking further into your hold and diving deeper into the love you poured out for him. It was like all his prayers had been answered with one action. And if such a blessing was weaved by false hope and deception, he would blindly follow it again to the very last flame and ember, and burn in your dying flame, marking his fourth betrayal.

No longer did he feel so hollow and empty or out of place, not when he had you to fill him with the beautiful waves of life, calming the raging storm that swirled in his head. Oh how he would hopelessly be washed away by everything you offered him, and he would die on this very hill if it meant he could relive this moment again with you.

He pulled you on top of him, pressing feverish kisses to your fleeting lips when you parted for air. You giggled, indulging him in a few more before you lifted yourself to look into his serene eyes, fingers sifting amethyst strands behind his ear. Three more words whispered gently, the feeling in his chest becoming clear behind the meaning of your confession.

"I love you."

And with that, you unknowingly gave him something his creator failed to do, weaving a ball of electro beneath the skin of his hollow form. He could feel it, the thrumming of life seeping through his being and sounding loud in his ears, another revelation dawning on him that it was in sync with the sound in your chest.

A heart, his heart, coexisting along with yours and fluttering just below your hand that rested on his figure. But how, how could a mortal bless him with something he shouldn't have? Something he couldn't have.

Because I love you.

Your declaration, your vow, your promise— it sealed away the darkness that had filled him, replacing the negative essence with something he craved all his life. Your last words broke the dam of his godly irises, beautiful currents of triumph spilling down his rosy chin.

"I love you, Kunikuzushi."

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reblogs appreciated (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

tw eggpregg

Tentacle dildos but not silicone molded into tentacles shapes—actual alive tentacles the size of a dildo, some bigger, some smaller, that you have to keep and care for like anemones in an aquarium. They love wet and warm crevices because they're used to laying their eggs in them. Since they've been domesticated for the general market, they've developed a symbiotic relationship with humans. When removed from the water, they search your body for that warm hole to breed, glide into your ass or pussy and start fucking you until they come inside you. The eggs will develop and leave your body eventually, requiring an additional one-week incubation period. Once they have hatched, they grow fairly quickly into full-sized tentacles and boom, you got yourself a dozen more that compete for your holes.

If you're not into the whole eggpregg business—they recently crossbred two types of tentacles whose come is sterile. They have been cleared and declared as safe, but the crossbreeding resulted in some unforeseen side-effects. Tentacles that came once or twice per session now have a seemingly unlimited amount of come that they shoot into you until they tire, and the slippery mess it makes has been declared a safety hazard by several consumers now.

If you're not in for the clean-up, you can have them fuck you during their infertile period, which lasts about two weeks. Their self-lubrication is not as active during that time, making for an interesting textural experience, especially with the bumpy ones. But be careful—while infertile, they simply won't finish and just keep fucking you, which can lead to some very long sessions that some customers have called ‘too intense’.

dreams come true

[art cr: @343_sashimiiiii on twt]

sub xiao x sub adeptus! gn reader ft tentacles

SUMMARY = inspired by an inazuman manga, you and xiao make use of your powers to summon a tentacled cyptid in your dreams...to have sex with of course

WARNINGS = smut, penetration (reader receiving), oral (reader + xiao giving), tentacles, bondage, dacryphilia, double penetration, overstimulation, reader calls xiao their "poor little bird" once, dream sharing and then dream fucking, both reader and xiao gets fucked by tentacles and then the tentacles make them fuck each other, their relationship is very wholesome they just fuck a lot too :)

W/C = 2k

A/N = i burnt the midnight oil for this please be proud of me :( also thank you to @vermillionbun for betaing <3

TAGS = @edenialucas, @huboi, @nejibot, @lovediluc, @yumixxn, @teallapril, @xiaoflwrs who asked me to tag her (you fucking whore)

The ability to bend and manipulate dreams is not a skill unfamiliar to adepti. But it is a skill you have long forgone in favour of your other adeptal arts. Thankfully, your partner has much experience in the art. If you could just convince him to–

“Outrageous. We are adepti. Our duty is to use our abilities to protect Liyue and its inhabitants. To use those abilities in such a sacreligious manner–”

“Would be perfect! Just think about it, Xiao! All those slimy tentacles…groping and touching every part of your body…so long and bulbous…filling up all your holes…”

You rub your thighs against each other as you conjure up that image in your head, while Xiao furrows his eyebrows. Although he would ask himself how in Rex Lapis’ name someone with your carefree personality became an adeptus, he already knows the answer to that. Having fought alongside you in the Archon War, he has witnessed firsthand your dedication and your steadfast attitude, purging enemies of the Great Lord of Geo with your weapon in tow. Truly, the ferocity in your eyes was a sight a behold, a terrifying side of you that made monsters cower in terror.

And this…is another side of you.

Ever since the Lord of Geo handed his control of the nation to the Qixing, you decided to acquaint yourself with mortal customs and activities, although your interest led you to questionable territory. Particularly, a type of illustration-focused literature known as manhua; which is a compelling concept in itself, worthy to capture the interest of an adeptus. The baffling part is that all the books that you have collected…are from the erotic genre.

Out of curiosity, Xiao once picked up one of your books and flipped open to a random page, only to find a detailed drawing of a naked couple having sex on a beach staring back at him. The worst part is, you weren’t even ashamed when you returned and found out that your s/o had discovered the true nature of your hobby, even pulling him down to sit beside you as you rambled on and on about the contents of your favourite books, all while Xiao fought — and failed to — suppress the red overtaking his face and ears.

He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week after that.

He eventually grew accustomed to your strange interest and upon your suggestion, started using your books for inspiration in sexual activities; though everything from the novels in that area has always been proposed by you.

This is just one of those cases. Upon learning of your newfound interest, an old acquaintance from across the ocean sent you books from her publishing house — apparently they go by the term manga in those parts — claiming it may come in handy. A few days have past since then, bringing you to today, with you shoving a book about an erotic love story between a tentacled-monster and a girl and begging Xiao to make the story a reality. Or close to reality.

“Your ability is adequate to form such a dream.” Xiao crosses his arms. “I don’t understand why I need to be involved.”

“Because it would be a nice bonding experience, don’t you think?” you insist. “Come on, it would make our sex life more interesting! And I can tell by that look in your eyes that you’re curious.”

Xiao scoffs. “Preposterous.”

“Oh well,” You shrug, laughing. “I won’t force you if you really don’t want to. Sex is supposed to be fun and it’s no fun if you’re doing it reluctantly.”

Fun…

That concept would have been lost from his mind eons ago if it wasn't for you; you who always pestered him, you who would bring him almond tofu and other human cuisine. Food which he would have instantaneously turned down if only it wasn’t made by you. You, the adeptus who welcomes change and dives headfirst into it. You, the person he would suffer through another millennia’s worth of torment for, just to protect your blinding brilliance. He takes one more look at the book in your hands as you skim through the pages, recalling the soft smile on your lips after the first time the two of you had intercourse together, the bliss that washed over him and cleansed his soul just for that one moment.

“It baffles me how you would find amusement in such an obscene thought.” He wets his lips, thinking of the vivid image you had described to him and the matching illustrations. “But I would like to know more.”

Your head shoots up. “You… you really want to try it? You really don’t have to force yourself if you aren’t interested…”

“You said it yourself didn’t you?”

You tilt your head.

"And I can tell by that look in your eyes that you’re curious."

Oh.

Oh.

“Xiao!” You jump into his arms. “I love love looooove you so much!”

The yaksha grunts, trying to suppress the glowing pink blossoming at the apples of his cheeks.

—

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes again is an empty cavern. He awoke on a circular platform surrounded with water, thankfully with you beside him, just like the both of you imagined. You stir awake, gasping upon realising that your plan worked. “We did it, Xiao! We did it!” 

He stares at the scenery in awe, before tensing up at the feeling of movement under the water. A lone tentacle spews out of the water, greeting the both of you. You step forward, beckoning the creature closer. It rubs against you and you laugh, returning the gesture with a kiss. Xiao takes slow steps, approaching the creature with the stiffness of a startled cat. A tap on his shoulder forces him to whip his head around, particles floating to form his spear, when he realises it’s just another tentacle. It backs away, whimpering.

“It senses your nervousness, Xiao,” you say. “Relax, I told you that this is supposed to be fun. We’re both in control.”

Heeding your advice, Xiao awkwardly pats the creature. After some hesitation, it nuzzles against his hand, wrapping itself around his arm to the exposed skin on his bicep. The texture is slimy yet comforting. No surprise there, since you imagined the slime to have a calming effect when the both of you did the ritual. Just to ensure that the experience would be smoother.

More tentacles pop out of the water, surrounding the both of you. Xiao holds his breath as they wrap around him — around his legs, waist, arms — and hoists him several feet off the ground. One of them smears his crotch with its slime, another climbs up his chest to play with his sensitive nipples. Amber irises dart to you in panic, widening at the sight of your aroused expression as a thick tentacle moves in and out of your mouth while the others peel off your clothing. He watches one of your legs being pulled up and you choke as a phallic-shaped tentacle penetrates your hole. In this dream, it doesn’t hurt as much as it normally would and the excessive slime provides enough lubricant for the pleasure to undermine the pain.

Xiao’s attention is brought back to himself at a sound of fabric ripping. The tentacles waste no time in toying with the newly exposed area, smothering his pristine body with stickiness. A smaller tendril circles the base of his bare cock, stroking it to hardness. The adeptus’ body shivers, unable to withhold the soft moans coming from his mouth.

Most adepti either have high sex drives or have little to no desire. Xiao happens to fall in the latter category; until you pursued a romantic relationship with him, of course. As such, thousands of years without receiving or giving any kind of intimacy made his body — especially his nether regions — especially sensitive. He couldn’t stop himself from cumming immediately the first time you gave him a handjob, and even after sleeping with you for so many nights, he has to use his entire willpower to stop himself from ejaculating right then and there.

A light caress at his tip nearly sets him off, forcing a gasp out of him that is immediately silenced by another cock-shaped tentacle filling his mouth. Xiao struggles to take it in at first, so it waits for him to get adjusted. The adeptus gives himself a second to quell his nerves, breathing in through his nose before he begins sucking on the appendage. The size is…a lot to take in — literally and figuratively — and he couldn't help the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. It's long too, the shaft-like part of it hitting the back of his throat with little to no effort. How in Rex Lapis’ name are you able to take this thing so easily?

Still, Xiao does his best; spurred on by the tendrils toying with his dick and your muffled moans echoing through the cave. The yaksha has to restrain his gag reflex when the appendage in his mouth starts picking up speed. The contrast of the cold tendril and his hot mouth feels intoxicating, not to mention he is literally ingesting that calming enzyme mixed into the slime. In the midst of the lewd noises and the pleasure, his brain turns into mush and he barely registers the thick fluid gushing down his throat. He coughs as the tentacle retreats, viscous white spilling down his chin.

Xiao hears coughing beside him and he turns to see the creature has moved the both of you next to each other. Instinctively, the two of you lock lips, tongues intertwining and exchanging the monster’s cum through your mouths. Archons, he didn’t realise how much he misses your lips. If his arms weren’t bound at the back, he would have reached out to hold you. The two of you part, and you stare into Xiao’s cat-like amber irises; sharing a longing gaze as your chests rise and fall with exhaustion. The moment is interrupted when the tentacles shift the two of you again. This time, Xiao is underneath you while your legs are lifted up to your chest. 

“Wha– oh!”

A cry — yours, his or both, he wonders — resounds off the walls as you were slammed down on Xiao’s cock, before being lifted up and slammed back down again, over and over again at an inhumane speed. Hot tears stream down Xiao’s cheeks, overstimulated by the sudden euphoric cruelty brought upon by the creature. He tosses his head back, delirious at all the sensations he’s experiencing. The wet tentacles on his body, your tight hole clamping down on him so earnestly, his dick ploughing inside your deepest parts. It feels too unreal. 

Just like a dream. 

“X-Xiao! Xiao!”

He hears your calls for him in the sea of lust, hidden beneath the other vulgar moans and sloppy sounds. 

“(Name)…!”

He can’t take it anymore. The intimacy and pleasure of the moment completely overtakes Xiao's mind and he unravels at that moment, gasping as he gives all of his precious cum to you. Spurred on by his orgasm, you squeal as you tighten around him, reaching your climax a few seconds after. Xiao heaves, trying to catch his breath while the tentacles shift the two of you back to the ground. The moment they return back to the water, your body collapses on top of your lover

“(Name)?” He panics.

“Hnnn…it’s okay, I’m fine,” you assure him. “Just tired.”

Xiao calms down immediately, and wraps his arms around you. “Let us return.”

—

“Hah…that was fun!” you yawn, stretching your arm. “Let’s do it again some other time.”

It’s like the tiredness in your body vanished the moment you woke up in reality — you look even more invigorated that before — while Xiao could barely even move, only managing to grunt in response.

“Aww my poor little bird…” you coo, kissing your lover on the cheek. “Was it too much for you?”

“Ugh…because I was the one who had to stabilise that dream,” he mutters, shooting a half-hearted glare.

You laugh. “Okay, okay. Did you have fun, though?"

“...Hmph, I suppose.”

“Good.” You smile, kissing him again.

Everyone, I've posted a new fic..!!!! ʚ₍ᐢ ›̥̥̥ ༝ ‹̥̥̥ ᐢ₎ɞ It's my first angst fic, so give it lots of love ><..

Sunlight.

DEAD!Megumi x Grieving! Reader

summary: In the wake of Megumi's death, you're left haunted by the quiet moments you've shared, the unspoken words, and the last goodbye that never came. Clinging to the memories of a love that felt unfinished, replaying the moments you wish you could have held onto forever. Grief, in all its silence, becomes a space you learn to inhabit, where the echoes of your lost connection linger just out of reach.

WARNINGS: (mentioned) character death, depression, ANGST!!!!!!!, heartbreak

Word count : 1134 words (I thought it would be short, but i just kept going with it and here we are....)

a/n: First time writing something super angsty!!! I hope you all enjoyed it... I think I did really well! (˶˃ᆺ˂˶) ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You didn’t say much that morning. But that wasn’t unusual. You never did.

You stood by the door for a second longer than usual. Glanced back at me. And in your eyes—just for a moment— there was something soft. Something final.

I should’ve noticed. Should’ve asked why you weren’t wearing that fake bored look you always put on before missions. Should’ve stopped pretending I was too busy to get up and kiss you goodbye.

But I didn’t. I waved. Lazy. Distracted. Said, “Don’t die, dumbass.”

And you huffed a laugh. That almost-smile. Then turned and left.

No last words. No “I love you.” Not even a real look.

Just the soft click of the door closing.

And now I keep replaying that moment, over and over, like if I stare at it long enough, I’ll see something I missed.

A message. A sign. A warning.

But there’s nothing. Just you, fading into the morning light, shoulders squared like always, like you were walking into something you’d already accepted.

You always were like that— quiet, distant,

I know now— you were protecting me. Not just from the mission. From the goodbye.

Because if you had said anything real, anything final, I would’ve shattered right there.

But you knew me. Knew I needed to believe you'd be back. So you gave me silence. And left all the words unspoken.

Now I cling to them. The ones you never said. The look you gave me like it might’ve been enough. The quiet care folded into every goodbye you never made a big deal of.

I never got to say it back. But I hope you knew. Hope my half-wave meant please come back, and my lazy grin meant I need you, and my stupid parting words meant I love you more than I know how to say.

I hope you carried that with you. To wherever you are. Wherever you went.

Because I still carry you— in the silence. In the warmth that lingers. In the things we never said but always meant.

Some days, I still set a place for you. Not a real one. Not forks and plates. But a space—next to me, in the quiet. In the pauses between songs. In the second half of a sentence I never finish anymore.

I don’t think people vanish. Not really. You’ve just… sunk beneath the surface of everything.

You’re in the smell of summer pavement after rain. In the echo of a laugh I hear once and never again. In the way I turn, sometimes, too fast—thinking you're there. And the second after, when I remember.

You would’ve hated how soft I am now. How small I’ve gotten. I used to be louder around you. Stranger. Braver. Real.

Now I just exist. Sleep. Wake. Float.

Some days I still wonder what you were thinking. Before. When the silence started pressing too hard, when the light got too far away.

Did you know I would miss you like this? Like a phantom limb? Like an entire future collapsing in slow motion?

I still dream of you. Not as a ghost. Not as someone gone. But as you were—messy, warm, your sharp eyes, good with the dogs, awkward.

You always knew how to ruin me with a smile.

And when I wake up— when the dream folds shut like a book I never finished— there’s that moment. Where the air remembers you.

Where the world almost feels like it did before.

And I just lie there. Quiet. Staring at the ceiling like maybe you’ll come back with the morning light.

You don’t.

But I keep waking up anyway.

If I could stay in a moment… Yeah. I think I would.

But only that one. The one that slipped past like sunlight on water— brief, warm, gone before I could hold it.

It wasn’t anything special. Just your laugh, maybe. The way your voice stumbled when you were too tired to filter your thoughts. The way we both said nothing, and it still meant everything.

I replay it sometimes. That soft little second in the blur of days. You looked at me as if I were made of light. Me pretending I didn’t notice.

But I did. God, I did.

And now it’s fading.

Like all beautiful things do—too fast, too quiet, too soon.

I try to keep it. Bottle it up, hide it away, memorize the sound of it. But it slips. It always slips.

And maybe I was never meant to keep you. Maybe we were always going to be this—just a blink between lifetimes. Something bright and impossible and almost.

But still, I find myself reaching— in dreams, in quiet hours, in the soft hush of early morning— hoping, maybe, you’re doing the same.

Just for a moment. Just one.

You and me. Caught between the seconds. Still turning, still drifting, Still almost real.

I woke up like usual,

flipping to my side, and you’re still not there.

If I could’ve said something that mattered… Yeah. I think I would have.

But it all happened so fast. Too fast to hold. Too fast to save.

One minute, you were laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. And then— just air. Just a silence too big to fill.

People said it was peaceful. That you didn’t feel a thing. But I think they said that for me, not for you. Because I felt it. The echo where your voice should’ve been. The coldness in places you once warmed.

You were gone, and the sky didn’t change.

I hate that.

I hate that the world kept spinning, like you were never here at all.

But I remember.

I remember the exact shape of your presence— the way time curved when you smiled, the way your fingertips lingered a second too long, like you were always about to say goodbye but never quite did.

Maybe you knew. Maybe you knew.

And maybe I didn’t want to believe it.

Now, I go back to where you still exist— the songs we shared, the notes you left, the way your name looks written in my handwriting. 

Your jacket still lingered of your scent.

Your toothbrush is still hanging in my bathroom cabinet.

It’s like you’re going to be back, but I promised myself.

I can’t keep deceiving myself with lies like those. 

You’re not going to be back. Not to collect your toiletries,

And even more so not to collect the memories we’ve shared together. 

And so I replay it— the moment before you left. The last laugh. The last word. The last time you looked at me like I was something worth staying for.

The world spins, but I stay still. In the memory of you. In the breath before the end. In the place where I almost kept you.