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#i want to pat him on the head gently
potatobugz · 6 months
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its like this, basically
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th3e-m4ng0 · 3 months
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cloudiurmoon · 3 months
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H E
I found him at a local k-mart and boy will I tell you I haven't been this excited to buy something in a long time.
My collection grows...
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killuaisaprincess · 3 months
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polka dot
“Ah!”
Gon moves his hand out, catching him, and Killua grips his finger.
“Wow! Careful.”
Gon hums with a concerned smile as Killua glances up, the tips of his ears red as he slowly lets go of Gon’s index finger.
Killua’s wings flap twice in quick succession.
Gon stares with his mouth open, and his face feels warm.
Killua’s so cute…
“You sure do get excited about fashion, don’t you? Almost as excited as you do over chocolate.”
Killua humphs, sticking his nose in the air and folding his arms across his chest.
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blue-mood-blue · 2 years
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“Do you think I’m dead?”
Nureyev sets down his pen. Wherever he’d been before now, whatever space his mind occupied, washes away with cold water. The voice behind him (on the bed, he imagines) sounds only mildly curious. “Again?” He barely breathes the question into the air in front of him, and it doesn’t reach that far back.
“You know, in a cold ditch somewhere,” Juno continues, teasing. Nureyev knows what he’d see if he turned around, down to the last detail, so he looks at the desk in front of him instead. It’s familiar - the same whorls in the wood grain he’d seen hundreds of times, the same scattering of papers and the other paraphernalia inevitably collected when one lives in one space for an extended amount of time. Most of them don’t exist anymore, purposefully and dispassionately removed by his own hand. Left behind and lost in the chaos, not to be found again.
Something traitorous in his mind supplies: Just like the person behind you, isn’t that right?
Juno doesn’t say that. Not this time. They’ve had this conversation often enough that Nureyev thinks every barb and biting word his detective could possibly come up with have already been aimed and fired into his back with the expert eye of a sharpshooter, but they’re still here. If there’s a right answer for that question, Nureyev hasn’t discovered it yet.
“Why would I think that?” The opening salvo is a hand he’s played before, and Nureyev wonders if Juno is disappointed. He doesn’t sound as if he is; he never sounds like much, while they talk around each other.
“You read the file.” A shifting of sheets. Juno is making himself comfortable, and Nureyev picks up the pen again. Anything else. Anything to keep his hands full, his eyes pointed in front of him. Anything to prevent him from giving in and walking to that bed, because that would be a mistake. “One shot, lethal, aimed at the heart. And if that’s not bad enough, tossed into the airlock that was opened, what, no more than a minute later? I think she had it down to the second, didn’t she? For someone with no one left to report to, Wire still writes up one hell of a report.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” It’s a weak denial. It even sounds weak, worn thin with use.
“Optimistic of you,” Juno says, still mild. Still not accusatory, or angry, or any of the things he should be. “Especially since you know how many prisoners were on the ship out of there. You think I would have let that asteroid blow up with Rita on it if I was alive to do anything?”
Nureyev clutches the pen. It creaks with the pressure. There’s a fresh wound that Juno’s poking at now, prodding into bleeding; Nureyev tried. The moment he’d realized the prison had a prisoner less than it should have, the moment he’d ferreted out a sliver of information that might lead him in the right direction… He’d looked anyway. He’d wasted valuable days sifting through debris, unsure if it was a relief or new agony every moment he didn’t find anything. He didn’t find anything. The exhaustion broke down a wall in him, and he’d had the fleeting thought that maybe it was better that Juno was gone if it meant he didn’t have to know Rita followed him.
The thought had been unkind to Nureyev. It had teeth, and it tore at him until all he could do was find a quiet corner, retreat, and let it do its damage until his breath could squeeze out from his chest again and his heart stopped pounding like footsteps running from a threat somewhere above him. He left that moment more damaged than he’d entered it, and he’d left the asteroid still in pieces with no answers.
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” The words sound breathless, forced around the pressure pushing at his chest. Nureyev is bent double over the desk, his forehead close to brushing the surface, and he doesn’t know when that happened. He doesn’t remember moving, but isn’t that just another facet of his new life? Lost, skipped time, when he doesn’t know where he goes except that the dark and hollow feeling of it chases him down?
The bedsheets rustle again. It’s an act of strength that Nureyev is quickly running out of, not to turn and look. “You would have found me by now. Or Sasha. Maybe I would have found you. What do you think it means, that I’m not anywhere?”
“That you’ve gotten better at hiding. That I’ve taught you how to run.”
“You know better. I know for a fact that you know better than that.”
There’s a shift, a creak, as bare feet rest their full weight on metal floor. Nureyev thinks he can feel every footstep behind him, getting closer - stalking him, cornering him, hunting him down until the darkness has him again. He doesn’t look. Juno keeps talking. “You’ve looked for me. I know you have - used every trick I taught you about chasing someone down who doesn’t want to be found, and all you got for your trouble was what Sasha Wire could tell you - the make and model of the blaster that fired the hole into me, the timestamp of how many seconds elapsed before I entered the airlock and exited the other side, the final count of who left on that Dark Matters ship. You thought about going to my office, until you did a little digging and realized the lease was up and someone else was there now. Called every contact of mine you knew, and even got some answers - but no one heard from me, not recently. So where did I go? Where am I now?”
Tension crawls into the lines of Nureyev’s back, holding him taut. Juno is behind him. Juno is leaning over him. He can feel warm breath on the back of his neck, and the fear of what he’d find wars with the need to lean back into that embrace - the hollow, lonely core of him that won’t stop bleeding, has no closure to either patch itself whole or tear wider into something more final and fatal. He wants. That want terrifies him, as much as the possibility Juno speaks into his ear.
“You wouldn’t plan on breaking into that prison,” Juno tells him, voice low and empty like he has no energy left to summon more emotion than that, “If you thought you needed to get back out. You’re gonna try at freeing our family, and it doesn’t matter to you if you die in the attempt. Am I wrong, Nureyev?”
He lets the last few inches go, a puppet on a string with a wire cut, his head resting on the desk. He’s run out of tears a few times already, and even though his eyes sting he finds the well is still dry. “Why are you doing this.” It isn’t a question, because he’s already heard the answer. “Why do you keep telling me this.”
Juno leans closer. Nureyev half expects hands at his throat, but Juno would never, not even here. The weight of him, warm, presses against Nureyev’s back. His arms wrap around Nureyev’s chest from behind, and the dry sob cuts through him.
Anything else would be kinder. Anything else Juno could do would be more merciful than this, but Nureyev doesn’t fight him away; he needs with a sudden desperation that can only hurt him later. One more second, his mind negotiates. I’ll pay whatever I have to for just one second more.
“Because I’m dead,” Juno says. There’s a tired compassion there, a gentleness Nureyev doesn’t want. Anger would be easier. “I’m dead, and you know this is the only place you’ll see me again. So you keep bringing me back, to have this conversation again and again - so you can hear my voice, before you forget what I sound like.”
Nureyev whines out something sharp and pathetic, past words. Juno holds him closer, and he leans back into the embrace… breathes until he feels like he can talk without breaking. “And do I still have it right, love?”
There’s a kiss on his cheek. It feels like a knife, quick and cutting. “I think so.” They stay that way for a stolen moment - before Juno shatters it the way he always does. “Look at me?”
How can Nureyev not? When it could be his last chance, when Juno asks in that voice he remembers from the quiet of their shared bed after a moment of vulnerability, after a nightmare, when he might never have another opportunity to do anything for Juno… how can he say no? Juno pulls away just enough to allow Nureyev to turn in his chair.
Blood. It’s all Nureyev can see, soaking into Juno’s shirt from the… from the hole punched through him. It’s dripping onto the floor. It’s lining every footstep Juno took to reach him, sinking into the bed behind him, covering Nureyev’s back and dripping onto his hands. Nureyev can’t breathe. He’s seen it all before, every night for weeks, but he can’t breathe through the fresh horror of it.
“Juno,” he chokes out. He reaches for the wound with some detached thought of stemming the bleeding, stopping this from happening, while he looks up and confronts dark eyes that are already empty and glassy. Juno can’t see him. Juno can’t hear him. Juno is already gone, and Nureyev fights the relentless truth of that while his face contorts, unbidden, into the strange shapes that grief inflicts on him. “Juno, no, you… you can’t…” His hands reach Juno’s chest, and the blood is tacky. Juno is cold. Nureyev’s breath dragged out of him. “No, no, this isn’t - this isn’t real, you aren’t -”
Dead.
But he is, isn’t he?
He comes back every night to remind Nureyev of that. Nureyev brings him back every night to lose him all over again.
The sound that comes out of Nureyev is too soft and too tired to be a scream; it’s just the echo of one, grown worn with use. He doesn’t think about the feeling of blood sticking to him, or the cold, stiff, unyielding sensation of a corpse. He leans closer anyway, wrapping his arms around Juno and holding him in place as if that will do any good - as if he can recapture the warmth of seconds and more than a month ago.
“I love you.” Broken words, whispered into the wound, falling from his mouth to fracture on the floor. Too little and too late. Juno doesn’t answer.
When he wakes, more tired than when he fell asleep, he’s not sure if he can remember what Juno’s voice sounds like. He’s not sure he’s strong enough to try.
He’ll hear him again, anyway.
Every time he falls asleep.
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Not me over here writing a story about Peet that is going to end up being split into two smaller stories because it just got so long and spiraled so far out of my control-
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thawthebeez · 8 months
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oh sugawara koushi how i adore you and your instinct to repeatedly punch your best friend who just collided with a fellow teammate and could have been concussed. never change.
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bahoreal · 1 year
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Not a cat, but here have a pic of my dog when he was a puppy and his ears didn't quite know which way they wanted to grow.
oh my gosh. he is the most beautiful dog i have ever seen in my entire life thank you so much
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junkissed · 11 months
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hello love, how are you doing? 💗
well i WAS doing fine until i saw these and instantly burst into tears >:'(
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tuathe-dedans · 1 year
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Masc lesbians are entitled to their bizarre projection on and fascination with a sad little fictional middle-aged man so: hopping on this account to say I am diagnosing Butler with having a praise kink.
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f4rlands · 2 years
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Hello hi I drew you a Scran in return :D
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He is incredulous
(I don't know why)
HES SO PRETTY!!!!! what a luscious elf man!!
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aethlingg · 2 years
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that moment when adoration for a character turns into wanting them to be your caregiver
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today is the first time in like forever that i kept my hair open for the whole day without hating them by the end of the day and they're so soft and i tried on dark maroon purple lipstick yesterday with my bestfriend and she was like whoa. you look like. hot. and Mature. and i told her i love her because i kept using pink because it's cute pretty girly and i wanna feel pretty but it didn't really suit me but this this dark shade it's perfect i feel so confident and sexy and i hung out with my cousin little sister rn we used to be closest bestfriends but we drifted apart because of papa-chachu drama in childhood but
#she came over and she was like i don't have company to smoke with come on smoke with me#and i was like aaah okay#and she's so cute she's like okay have this vape after the cig to like remove the bad taste#and i gave her change for auto cause she didn't have any and she was like ill pay you back and i was like girl please shut up#choti behen hai meri itna toh kar hi sakti hu and she laughed and was lke arre aise hai fir toh main itne mein nahi maanungi aur do#so i was like bade hoke pakka abhi itni hi aukat hai#it's nice i feel happy#i also leaned my head on my office wali senior ka shoulder cause i was superrrr sleepyyyy today#only for like a minute but she was like aww are you sleepy it's okay so ja i understand this and she patted my head gently#like you know side face pe they pat🥺🥺🥺0#and like i was like do you need help what do i do when she was working and she was like kuch nahi i just need you to sit here next to me#and keep chattering#it's so 🥺🥺🥺#like this is big okay she's kinda very cool and smart and like real focused and serious okay she doesn't like disturbances#and i love her brain i want to be curious and sorted like her i love the way she understands things slowly but completely#like just work wise i aspire to be her everyone gets so impressed by her i do too the sir was like {her name} ko ab bank audit acche se aa#gaya hai ab wo apne aap bhi kar sakfi hai sign kar sakti hai#WHICH IS SOOOOOO COOL like bhai he's a very good ca okay crazy intelligent and to have him say that. just wow#and i was whining to her ki everyone sucks my relatives suck nobody even appreciates that im killing myself trying to make a career here#all my mami cares about is that why couldn't i take ek din ki leave and show up at her fucking dance practice😭😭#so she was like aww it's okay leave them ill say it you're doing very good {my real name} im proud of you#i literally said awww thank you out loud itna sweet tha na#wow a happy vent post this is a first
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deadsetobsessions · 3 months
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Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.
“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”
God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.
Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.
“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”
“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”
“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”
Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.
“What happened?!”
“My word, master Danny!”
“What is it?!”
“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”
Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.
“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”
“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.
“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.
“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”
The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.
“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”
“Danny.”
“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.
“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.
Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.
“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”
Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…
“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”
“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.
“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”
The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.
“Done.”
“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”
“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”
“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”
“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”
“Very well.”
“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.
——
“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”
“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.
“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”
“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”
Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.
“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”
“Tt.”
“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”
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chuluoyi · 6 days
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✎ the babysitters' club
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- gojo satoru x reader
in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!
genre: total crack, first years are trying their best to babysit your son to save their grades, an attempt at humor, gojo is irritating as always, fluff, fluff, fluff
note: this is sooo incredibly silly :') some inspiration are taken from the baby starfish onesie, this ask, and this illustration -> if you're wondering how gojo dressed his baby, he's looks just like that :)) tagging @3zae-zae3 <3
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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"Gojo-sensei... what is that wiggling starfish!?"
On one sunny day in jujutsu school... trouble is once again brewing in the form of Gojo Satoru bringing his baby son to the class.
"Starfish? No, no," Gojo retorted with a displeased expression, directing his gaze towards Yuji and clicking his tongue as he patted his squirming baby, which was still hidden from their view. "He's my pride and joy! Don't refer to him as starfish!"
"But you've got him dressed up as one..." Nobara pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed.
"That's his kid," Megumi provided, wearily sighing. God, he knew already today was going to be a long day.
No one from school had seen your seven-month old baby son yet, and Gojo was determined to make it an occasion to remember.
Beaming with pride, he gently removed his baby from the starfish-themed onesie, revealing him in a tiny black jujutsu outfit specially tailored for him, complete with miniature black glasses. He held him up, presenting him for everyone to see.
"Behold, everyone... my son! Isn't he just adorable?!"
. . . a momentary silence before—
"Oh my goodness, he is!" Nobara cooed, forgetting her earlier sentiment, immediately approaching the baby with shining eyes. "Sensei, how could you manage to have a baby this cute!?"
"Heh! Only the finest technique utilized to create him—"
"Complete bullshit—"
"Hush, Megumi! No cussing in front of my baby! I'll deduct your marks!"
"Seriously...?"
"Now, class, today I have a very, very important task for you..." Gojo said, his voice dripping with mischief as he sported a broad grin. "If you succeed, I'll personally draft a recommendation letter for each of you to Yaga. But if you don't..." he paused for the suspense, scanning his three students' curious faces.
"Then I'm failing you in my class!" Gojo continued with a grin, prompting immediate reactions from his students.
“What! Why?!”
“That's not fair!”
“Sigh.”
“All you have to do was to watch over him until I come back. Everything you need is here— in this bag!”
Megumi rolled his eyes. Nobara raised an eyebrow. Only Yuji who seemed to be genuinely interested.
"Isn't that easy?" Gojo tilted his head playfully, looking absolutely stupid with his blindfold. "There are three of you here. If you can't even manage to look after one baby, then you should not even think about romance and dating."
"Nonsen—"
"Quiet, Megumi!"
And so began the day's mission: looking after Baby Gojo until his father's return.
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“Lalala~ look you’re flying!”
“Fwa...”
“Kugisaki, don’t hold him like that! You’re making him cry!”
“No, I’m not— Itadori! Don’t smush his face—!”
“WAAA!”
“You idiot!” Megumi hissed, plucking the poor baby from his clueless friends and immediately soothed him, pulling him close and patting his back. He even gently shushed him, “There, there...”
And Yuji and Nobara could only look at him in awe as the baby's wails turned into soft sniffles, peaceful in his embrace.
"Whoa... Fushiguro, so babies like you, huh..."
"Unfair!" Nobara clicked his tongue, before fixing a wide smile and waved at the baby in Megumi's arms. "Hi baby~ don't you want to held by big sister—"
"He doesn't like you, Kugisaki."
And so, that was how the three of them spent half the day—constantly watching over Baby Gojo, with Megumi supervising both the baby and his two friends.
"Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in him..." Megumi grumbled sullenly, resigned to his fate, his gaze fixed on the crawling baby while he sat on the floor and threw his little sunglasses.
For all the sighs he exuded, Megumi undeniably had a soft spot for the baby. Prior today, he had held him several times, and he'd never admit it, but he'd protect him to the best of his ability, if anything, because you had done so much for him.
“Gojo-sensei is cool!” Yuji remarked. “Of course Y/N-sensei is happy with him.”
Nobara rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that.”
"Hey, don't you think he wants his milk?" Yuji suddenly pointed out, as the baby became fussy. Megumi nodded and Yuji immediately reached for the bag Gojo left. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to his friend, but in the process, he accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling its contents onto the floor.
"Ahh, my bad," the boy sighed, collecting the diapers and washcloth, until he realized that there were some more—
"What's that? Photographs?" Nobara picked one of them up, and immediately gasped. "Oh my! Look at this!"
On the picture was the same baby, but much more smaller and swaddled in baby blue blanket and tiny blue beanie. Most likely taken when he was a newborn.
"Whoa, wait, there's something written behind the photo..."
When she flipped it over, both she and Yuji studied the messy handwriting, instantly recognizing it as their teacher's.
Yaaay! ♡ Baby is here! I'm sooo happy you made it! But mama went through a lot to bring you here... so don't ever forget that she loves you very, very much, okay?
"This is sweet." Nobara looked at the picture with a genuine smile, until she realized that there were some more scattered on the floor.
The other picture was of the blue-eyed baby on his arms and knees, wrapped in an orange and black bee onesie, complete with little wings, and behind it was written:
Aren't you just the cutest bee?! And what's more, you've started crawling! Aw, papa is so proud! In no time at all, you're going to be as strong as me!
"What are you two doing over there?" Megumi asked, still feeding the baby with the milk bottle. Nobara beckoned him over.
The third photo was of you smiling so prettily while holding your baby, still in his bee suit, and Gojo also in the frame, wrapping his arm around you, clearly the one holding the camera to take the selfie.
Two my most precious treasures ♡ Sweetheart, I love you. And baby too!
Yuji smiled, as he felt warmth spreading in his chest. "Gojo-sensei really treasures his family, huh?"
"He is," Megumi agreed, because he had seen it all throughout his life.
"Well, no wonder..." Nobara giggled. "Any woman showered with this much love would be happy."
And that day, the trio also uncovered another side of their teacher, that his deepest affection was reserved exclusively for his wife and child.
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Well, the sentimental feeling didn't last long though...
"This is our chance!" Nobara said in a hushed whisper. "When else are we going to get an extra family discount!?"
Megumi was so ready to burst a blood vessel as he held the baby—given that he had forbidden his two friends to lay a finger on him. "We are meeting Gojo-sensei here, not to—!"
"Hush! Itadori, don't you agree with me?!"
Yuji nudged his cross friend, trying to appease him. "Lighten up, Fushiguro! We can have more meat!"
At the last minute, Gojo suddenly told the three of them to bring his baby and meet him at the shopping center as he didn't want to waste energy to go back to the school. And like broke students Nobara and Yuji were, they decided to use Baby Gojo to snag an extra plate in a yakiniku place.
Megumi's eyes twitched. "This is not making sense at all, they won't believe—!"
"Shut up, you! Waiter~ here! We have a baby! So we're eligible for the family package!"
The judging stare of the waiter was enough to make Megumi combust on the spot, and yet somehow he passed the four of them as family eligible for the extra plate.
It was later, after they had their lunch that Megumi suddenly had an upset stomach and left the baby momentarily in his two friends' care.
And under less-than-watchful eyes...
"Hey, Kugisaki, meat on this side is the juiciest! Try it!"
"Ooh, you're right!"
The baby only blinked at them in wonder as he stayed in his spot. Not for long though... and it didn't help that they forgot his existence after they went to the cashier and headed out.
"Oi, Itadori! Don't forget to split the bill!"
"Oh yeah! Anyway, why is Fushiguro taking so long?"
Megumi got back right afterwards, and he frowned. "You done already? I haven't even gotten my ocha refill—" and it dawned to him when he saw both Yuji and Nobara with empty hands.
"Wait... where's the baby?"
"—! Oh my god!"
And when the three of them rushed back to the yakiniku place and approached their table earlier, Nobara almost screamed at the empty chairs, "He is gone!"
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"You left the baby with the kids and told them to come here?!"
You were positively fuming as you scolded your stupid husband in the bustling mall.
"Well, we haven't gotten much time to spend together, just the two of us!" Satoru retorted, his tone sulky as he pouted. "And besides, Megumi is there. I'm sure they'll do just fine~"
You let out a sigh. True enough, being parents is no joke. Aside from stay-at-home dates, the frequency of the two of you going out had dwindled exponentially since having your baby.
"Technically, you are still on the clock though." You threw him a glare. "You're being a very irresponsible teacher."
Satoru smirked. "Heh, spare me. But I'm being a very good teacher to you in our—"
"One more word and I'm locking you out—!"
Just as you were about to give him your (empty) threat, the building suddenly boomed with an announcement from the mall's broadcast speaker.
"Attention, shoppers. We've received a report from three teenagers that they've lost a baby. He is seven-month old, wears black shirt, has white hair and blue eyes. He is last seen at Yakiniku Q—"
"Satoru..." your voice trembled, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The baby described by the speaker was unmistakably your son, and the realization of him being missing sent you spiraling into panic.
"Hey, calm down." Satoru gripped your hand tightly, his voice steady as he faced you. "We're going to find him, alright? I'm here. Don't worry."
And after taking off his glasses, in a matter of seconds, Satoru figured out where he was.
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Nobara's eyes welled up with tears, frustrated. "What do I do, Gojo-sensei will fail us now..." she muttered, biting her lip.
"That's what you're worried about?" Megumi replied, turning to her with a clear glare.
"He's going to be fine! He is!" Yuji interjected, trying to reassure his two friends despite his own rising anxiety. "He’s not just any random baby—who knows, maybe he can shoot cursed energy to protect himself!"
Megumi and Nobara leveled their annoyed stares on him and Yuji immediately regretted his attempt to lighten the mood.
"I still think he can't get far from the yakiniku place." Megumi was too panicked to check with the staff earlier and just went with Yuji's suggestion to report it to be announced, but now that he thought about it— "I think we should go back."
And thank goodness the three of them returned for the second time because, this time, they finally saw the baby safely cradled in your arms, with Gojo speaking to the waitresses nearby.
"Oh?! Gojo-sensei is here!"
But as soon as the three of them came into view, Gojo immediately fixed them with his unamused gaze.
"You three..." his voice was lower and it made the three kids shudder. "What did I tell you about failing this mission, huh?"
Yuji, Nobara and Megumi were visibly spooked, immediately bowing their heads in unison as they chorused—
"Gojo-sensei, we're so sorry!"
Nobara then pointed an accusing finger at Yuji. "But it was his fault! He kept eating away and didn't even oversee the baby anymore!"
"Wha!?" Yuji glared back at her. "No! You too! You kept eating my meat too!"
"Whatever it is, I'm not a part of this—" Megumi cut in boldly. "My stomach hurt so I had to go for a bit, and they couldn't even keep an eye on him—"
You soothed your squirming son as the first years were throwing blame at each other. Gaping in confusion, you couldn't help but wonder how such a simple task had turned into this incident.
"Tsk." Gojo crossed his arms dramatically, and you knew he was just messing with them, as he suddenly turned to you with a grin.
"Nah, as both a teacher and the victim's mother— Sensei~ who do you think is responsible for this? Or should I punish all three of them?"
The three kids before you were quaking in their boots, and you really didn't have time for this right now. Honestly, if if you had to quickly pinpoint the source of this chaos...
You directed your most irked glare at your husband. "You."
“Huh?!”
“You’re the one staging this by threatening their grades, and it results in our baby being missing!”
Now you were bickering with your husband and putting him in his rightful place. Nobara and Yuji gaped, while Megumi heaved a sigh of relief.
"Does this mean... our grades are saved?"
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Epilogue
"They said he fell..." You pat your baby's head worriedly as he babbled happily in his crib, your expression darkening into a frown.
You didn't really blame the first years for their lack of experience, but as his mother, the news from the restaurant staff that they had found your son falling from the chair made you extremely uneasy.
Seeing your distress, Satoru’s natural response was to comfort you until you were back to smiles again. He gently tickled his boy's tummy, prompting him to squeal in absolute joy. "Look, he's perfectly fine. You don't need to worry so much, yeah?"
"But it's strange... I'm happy he's fine, but how? Most babies will get hurt or at least be inconsolable after falling. But he was totally okay..."
Satoru shifted his gaze to his son, as now his round, crystal blue eyes that mirrored his blinked back at him with such innocence and trust that even melted his heart.
"Ah, I see." Suddenly he smiled as if he had figured something out. "This is just my guess, but you know my guesses have like... 90% of probability of being correct—"
"Hmm...?"
"He might have activated Infinity by instinct. Heh."
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diorchids · 26 days
Text
BACKYARD BARBECUE, SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY.
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— dadsbestfriend!simon, age gap (r is 19-20), size kink, fingering, p in v, praise kink, choking, bruising, nipple sucking, nipple play, outdoor sex, tummy bulges.
you knew he was coming. 
simon is your father's best friend, the two met while stationed. you’d met him enough times to call him an uncle, about a year ago, getting more and more comfortable with him as the months passed.
your skirt billowed in the slight wind, the sun shone as you spoke to family. 
you heard your father chuckle before seeing simon, a few words being exchanged before he made his way over to you. 
he’s taken a liking to you out of all your siblings, making this extremely obvious to you just by the way he treats you. he gets closer to you and immediately hugs you, taking in your smell and planting his large hand on your back.
“hey there, sweetheart. how’s my favorite girl doing?” his scruffy beard scratching your face as his hands moved further down, stopping before breaking the hug.
“hey, si,” you gave a smile, not breaking eye contact for even a second. to anyone, this would be flirting. but it’s not like that. you’re greeting a family friend, attending to your daughterly duties.
“look at you, kiddo, so grown up now.” he stood back and looked you up and down, eyeing your body perversely. 
you two talked, having to practically yell because of the number of people speaking. he knew he had your attention, and he liked it.
“but,” he grinned, taking another step closer. his hand slid down your hip, fingers grazing against the bare skin of your thigh. "why don't we find a nice quiet spot to talk?" he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.
this wasn’t completely new for him. there was an incident before when you had to drive with him to the beach, your car was broken down, and your parents' car was full. you sat in the passenger seat in your bikini, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, a little desperate. his hand rested on your thigh, thumb rubbing the supple skin back and forth. you could’ve sworn he was inching closer to your inner thighs as he drove. 
you waited for a second before answering, your head tilted before speaking, “‘kay.” a brief answer, no teasing this time. 
simon leads you to a secluded corner of the backyard, away from the bustle of the barbecue. he sits on an old, wooden bench, patting his lap invitingly. "now then, love," he began, his voice low. 
you sat promptly. 
simon's large hands roamed your body, squeezing your thighs and tracing the curves of your waist. his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties.
he groaned grossly under his breath, not getting enough of your body. the way you’d melt under his touch, so disgustingly needy for contact, made him want to take you even more.
his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties. your clit was so puffy, you were just so ready for his cock. “i’ve been watchin’ you, you know,” his thick accent making your thighs burn.
simon's lips were inches from your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. he brought his other hand to your throat, squeezing before moving it toward your breasts. “i've always thought you were such a pretty little thing.” he whispered.
his hands pinched your nipples through your thin shirt, in turn making you grind down on his bulge. :(
“mmm, really?” your poor clit twitched under his finger. he pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and nipping gently, “so grown up now… hm?” he purred. his hands traveled lower, pushing your skirt up around your hips. you had nothing to say, words failing to escape your lips.
both of his hands were circling your pulsing cunt by now, a finger finding you already wet with excitement. you whimpered as he pressed his finger against your entrance, rubbing teasingly. “you want this, don’t you, doll?” you nodded, “i do.”
without hesitation, simon pushed his fingers inside you, feeling your tight cunt grip him perfectly. he began to move them in and out slowly, picking up speed as he felt your wetness coat his knuckles. “so fucking tight.” he moaned.
you writhed underneath him, tears already starting to roll as your legs trembled. you babbled and shook as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you. 
simon used another hand to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. your back rubbed up against his chest before he pulled his fingers from your cunt, lifting and turning you so you were facing him.
he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while pushing his fingers back into your starving little cunt. your mascara ran down your face as you pouted and cried, senses becoming overwhelmed.
he sucked hard while continuing to finger you. “you’re gonna make such a pretty little slut.” he groaned against your skin. “mhm! f-feels so fuckin’ good, si. m’gonna cum.” stupidly nodding and biting your plump lip.
he chuckled darkly, his fingers pumping faster and harder inside your velvety walls. your cunt constricted around his knuckles as you cried out, legs quivering as the knot in your tummy threatened release.
salty tears rolled down your face before he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving a trail of your juices on his hand. his fat cock pushed up against his slacks, straining against it, emphasizing every curve in his bulge. you cried loudly, lips puffy and slick, clit twitching pathetically.
your fingers curved around his clothed cock, being pushed away before he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants down, pre-cum leaking through the fabric of his boxers. he pulls his waistband away from his hips, freeing his cock pressed up against his stomach. 
he pulled his pants off as you stood and watched, salivating at the sight of his cock. you’d do anything for him, getting more and more greedy at the thought of him finally pushing his cock into you. 
finally, he had you on your knees on the bench, facing away from him, cunt burning, waiting for his thick length. you waited, breaking the silence with a question, “you usually like college girls?” 
it was an honest question, you were serious. 
he rubbed the tip of his cock against your slick hole, teasing. “i like what i like,” he grinned. “and right now, i like you.” he pushed his cock into your tense cunt, causing you to dig your nails into his thigh.
simon thrust his hips forward, burying his cock inside you up to the hilt. you felt his chest rising and falling against you as he groaned against your neck. how badly he wanted to bruise it up.
“take it,” he grunted, “take all of it.” his cock stretched your cunts walls, filling you up with his thickness. you felt a hand trail up to your throat, another gripping your hips tightly, guiding him in and out of your soaking hole.
he was rough with you, increasing the force with which he pounded into you. his hips snapped forward which each thrust, making your ass ripple. “s-si, can’t take it n’more! agh–cock s’fat, go slow, si, please, hurt s’bad!” he laughed at your attempts to stop him.
his grip on your neck tightened with each thrust, surely creating small bruises to deal with later. “fuckin’ delicious. takin’ me so well.” he said breathlessly, continuing to pound into you without mercy. 
“s’too much… si, fuck!” he was hunched over, both of you a mess, hair stuck to his forehead, you, crying ‘cause of his fat dick! 
“g-go deeper, deep–mmf!” you begged.
simon hissed, pulling out almost completely before slamming his huge cock back in with a force that made your poor tummy flip. he continued this pattern of deep thrusts, grunting loudly with each one as he dove his cock deeper into your wet hole.
he brought a hand to your clit, thick finger lousily rubbing and rolling it roughly between his thumb and forefinger. “m’gonna cum!” you pushed yourself onto his cock more, greedy for his length.
“cum–cum for me, love.” he urged, thrusting into you even harder. you gushed around his cock, thrashing while your cunt showed its appreciation, orgasm crashing over you, causing you to clench tightly around his cock. you moaned like an animal as he continued his abuse on your walls.
“fuck–like that,” simon grunted, groaning loudly as he felt his cock shudder violently inside of you. with one last thrust, he let go and came inside of you, filling you with his hot seed. it spilled out of you before simon sloppily thrust a few more times, making sure to fuck his cum deep into you, like there were no consequences. 
he didn’t let go of you, still hunched over your body, small in comparison to him, tummy slightly bulged by his oversized cock. panting heavily, he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. his cock twitched inside of you, releasing a few more spurts of cum. 
he helped you to your feet, smoothing your hair, drying your tears after wiping the cum from your inner thigh with his thumb, and sticking it in your mouth. you sucked his thumb hungrily, warm tongue making him softly groan. 
he’d heard your father call for him from the grill while he buckled his pants, kissing you before walking back into the yard. 
“good talk, sweetheart.”
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