#(those two boys are in a loop I swear)

[newtafterdark]

POV the resident Tiefling (who used to be a massive playboy & wrestler just 5 years ago) has to face the reality that he has absolutely lost all of his previous rizz. 😔

[tonycries]

Hot To Go!

Synopsis. Getting hit by a séx technique? No problem! Of course, you’re there to help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx cursed technique (he’s affected), mating press, they’re REALLY needy, fúck or díe, oraI (fem receiving), jealousy (Nanami’s), bréeding, marathon séx, teary Gojo, creampíe, spítting, cúmplay, thígh ríding, fíngering, VERY pússydrunk boys, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k (woah)

A/N. I needed this outta my mind so bad y’all omg. Have a lovely day babygirls <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Just sit on it, woman!

“Please…” Toji drawls, slow and syrupy around your puffy clit. “Who do you think you are, doll? Just sit.”

Now, the problem wasn’t that strange, low-level curse from Toji’s latest job. No, don’t make him laugh - he barely felt whatever that weak cursed technique was. The problem was the way he’d trudged back home, not even thinking of reaching for that door handle before it hits him. 

Suddenly too-sensitive nose getting a whiff of your shampoo - all the way from inside the bedroom. 

All the way to that dangerous, ugly little part of himself that says that if he doesn’t get a taste of you right now then neither of you are making out of this alive. 

And it’s all you can do to gasp, “T-Toji what happened?”

“You. You happened. N’ I don’t care if I hafta oh-” he cuts himself off, hot lips surging forwards - addicted - to place another slow, wet peck on the sweet sweet juices beading at your cunt. “-if I hafta fuckin’ suffocate, m’gonna die if you don’t just sit, goddammit.”

“Fuck!” you keen when two, calloused hands of Toji’s loop around your shaky thighs. Pulling, dragging you down to press your entire weight down onto his slutty mouth. “You’re being so…”

He barely even hears you - too caught up on the way your pretty cunt was drooling down his waiting tongue. 

Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his face up, up, up to let your heady juices slide down his throat. “What? Filthy? Needy? Like a bitch in heat?”

Each hissed out little word has you jolting on top of him - and Toji only tightening his bruising grip with a pained grunt to stop you from disconnecting with his ruthless lips.

“Ohhh fuck stay still, woman. S’the stuff of heaven. You’re so lucky you weren’t anywhere near me after that fight.” he spits at the feeling of you clenching around him, mouth moving a mile a minute even when he slips it past your swollen folds, dragging the muscles along all your hidden sweet spots. “So lucky. So sweet- so perfect thought I was gonna die without a lil’ taste-” 

A shiver runs down your spine - all the way down to where Toji was messily making out with your ravaged pussy. Stretching you out, milking himself on your sloppy entrance. Animalistically, even.

You squeal, “Think I’m gonna die.”

“Shit- and you think I care? Just want- ngh-” And that sinful little scar rubs up against your sensitive folds when Toji grins knowingly, so deep now that his nose was pressing against your pelvis, jaw grinding against you. Big arms orchestrating each mean, long drag of your sloppy pussy up and down his pretty face. Up and down up and down up and- “What did I say? This is all because of y-you, y’know?”

And Toji’s tone is so low, strangled - that the answer almost comes out as a whine. It makes you snap your glassy eyes down to look - to gape at how utterly wrecked he already was. 

Dark hair curtaining those pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes, your slick glossing prettily over his plump lips - all the way down to his cheeks, his sharp jawline. And only getting sloppier with each movement,

“Me?” you blink tearily - fuck, when did it get so good you started crying? And why was Toji much the same? Dark eyes wet and miles away. 

“Mhm.”

“S’your fault for being so- so-” As if the words were failing him, Toji’s only moves to suck harsher on your throbbing clit. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid ah! ah! ah! “-like this.”

Even through the haze of it all, you manage out a huff of laughter, “Like this?”

For this, you get a sharp smack! on the fat of your ass. Thick fingers soothing over the sting almost immediately so that you’re not bowing your body away from Toji’s persistent mouth, “S’it so bad if I wanna taste my sweet girl?.” He moans, sounding so genuinely pained, “But I need you- need to taste this fuuuck pretty cunt so bad. Gonna die if I don’t- if I-” 

“Hngh- yes- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” your fingers threat their way into his soft hair. Tugging and pulling with each harsh lap at your cunt. Your body arching like a slut as if on command when he speeds up, “-feels too good. M’so close fuck-”

“Be messy, be loud- I don’t fucking care.” he hisses, brows furrowing in concentration. And whatever’s left of that practical little part of your hazy mind wonders whether it doesn’t hurt - whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up, mouth aching. “Jus- jus wan’ you to cum on m’tongue. You’ll let me taste you, right, doll? Want it want it want it so fuckin’ bad-”

You didn’t know who wanted you to cum more - you, or your dear boyfriend.

But when you do - you have you answer. 

“F-fuck, Toji.” your gummy walls clench around where he was bullying his tongue inside. “M’cumming- M’cumming m’cumming m’- ah!” 

“Give it t’me. Give it allll to me that’s it.” Because Toji’s lapping at each and every syrupy drop of your juices, moaning into your cunt as you ride him through your high. Addicted. The vibrations having your hips stuttering and unstable on top of him. 

He lets his thumb draw lazy, tight circles on your sensitive clit. Unstopping - even when you’re blinking back your spotty vision, tears crinkling at the corner of your eyes at the overstimulation. 

Even when you try to pull away from his ruthless mouth - little, messy strings of spit and slick snapping in the nonexistent distance. 

Even when he still darts his tongue out hastily to taste you sloppily, “One more - didn’t get enough of m’fill.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Can’t- won’t wait!

Everyone knows that your husband Nanami was protective - rightfully so. Everyone knows that just a toe out of line could have the stoic man snapping - showing off exactly why he was the one that put that pretty lil’ ring on your finger. 

But never like this. 

Never so…crazed.

And it’d only taken one too many flirty comments from some new intern in the time it’d taken Nanami to rush over there from his latest jujutsu mission. Just for your husband to drag you away from the party, barely paying attention to anything else.

Though, when you caught a glimpse of his eyes you didn’t think he could - gaze strangely hazy, breath a bit shorter, skin flushed a delicate pink. 

“Can’t believe it.” he groans, pressing you up against the wall of the nearest empty room he could find. Fat cock just nudging past that feeble ring of resistance of yours. “Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Fuck-”

You’re jumping slightly with each little profanity spat into your open mouth, bleary eyes blinking up at your Nanami. Managing out, “Is everything hah- alright, Ken?”

“Can’t fucking believe it.”

There it was again. 

That low, accusing little mantra - this time panted out into the side of your racing pulse. Breaking ever-so-slightly at the end when Nanami’s bullying his swollen cock deeper past your plushy walls, the curve of his girth having you arch like such a slut against the wall. 

Nanami growls, “Can’t fucking believe-” he slides two hands under your weakening thighs easily, picking you up like some little ragdoll to be split apart on his cock. Murmuring against your mouth, “Can’t believe you won’t let me jus’ fuck you right then and there, my love.”

You don’t know what shocks you more - Nanami’s words or the way he’s immediately letting gravity do all the work, sliding your dripping cunt so easily down his cock. Inch by fucking inch. 

All up until your pelvis was flush against those neat tufts of blond at his base. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Nanami so impatient. 

“Thought I was gonna die without your sweet cunt.” He was barely even breathing. Eyes glassy - crazed. Voice so deep and ragged when he whispers into your ear. “Should’ve jus’ let me fuck you out there, right in the middle of the ball. Made a scene n’ showed them all please- we could go back-”

And it takes you a few seconds to realize that this is Nanami. Your Nanami.

Seriously, what the fuck happened on that mission?

“But- what?” you squeal, gummy walls swallowing him up so readily despite your confusion. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

And this little comment makes Nanami physically stop, dark eyes glinting with something so dark - dangerous. Brows furrowing as he utters, “Nothing. Did you forget that I’m your husband, darling?” Having you scrambling to hang onto his broad shoulders as he walks over to splay you out so prettily on a nearby desk. “Or do I jus’ hafta remind you?”

It’s all it takes for Nanami to thrust up into your heavenly cunt. One hand holding you still on the cool desk, while the other just ravages your throbbing clit in time with his needy cock. 

“F-fuck, Ken— oh- yes yes yes-”

Fat tip pressing up against your g-spot like he had a point to prove, spearing you at each harsh, bullying thrust that has you pushed further and further up the desk. Over and over. 

The desk shifts ever-so-slightly with every smack of Nanami’s heavy balls against your ass. Creaking - but not loud enough over your obscene moans. 

“Stop-” he chokes out at the feeling of your pussy being inched away from him. You weren’t running from him that easily. Which is exactly the thought ringing through his mind when Nanami circles his large hands underneath your thighs, dragging you right across to meet his sculpted front. “Stop fuckin’ running away.” Nevermind the fact that you weren’t - voluntarily at least. “Please- need it so badly, s’like m’burning without ya. You’re gonna take my cock like a hah- g-good lil’ wife, okay?”

And Nanami knows maybe he should slow down - maybe ease you into it, first. But either it was that stupid fucking cursed technique talking or maybe the sight of some loser being all starry-eyed at you, he’s fucking you into the desk so mean. 

“Should’ve- would’ve.” he’s grunting, and you already know what he��s talking about. “Saw you in this pretty lil’ dress and fuck darling you don’t know how h-hard it was to ngh keep m’self in check.” Teeth nipping and leaving little bite marks down your neck, and shit if you were in any better state of mind you’d have had the rationality to be worried about them - about how people would talk if they saw those. “N’ I would’ve loved to. Don’ know how much I fuck- w-worship this pussy, my love. How much I was dreaming about it all day long.”

The creaking grows louder.

Your head is spinning right now, “All day long?”

“Mhm…” Nanami slurs, a loose little smile playing on his lips. “Always do. But today- fuck, today. Needed to feel you or I thought I was gonna ngh- die. Or worse.” 

“Or worse.”

Bang! 

In a split-second, you’re back bunched up in Nanami’s arms - his cock still buried deep within you. Moving. Merciless. Even though his eyes flicker downwards at the pile of wood that used to be a desk. “Lose you that promotion.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Use?

“Use me.” 

“What?”

“Use me, goddammit.”

Geto sounded almost hysterical now - words ragged, a pitch higher than normal. Staring at you with that drunk, wide-eyed gaze while you perched right on his muscular thigh. Looking as bewildered as you felt at that moment when he lets out a humorless little laugh, “That curse- fuck I should’ve known before ingesting- shit.” 

Fingers frantic - almost tearing through the fabric of his boxers as he removes them feverishly. 

And his cock didn’t just look rock-hard no- it looked so so angry. So painful. Flushed a pretty red at his weepy tip, leaking down, down, down straight to where you’d unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.

“O-oh.” he gasps in relief when you’re dragging your fist up his cock. Head throwing back to show off that long, beautiful neck - dusted with a blush going all the way down. “Could cum from just this fuuuck.”

And this was nothing like the Geto Suguru you were used to - the sweet talker who’d have you falling apart with just a few words. The one that treated sex like a game - where you were always his pretty lil’ loser.

“Care to elaborate, Sugu?” you flash him a smug smirk - one that makes his swollen cock twitch traitorously in your hand. “Shit, you’re so needy right now you could cum untouched.”

“You little bitch.” he spits out, greedy gaze stuck on the way you were beginning to drag your sloppy cunt up and down his toned thigh. In a way that makes it impossible for Geto to tear his eyes away from the way you were intentionally catching your throbbing clit on each and every dip of muscle, spreading your puffy folds. “You know what I mean.”

You’re batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, grinding your hips down harder. “I don’t.”

As if to prove your point, you squeeze around his aching dick even harder, pumping your fist all the way from his soaked base up to his sensitive slit. 

Immediately, he bucks his hips up wildly, precum smearing a glossy sheen all over your wrist. “F-fuck you.” he spits. “You little-” And oh you should’ve known that Geto was Geto despite whatever he’d been cursed with. That it’d only take him a split second to reach a hand over to smear the mess of sweet sweet juices you were trailing over his thigh. Bullying his dripping wet fingers between your lips, “You talk too fuckin’ much, gorgeous.”

Oh.

Oh, you were fucked.

“You really think I’d let you g-get away with hah that much?” Geto drawls against your ear, fingers dancing down to control your movements riding his thigh. “N’ after ngh- I was so nice.” He was pulling - dragging you at a mean little pace now. “Should’ve just shut up n’ taken it. Should’ve just used me when I asked.”

It’s like he’d forgotten all about his lust-drunk little state. 

You’re mewling, muffled around his thick fingers. Something that only makes his lips curl up into a syrupy, smug grin, “Who’s cumming untouched now? Got somethin’ to fuck- say?”

You do - and you’re thumbing teasingly under Geto’s neat slit, reveling in the way that makes his harsh little rant die in his throat. Moving your hand up and down to first his cock needily in hasty, long movements like you were trying to fuck something delicious out. 

“You little minx hah-” he’s pressing his fingers right at the back of your tongue, hot mouth kissing away the salty tears welling up behind your eyes. “S-so dirty.”

And it was dirty - your hands coated in Geto’s sheen of precum, his thigh glossy with your slick. But neither of you could bring yourselves to be disgusted - not one bit. 

Not when Geto was forcing down your hips harder, bouncing his knee to match your slutty little tempo. Faster. More desperate. Letting you concentrate on driving him fucking insane with your soft hands - palming and running only on the need to making him cum. To have him spill so hotly all over your hands. 

“Yeah, oh God that’s right- Use me use me use me-” Geto’s mouth slacks open, eyes heady and cracked only to eye the way you’re clenching and quivering around nothing. Your hips only stuttering - getting sloppier and sloppier with each weighty, hard slide down his thigh. He groans, “Fuck fuck fuck m’close-”

“M-me too-” you whine, voice breaking so pathetically at the end. “So much for coming untouched.”

Close - too close.

Close enough that you’re barely even noticing the way Geto’s stiffening up underneath you. Breath hitching in his throat before-

Slam!

“Wha-” Your back hits the plush mattress - so fast that you almost have half the mind to wonder whether this was some figment of your imagination. But, no, Geto’s hot tip nudging at your puffy folds was real. Dangerous. Waiting for just the right moment to rip you apart. His bated breath against your ear was real - very, very real. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “S-sex?”

Oh, Choso sounded so fucked out just from uttering that.

And you feel the way your cunt clenches at that broken, almost-whiny little plea coming from your best friend’s mouth. Big, dark eyes blinking up at you dazedly in a way that makes you tighten your legs around his waist, pinned to the floor of- fuck, which curse site was this again?

“Mhm, Cho.” you hum, drinking in the shallow pants he lets out into your mouth when you slide his leaky, angry tip between your swollen folds. Barely teasing him between your slit, “S’the only way to get rid of this technique, right?”

Clothes are torn off, breaths coming out in pants. You don’t know if Choso registers your words - shit, you don’t know if he even hears you right now. 

Barely even breathing as he slides two shaky hands of his to rest up at your hips. Giving you a reassuring squeeze once. Twice. Before pulling you down in a split second. 

“Yes!” the word bursts out from his lips. Choso drags your body up, up, up his throbbing length like some ragdoll - until his pretty pink tip was just circling around your sloppy hole - only to bring you all the way back down again. Barely even halfway in yet, but the stretch - fuck, the stretch had you arching for more. “Yes yes yes yes yes fuck yes if you feel just like- like heaven-”

You never thought your sweet Choso would be so needy. Would buck his hips so ferally into your syrupy sweet cunt until you were second-guessing why it ever took so long to do something like this.

Until today’s fateful little mishap with another curse, that is - and oh, you’ve never been more grateful for that stray cursed technique. 

“Hngh-” you screw your eyes shut when the curve of his dick brushed against your sweet spots - unforgivingly. Spreading the fat of your ass in two big hands, trying to squeeze himself inside deeper. Again. And again and again and- “S-slow down, Cho–”

‘Slow down?” Choso breathes from below you - sounding so genuinely bewildered. Still thrusting up in stubborn, long grinds. “Y-you want me to slow down? After- after this?” He’s giving a mean thrust into your gummy pussy, eyes widening down at the heavenly view of your puffy lips sucking him up. Spread needily, bulging around his girth in a way he’d have felt sorry for if he was in any better state of mind. “Slow down- Yeah, gotta- gotta slow down.”

But he only fucks up into you harder. Stronger. Like it killed him to do anything but take you right now and right there on the floor. Messy - no rhythm or rhyme of his hips, just running on pure need and the feeling of you milking his poor cock.

And the idea of that - of your best friend being drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around his aching cock - has you a little more breathless than you’d like. Plushy walls clamping down tight. 

Almost immediately, Choso’s throwing his head back, gasping out a stuttering, “O-oh so ngh- that’s what it feels like. Always- always imagined if…” You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence because two long fingers of his are latching on shyly to your sensitive clit, rolling softly. 

And if he were any less of a man, Choso would be cumming on the spot - fuck, he’d be passing out. 

“Fuuuuck tighter than I’d dreamt of.” he whimpers, cock twitching wildly inside your dripping cunt. Deft fingers find a lewd little rhythm to toy with your ravaged clit. “Have to slow down- have to- can’t.”

He was out of control now. Sloppy. Teary praises leaving those pretty pink lips with each bullying piston of his hips. 

“Ch-Choso!” you whine, dragging your hips down to meet his sloppy cadence.

Choso’s eyes flutter to the back of his head, grunting “Yes, yes that’s it, my baby. Say my name.” Using his inhuman strength to put pressure on your hips. “Take it- take it please. Wan’ see you full of m’cock.” All the way until the heady bedroom echoes with a loud smack! his fat head kissing your cervix, heavy balls imprinting against your ass. 

And then it’s like something snapped. 

Choso’s sanity - his restraint. Possibly you by the end of this. 

Because in all of two seconds, he’s flipping the two of you over. Your back pressed against the cool floor, legs thrown over his shoulders until your knees were folded all the way up into your tits, Choso groans into your ear at the all new angle. 

Not wasting a second longer before fucking you in this mean little mating press, abs rippling with each heavy, calculated movement. 

“Baby…” Choso drags his lips up your neck, sharp canines biting down on your earlobe. Gentle - the complete opposite of his rock-hard cock. “Think if I cum inside s’gonna solve the curse?”

Oh.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - True kinda love

You thought you’d seen everything there is about the king of curses. Anything from those smug kisses he’d give you after taking care of “scum curses” for fun to the times he’d begrudgingly watch sappy movies with you - only to fuck away your tears at the end. 

You thought.

But oh you’d never seen him like this - yukata torn apart, no longer fitting how much bigger was, how much stronger his form was. His true form. 

Muscles just bulging on all four arms, eyes half-lidded, dark nails leaving neat little indents where he held your squirming hips sat prettily on two matching, painfully hard cocks. 

Well, “sat prettily” was an understatement - right now you felt so full you could’ve just died.

“Heh, better not die on me just yet because I feel like m’gonna kill fucking everyone..” Sukuna’s large pecs rumble with laughter- shit, had you said that out loud? “Everything.” Long tongue coming up to lick a hot trail up the big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Whispering raggedly, “God- fuck! How’d you want it? Like I’m me or like hah- this?”

It’s all you can do to crane your head up deliriously, batting your teary lashes in a way that makes Sukuna twitch so wildly. 

His veins thump! thump! thumping into your gummy walls, fat heads nudging right at your bruised cervix - your lungs it felt like. Hips grinding up into yours when he’s shoving himself impossibly deeper, “Answer me.”

“Fuck!” you’re gasping, stupidly. Glassy gaze flitting down to the two angry cocks bullied inside your poor pussy. And still going. “N-no, your true ngh- form- fuck-” 

“Oh yeah?”

Your words are coming out a garbled mess, making such a sly, dangerous leer spread across Sukuna’s lips. Fucking up faster. Sloppier. 

Oh, the feeling had him lightheaded. Had him thankful he lost control of his powers to maintain that pathetic human image of his. Had him ramming past those rings of muscle again. And again. And again and again- oh he was fucked.

“Fuuuck, feel like m’burning. M’so lucky.” Sukuna slurs out, a free hand of his busying itself toying with your throbbing clit. Pulling, rolling in a way he knows will have you whining so prettily. “Sooo fuckin’ lucky I didn’t kill that fuckin’ trash curse.” Glossing his wrists with your sweet sweet juices, lips kissing at your heated ears. “Because now I get to see how much of a slut my girl is f’me, hm?”

The only answer he’s getting is a wet string of profanities that even Ryomen Sukuna himself is proud of. 

Because suddenly Sukuna’s crashing his achy tips against your g-spot, throwing his head back at how fucking sinful it felt to be rubbing up against himself. 

“Shit- yer only getting tighter.” he spits, strained. Sculpted thighs rippling underneath you where he was fucking up into you in jagged, methodical half-thrusts to mold your sweet cunt to him. “Ngh- fuuuck gonna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“Please-” you’re clawing at the sheets, the headboard, Sukuna’s shoulders - anything and everything to keep your sanity. Begging for- what? Mercy? More? “Please please- m’so close. Kuna ngh-”

He cranes his head down to kiss at your slack lips, breaths feverish. “Damn. Open that m-mouth now, brat. Jus’ a bit- jus’ a bit more.” 

Your mouth is sagging open, tongue lolling out before you know it - positioned perfectly for the bigger man to purse his lips and spit. Once. Twice. 

And Sukuna knew he had perfect aim, he knew he could’ve made this easy for you - but, no, the steady stream of saliva is splattering against the side of your mouth. A large thumb of his coming up to swipe the mess across your wobbly lower lips. 

“My girl deserves to be treated like the slut she is, right?”

His true form has those inhumanly large fingers moving so unfairly fast on your clit, rolling and pinching in an obscene little blur. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you sob, ass stinging where his heavy balls were smacking you - sure to leave a few embarrassing marks. And fuck he’s not even all the way in yet. “Y-you’re so deep- so much. Close Hngh-”

Sukuna’s grinning, two hands helping just drag you down his sloppy length, until your sopping folds were kissing at his toned pelvis. Another dancing up to knead and grope your sloppy hole open wider, “Say it. Say who you’re acting like such a slut for.”

“It’s- fuck!”

“Say it properly, my cockdrunk girl. Say it if you wanna cum.”

“You!” your words fail you pathetically, and the only think you’re moaning next is Sukuna’s name - like a prayer. “S’you Kuna oh-”

And then you’re cumming - white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, and Sukuna’s name in your mouth. Arching into his body. His tongue slipping past your puffy lips to muffle his own moans because God this was the hardest he’d cum in his life and he wasn’t about to drown out any of your pretty moans with it. 

“Oh-” Sukuna shudders, fucking you over and over through your high. Two hands carrying your weight and- shit, when did he stand up? “Yeahh, milk me like that, just it mm knew you were so good f’me-”

You’re realizing with a jolt that he’d gotten up, using gravity to his advantage and sliding you up and down his swollen cocks like some glorified sextoy. So easily. So sinfully while he filled your poor overfilled over and over. 

Thick, hot globs of cum that drool down your messy cunt, so fucking much from both his throbbing cocks. Like he couldn’t - wouldn’t stop. 

Enough to form a pool at Sukuna’s feet. One he doesn’t even give a second glance before muttering, “Ya better hope you’re on the pill because the curse and I are far from over, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - STRONGEST

You thought it would bate by his second orgasm. 

And when it didn’t, well, surely the third time was the charm…

Or, well on the slight chance that that didn’t work - the fourth would be the last, right? Right?

“Sweetheart…” Gojo mutters, teary, red-rimmed eyes peering so unfairly into your hazy ones. Folding your trembling, limp legs back into such a tight mating press. “Jus’ one more time. Please? I promise this fifth time’s gonna be the last.” 

Wrong. And here you were, folded up in half underneath the great Gojo Satoru - the strongest, the same sorcerer that can take down a special grade and let himself be hit by its cursed technique (“out of curiosity!”) in the same breath. 

“A-another?” you mutter, but it comes out much more breathless than you intended. Thighs tightening involuntarily where they were thrown over Gojo’s broad shoulders. “Toru, are you sure-”

Your dear boyfriend’s only giving you a slow, lazy nod. A dopey smile spreading over his face when he spots the trail of gooey white dribbling down your poor, overfilled pussy, gushing out of you with each languid thrust. Oh- shit, when had he started moving again? You bet even he didn’t know that answer.

And before you can react, Gojo’s taking the time to pool the sinful mess on two of his fingers - promptly bullying them back into your already stuffed cunt.

Fuck, you’re not making it out of this alive.

“Shit, taking me so e-easily, huh?” Gojo’s raw, pink lips fall open when your sloppy hole stretches just enough to accommodate his long fingers. “Y-yeah tha’s it. Take it like m’good girl.” Tears of sensitivity pricking behind his eyes when you clench around him so fucking tight, your plushy walls just milking his ravaged cock. “F-fuck s’too sensitive. Too much!”

And despite his own little whines at the back of his throat, Gojo makes no move to stop. 

Did he say he’d stop? Ah, his fried brain couldn’t remember anymore.

None at all, instead, he’s raising his glossy finger pads right up to his mouth. Blue eyes falling shut when he presses them inside momentarily, sucking, savoring the taste of you and him and you-

“You’re t-too much, Toru.” you squeal in embarrassment. 

And that’s all it takes the strongest to let out a barely-lucid hum of agreement - pulling out his fingers with a lewd pop! 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” he leans down to hum, breath hot against your face. “But what can I- ngh- do-” Each word was punctuated by a harsh, sloppy smack of his hips against your own. Not even bothering pulling all the way out - Gojo doesn’t have to, because he’s nudging all your sweet spots so expertly anyway. Grunting out over those absolutely lewd squelches, “I just want- need you so bad. S’like m’burning from the inside hah- o-out if I don’t ngh fuck this pretty pussy.” He’s babbling deliriously, bent so far down now that your forehead is pressed up against his, thighs burning at the stretch. “-need it so bad. Need it - my one weakness, sweetheart. S’gonna kill me- gonna be the death of me oh-”

“Please!” you think you could almost feel Gojo’s cum sloshing around your walls right now. Fucking you into the mattress so hard - so deep - that you wonder by what miracle the neither of you haven’t broken anything yet. 

It wasn’t a miracle - it was his reverse cursed technique, which the both of you discover only much, much later. 

But for now you’re only clinging desperately to Gojo’s muscled shoulders, bones popping in protest. Fucked-out whimpers spiling from his pretty mouth each time he was slamming his poor, overused cock inside you. Teary eyes screwing shut because shit it hurt so good. Too good. 

“F-Fuck!” you’re gasping when he dances his fingers straight down to draw hasty, feverish little circles on your poor clit. Fingers clawing at his persistent wrist, “Oh my god-”

Gojo hums into your mouth, “J-just ‘Toru’ is fine.”

You let his cocky little comment slide - if only because your boyfriend was smashing into your g-spot repeatedly now. Over and over.

Voice about an octave higher when he’s groaning, “Y-yeah, that good? Ngh- ah!” His hips were stuttering forwards - messy, so so needy like he was drunk on those cute lil’ whines tearing from you with each drag of his cock. “Yeah fuck fuck f-fuck yer killin’ me - pussy too good, feels like m’gonna die.”

God, he really did feel like he could die. Fuck. 

“M-me too ngh, Toru.” you wrench your eyes open when something so wet splashes onto your cheeks. Boring into Gojo’s glassy, pussydrunk eyes. Crying now. “M’so close-”

“O-oh yeah?”

And then he’s speeding up - if that was even possible. Flushed skin smacking against yours harder. Just a bit more calculated. Like he couldn’t stop. Uncontrollable. 

Enough for Gojo to blink away the slight haze in his eyes and actually look at you. Look at the way your lips wobble with each glide of his fat tip against your sensitive spots, the way you milk him harder when he’s smearing his mess of cum all over your clit. At those delirious little heart-eyes you give him when he only lets his jaw sag open, such fucking embarrassing whimpers of your name being drawn all the way from his overworked cock. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.” he manages to grit out. “Cum f’me cum f’me, please. Please.”

And how could you not when the strongest asks you so prettily?

You don’t know who cums first - just that your own orgasm is a wave of tingles that shoot all the way from your toes right into your stupidly fucked-out brain. Again and again and Gojo-

Oh, Gojo can’t do anything but bury his head into the crook of your neck. Sharp teeth biting down hard at the point of your pulse as he cums over and over and over. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed right into your silky cunt. A sinful little white that drools out of your sloppy slit - too much. 

“Sweetheart…” Oh, you knew that tone - too well. “Y’know how I h-have the ah- six eyes n’ this was only our fifth round and six is really a nice num-”

“M’gonna kill you, Toru.”

“S’that dirty talk for our sixth round?”

A/N. TEARY GOJO TEARY GOJO TEARY GOJO

Plagiarism not authorized.

[stunie]

“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I SWEAR!”

WIND BREAKER BOYS + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader.

filled request: “Hi there i want to request something, asking Sakura, Ume, Nirei, Kaji and Suo to play fight and they accidentally hit you hard (If it's to many you can just do Suo and Kaji, no pressureeee)”

sfw. 3.2K wc. a/n: added togame! & tried to make suo & kaji’s xtra long since those 2 look like they might be ur faves <33

HAYATO SUO.

in the time you’ve spent dating suo, you have never once managed to successfully sneak up on him. not even remotely close. it’s impossible to the point that you’ve started to consider the fact that your boyfriend may have developed a sort of sixth sense since meeting you, an intuitive awareness of your presence— because as soon as you step within a three foot radius of him, his head is swiftly turning to face you, greeting you with an amused smile and a “this again?” with that tone that has your eyebrow twitching all over again.

you continue to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt from where you’re hidden behind your apartment door, anxiously awaiting for the moment suo emerges from outside. your plan was nothing short of perfect, every little detail thought out— and you were entirely sure of it this time.

you had given suo a copy of your key ages ago, so that he could come in at anytime without you needing to be there. a second check of your phone’s messages has you mentally preparing yourself when you reread his “i’m coming~” text from exactly twenty minutes ago, and you smile to yourself. asking him to come by and babysit your cat while you went on a quick snack restock errand was the best excuse, and a part of you feels a little guilty for formulating such an intricate plan just to get a scare out of your boyfriend— but it had to be done.

the sound of suo’s key wiggles inside the doorknob, your breath hitching in your throat when you hear the lock switch just a few seconds after, followed by the eerie creaking noise that your door always seems to make.

“i’m here,” suo sings out to no one in particular, his usual smile etched onto his face as he takes a peek inside. dark, and empty. nothing unusual, not that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary in the first place.

as soon as he takes a step inside, he’s going to take off his shoes first, and you jump on the opportunity. you’re quick to lunge at him the second his thumb slips in his shoe, aiming to launch yourself into his middle and crush him in a suffocating hug. you don’t miss the way he tenses for a split second, eyes widening at the sudden movement— mind immediately flashing to his first thought…. an intruder?

he doesn’t recognize you at first, your figure reduced to a blur— and all he knows is that something is headed towards him. and fast. he’s moving on pure instinct, arm reaching for the closest thing to him at that moment: your arm.

you gasp when you realize just how agile your boyfriend really is. the truth is— you’ve never seen him fight, and he doesn’t really talk to you about it. he has a habit of leaving all the details out, and you don’t usually find yourself asking him about it after seeing the way he’s always coming out of fights unscathed. so sure. you knew he was probably pretty strong.

but you had no idea he was like this.

“w-wait!” you yelp when his foot comes to loop around your ankle, and you’re suddenly falling backwards. your hand desperately moves to catch onto something— anything to avoid falling onto the floor, so you grab a fistful of suo’s shirt.

he’s clenching his jaw in shock when you roughly yank him down with you, the familiar sound of your voice registering a second too late, because the two of you are crashing onto the ground a second later, suo’s weight knocking the wind out of your chest.

there’s a moment of silence as the two of you wince, your eyes fluttering open to meet with suo, looming over you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. genuine concern … and what looks to be .. shock?

it takes you another moment to take note of the subtle warmth you’re feeling until you finally recognize it as suo’s hand that’s currently cradling the back of your head— and you’re at a loss as to exactly when or how he managed to do that in only a split second.

“i’m sorry,” suo chuckles sheepishly, “you got me this time. i really thought you were an intruder.”

“but did you hit your head? hard? are you okay?” he continues, other arm coming to pull you up and hold you against his chest. “tell me.”

“i think so,” you’re barely able to mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks at the realization that suo’s first thought wasn’t to cushion his own fall, but to protect your head instead. “not that hard though… i think. it doesn’t hurt very much.”

suo’s gaze on you is suddenly much more noticeable, and you’re tearing your eyes away from him a second later, sneaking glances back and forth as he continues to search for any signs of pain.

none that he notices, and the way your lips are pressed in a nervous line is a good sign, at least. suo lets out a relieved sigh before he’s smiling again, as if you hadn’t just spooked the sealed spirits out of him.

“let’s not do that again, okay?”

KAJI REN.

you’ve never seen the night market this packed in your entire life.

it’s so busy that it’s almost suffocating, each breath taking double the effort from the way your body is being smothered between people as kaji leads you towards the food stands.

‘the best fried octopus you’ll ever try,’ your friend had said…but you’re seriously reevaluating you and kaji’s decision to come here— on the busiest night all summer to top it off.

it definitely wasn’t the best idea the two of you have come up with.

you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said the words “excuse me!” and “sorry, getting through!” tonight. a part of you feels bad for your boyfriend— because you knew kaji was way worse off than you, the scowl on his face running the risk of being permanently etched onto his face from the sheer intensity of his glare. the grip he has on your wrist is tighter than ever before, trying his best to weave his way through the crowd without losing you.

kaji knows his mood is worsening each time someone bumps into him, and twice— or even three times as much when he feels someone bumping into you instead. he can feel the way your body roughly jerks back from the impact, and it was stressing him out more than he could imagine. the possibility of losing you and leaving you all alone in an aggressive crowd like this was the last thing he wanted.

he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear you call out his name the first time, or the second time. not even the third time. he doesn’t hear your voice trail off a bit when you mention that his grip is starting to hurt a little— to maybe hold hands instead.

he didn’t hear any of it.

kaji catches a glimpse of an emptier area, and he’s suddenly pulling harder at your wrist to lead you to it, not hearing you squeak out an “ouch, that hurts!”

and it hurts badly, warm tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to try and keep up with him. it’s only when he suddenly jerks you around a corner that you’re tripping over the curb, stumbling and crashing into his back with a loud ‘ouch!’ that he finally turns to take a look at you.

kaji’s eyes are widening at the sight— your teary eyes peering up at him through wet lashes and your hand gingerly rubbing at your wrist. his words catch in his throat, barely able to sputter out an “are you.. okay?”

you shake your head quickly, lips tugging to a shaky frown. “you were hurting my wrist, kaji.”

his chest feels tight.

kaji is quick to bring your hand in his, gently cupping your hand as he looks at your wrist, and the guilt is flooding through him all at once. the thought of hurting you has him grimacing, feeling physically ill just thinking about it, and it’s not long before his mind is racing through all the scenarios.

he didn’t want to hurt you— and he doesn’t want to be someone you saw as ‘dangerous’ either. your wrist was so delicate, and it was a terrifying reminder of his strength— because he didn’t even realize that he was squeezing in the first place.

he truly had no idea.

“it’s okay,” your voice slices through the thick air, ripping him out of his thoughts, “i know you were stressed— it was scary over there.”

“i was scared too, kaji.”

the gentle smile you give him is the only thing that can bring him this much comfort, he thinks. it’s enough to clear his head, his heartbeat settling down, and he’s ripping another lollipop open before popping it in his mouth, turning and kneeling onto the floor.

“you can get on.”

even without his words, it’s a gesture you’re very familiar with— so you don’t hesitate for a second before climbing onto his back, arms circling around kaji as he lifts you up. there’s a subtle pink dusting the tips of his ears when you press a gentle kiss to his head, thanking him for carrying you.

“it’s not a problem,” he grumbles, voice coming out low as a futile attempt to hide the excited thump of his heart.

“get comfy up there, because we’re not leaving this damn market until we get a hold of that octopus.”

NIREI AKIHIKO.

nirei swears that he had no idea that the pillow he had just thrown towards you a moment ago had buttons decorating the outside.

he really didn’t know, and of course it was the only pillow that happened to land right on your face.

“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” his voice comes out frantic as he rushes towards you, terrified eyes watching the way you rub your eye and groan in pain. this was terrible, he was terrible. pillows were never supposed to cause you any pain.

“it…it hit your eye? i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands coming up to do something— wave around you in panic, because he’s not quite sure if he should touch you or leave you be. his hands hover just in front of your face, mind racing with potential ways he could help.

he jolts when you laugh a bit.

“you really picked the worst pillow,” your laugh comes out strained as you try and blink, vision spotted with dots from the hit you’ve taken. “…it’s okay though.”

it takes you a couple more seconds to see nirei clearly, and you can tell that he’s absolutely devastated with just one glance, nervous hands finally coming to grab at your shoulders, keeping you still so he can inspect your eye.

“let me see.”

he’s leaning in a bit, until his face is just a couple inches in front of yours. “i think um,” he squints a bit, ignoring the warmth rising to his cheeks from the proximity, “i think your eye looks fine.”

the guilt is still eating him alive. a part of him wishes that you had been the one to grab that pillow instead, because he’s certain he would have jumped on the opportunity to tank a hit from a buttoned pillow a thousand times before letting it hit you just once. straight in the eye. anywhere. it doesn’t matter to him.

“it probably is,” you give him a small smile, “but you still cheated. i won that fight.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“i-i didn’t know you were there!”

sakura’s a complete and utter mess, and he genuinely didn’t know any better. he didn’t hear you creeping up behind him, so when your arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, his reflex was to jab his elbow straight behind him— and it hit you square in the face.

he could feel his heart shatter into pieces when the sound of your yelp rang in his ears, jerking his body around only to see you stagger backwards, clutching your nose and peering up at him through those teary eyes.

sakura doesn’t know what to do. you’re sniffling now, your arms reaching out to hug him a second time, your voice barely coherent as you start babbling with a shaky voice, the only words he could recognize being “i deserve a hug for that.”

he’s a complete mess. he’s stiff when he lets you wrap your arms around his middle this time, face flushed with red at the simple touch and his heart hurting at the sound of you sniffling against his jacket, hand coming to wipe at the tears welling up in your eyes.

it’s impossible for him to not think of the worst— because he knows other guys wouldn’t be making this kind of mistake. his friends wouldn’t have elbowed you in the face in the first place. or at the very least, his friends would know how to comfort someone in this type of situation. he wants to kick himself for just standing there, words catching in his throat every time he tries and apologize.

“sorry…” your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to yank him out his thoughts. “i shouldn’t have scared you like that.”

it takes sakura a couple seconds before his mouth is falling at the apology. “huh?” he’s dumbfounded, hands coming to grab at your shoulders, “i should be apologizing!”

his face erupts in a furious blush when you giggle at his reaction, thumb coming to swipe at the tears that have spilled onto your cheeks. it’s only then when he tugs you back into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your head to hold you flush against him.

he thinks it’s because he can’t stand to see you cry.

“o-oh?” you whisper against his chest. “this is new.”

sakura chooses to ignore your little remark, clenching his jaw as he glares at your wall, gaze locking on anything except you. “i should be sorry,” he repeats again, his voice barely coherent with the way he’s fighting against his blush, “so you should just … you know. tell me. when you want a hug..”

TOGAME JO. (pet name: doll)

“that’s not right, doll,” togame coos from below you, lips tugging into an amused grin as he watches you struggle to master the self-defense moves that you asked him to teach you an hour ago. or maybe two. it’s normal for him to lose track of time when he’s with you anyway.

your boyfriend doesn’t seem to realize that you don’t have the same stamina he does. or the focus, because you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again— unsure if it’s because you’re embarrassed of your confused attempts at grabbing him, or if it’s the fact that he’s so casually sprawled out underneath you.

“you listenin’?”

you perk up, followed by a delayed nod. a little too obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.

“you grab me here,” his voice is gentle, guiding your hands back to hover over his body, “and then you pull. remember?”

and you nod again. but the sound of his voice, slow and steady, paired with the way he’s lazily propped up on his elbows to look up at you through tired eyes has your mind spinning all over again, instructions already going out your other ear as you try again and take a large fistful of his sweatshirt.

“..like this?”

he hums, lips tugging into a smile. “that’s good, doll. now pull the way i showed you.”

and you do— or you try to. you tug with all your strength, but you can tell he hasn’t moved an inch. you can hear him hum in wonder above you, and that’s all it takes for your eyes to slam shut as you jerk and pull with all your strength— and you feel some movement for the first time tonight.

“wait…” togame interrupts, but you don’t stop, pulling and pulling— not realizing you’ve inched towards to very edge of your mattress. “wait— we’ll fall,” he repeats with a little more urgency.

it’s a second too late when you realize it, eyes shooting open the second gravity tips the balance, and you’re plummeting backwards with a shriek. togame’s twisting his body to catch you as fast as he can, but the frantic movement has his fist connecting with your cheek before he grabs a hold of you, yanking you upwards and into him.

“fuck,” you wince, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand as you huff. “that hurt a bit..”

“sorry,” togame lulls, legs spread to have you seated right in front of him, “i was trying to catch you… didn’t mean to smack you like that. are you okay..?”

his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at the him. the familiar heat in your cheeks returns as soon as you lock eyes with him, because he’s so close. you can feel his breath fan against your lips with the proximity.

and he’s looking right at you.

“‘m okay,” your voice is just above a whisper, “you barely even grazed me, anyway..”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

“when did you take that?!”

your arms shoot up to reach for ume’s phone, cheeks burning with embarrassment— because that had to be the most foul photo you’ve ever seen of yourself. the sound of your boyfriend erupting into the loudest laugh you’ve heard all day only has you seething— and he’s effortlessly holding his phone just out of your reach, as if to taunt you even further.

“you don’t need to know,” he grins widely, watching the way you shift your weight onto your toes in a futile attempt to reach his phone. “and it’s cute! you don’t think so?”

“give it!” you hiss, and you lunge forward to start pulling at the arm that has the phone, “i’m deleting it!”

“no way,” he retorts with a huff, but you’re pulling his sleeve with your full strength, and it catches ume off guard a bit, foot stumbling forward a step. he’s never seen you pull with all your might— so he just wasn’t expecting it.

you’re lunging again before he’s regained his balance, and he shifts his weight backwards, lower back colliding with the table behind him. his phone slips from his grip too fast for either of you to react, and it lands on your nose with a sickening thud.

his laughter vanishes as soon as you’re letting out a pained yelp, hands coming to clutch your nose, squeezing the bridge to ease the pain.

“ow….” you whimper, voice cracking a bit as tears start to flood your lash line. his heart breaks in two when he sees you sniffle, desperately blinking away the tears that threaten to spill as you check your hand.

no blood. just a lot of pain.

“i’m so sorry,” he’s hovering over you within a second, nervous arms fluttering just above your frame— because he hasn’t quite figured out what to do, and you look so fragile like this. he just doesn’t want to break you.

“..are you okay?” he breaks the silence, “let me see you.”

your face is buried in your hands when ume kneels in front of you, hands coming to gently tug at your wrists so you can look at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats even quieter, worry flooding his expression when you tear your gaze away from him.

it’s your attempt at trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know know that. his lips are tugging into a deep frown, eyes filled with worry as he tries to get you to just look at him again.

“look at me, okay?” he whispers, “let me see.”

a deep inhale, and you’re trying to make your voice come out steady again. “i think..i think it’s okay.”

your eyebrows furrow. “you klutz…”

the relief in his face is almost too obvious. he’s taking a sharp inhale, opening his arms to urge you to come for a hug. “i know,” he chuckles, “are you sure? you’re okay?”

you give ume a nod, ignoring the throbbing in your nose as your arms wrap around him, holding him close against you. “i think i’ll be okay if you delete that.”

“no way,” he retorts, relieved that you're at least not crying anymore. "but i'll give you cuddles. deal?"

he's pulling you tighter against him before you even give him your answer, and his shoulders relax a bit when you finally nestle into his arms, leaning into his hold with a soft smile and a throbbing nose.

[hoshifighting]

I can’t wait for the day you decide to give us staff woozi😭🫶 Like yes give me that man ⚰️⚰️⚰️

staff!woozi

WARNINGS: suggestive, wet dream, mentions of animes.

staff!woozi who’s practically part of your nervous system, making sure your mic is hot and those earbuds don’t fry your brain mid-show. he’s always just there—like this phantom, gliding in with his little toolbox, brows furrowed in that way he thinks makes him look tough, but honestly, you’re kinda finding it cute now. he doesn’t even have to look at you anymore; just one twitch of your finger, and he knows exactly how to tune your sound to perfection.

you’re halfway through soundcheck, squinting against the stage lights that feel hot enough to cook you alive, when your left earbud goes all staticy. and before you even manage to do your little signal—a quick point down—he’s already behind you. no warning. just his voice in your ear, all low, like he’s got some big secret: “left one’s crackling again?”

you turn, one eyebrow up. “damn, woozi, you psychic now or what?”

he just huffs, pulling the earbud from your hand with this look like, duh. “you’re predictable,” he says, but there’s that ghost of a smirk, just the tiniest hint of it, which—yeah, okay, it gets to you a bit.

he’s fiddling with it, fingers so precise you swear it’s like watching magic. “you keep playing with ‘em too much. one more yank, and i’m replacing it.”

“not my fault they suck,” you mutter, grinning when he gives you that little glare, one that says i dare you to test me.

“try it again..” he mutters, his voice dry, clipped. he’s already yanked a whole mess of cables and tested every single one, but well, it’s jihoon. he’s on his perfectionist shit.

“testin’… one, two…” you go through it, all monotone, like you’re recitin’ a grocery list.

he glances up, hands fiddlin’ with some random connector piece, but he’s noddin’, brows all scrunched up like he’s concentratin’ on the meaning of life. and then, without even lookin’ at you, he says, “speak up like you’re actually performin’—not just for me.”

staff!woozi, in his worn-out, slightly-too-tight black t-shirt, earphones looped around his neck like some kinda edgy fashion statement, looks too good for your eyes.

“i am performin’,” you toss back, brows raised. “just, y’know, waitin’ for the tech crew to keep up.”

he scoffs, and finally, he looks up, an eyebrow quirked in that way he does when he’s two seconds away from roastin’ you to death. “keep up? alright, superstar, let’s get your fancy ass mic workin’ then.”

staff!woozi who's always fumbling with your clothing as he fix the mic return on your back. mumbling something about the mic feedback being all off. and with this stage clothing, the skin-tight fabric practically painted on you, there’s no space to breathe—let alone to move. so when he reaches to adjust the receiver on your back, the boy have no gentleness to tidy it up.

“how can you even breathe in these? hold still.” he sulks. his fingers brush against your skin, just under the edge of the outfit, and you swear his touch is cool, like ice, but somehow it sends this weird heat up your body. his hand skims along your back, his fingers grazing just under the fabric, feeling way more personal than it should.

“this is… really necessary?” you breathe out, tryin’ to keep your voice casual, even though your heart’s doin’ that embarrassingly loud thud-thud thing.

he doesn’t even look fazed, just gives you a quick, smug look, like he can sense your pulse trippin’ over itself. “unless you want the mic feed to sound like a dying robot… yeah, this is necessary.”

his hand lingers just a second too long on your skin before he adjusts the strap at your shoulder, his thumb grazing the edge of the outfit. you’re caught somewhere between wantin’ to annoyingly roll your eyes or “hornyly” roll your eyes.

staff!woozi who somehow, always ends up next to you on the road, no matter where you sit, and by now, you’ve kinda claimed his shoulder as your own personal pillow. he doesn’t complain—just settles in, eyes closed, arms crossed, and lets you drift off.

but today, as your head leans into that familiar spot, his voice pipes up. “y’know, there are other seats.”

you crack an eye open, only to see him smirking down at you. he’s lookin’ all pompous, like he’s finally pieced together your little routine. “it’s just… comfortable,” you mumble, shoving your face back into his shoulder, feelin’ the soft weight of his hoodie, and okay, maybe the solidness of his arm too.

he chuckles, a sound that’s too close to teasing. “oh, so i’m a human pillow now?”

“pretty much,” you mutter, pretendin’ to yawn. “it’s just… efficient.”

next thing you know, you’re both out cold, side by side, and the crew’s gotta wake you both up at the next stop. you stumble out of the van, all bleary-eyed and yawning, both of you with puffy eyes, while the rest of the team’s trying not to laugh.

staff!woozi who watches animes during his breaks. you’re sittin in the dressing room, half-done with your makeup, feeling that pre-show buzz, and there’s woozi, huddled over his phone, totally zoned out in his own world. you’ve seen him do this before—earbuds in, watchin’ his anime.

so today, curiosity gets the best of you. you wander over, leanin’ over his shoulder, catchin’ a glimpse of bright colors and characters moving around on his screeng

“you’re into this?” you ask, unable to hide the smirk as he looks up, caught.

he pulls one earbud out, glancin’ at you like he’s deciding whether or not to share his “serious” interest. then he sighs, almost reluctantly, but starts explaining the plot, his voice just a little too enthusiastic. and you’re nodding, totally faking that you get it, but he’s so damn into it, you can’t help but get a little wrapped up in his excitement.

when you’re waiting for the other idols to finish up their set, the two of you are back in the dressing room, side by side, watching some random episode. you don’t know half of what’s going on, but jihoon’s talking fast, pointing out characters, explaining every little detail like it’s life or death. you just follow it because staff!woozi is hot.

you don’t know how you ended up here, exactly— n woozi’s hotel room, in your freshest hoodie and sweats, hair still a bit damp from your after-show shower. but you’re here, a slice of pizza in one hand and woozi right next to you, already deep into the latest anime episode like he’s watching some masterpiece.

it started simple enough, you mentioning anime to him once. you barely know the basics, honestly, but your friend is an encyclopedia of every single plot twist, so you could at least fake it a little. and you’d swear woozi’s eyes practically lit up when you said you’d “totally be down to watch something with him, if he had recommendations.” it became your thing on tour—grabbing a pizza, lounging in his room, and watching the latest episodes like two kids after school.

but right now? you’re barely paying attention to the screen. woozi’s sitting next to you in this black tank top, arms looking like he’s been lifting soundboards for fun, thick enough to make your mind drift way off the anime plot. his shorts? even worse. you didn’t even realize a person could look that good just sitting down, like he’s giving you a whole show without even trying.

“are you even watching?” he mutters, catching you totally off guard. woozi raises an eyebrow at you, smirking. damn, he knew.

“oh, yeah, totally!” you stammer, nodding way too enthusiastically. “i know… exactly… what’s going on here.” but that smirk just grows, his gaze sliding back to the screen as if to say, yeah, sure you do.

staff!woozi, who hardly tears his eyes from the screen the whole night, so focused it’s like he’s analyzing every frame. you’re beside him, bundled up in his bed, head lolling as the exhaustion finally takes over, pulling you under. he glances at you every so often—at first just a quick look to make sure you’re out, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes brush your cheeks in the low light. you’d been running on fumes all night, so seeing you drift off wasn’t a surprise.

but then, he hears it—his name, whispered under your breath, soft like it’s the only thing on your mind even while you’re dreaming. his focus shifts. your back arches just the tiniest bit, your brows drawn together, thighs pressing tight like you’re holding onto some sweet secret even he isn’t supposed to know.

and suddenly, he’s more tuned into you than the screen, pulse pounding in his ears.

woozi pretends this never happened. or tries to.

staff!woozi, who’s suddenly got a whole new edge to him the next morning, acting all distant like you didn’t just watch an entire anime season in his bed last night. on the plane, you figure things’ll be back to normal—you’ve got this routine where you always end up leaning on his shoulder, especially after long nights. but today, he’s keeping a solid inch between you both, arms crossed like he’s suddenly allergic to any kind of closeness.

you try once, shifting a little closer, giving him that sleepy, half-pouty look that usually does the trick. he just leans away, adjusting his earbuds like he didn’t notice.

you huff. “yo, what’s your deal? i’m just trying to sleep, and you’re over here playing hard-to-get?”

he glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t act like you’re too good for it.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you let me last night.”

“yeah, well, I’m not your pillow today. i gotta keep my neck in one piece.”

you nudge him with your elbow. “since when did you start caring about your neck, huh? you’re literally hunched over soundboards for a living.”

he shoots you a side-eye. “and maybe that’s why i need to protect it now.”

you snicker, leaning back, but there’s that stubborn pout on your face. “whatever, woozi. don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you didn’t sleep enough watching the show without me.”

you’re still leaning back, sulking a little, when you hear it — just a low mumble under his breath. “not my fault you were… moaning my name last night…”

your head snaps around so fast you practically pull a muscle. “excuse me?” you whisper, eyes wide as saucers.

he stares at you, lips parting slightly as he realizes he definitely said that louder than intended. his eyes dart away, and he’s already sinking into the seat like he might disappear.

you blink, heartbeat going wild as you piece together last night, flashes of the dream you’d had flooding back—heat and skin and his name on your lips. you remember waking up in his bed, flustered and warm, rushing back to your own room before he could see the look on your face.

“so… you heard that?”

his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck, cheeks reddening under that deadpan expression he’s clinging to. “yeah, uh… kinda hard to miss...?”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning, but you can’t resist sneaking a glance at him. he’s biting his lip, looking anywhere but at you, and you swear there’s a faint smirk he’s trying to hide.

“god, woozi, you could’ve just… i dunno, woken me up or something!” you mutter, feeling the burn creep up your cheeks.

“yeah, right,” he snorts, glancing back at you now with this smug little glint in his eyes. “like you’d want that.”

[loggiepj]

illicit affairs

part 2 | part 3

YOU'D be a fool trying to convince yourself that Wanda was just some old hag sleeping on your bed that night. But god, she had never looked so peaceful and gorgeous than that very moment, as she was ten years ago. You didn't even know it was possible for someone to look so beautiful, it looked like a crime. As if the gods above blessed only those who were cruel. And cursed those who worshipped them.

Her creamy white legs were exposed from the blanket wrapped around her body. Her tiny soft snores filled the room as she buried herself deep into the pillows. It would take days before her scent would be gone from your sanctuary.

It tore you apart to look at her and feel these forbidden emotions, mad at yourself for feeling this way towards the old woman. You should hate her. You should have kicked her out for what she did.

You decided to go to the kitchen and make something for breakfast instead, preoccupying yourself from worrying too much, that the one nightmare you had always have had come true.

Even your hands were shaking as you beat down the eggs into a bowl, it was a miracle you had managed to cook food. The bacon almost ended up burnt when you jumped from her sudden presence in the kitchen.

"You're awake," you said, ignoring Wanda's gaze on you, her eyes glistening with a recognizable look. You knew that look. She used to look at you that way when you were wearing nothing but her white button down shirt as you made her a quick midnight snack whenever the twins weren't around. But that was ten years ago.

You don't feel anything for the woman anymore, right?

"I made us breakfast," you said before she opened her mouth to speak, stopping her. "You should eat first before you leave."

Wanda took small steps towards the dining table, looking at the food you made her. You wondered if she was touched, remembering how Wanda preferred scrambled eggs more than sunny side ups. But you convinced yourself you didn't do it for her. Because that would make you a martyr.

"This is good," Wanda softly said as you two began to eat in silence. You forced a small smile her way and went back eating.

"I haven't had breakfast like this for ages," she admitted, chuckling. "The boys mostly want cereals for breakfast, I ended up liking them, especially those colorful sweet ones, the . . . I forgot what they were called."

"Froot Loops?"

The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "Yes, Froot Loops. I swear I'd end up having diabetes one day."

You nodded, chugging down what remained of your coffee as you avoided the woman's gaze.

"What are your plans today? It's a Saturday," the brunette added. "The twins are planning to shop around Chinatown before the classes start. You might even have ideas where to-"

"I can't," you answered, "sorry, I am meeting someone today."

"Oh," she went on, a teasing smirk on her face, "a girlfriend?"

Your fork made a noise as you let it fall down your plate. "What do you want, Miss Maximoff?"

Wanda's smile immediately vanished as she stopped eating. "I . . . I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I didn't mean to pry if you have someone special-"

"No, I mean, what do you want? Why are you here? What were you thinking looking for me, for you to end up inside a sketchy bar?"

Wanda bit back a sob as she looked at you, her hand slipping to hold yours across the table. You tensed and abruptly took it away, ended up with her curling hers into a fist.

"I am so sorry, Y/n," she began, "I'm so sorry for what I did all those years ago, for what I said to you, for being so cruel. I . . . I have to live everyday regretting everything I have said to you. You didn't deserve those things. You were nothing but good to me, and I took you for granted. I . . . I just . . . miss you. I miss you, Y/n. There isn't a day in my life since you left that I haven't thought of you."

You scoffed, standing up as you began cleaning the dishes.

You heard the scraping of her chair against the floor as she stood. "I looked for you. After your graduation, I looked for you. I wanted to take back everything I said. I didn't mean those things. If I could only turn back time, I'd go back to that very day and I should've kissed you and chose you-"

"But you can't," you butted in as you turned to glance at the hysteric woman before you, "turn back the time, I mean."

Wanda was panting softly as her teary eyes stared right at you. She shook her head as she said, "No, I can't."

"That's unfortunate, then," you said back coldly.

Wanda swallowed, still frozen on her spot, and before she'd burst into more tears in your apartment, you went towards the doorway, grabbed your coat and keys. "I'm just gonna grab some coffee. Your clothes are freshly laundered in the bathroom if you want to freshen up before leaving. Please don't forget to lock the door when you leave."

"Y/n—" But you haven't heard the end of it as you closed the door.

Luckily, Wanda wasn't there when you went back home two hours after. But once you had ensured the whole apartment was empty, you broke down and cried.

TIME and absence would surely heal a wound. A couple of months had passed since that dreary encounter and you swore there were a few days when you had completely forgotten about Wanda. That was until you received a call late Friday night when you had only just arrived in your apartment.

It was a nurse from a nearby private hospital, saying that Tommy got into an accident. Before you argued why you were in his contacts in the first place, you drove to the hospital to visit.

Apparently, Tommy got into a fight in one of the fraternity parties he and his friends attended. With broken nose, cut lip and fractured arm, Tommy almost looked unrecognizable.

"Sorry, Y/n," Tommy said when he saw you enter the emergency room, "I didn't know who else to call. And I don't want to worry Mom-"

"It's okay, Tommy. Are you okay? What happened?"

And as you listened to Tommy and the nurse who attended to him, your breathing quickened, your hand hovering over the phone in your jean's pocket. Hesitant to call his mother, even if you knew you had to. Seeing the brunette was the last thing you wanted to do. But this was her son. Your feelings should come last.

Instead of calling the woman, you ended up sending her a short text message, to which she replied instantly, saying that she was already on her way.

You were getting a cup of coffee from a vending machine outside the hospital when Wanda arrived, hearing her voice inside the emergency room.

You decided to sit on the bench by the waiting area, thinking whether you should leave them or stay. You must have fallen asleep on your seat for a few minutes when you felt someone sit beside you.

"Thank you for being there for him," Wanda said.

"How's Tommy?"

"He's under some meds right now for the pain, but the doctor says he's going to be fine."

"That's good," you said.

"There's no available private room at the moment, so he has no choice but to stay in a ward with other patients," she went on, massaging her head. "Doctor said he'll likely be discharged tomorrow or the day after that."

"If you want, you can sleep in my apartment, take a bath or such, while waiting for him to get discharged," you offered. And you had no idea where such sympathy came from.

There was even a short moment where her eyes were at your mouth before she looked back at you.

"I don't want to impose—"

"Wanda, it's fine," you insisted. "For Tommy."

She nodded. "Thank you."

YOU VISITED Tommy in the ward first before leaving, while waiting for Wanda to finish filling up the papers in the hospital's admission room.

"You going to be fine alone?"

"I can manage," he replied, chuckling, showing off his cast.

"Will your father visit?"

The smile on his face disappeared, his fingers playing on the tape around his wrist. "Dad does not visit us often anymore. And I hardly believe he cared for us anyway, now that he has another family of his own."

That was news to you.

"I always tell Mom to find someone so she wouldn't end up alone," he went on, his eyes at the window where you two could see Wanda busy writing. "But she never remarried after Dad, maybe it was because she never trusts men like Dad anymore. But it's been years, you know. I know she's too scared to admit it, but I know she's lonely at home now that me and Billy are in college."

Your eyes were on Wanda as she talked to the Doctor. "I'm sure she'll find someone in the right time."

He laughed softly, making you look at him. "Come to think of it, they got divorced years ago, months after we didn't see you at the house anymore. There was one time Billy thought you were the other woman Dad has been cheating with. But I know you're not that bad of a person."

You stiffened. "You mean, they'd been divorced that long?"

Tommy hummed. "Yes, ten years ago, I guess. We eventually found out who the other woman was. Good thing we didn't curse you by mistake."

You forced to laugh at his joke, but your mind was running in deep circles wondering if the divorce really had something to do with you.

"COME on, don't be shy," your friend Steve invited Wanda, who looked as shocked as you were. "Any friend of Y/n is a friend of ours."

Somehow, when Wanda was returning the clothes you lent to her that time Tommy was hospitalized, there you were in your apartment with your friends, who held a surprised farewell party for Bucky, who was leaving for London the next day. As if Wanda knew perfect timing.

Kate hadn't left your side, even sitting between you just to eradicate any weirdness. The group's conversation went from talking about everyone's jobs, making Wanda let out her plans she was starting a flower shop business in New York and that she had just bought a spot particularly two blocks from the university. You tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, and convinced yourself she was only doing that to be closer to her boys. But you knew better.

Even Kate faked a laugh as she held another toast for the woman. "What about a special someone, Miss Maximoff? I heard you were divorced. Anyone you're meeting at the moment?"

Wanda's eyes met yours for a second before you looked away and drank whatever was left from your bottle of beer.

"No," she answered, chuckling. "I think I'm too old for that stuff anyway."

Bucky chortled. "No way you're old, Miss. If you want, I can set you up with people I know from work. I might even be successful on setting you up than Y/n here, whom I've failed a number of times."

"Why?" Wanda asked curiously.

Kate tried to stop Bucky. "Bucky, just give it a rest—"

"Oh, Y/n here has unknown high standards," Bucky enthusiastically added. "Believe me when dozens had gone down on their knees and Y/n has respectfully refused any advances."

"Shut up," you said, laughing, although you could tell Wanda's eyes never left yours all night long.

WHEN the party ended, all of the attendees slowly started to leave the apartment until there was only you and Wanda. Wanda helped you clean up the place, starting with throwing the empty boxes of pizza and bottles of beers into the trash bag.

"Y/n." Wanda broke the silence. Chappell Roan's casual was playing through the speakers.

"Mm?"

"Is it true?"

You stopped putting the dishes into the dishwasher to look at her. "Is what true?"

There was a small pause before she went on. "Have I ruined you for anyone else?"

You straighten your posture, frustrated as you glared back at her. "How dare you?"

"Then tell me," she challenged, approaching you with a sly smile on her face. "It's an easy question answerable by yes or no. Tell me."

"You infuriate me!"

"That's not a no—"

"You're nothing but a pathetic old slut who craves attention from someone who doesn't want her anymore!"

"Admit it then!" She leaned forward, closer to your face, her nostrils flaring. "Say it to my face that you don't feel anything for me anymore and I'll leave you alone for good! Tell me—"

You pushed your mouth against hers, effectively stopping Wanda from talking. She gasped upon the impact, with her back hitting the wall behind her from the force. And she welcomed you with as much aggression, her hands cupping your face to hold you.

With your arms on each side of her head, you pressed your bodies together, molding against each other. Her tongue played with yours, tasting what had been missed, wondering if each one of you were still as desperate as you were ten years ago.

"Y/N!" she moaned loudly a couple of minutes later as you pulled her hair, while roughly pistoning your strap into her from behind.

You had never thought you'd be able to do it. But there you were in your own bedroom with the woman you both loathed and loved so much on all fours before you. And it was driving you insane.

Mind filled with rage and lust, you tried to forget that this woman before you was the cause of your downfall. You tried to forget she hurt you, broke your heart to pieces as if you were nothing. Basking in the moment, you harshly grabbed the skin of her hips, nails digging, as you repeatedly and relentlessly pushed into her warm dripping entrance.

The tip of your strap hit your clit at the right angle, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. And when you heard Wanda's whimpers before you, your hand slipped through her back then held her shoulder as you fastened the pace.

The brunette screamed as her body convulsed in waves, shuddering as she came. If it weren't for you holding her upright, she would've fallen straight face down on the sheets.

But her cumming didn't stop you from chasing your relief. The sweet nectar from her release dripping down both your thighs only made the action slippery and noisy.

"Y/n. . . ," Wanda moaned, her hand attempting to hold you back but you slapped her hand away before leaning forward as you held both of her hands behind her back. This rendered Wanda's face flat against the pillow before her, muffling her moans.

"Is this what you want, huh?" you demanded, eyes almost in tears seeing Wanda and pretending you weren't just loving every moment that was happening right now. "Is this what you want from me?"

"Yes!" she screamed, gasping when you spanked one of her butt cheeks. "Yes! Y/n! You're all I want! You're all I've ever wanted!"

And that snapped something inside you. The coil in your stomach exploded, making you press your front into her back as you lay on top of her.

"Wanda," you moaned into her neck, your hips stuttering as you came. She held your face behind her as your body shook.

"I got you, Y/n," she cooed softly as you panted, still trembling above her. "I got you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much ❤🥰

[sonotpattismith]

Hi! Could I req an inumaki w/ a reader with anxiety attacks? thank you!

Breathe. (toge inumaki x reader)

word count: 3.7k warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks a/n: thank you so, so much for the request! I hope I was able to get the vibe you were looking for 😌

The first time Inumaki witnessed one of your anxiety attacks, his first instinct was to take you to Shoko, and, much to your mortification after the fact— he did. Neither of you knew one other very well yet, having interacted minimally during training or simply in passing. Truthfully, when you were assigned on a mission together, it scared you. Not that you had anything against him, but his lack of ability to communicate should something be going wrong during the mission was certainly something that raised red flags for you.

It must have been a year or two since you last had an anxiety attack quite like this one. Since beginning your lifestyle as a jujutsu sorcerer, many of your previous fears and low levels of distress tolerance for stressors improved significantly. It wasn’t that it was something you were actively trying to work on, but it certainly came with the territory. So, when those familiar feelings began to rise in you once again near the end of your mission with the cursed speech user, you were both thrown for a loop.

You typically had a routine for these sorts of things. It was by no means Inumaki’s fault, you simply hadn’t taken into account how his lack of communication would impact said routine. As you leaned on your knees to catch your breath following the proper disposal of a fairly strong curse that had been terrorizing the area, you looked to your partner, who was wiping blood from the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here, this place reeks.” You suggested with a huff.

“Salmon.” He croaked out, voice still hoarse from the command he’d just hurled at the curse moments prior. Your eyes softened slightly at the sound. Training with him was one thing, but hearing his raw power in full display before you was something else entirely. Tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder, you watched his eyes regard you curiously.

“Are— is your voice okay?”

Inumaki paused for a moment before his eyes squinted a bit, face scrunching up as he offered you a soft wave as if to say ‘I’m fine’. You smiled softly at his nonchalant expression. Nodding affirmatively, you turned to begin your trek toward the exit, but you were stopped with a gentle hand around your wrist. You tilted your head in question at the boy, who’s brows were furrowed as he pointed in the opposite direction.

“Pollack roe.” He stated, voice still gravely. The boy began tugging you in said direction. Honestly, the building that the two of you were assigned to was so massive that you really weren’t sure where the exit actually was. Toge seemed more sure of himself than you did though, so you followed him without question.

It must have been ten minutes that you had been walking down hallway after hallway, exiting through various doors in the never ending labyrinth of this place. Fear began to prickle in the very back of your mind. Did he know where he was going? As you felt your heart begin to pick up speed, you willed yourself to take a deep breath.

“Inumaki…” You called hesitantly. He already knew the doubts running through your head, and he turned to face you with a sheepish expression. It did nothing to ease the tension filling your body. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

He paused in front of a door, pointing assuredly at it with a nod. His lavender eyes seemed to plead with you as if to say it’s this one, I swear. “Tuna tuna.”

You knew he couldn’t help it, and you knew he was doing the best he could to communicate with you. Still, without certainty of his thought process at the moment, you couldn’t help but start to panic. Your fingers trembled with uncertainty as they gripped the rails of the staircase you were descending.

They were all telltale signs: the sudden twinge of fear arising in the deep corners of your mind, the way your heart seemed to pound mercilessly against your rib cage, the inescapable body tremors— but it had been years, and you truly thought that was all past you. So, when Inumaki opened the heavy, metal door at the bottom of the staircase open for you, and you were met with yet another grueling hallway— something snapped within you.

It felt as though your vision was becoming tunneled. You tried to blink furiously through it, but the pressure building behind your eyes wouldn’t allow it. The violent, meticulous drumming of your heart seemed to stop altogether before slamming back into you at full force. The sensation was one you could only assume was likened to that of a heart attack, but then again you wouldn’t know. Raising a trembling hand to your chest, your mind began coming up with the worst case scenarios. Were you having a heart attack? Had you been cursed unknowingly? The possibilities only served to make your symptoms that much worse, and you were now struggling to breathe.

“Mustard leaf?”

You could hear Inumaki’s concern-laced voice coming from beside you, but it sounded as though he was underwater with the blood rushing in your ears. Unfamiliar hands came to grasp your forearms. It grounded you for just a moment, but your mind was still racing with the thought that something may be happening to you, and you couldn’t find your way out of this damn building.

“Some-Something’s wrong,” you began babbling, desperate for any sign that you’d make it out of here alive. Toge’s fear-stricken face floated into your line of vision, his eyes searching up and down for an explanation. “I can’t breathe. H-Help me, please. Please, help me.” Senseless, desperate babbles began to tumble from your lips as you clutched onto his arms as if it would stop you from succumbing to whatever mysterious ailment that had decided to creep upon her.

Her desperate cries only served to terrify the confused boy more. Scanning her now pale face and trembling hands, he wished for nothing more than to just ask her what was going on— what she was feeling so maybe he could understand how to help. It was impossible though, and nothing frustrated him more. Unsure of what had suddenly come over her, Inumaki could only do just as she was asking of him and help— whatever that meant. Tucking an arm around her waist, his movements were quick and determined to find the exit and get her to help.

It seemed as though that stairwell he had lead them down was correct. At the end of that very hall was the familiar exit doors. She was stumbling along beside him, her grip on his arm now suffocating. With a newfound determination, the boy bent down to throw her over his shoulder as gently as he could and race out the door. The location wasn’t far from the school, much to Inumaki’s relief. By the time they reached their destination, you were already beginning to come down ever so slightly from the attack. Still, the boy insisted on dragging you along to see Shoko.

Toge stayed posted just under the door frame, watching with an impatient tap on his foot as the healer pulled the stethoscope from her ears and hummed softly.

“Your heart rate is a little high but everything else looks normal.” She stated, giving the anxious girl before her a once over. Looking at the way your hair seemed to cling to your forehead, she placed the back of her hand against the damp skin there. “You’ve got cold sweats?”

You nodded softly, squeezing your fingers together in an attempt to stop them shaking. A knowing look suddenly passed over the woman’s face, and she leaned back on the table behind her.

“Do you have a history of anxiety attacks?”

The blood seemed to drain from your face at the realization. Suddenly, you were unable to look her or Inumaki in the eyes. Embarrassment gripped you with a ferocity that had you chewing aggressively at your bottom lip.

“Um…” you murmured under your breath as your gaze remained unmoving from its place on your lap. It only seemed to cause your breathing to return to its previously strained tempo. “I-I mean yeah, but… I haven’t had one in years.”

Shoko nodded affirmatively, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. It made you glance up at her hesitantly, face flushed red.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. With a job like this, I’d be more worried if you all weren’t losing it every once and a while. Just know your symptoms. Remember to breathe through it when they start.”

You spoke to Shoko for a few minutes longer about identifying your symptoms as they arise. This time around, you were able to pinpoint the cold sweats, trembling, and racing heart as your telltale signs. For some reason, you were even more embarrassed when she went over a basic, grounding breathing technique with you. Inumaki’s presence weighed heavily in the room throughout the entire interaction. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. It had all been for nothing— the panic, the rush, the concern— all because you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that yes, you would eventually make it out of the building.

You tried not to look at him as he walked you back to your dorm, which you insisted was unnecessary. When you pleaded with him to just turn in for the night. You were sure he was exhausted from having to haul you all the way out of the building after already being drained by the use of his technique. Still, he simply just shrugged nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he followed you to your door. As the two of you reached your dorm, you couldn’t help but look down shyly at your feet

“I’m so sorry,” The apology tumbled from your lips with little thought. Thumbing over the hem of your shirt, you continued. “I should have known what it was. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. That was so—”

Toge abruptly stopped you with a comforting hand on your shoulder. Though the lower half of his face was still covered by his collar, you could see the way his lavender eyes squinted a bit with his reassuring smile. Holding out a finger as if to say hold on, he quickly pulled out his phone and began typing.

That was on me. I lowkey got us lost 😮‍💨

Biting back your surprise at the tiny piece of his personality shining through the message, a soft smile replaced your blabbering apologies. Laughing softly, you shook your head, cheeks still tinged a bit pink. You wanted to apologize again, tell him you shouldn’t have freaked him out like that so unnecessarily, but it seemed like he was trying to give you an out. His eyes shone softly as he regarded your now more relaxed posture.

“Yeah,” You breathed with a quiet laugh. “ ‘Tuna tuna’ my ass, I’ll be the navigator next time.”

His laugh shook his chest, and you suddenly wished you could see the smile it was giving him. Typing up a quick message, he held his phone out with one hand while the other came up to his head in a mock salute.

My bad bro, I’ll just command you to find the exit next time.

Your friendship blossomed after that shared mission, and you came to appreciate the little bits of Toge’s personality you began to see spring up. The two of you mostly communicated through text, but you had even begun to be able to find meaning in his seemingly nonsensical rice ball ingredients. You had been eternally grateful that he hadn’t made a big deal out of the panic attack you had experienced that sent you both spiraling. Even more so, it touched you that he was perceptive enough to save face for you.

Still, when you went on missions together, which began happening more often as your collaboration grew with your bond, he found himself keeping an particularly close eye on you. It wasn’t that Inumaki thought you couldn’t hold your own during a mission, his first hand experience seeing your skill in jujutsu made sure of that. More so, he looked out for those signs you had spoken to Shoko about. If there was a particularly unfamiliar place, or you were getting more roughed up than usual, the cursed speech user seemed to watch to see if your fingers trembled against your weapon, or if your breathing seemed to become abnormal. It had been months since the incident, but the precaution still lingered in the back of his mind every now and again.

So, the second time you experienced an anxiety attack in your time at Jujutsu High, Toge was more than prepared. You had landed yourself in the infirmary. Surprisingly (and embarrassingly), it hadn’t even been on a mission. No, you had actually come down with a wicked case of food poisoning.

You and Toge had spent the day in the city just two days prior. Having pulled you into an unsuspecting, hole in the wall deli just a few blocks away from the store you two were headed to, the boy shook his head adamantly as you pointed to the sandwich you thought looked good. Making a comically dramatic ‘X’ with his arms across his chest, he acted out a fake gag. Your ignorance of his attempt to warn you that something didn’t look quite right about that sandwich only made your trip to Shoko that much more embarrassing.

You hadn’t stopped throwing up since that night after you two returned. He had texted you the next morning asking if you wanted to get breakfast, but just the thought of trying to force something down your throat was making you gag. After this offer was declined, he sent a few more texts your way, however they were all ignored. On top of the fact that you were too embarrassed to tell him that you’d been spilling your guts for twenty-four hours straight, the prideful side of you just really didn’t want to give the smug motherfucker the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

Now, as you laid in the uncomfortably stiff bed for seven hours, hooked up to an IV that was replenishing all the fluids you had lost in the past twenty-four hours, you were regretting your decision of not telling him. It was silent in the room. The stark white, barren walls were infuriating to look at, and the puny size of the room began to make it feel as though they were closing in on you. Shoko came in to check on you every once and a while, but, other than that, you were alone. The healer didn’t mention when you’d be able to leave and resume your normal routine. All you knew was that until you stopped looking like a ghost and were able to keep more than a mere cup of water down, you would be under her observation.

It seemed endless though, the countless seconds, turned minutes, turned hours. As the sun began to set outside, that feeling of uncertainty became more inescapable. Your hand began to tremble as you scrolled through your phone in an attempt to distract yourself. For a moment, you worried that your body was beginning to react to the lack of food. The longer time went on though, the worse it became. Was it getting warmer in this room? With an anxious huff, you kicked the blanket off of your trembling legs. Your heart began to pound against your chest— you could feel it everywhere. It was in your back, your ears, your fingertips.

Opening your mouth to call for help, you cut yourself off with a startled yelp when you saw a familiar head of platinum blond hair in the doorway. After not hearing back from you all day, Toge would be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to worry a bit. While your friendship was still growing and you didn’t necessarily see each other everyday, it was definitely uncharacteristic for you to not even reply to him.

You had quickly become a constant in his life, finding himself checking for your messages as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning. Knowing he could definitely be a complete stage five clinger when he wanted to be, he tried not to bother you that day. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off. Oftentimes Inumaki felt as though he had to make up for his lack of words with his presence. When it came to you, all he wanted was to assure that you knew how much he cared for you since he couldn’t outright tell you. Although, he had a feeling that even if he could, the words would get choked up in his throat as soon as you batted those gleaming, brilliant eyes at him.

In the end, he had to hear from Maki that you had landed yourself in Shoko’s infirmary with a nasty case of food poisoning. While a bit hurt that you didn’t tell him, he figured it was your pride getting in the way because— damn it, he told you to put that sandwich down. So, there he was, smugly strolling in to visit you with a sandwich shaped plushie under one arm (which had the stupidest little look on its stuffed, bread face that he just couldn’t not pick it up on his run to the store), and his switch in the other, hoping to at least entertain you for a while in your time of need.

The eager expression on his face quickly faded as he took in the state of you. Your eyes were wide and misty as they landed on him with a gasp. Quickly moving toward your bed, he regarded you with concern as he set his things down on the chair beside you.

“Mustard leaf?” He pressed, taking in the way your face was quite a few shades lighter than he recalled, and your hands seemed to reach desperately out toward him. Leaning forward, he allowed you to fist the fabric of his hoodie between your fingers and pull him closer.

“Toge, something’s wrong.” The familiar words tumbled from your lips as tears lined your eyes. You haphazardly grappled at his hand to bring it to your chest as if he was qualified enough to tell you if you were really crashing out right now or not. “Help me— you need to help me.”

Too wrapped up in the inexplicable feeling that you were falling down, deep into an inescapable chasm, you couldn’t think straight enough to recognize that you two had been in this exact situation before. Luckily though, the boy in front of you remembered perfectly, since you scared the shit out of him the first time. With furrowed brows, he reached out to graze the skin of your forehead tentatively. Upon feeling the unmistakable, damp sensation clinging to your otherwise cool forehead, Toge knew exactly what was going on.

With softening eyes, he sat beside you in the cramped bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Grabbing the hand that was still clutched onto his shirt, he brought it up to his chest before taking a deep breath and hoping you’d repeat. You were nearly hysterical though, tears now streaming freely down your cheeks at the feeling of your own racing heart.

“Please, get Shoko, Toge. I need help—”

“Tuna, tuna.” The boy urged desperately, using his free hand to point to his chest as he took another, dramatic deep breath in. Your hand still trembled against his though, and your breathing was still hitched. It made him want to rip his hair out— the way he couldn’t remind you that you were okay, that you were just having an anxiety attack, and you just needed to ground yourself like Shoko taught you. His heart was breaking more each second at the sight of your panicked state. In a desperate fury, he ripped his collar down around his neck.

“Breathe.”

In an instant, it was as if your lungs were being pried open. Cool oxygen flooded your system, making your hazy mind just a hair clearer. His fingers were firm atop of yours, splayed out in the center of his chest as he dramatically breathed out, nodding for you to do the same. It was a bit of back and forth like this before the realization hit you. A rush of heat flooded to your cheeks, making you dip your head down in embarrassment.

“I did it again.” You cursed, willing yourself to stop blushing as it was really only making the embarrassment worse. “I’m sorry, Toge. I didn’t even realize…”

His shoulder dropped a bit, relaxing once he noted you had begun breathing normally once again. Now that things had calmed down, you were struck by the intimate position you had been put in. He was close— closer than he had ever been to you, especially with his collar pulled down. For the first time, you were actually able to see the soft smile that graced his marked lips. Your heart swelled a bit at the sight, unable to tear your eyes away from the newfound territory you’d been made a witness to.

Toge’s fingers curled nervously around yours when he noticed your unwavering gaze on his exposed mouth. Under your fingertips, you could feel his heart thumping wildly against his chest. His pale cheeks pinked before you. In a last ditch effort to preserve his dignity, he quickly pulled the abandoned sandwich stuffy off the chair to present to you.

Your eyes fell on it slowly, and upon processing what it was, your mouth fell open with an insulted gasp. His lips broke out into a boyish grin, laughing boisterously as you smacked his chest.

“You’re such a dick, Inumaki!”

Despite your harsh words, he watched with pride in his eyes as you slowly wrapped your arms around the plushy. After carefully adjusting the line of your IV so it didn’t get tangled, he grabbed the switch that had also been left on the chair, holding it up in question. You smiled giddily before scooting over so he could squeeze into the small space beside you.

With your head resting softly on his shoulder, and your legs tangled with his over the messy sheets as you two shared the tiny screen in his lap, the daunting, white walls of your room didn’t seem as maddening anymore.

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[mitsuristoleme]

“hey stupid, i love u”

cw: mild swearing, gn!reader, reader gets called ‘mom’, fluff fluff fluff

part 1 here but this can be read as a standalone

a/n: they need more domesticity. this is so self indulgent btw.g

tagging- @forest-hashira

You unlock the door as quietly as possible, and slip inside the house, making sure not to wake your family. It was still pretty early, only 9AM on a Saturday.

Your family. A chaotic mess consisting of your two boyfriends and four adopted (kinda) children. Neither you nor the boys thought you would be parents of four at 20, but you weren’t complaining. Smiling at the thought of them, you take off your shoes and put them into the shoe-rack.

Dumping you bag unceremoniously onto the dining table, you make your way to the bedroom you shared with your lovers, only to be greeted by an adorable sight as you enter.

Nanako and Megumi are sandwiched between Satoru and Suguru, Mimiko asleep on Satoru’s shoulder and Tsumiki curled up over Suguru’s head. A big cuddle pile of the people you love most.

If you were in a cartoon you would be a liquid puddle on the ground with hearts in your eyes.

Bringing out your phone, you take a million pictures before heading into the bathroom to clean up and change.

You take the quickest, quietest shower you have ever taken (normally Satoru and Suguru join you and well, that doesn’t end fast) and slip on one of Suguru’s hoodies and a pair of shorts.

You check the time on your phone, 10AM.

Deciding to make breakfast for everyone, you grab your dirty clothes to put in the laundry basket and begin making you way out of the room.

You’ve barely taken a couple steps when you hear shuffling from the bed and a hoarse little whisper of “Mom?”

Mimiko has moved away from Satoru’s shoulder and is looking at you, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Okay, fuck the laundry.

You drop your work uniform in a corner of the room and move to scoop Mimiko into your arms, pressing a kiss onto her head.

“Hi honey, you sleep well?”

She nods against you before mumbling a “missed you.”

“I missed you too, you menace,” you whispered, gently tickling her under her chin. “You wanna help me make breakfast, hmm?”

“Waffles?” she asks looking up at you with those pleading eyes you can never say no to.

You don’t have the heart to tell her you were gonna make oatmeal.

“Of course.”

In the kitchen, you seat Mimiko on the counter and put on your apron before you grab the child sized one with “Mimiko” embroidered on it and tie it up for her.

Mimiko adores that apron for no reason other than the fact that her dads got it for her on her birthday (of course Nanako has a matching one and of course they refused to take them off for a week, going as far as sleeping in their aprons).

You both get to work making the batter for the waffles. You put in the ingredients and mix as Mimiko ‘finishes’ the mixing.

While you’re washing and chopping the strawberries, your little chef chooses the playlist for that morning, one of Satoru’s making of course.

Distracted as you both are, you don’t notice Suguru enter the kitchen. At least not until he’s pressed up against your back, arms around your waist.

“Good morning, love,” he breathes into your ear, in that deep husky voice thats so fucking attractive it should be illegal.

“Hi Sugu,” you reply, heart thumping wildly in your chest. Even after three, almost four years of being together, the boys never failed to make you feel like a crushing schoolgirl.

You slice the last strawberry in half and turn around to face your boyfriend, looping your arms around him neck. He grins that devilishly handsome grin of his, and pecks your lips.

“Papa! I want hugs and kisses too,” pouts Mimiko, phone and playlist forgotten as she holds her arms out for her papa to embrace her.

“Of course my little angel.”

You look on fondly as Suguru dotes on your daughter, giggles emanating from their mouths. Watching your boys be soft for the kids made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

That was when Satoru walked out of the bedroom, eyes unfocused, his hair looking like he lost a fight with his pillow, and Nanako and Tsumiki under each arm. In a strange display of affection, Megumi was clutching onto his shoulders, legs dangling.

Satoru doesn’t seem to have noticed the fact that you’re at home. He deposits the kids onto the couch and makes his way towards the kitchen, whining about the loss of Suguru’s body heat.

“-can’t believe ya left me Sugu. No y/n either. M’heart is breaking-“

He’s in the middle of his sleepy tirade when he spots you, standing next to the sink, smiling.

“Hi ‘Toru.”

He immediately breaks out into a grin.

“BABYYYYY!!!” And you’re enveloped into a bone crushing hug.

You laugh as he lifts you off the ground and rocks you from side to side. He sets you down and begins peppering your face with kisses.

“I,” mwah, “Missed,” mwah, “You.” mwah.

Another arm snakes around your waist, Suguru pulling both you and Satoru closer. You notice from the corner of your eye that Mimiko has joined her siblings in the living room, the four if them crowded around an iPad.

You bask in your lovers’ hugs for a moment longer, before kissing their jaws and pulling yourself out of their arms.

“C’mon we still have four kids to feed,” you say in response to their forlorn expressions.

You peek your head out of the kitchen, calling out to the kids, “Kids! Waffles for breakfast! Dining table now!”

With a cheer and a yell of “You guys should all thank me for this” by Mimiko, the four children are seated at the table in record time.

Suguru forces you to sit on the dining table as he and Satoru make the waffles and serve them to everyone, with a heaping serving of whipped cream and chopped strawberries.

After breakfast, the girls enthusiastically remind you of the Girls’ Day you promised them that morning before you left. When you tell them to get dressed, the twins immediately break free from Satoru, who was showering them in affection (imagine his disappointment), and scamper to their room to choose their outfits.

Tsumiki shyly comes up to you, playing with the hem of her sleep shirt, “Mom, can you help me pick something to wear?”

These are the moments that make you realise how different life was for the four children before Satoru and Suguru found them. Tsumiki had never gotten the chance to go out much and you heart ached for the young girl.

You clear your throat to ease the tightness you felt and smiled at Tsumiki, “Of course ‘Miki! C’mon lets put together an outfit for you.”

As you get up from the couch, you share a glance with Satoru and Suguru, whose eyes reflect all the same emotions you had been feeling.

The last thing you hear before leaving is Suguru asking Megumi if he wants to go somewhere to compensate for the fact that the three boys were being left at home.

After helping Tsumiki pick an outfit, you send the girl off to shower before taking one yourself (the second consecutive shower without your boys, you note). You quickly do your makeup and slip into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Completely unable to locate your sweater (it was probably stolen by Satoru), you end up stealing Suguru’s leather jacket to wear on top of your t-shirt.

When you finally step back into the living room, Satoru greets you with a kiss on your lips and his signature cheshire grin. “You look good,” he says, ocean blue eyes looking you up and down appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you grin back, looping your arms around his neck.

“Can I come with?” he inquires almost pleadingly. “Baby its Girls’ Day.” “Yeah and?” “You’re not a girl Satoru!” “Bold of you to assume I’m not a woman.” “What?!?”

“I swear you two,” you hear Suguru sigh behind you. You look back at him, pouting. “‘Toru started it,” you complain.

Suguru laughs and pinches Satoru’s and your

cheeks, following it up by pecking your foreheads.

“You’re both such babies,” he chuckles as you and your white haired menace of a lover launch yourselves into Suguru’s arms.

“Your babies,” Satoru replies, cheekily.

“My babies.”

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[kombuuuu]

ONGOMG I saw a Tiktok and it has Miles webbing up your hand while hand holding bc he’s so clingy and I can def imagine it 🥺

Also particularly weak for Pavitr doing the “pinky finger hook” thingy instead of hand holding bc he’s too much of a cutie

OWHHHH MYYYY GOD ANON IM INSANE FOR THESE MEN!!!!

1610 would SOOO web you together omg that’s such a cute headcanon. He’d be the type to grab the straps of your bag, or the bottom of your shirt just so he doesn’t get lost in crowds — or vise versa.

if he couldn’t web you, like you guys were in a civilian setting — hed sooo get you guys those bracelets that like connect to one another,, not the magnet ones, but the ones that clip. so there’s actually no way you could leave his grasp

he’s so clingy it’s unbelievable, you makes jokes with him about getting those leash backpacks at this point

he gets one — spiderman themed.

“Miles Morales, what the hell is that.”

“It’s… a gift?”

“I’m not putting that on.”

“Conejita, please!”

“That’s humiliating!”

“I think it’s romantic.”

“You’re insane!”

/

“Miles! How long does this last?!”

“Oh about two hours., why?”

“I have class in 40!”

“Oh… Skip?”

“I swear on my momma—“

“Okay— okay, i’ll find the dissolvant >:(“

—

42 is more obvious with his attachment. not only holding your hand, but is a huuuuge fan of you linking your arm with his,, he gets so flattered when you hold his arm, subtly flexing under your hands while you hug his bicep to your chest

when it’s not that — a hand around your waist is a given. or maybe he’d be the type to do the cliche ‘hand in your back pocket’ just to be cheesy

we all know he’s a goofy bitch he’s just in denial

“Ma, C’mere.”

“Wh— Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Pay attention to me.”

“Miles I’m talking to—“

“I don’t care >:|.”

“You’re being so subtle.”

“Shush, I like showin’ you off.”

“Pff.. Whatever.”

“Pout all you want mamas, I know you love it.”

—

Pavitr, my boy my love

god he would SO link pinkies with you

he’d see you getting all nervous around his family and just hook his pinky around yours. sending you a cute reassuring smile

he’d give you goofy grins when you walked like that in public, and if you walked in front of him, he’d grab your belt loop, trying to match his feet with yours so he didn’t bump into anyone

ALSO ALSO !!!! he’d be the type to not want to let go at all for anything, so he’d just try and do tasks with one hand

and if your holding his dominant, he’ll fumble around trying to do things and watch you giggle

you’ll kiss the tip of his nose and tell him to finish up while letting go of him, and he’ll pout and grumble but eventually get things done quicker — so he can get back to you

“Baby, just let go for a second.”

“No, I’m doing fine, Thithli!”

“Pav.”

“Mmm, fine fine. Whatever It’s not like i’m sad about it or anything.”

“Your pouting.”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m sorry!!”

“My heart is shattered.” :C

“Oh— I’m done. Yippee!” C:

[nap-thym3]

I’ll Eat You Whole

Bob Velseb/Reader | Ch: 1, First Encounter

• Word Count: 5,217 •

When a scare-actor comes across the real-deal, you barely manage to escape by the skin of your teeth. However, in the aftermath of your encounter, you’re left with more questions than answers.

Who was he? Why didn’t he kill you when he had the chance? And why was he kinda…

Anyways. Now caught in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse, you have to quickly figure out what role you play. Will you survive? Or will you be swallowed whole?

Wild cackles spill from your throat, disjointed and borderline hysterical. A giant chainsaw roars to life in your hands, the bloodied business-end a warning. The constant vibrations from the motor making your very bones feel tingly and near numb with pins and needles.

The blood coursing through your veins feels electric, super-charged in a way that you only ever feel when you’re giving chase.

For all intents and purposes, you were dressed to kill.

Ahead, a group of teenagers shriek for their lives, pushing and shoving at each other in a desperate mad scrawl to escape.

Giggling dementedly, you cheekily taunt the pair. Some cheesy one-liner that you’ve already used maybe thirty times tonight.

In response, the blond, shaggy haired boy unkindly shoves at his friend, looking honestly a little pale. God, you hoped he wouldn’t vomit. The last thing you needed was for this kid to puke in your section.

“Damn it— move Craig, move! They’re coming right this way!”

Craig, you’re assuming, laughs mischievously. Arms and legs spread out wide and hooked onto the exit’s doorframe like a human barricade. Effectively blocking his friend from passing through, reveling in the panicked shouts and desperate pleas to move.

“Chill! They’re not even that scary!” Craig manages between full-bellied chuckles.

You cluck your tongue, bouncing from foot to foot impatiently. You had a strict schedule, and didn’t really have the time to play a game of chicken with these two before the next group passed through.

Panting, you try to subtly rub your face against your shoulder, sweat-slicked baby-hair clung uncomfortably to your clammy skin. Slowly, as to not alert the oblivious pair as they squabbled, you crept forward. Quietly making your way over, inch by inch, until you were only a meager three steps away.

“Fuck you Craig! I swear to god, if you don’t move in the next five seconds, I’m gonna—“

Reaching down, you cut the power to your chainsaw. The pair, still oblivious and too caught up in their back and forth, fail to notice the abrupt silence.

Before anymore grating arguing can spill, your reach out, gently reaching over the blonde’s shoulder and gently poking the troublemaker with your index.

The pair, having momentarily forgotten all about you, whip their heads around. The action is done so quickly, you’re half surprised they hadn’t snapped their necks. Their eyes were wide and terrified as they watched with bated breath. You offer nothing but a playful little finger wag; deceptively casual, before lunging forward and delivering a scream so fried, most metal-heads would’ve applauded.

You barely have enough time to clear your throat before the teens are tripping over one another, a messy pile of limbs as they half-crawl on all fours. Before then remembering that, yes, they did indeed have legs. And that yes, they should probably use those.

Man, you loved Halloween.

Hours later, and the haunted house’s endless waves of shrieking crotch-goblins and thrill-seeking teens had finally slowed to a light trickle. Granted, it wasn’t all that surprising. With it being the busiest night of the year, after all. The attraction had been at near full capacity all night, guests squashed together like canned sardines with seemingly no end in sight.

It wasn’t until just a little after midnight when the non-stop traffic of people had finally slowed to a trickle, that you realized just how loud it had been. The abrupt quiet left only the looping audio of groaning ghouls playing from outdated speakers hidden in dark corners. You’d honestly forgotten there was any background ambience to begin with, when all you could hear for eight long and grueling hours was the screams of the horrified.

God, you were so glad you had the foresight to bring a bottle of Tylenol with you.

With little more fanfare, the annual haunt had officially closed for the year. The end of the final shift was marked with exhausted high-fives, sighs of relief, and more than a few of your coworkers tearing off sticky prosthetics like their skin had been itching something fierce for hours.

Quickly, actors were dispersing and heading home for a well-earned night’s rest. But not you.

No, you’d gone and volunteered for one last task: the final sweep.

It was your favorite part of the job. Wandering through the darkened maze of the building, making sure no drunk idiots had keeled over and passed out in a coffin or gotten stuck between the walls of the mirror maze. Occasionally, you’d even find a late-night straggler who thought it’d be the bee’s knees to hide and loiter around until everyone left. Those ones were the best. Scaring the hell out of someone who thought they were smarter than the rest? Totally oblivious that they weren’t alone, and wouldn’t have the last laugh?

Better than any therapy session. Free, too.

Tonight felt different, though. The air seemed heavier in the aftermath of the long season, as if the building itself was holding its breath. But maybe that was just your imagination. It was all too easy for these dark corridors to play on your anxiety.

Shaking it off, you adjusted your grip on the prop chainsaw you carried, the dull heft of it a grounding weight. Despite the fact that it wasn’t real, it still gave you an illusion of safety.

As you tiredly shambled your way through the maze of halls, fantasizing about your plush mattress waiting for you back at home, you trod into a room chalk-full of fog. The familiar, smokey scent a pleasant balm over your pulsing migraine. Someone must’ve forgot to turn off the fog-machines, you figure. You couldn’t really find it in yourself to blame them for wanting to go home as soon as possible after tonight.

Turning a corner, you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes hone in on a distant shape.

Ahead, barely visible in the foggy gloom, was the hulking silhouette of a person.

Your heart gave a little leap of excitement. A straggler, ripe for the spooking!

Grinning, you bend your knees into a half-crouch, keeping close to the wall as you quietly crept forward. The flickering lights overhead did little to illuminate the figure, but you didn’t need to see much. You knew this maze like the back of your hand and could strut these halls blindfolded. No dumb teens stood a chance against you.

Close enough now to start feeling the ramping rush of adrenaline, you gave the chainsaw in your hands a few hard tugs. It sputters. Once, twice, before roaring to life on the third pull. The sound of the faux engine roaring to life bounces against the walls of the narrow hall, creating a cacophony throughout the desolate space.

The figure, hunched over something on the ground— please don’t be vomit, please don’t be vomit— straightened slowly. And kept straightening up, reaching a towering height all the while remaining completely unbothered by your approach.

Well. That wasn’t the reaction you’d been expecting. Usually, this was the point in time where people screamed, turned tail, and ran. Or at the very least flinched in surprise.

Real or not, people had a tendency to allow fear to overtake their rationality. It was hard not to, when somebody was chasing you, swinging around a chainsaw in an enclosed space. There was little time to think, just scream and run. Which was great for you.

Annoyed, you take several menacing steps closer, brandishing your chainsaw and revving the engine promisingly. It typically made even the most jaded customer uneasy. But the figure didn’t even react. Was this guy deaf?

“Alright, tough guy,” you muttered under your breath, squinting to get a better look at them.

Through the flickering lighting, you could just make out a worn, burgundy turtleneck and a matching devil mask to boot. Pointed horns perched atop their crown, casting jagged shadows across the walls. In one hand, they held a cleaver—large, wickedly sharp, and dripping with what looked unmistakably like blood. Thick, dark rivulets of it that clung to the blade and fell in slow, pattering drops onto the floor.

Oh. So maybe not a guest.

Sighing with slight disappointment, the muscles in your legs that’d been tensed in preparation to give chase slackened.

“Nice getup,” you called out over the rev of the chainsaw, lowering it slightly before cutting the power off altogether in order to be heard more clearly.

“Sorry— thought you were a guest. Y’know, we closed like… Half an hour ago, right? You can go home.”

The figure tilted their head, confused maybe, before turning towards you fully. Behind them, something was sprawled across the floor—a crumpled, unrecognizable heap in a pool of blackened liquid.

You squinted, trying to make sense of the shape. Some kind of prop, probably. From your vantage you could just make out bone-white, jutting ribs blooming from the gorey mass. Indescribable lumps spill from the open cavity, glistening in the low-light. Most likely meant to look like exposed guts.

Your stomach roils unpleasantly at the sight. That was some pretty convincing stuff. Not typically what you saw in here, considering this haunt advertised itself as nothing too intense— for the younger audience.

Your attention is redirected, when the stranger shuffles closer.

“Didja know,” they spoke— tone baritone and unmistakably male, with a honeyed southern drawl, “human meat tastes most similarly like pork?”

You shuffle in place awkwardly as the man completely ignores your previous words. Your brain buffers, struggling to formulate the right words. Quickly, you decide to go with the tried and true method when dealing with odd social encounters. Polite enthusiasm.

A nervous laugh bubbles up in your throat, forced and strained.

“That’s… uh, great trivia,” you stammered, looking around, confused. Why was he insisting on dragging out the bit? It was just the two of you. Right? “Um. You really don’t have to keep acting though. Like I said before, we’re done for the night, so…”

You trail off as the man took another lumbering step closer, his boots squelching in the messy viscera underfoot.

You stepped back instinctively at his unhurried advance, your gaze darting between the cleaver in his fist and the mangled body behind him. It wasn’t real, right? It certainly didn’t feel real.

Yet all the while something kept nagging persistently in the back of your skull, your gut telling you something was deeply wrong here.

Why don’t you remember this guy? Surely you would’ve seen him at least once in passing if he worked here? Yet try as you may to recollect your scrambled thoughts, you can’t for the life of you recall.

Faintly, you heard the ‘whoosh’ing of the overhead fan as it was powered to life. One of you had tripped the motion trigger, a practical effect meant to disorient you. Bombard your senses and overwhelm the intended target for a better scare— or something along those lines. The finer details escaped you in this moment.

It was only as a fresh burst of circulated air wafted in your direction, that the smell hit you. You were expecting something mildly sweet. Like liquid corn-starch and colored food-dye.

The scent that assaults you instead, is anything but. Coppery and acrid, like licking a battery.

This was real. Like, really real.

It hits abruptly, and it hits you hard. The chainsaw in your hands suddenly felt too light, too useless. You took a half-step backwards, swallowing hard as a cold dread crept up your spine.

The pounding war-drum of your pulse roared in your ears as panic began to set in. “Okay,” you said, your voice thin and wispy.

You swallow again, clearing the cotton-dry feeling in your mouth and try injecting some authority back into your tone. You don’t think you quite hit the mark. “Okay. Uh, You’re— You’re not supposed to be here, man.”

The stranger says nothing. Just smiles and stalks forward, cleaver raised and poised to slash.

Alarm bells blare in your head as you backpedal, frantically twisting to turn back the way you came.

He lunged.

You barely had any time to throw the chainsaw up between you as the cleaver arced through the air. A resounding ‘crack’ rippled through the air as steel met cheap plastic, the force of the swing knocking the prop straight out of your hands. As it clattered to the floor, useless, you only had one thought.

You were so screwed.

You scramble to keep your balance and maintain a sliver of distance as the man advanced, his movements slow but deliberate. Like a cat batting around a mouse.

In one sudden move, he swung again, forcing you to dodge with a wild stumble to the side. The motion sent you skidding on the slick floor, your shoes struggling to find traction on the grimy surface smeared with blood.

Turning your head to the side, you just now notice the man’s sweater-clad arm brushing against your cheek— caging you in.

He’d missed— No, that’s not right. You’d dodged.

The giant cleaver was stubbornly embedded into the wall beside you, right where your head had been not even a second previously. And it was stuck.

With a panicked noise, you duck under his right arm. Narrowly escaping him as his left hand had just barely brushed against the back of your costume.

“Shit!” you hissed, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. The acidic stench of gore clawed at the back your nostrils— it’s real, it’s real!—, threatening to gag you as you struggled to wrangle your limbs into cooperation and go.

Behind you, you catch the sound of the man grunting as he ripped his weapon of choice out of the wall. Quickly followed by his deliberate steps behind you, steady and unhurried. Completely sure of himself.

It only served to spur you into a clumsy, mad sprint.

The maze of hallways felt suffocatingly narrow, the walls pressing in on you with every corner you turned. Your mind scrambled for an escape route, or-or a familiar face, for anything at all that could give you an edge. But the layout, once so familiar, now felt like a disorienting trap.

Behind you, the man’s steps falter, the sound echoing faintly in the cavernous space.

You turned your head, just a cursory glance over your shoulder to gage his distance, but that split-second look had cost you.

Your foot hit something—a stray, thick cable for some electronic or another. Your balance vanished, and you went down— hard. Your palms shot out before yourself, slapping the cold and sticky floor. Pain shot up your wrists as they took the brunt of the impact, but it barely registered in your panic-addled brain.

The heavy thud of boots snapped your attention back to your aggressor, and you looked up to see him closing the distance. The cleaver raised high, winking promisingly in the stage-light.

Feral and desperate, you crawled back on your elbows. No other thought in your brain except to get away.

Another step forward, and his foot caught on the same cord that had betrayed you. His confident stride faltered, his boot sliding out from under him.

It would’ve been a comical sight in literally any other circumstance.

As he stumbled forward with a startled grunt, his massive frame pitched off-balance as he wildly swung his arms outwards in a desperate search for purchase.

It wasn’t much of an opening, but a split second decision needed to be made.

Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you surprise yourself.

Instead of taking the opportunity to keep running, like literally any other sane person would do in your situation, you’d leapt. Right on-top of your attacker.

Your arm whips out and catch’s his neck, capturing him in a headlock. Or it would’ve, if the damn guy wasn’t built like a fucking rottweiler.

The man lets out a noise between a half-aborted chuckle and cough at the unexpected restriction. Large hands scrabbling for purchase against your forearm, nails raking angry red lines across your skin. You curse at the slight sting, yet remain firmly saddled to his broad back, legs firmly locked at his sides. Even as he wildly thrashes, you hold on with all your might— like you would on a bucking bull at the carnival. Knowing you’d be facing pain far worse than a few scratches if you failed, you swing your other arm around, firmly clasping your hand against your opposing wrist and pulling it taut as hard as you could. The muscles in your arms burn at the prolonged stretch, but no matter how much it aches and feels like your arm could pop out of its socket at any moment, you hold firm.

“Feisty lil’ treat, ain’t’cha?” The mysterious man manages through a gasping grunt, meaty digits wriggling between the space of your arm and his reddening neck.

White-hot anger sears at the forefront of your mind. Just who the hell did he think he was? You did the scares and crappy one-liners around here, bitch.

With a snarl against the nape of his neck, his onyx hair tickling your nose, you act on impulse.

Before anymore teases or taunts can be made in that southern drawl you’re quickly coming to despise, you bare your teeth and bite down at the exposed clammy flesh just peeking above the burgundy sweater smattered with someone else’s blood.

Your attacker gasps, stumbling backwards as he vainly attempts to reach behind himself and dislodge you. All the while you clamp down harder, teeth aching with the force not meant for your blunt pearly-whites.

The acrid, metal tang of iron bleeds onto your tongue— a bitter taste that you’re thankfully not subjected to for long as the mountain of a man loses his footing once again. The wires looping around his ankle in the struggle. Sending him stumbling backward one, two, three paces before his back harshly met the wall.

Ergo, you as well.

The abrupt force of the entirety of the man’s weight hitting you like a freight train, pinning you against the wall, is already bad enough. What makes the shitty situation even worse, is that your aggressor wastes no time in taking your momentary shock and striking.

Lighting quick, you don’t even have time to shout or attempt rolling away as an elbow jabs into your diaphragm with startling accuracy.

The response is instantaneous, as the muscle in your chest seizes— momentarily paralyzed.

You crumple inwards, leaning against the grimy wall for support as you gasp and heave for air. All the while uselessly clutching at the collar of your shirt, struggling and fighting for oxygen that your lungs are seemingly incapable of drawing in at this moment.

Faintly, out of the corner of your eye, you recognize the stranger as he stalks forward. Knife clutched in an angry, white-knuckled fist.

As you’re kneeling hunched on the floor, breathing in harsh pants— but breathing, nonetheless— your eyes dip downwards. Catching the slim portion of skin peeking just above the collar of his stained turtleneck, nearly as red as the devil mask he dons as a result of the damage you’ve wrought.

‘Bites and strangulation’s a good look on him.’ You think to yourself deliriously, as a toothy, blood-soaked grin tears proudly across your face.

The man, taking notice of your face smeared with his own blood, cocks his head to the side. Considering.

Defiantly, you jut your chin upwards. Wordless in your challenge but a challenge nonetheless.

Devil-guy chuckles at your show of bravado, his own smile hitching impossibly higher, the pinks of his gums winking at you.

With a thudding step, and another, he shambles towards you. Stalking. Slow and steady, completely unbothered. He’s got you backed into a corner now and he knows it. Wants you to know it, too.

Feeling hopeless, you can do little more than press yourself flush against the wall. With nowhere else to go, and sufficiently crowded by this guy, you brace for impact.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you feel the heavy, damp breath fanning over your sweat-slicked face as he leans over you. Even without your eyes open, you can feel the lofty weight of his unabashed staring. Despite this, you resist the urge to kick or swing. You already knew it was futile, and anymore resistance would surely be met with a swift rebuttal.

The moment stretches on, a long silence filled with nothing but your intermingling pants occupying the cramped space. Faintly, you hear the looping audio of the haunted-house’s ambient audio. Previously, you’d already had a strong dislike for the downright cheesy moans and groans of the supposed supernatural, interspersed with distant howling. However, in this moment, you despise nothing more. As for the umpteenth time, a distant shriek pierces the quiet. It feels mocking, somehow.

Something warm and wet drips onto your cheek, rolling down your flushed face. Goose flesh erupts along your shoulders as you nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected sensation. Thankfully however, you do nothing more than flinch, before cautiously peering through squinted eyelids.

Above you, your attacker openly drools. Spittle forming and accumulating along his bottom lip, before trailing down his chin. All while his wobbly pupils minutely shift, raptured and ravenously watching every micro expression flitting across your face.

Nervously, you gulp. Before reflexively wetting your own lips in a practiced, anxious habit. It’s not until you taste copper that you remember you still have flakey, dried blood staining your maw. Gross.

The man above, however, has clearly different opinions as he erupts into a full-bodied shiver. The tips of his ears flushing a bright pink.

Okay. Noted.

He lingers, eyes eagerly raving over the dried streak of blood on your lips with unnerving intensity. You squirm, uncomfortable and feeling like a pinned frog, ripe for dissection. Something feral flits across his expression as you wriggle, a startling hunger, before he raises a hand to wipe the drool from his chin with the back of his sleeve.

“Look at’cha,” he mutters, his voice low, husky. There’s a disconcerting undercurrent of amusement beneath the words, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “Wild as a bearcat. ‘Love it when they got a bit of fight in ‘em.”

He squats down to your level, his massive frame moving with surprising grace. You’re keenly aware of just how little space exists between you, his knees nearly brushing yours as his free hand, fingers wide and blunt, presses firmly to the wall beside your head. A cage. One he doesn’t intend to let you squirrel through this time.

Seeming content to just stare at you for the moment, cleaver still clutched in his other hand and catching slivers of light. Angling it lazily, almost conversationally, near your face.

At your clear terror, he withdraws. You relax— at least, as much as you’re able to in this guy’s presence—, a shaky exhale leaving you as he does so.

It doesn’t last long though, of course. As you’re once again tensing up all over again, breath hitching as he raises it to his own mouth instead, the flat of the blade skimming his lips. He slurps at the excess there, his tongue then darting out to lave over the steel, before finally pulling it away. His smile widens, and he makes a soft sound, thoughtful. Like he was out taste-testing cheese and not savoring the blood of the innocent.

“You—” your voice cracks, chest aching, lungs still struggling to catch up. You cough and try again, forcing as much venom as you can muster into your words. “You’re sick.”

“And yer stupid,” he counters quickly, his grin unwavering, a flash of teeth that gleam wetly in the pale light. “But I don’t reckon that’s news to either of us.”

A tense moment of silence passes.

“Ya bite hard,” he muses, disrupting the momentary quiet. As though that’s a normal thing to compliment. Is it a compliment? “Bet’cha I bite harder, though.”

The words sink in slowly, and your stomach twists, blood flushing up your neck. Something in your expression—your attempt to recoil while still pressed helplessly to the wall—delights him further. Like you’re tethered together by a string, he follows your pitiful attempt for personal-space. Never letting you forget for even a moment how helpless you really were.

“Ya weren’t s’pposed to be here, treat.” His free hand lifts from the wall, fingers brushing against the sweat-slicked edge of your jaw. The touch is light, deceptively gentle. However, it’s ruined by how his hands feel like a loaded gun against your skin. Knowing that at any moment, he could snuff you out.

He drags his thumb down your jaw, just barely grazing the space between your lip and chin. The blade stays in his other hand, ominously idle but never forgotten.

You jerk your head to the side with a sharp inhale, dislodging his touch, and finally manage to spit out a weak, “Don’t.” You didn’t even really know what you were refusing. The nickname? Touch? Your inevitable demise? Maybe all of the above.

He chuckles fondly—a deep, guttural sound that reverberates in your chest, too close, too intimate. “Sure thing. Treat.”

Your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms hard enough to leave stinging crescents in their wake. “What do you want?” you snap, the edge of your voice sharper now despite the wobble. You’re desperate to gain back some sense of control, some foothold in this surreal nightmare.

His grin softens, just slightly, into something more contemplative. “Want?” he repeats, as though tasting the word on his tongue. “Don’t’cha see, darlin’? I already got what I want.” He leans in even closer, his forehead almost brushing yours.

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. Your stomach flip-flops, dread curling tight in your abdomen as his hands wander again, finally transferring off and away from you.

His proximity feels suffocating, but despite every rational instinct screaming at you to do something—anything—you find yourself frozen. Not just in fear, but in something else. Something other than self-preservation.

He’s terrifying, sure. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, a wild fascination that unsettles you to your very core, yet holds you immovably still. That kind of obsessive attention fixated solely on you, like you’re the only thing that exists in this moment. You’ve never had someone look at you that way before. It was frighteningly addictive.

“Ya feel that, don’t’cha?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper, almost conspiratorial. “Yer lil’ heart, pounding away? That’s a once ‘n a lifetime feelin’, treat.”

Yeah, because he fucking kills them right after.

“I could kill ya right now, y’know,” he says it so casually, as though he read your mind. His grip on the knife shifts, and he raises it just enough for you to catch a glimpse of that glinting steel once again. “Wouldn’t even be hard. Like squishin’ a baby bird.”

Your nose scrunches, but you refuse to buckle and give him the reaction he’s clearly fishing for. “Then why don’t you? Hurry up and get it over with, prick.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t get the chance to, actually. As a scream echoes down the hall, back the way you came. Sounds like somebody found the body. Er- what was left of it, anyhow.

However, your would-be killer doesn’t even deign to spare a glance in that direction. Instead, he grunts, irritated at being interrupted. Eyes drinking you in , as if committing you to memory.

For a split second, you fear that he isn’t going to move. Quickly, knowing time was running out, you open your mouth. Wether it was to shout or maybe offer some snarky quip, you’ll never know.

Because with the strength of a kicking mule, he shoves you, cutting you off before you could make a sound.

A winded ‘oof’ is punched out of your abused lungs, balefully watching as he rises from his haunches and finally tearing those near-black irises away from you.

And just like that, he’s gone. The weight of his presence lifts as he stands to his full height, towering over you for just a moment longer before turning on his heel. His boots thud against the slick floor as he saunters off, leaving you trembling in the silence. Nothing but the sound of voices down the hall, panicked and steadily growing closer. Something about calling the cops.

Your breath comes in short, ragged bursts as you stare after his retreating silhouette, equal parts relief and confusion flooding your senses.

You get the distinct feeling this isn’t over.

Going home is a complicated ordeal. After your manager found you, you’d been a little shell-shocked, to say the least.

And utterly exhausted.

You didn’t really know the haunt-manager that well. It seemed like a different organizer every year, and to be honest, you weren’t all too keen on getting to know them anyway. They seemed nice enough, though.

“—And-! Where’s your car? Don’t tell me you walked here!” She frets, hands coming up to grasp you by the shoulders, before thinking better of it last minute.

“I’m fine.” You grouse, idly thumbing your sternum that still aches. That’s going to be one nasty bruise, you’re sure.

In the distance, you can just make out the red and blue lights strobing down the streets. You really didn’t want to deal with that headache right now. You were never a fan of cops, having your own complicated history with them that you weren’t really interested in reminiscing on.

“Look, Ms-“ you pause, just realizing you’ve forgotten her name already. With an awkward cough, hoping she didn’t catch on, you continue “it’s been a real long and shitty night and I really just want to go home. I’m leaving.” Stiffly, you turn on your heel. Robotically marching down the steps and towards the sidewalk. You weren’t typically a very tactful person on a good day. So if you were a little more terse than you intended, you don’t think you could be held entirely at fault. Tonight had been overwhelming.

“Wait- No, you can’t just walk away! Someone died tonight, there’ll be questions-and-and-“

You pause in your tracks, aggravatingly, she was right. No matter how much you just wanted to go home and forget about tonight, you could potentially get into a heap of trouble for just walking out. Afterall, it’d probably look awfully suspicious of you to try slinking off after a murder.

A murder. It didn’t feel real, hearing that someone really did die tonight, and that it wasn’t some hysteria-induced hallucination.

You should’ve been dead too.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable. Deciding to save yourself the future migraine, you fish out your trusty bottle of Tylenol. Swallowing two pills dry.

The haunt-organizer looks a little on edge, despite her insistence that you came back. Dragging your feet back up the steps, you notice her slightly backpedal from your immediate vicinity. You suppose you can’t really blame her. What with you still dressed in uniform, ratty hair, and features smeared with patchy face-paint. You must look pretty ratchet right now.

With a long, suffering sigh, you fall back onto your rump. Leg bouncing anxiously.

Well, it’s not like tonight could get any worse.

Hope ya’ll enjoyed. I got bit by the Bob-Velseb-Bug after playing Tender Lovin’ Cannibal. So this was born :,)

Also-Also, I will not be posting future chapters to this Tumblr, so if you’d like to read more please consider checking out my Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/60694933

[wwereaderinserts]

More shield x reader smut 🙏 you are my favourite writer

A/N: I found this very tricky to do, but I hope I somewhat did it justice and I hope you enjoy still!! Title: Good Things Come To Those Who Wait Pairing: The Shield x AFAB!Reader Word Count: 2,674 Warnings: Smut, swears

Licking your lips in anticipation, your heart races with the perfect cocktail of nerves and excitement as Dean’s grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly while he’s leading you back to the hotel room that you’ll be spending the remainder of the night in, with company, no less.

You’re excited at the prospect of an entirely new experience awaiting you, but you’re also nervous for the exact same reason. Roman and Seth are waiting for you behind the closed doors, and to this very moment, you’re still extremely surprised that Dean had been so open to the idea of sharing you with them both when they’d approached him about it, even if it’s only for tonight.

“You sure you still want to do this? Because if you’ve changed your mind or anything, I can let them know. Won’t be the end of the world, I promise.”

Dean asks, stopping right outside the hotel room, his concerned eyes not leaving yours until you give him something, anything. You attempt to give him a reassuring smile and a nod, also squeezing his hand in further reassurance.

“I’m sure, just…a bit nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before now, that’s all,” you tell him, “Once we’re in and getting to it, I’m sure I’ll relax a bit. Don’t worry about me, I still want to do this.”

Dean’s eyes scan yours for any signs of doubt, but he finds none. He takes you at face value, flashing you a smile and planting a tender kiss on your lips before he swipes his card and opens the hotel room door, pulling you inside with him before he closes it behind you both and locks it.

Already perched on the edge of the double bed, waiting for you both, are Seth and Roman. Upon seeing you, they both give you a warm, welcoming smile, not wanting to jump right into things and instead wanting to ensure that you’re comfortable first and foremost.

“Hey, you two took your time!” Seth jests, rising up off the bed, “We were starting to think you decided not to share her after all, Ambrose.”

“Come on, man. Good things come to those who wait, right?”

Roman chuckles, soon bursting into a hearty laugh, with you joining in with him at the sight of Dean playfully flipping Seth off. You break away from Dean’s side for a second once the laughter dies down, glancing between each man, gauging your next move.

Do you get right down to it? Do you sit around and talk for a bit first? You aren’t entirely sure, but the former seems more appealing to you. It’s not like Roman and Seth are complete strangers to you, either. You’ve just never known them in this kind of setting before.

It’s almost as though Dean reads your mind when he rejoins you at your side, looping an arm around your waist and turning you to face him. He greets you with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’re gonna start things off together, and then the boys are gonna join in. Okay?”

He asks, and you give him a smile and a nod in response. Your smile quickly dissolves into a smirk, and you gaze up at Dean, trailing a hand up to his chest while you seductively tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“Oh, so this means I have to put on a show, hm?”

You ask, and Dean matches your sultry demeanour, pulling you closer to him while he slides a hand down the small of your back, stopping when it meets your ass, giving you a purposeful squeeze.

“But that’s exactly what you wanted, right, baby?” Dean chuckles lowly in your ear, “Now let’s see if you can handle all of us.”

Seth and Roman watch on from the couch opposite the bed while Dean leads you to the bed, nudging you back onto it before he pins you to the mattress, his strong arms boxing you in. Dean’s careful not to press too much of his weight onto you, but he leans in and kisses you tenderly at first, then it quickly grows more heated between you both.

He raises a hand of his off of the mattress, making it free to roam over your body. He practically swipes down the front of your shirt, making quick work of the buttons in one swell swoop to bare your bare breasts to him, a welcome sight for all three men.

“Didn’t even bother wearing a bra?” Dean purrs, shooting you a knowing smirk, “Such a naughty girl, hm? What are we gonna do with you?”

You don’t even get the chance to answer him, any semblance of a response choked down by a shuddering gasp when Dean’s mouth trails south in search of one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. Your breath hitches, and your hands fumble to undo his belt, tugging his pants and boxers down his thighs to free his hardening cock from its confines.

Seth and Roman are most definitely enjoying the sight, respectively beginning to strip whilst keeping their eyes on you and Dean. Seth takes his rightful place back on the couch, palming himself through his boxers while Roman takes the more open approach of stroking his now-free cock.

“Ah, she likes that, huh?” Roman smirks, watching intently at the way you gasp softly when Dean repeats the action with your other nipple, “Good to know, I’ll be trying that when it’s my turn.”

Dean unlatches himself from your nipple and lifts his head, more than likely about to retort, but it’s soon replaced with a soft grunt when you reach down between you both and wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him languidly at first before you become more enthusiastic. He switches positions, moving off of you to sit up on his knees in front of you instead, granting you easier access while you shift with him, mirroring his own position on the bed.

Seth, now sliding his boxers down his legs and kicking them off to one side of the room, strokes himself to your movements, not wanting to avert his eyes while he grunts softly, eagerly awaiting his own turn with you.

“Is that good?” You ask Dean as you continue to stroke him, but you already know the answer. Dean thrusts into your hand, spurring you on, and you feel your own arousal rising, being heightened further by Roman’s and Seth’s eyes fixed on you both.

“Feels great, baby,” Dean groans, grinning widely while he glances to the side at his two friends on the hotel room couch, “But you know what I think would be really hot? Suck me off while those two watch.”

Wordlessly, you smirk and lower your head, parting your lips for Dean to slide his cock into your mouth. He fills your mouth with ease, and you hollow your cheeks around him while he fists at your hair with a moan, controlling how much of him you can take.

You begin bobbing your head along his length, building up a rhythm, and you hear Seth and Roman get up out of their seats to make their way over to the bed with you and Dean. They’re both standing at the foot of the bed, cocks standing at full mast and waiting to be stroked by you. They’ve clearly had enough of being observers, and want to become very willing participants instead.

“Couldn’t stay on the sidelines for much longer,” Seth’s voice is low with want as he closes more distance between you both, “You still got two hands, right? Use them.”

He demands, and you’re more than happy to comply. You remove your hands from Dean’s thighs and reach out to stroke Seth and Roman, the former in your right hand and the latter in your left. They both gaze down at you, looking on as you pleasure them as well as expertly using your mouth on Dean, to which Dean shoots them both a satisfied smirk.

“I know, I know,” he grips the back of your head again, keeping you at his desired rhythm, “Ain’t I lucky, boys?”

“She’s looking a bit…empty, though,” Roman grits through his teeth, “Think I should fill her up, y’know? She deserves it.”

Roman stops himself there, as though he’s seeking permission from you and Dean. You groan around Dean at the thought as well as involuntarily clenching around nothing, and Dean chuckles lowly and bucks into your mouth.

“Oh, she liked the thought of that, lemme tell you. Go on, fuck her. Make her scream.”

Roman needs no further telling. You release him from your grasp, and he makes his way behind you to tug your skirt and underwear down in one swift motion. You’re already dripping wet, your slick folds on full display to him, and he wastes no time in rubbing the head of his cock through your folds and lining himself up with your entrance.

“I’d better get a turn!”

Seth grunts out, and Dean is quick to reprimand him with a swat to the chest while he reminds him to be patient, and that good things come to those who wait. A fleeting moment passes, but Seth has a lightbulb idea.

“I mean, thinking about it, actually, I could get a turn now. I could always just take her in the ass if she’ll let me.”

Your pussy throbs at the suggestion, and Roman smirks from his place behind you. As best as you can, you nod, Dean’s cock still in your mouth, and that’s the green light that everyone needs. Dean withdraws from your mouth with a wet pop, and you’re quick to sit back up on your knees as you glance between the three men with hunger in your gaze.

“Fuck, I’ve never had both at the same time before,” you smirk, “Dean must think really highly of you both, letting both of you fuck me while I just suck his cock.”

“Gotta let them experience it just once, baby. Once in a lifetime experience, probably ain’t never gonna come around again.”

Dean quips back, with Roman and Seth laughing amongst themselves while they reposition. Roman now lays flat on the bed, and you move to straddle him, and Seth kneels behind you on the bed. Dean remains to the side of you, still poised and ready from where he sits on his knees on the bed, but with a bottle of lube from the bedside table now in his hands, ready to pass along to Seth.

Seth gratefully accepts it, popping the lid open to slick his cock up with the substance, and once everybody is happy in their new positions, everything seems to resume without another moments’ pause.

Roman lines his cock up with your entrance once more, while Seth squeezes lube out of the bottle and rubs it around your tight, puckered hole, even dipping a finger in to stretch you out, if only slightly. You groan at the intrusion, arching your back at the sensation, and you moan out an affirmation for Seth and Roman to slip inside you.

“Let them know if it’s too much for you, baby.”

Dean tells you before he slips his cock back into your waiting mouth, while Roman slides into your pussy seemingly with ease. A guttural moan falls from his lips at the way your walls squeeze him, and he has to refrain from immediately bucking up into you. Seth is next, taking his time to line himself up with you before he pushes into the tight ring of muscle, moaning wantonly at the tight fit.

“Holy fuck, she’s so tight,” Seth hisses, his nails biting into your hips while you moan around Dean’s cock, “I can barely move, jesus-”

Roman, unable to physically restrain himself for much longer, begins to fuck you roughly, thrusting up to meet you while his grunts and groans mingle with the wet slaps of your bodies colliding.

Dean’s fingers thread back through your hair, somewhat more tender this time, remaining aware of how overstimulating and overwhelming the experience has the potential to be for you. But you’re lost in the pleasure, completely consumed by it, each hole of yours being filled by your partner and his two best friends, and you’re loving every second of it.

Seth slowly begins to take you from behind, and he lands a harsh slap against your ass cheek before he gradually begins picking up the pace. Every sound of yours is muffled by Dean’s cock in your mouth, but you know that you won’t last much longer, not with the way they’re hitting virtually every sweet spot inside you with their thrusts.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can last much longer-”

Roman growls just as his thrusts begin to falter, and mere moments later, he’s brought himself to the brink. You feel his cock pulse inside you as he spills himself deep within you, and he stills inside you before he goes limp under you while he comes down from his high.

Dean glances down at you, seeing the pleasure written all over your face in the moment, and it’s practically all he needs to send himself over the edge. Knowing you’ll more than likely swallow every drop he gives you, he doesn’t offer you the option, unloading his seed right down your throat as he cums with a loud moan of your name, and as predicted, you swallow every drop he has to offer you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing great,” Dean praises you, releasing himself from your mouth for the final time with a wet pop, “Such a good girl for us.”

Now, you’re able to freely be as loud as you desire. You’re panting, rocking back to meet Seth’s thrusts, Roman’s cock still inside you until it eventually slips out as a result of how eager and desperate you’re becoming to reach your own peak.

“Seth, I’m almost there!” you whine, trailing a hand down where your deft fingers rub rough circles around your clit, “It feels so good, don’t fucking stop-”

That’s all the encouragement Seth needs. Dean and Roman enjoy the show, Roman still underneath you while Dean catches his breath off to the side, while Seth pounds into you as fast as he can allow himself to go.

“It won’t be long for me, either,” Seth’s breathless now, still chasing his orgasm, “Want me to pull out, shoot it all on your back?”

You nod eagerly, small grunts and groans spilling from your lips as you brace a hand on Roman’s chest for leverage, the other still toying with your clit as you finally send yourself over the edge. You see stars when you cum, your knees buckling as your pussy twitches and convulses around nothing before you collapse forward onto Roman’s chest.

Seth, unable to hold back for much longer, moans your name before he pulls out of your ass, strokes himself to completion, and shoots his load all over your back, just as promised. He stops himself from pressing his full weight onto you when he collapses forward, joining yourself, Dean, and Roman in being completely and utterly spent.

“Fuck, that was…”

“Amazing.”

“Incredible.”

“Fucking mindblowing.”

You started the sentence, and the responses from each came tumbling in simultaneously. Breathless and positively drained, you laugh at the fact, rolling off to the side of Roman to lay there on the bed, giving him the chance to catch his own breath while Seth perches himself on the edge of the bed.

You’re completely exhausted, but your drowsy eyes still flit up to meet Dean’s own, only to find that he’s already gazing down at you with pure adoration in his eyes. You flash him a dozy smile, and he’s quick to give you one right back.

“You did amazing, baby,” Dean praises you, propping himself up on the bed, ready to get up, “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, then you can rest. You deserve it.”

[floresierss]

hiiii I’d love for you to write about Sungchan babysitting a child with y/n 🥲 I’m a sucker for kids and he would totally get along with boys so he could throw them around or something 😭

RAINBOWS, SUNSHINE° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . JUNG SUNGCHAN X GN!READER

masterlist. nav. ask.

WORD COUNT: 604

TAGS 🏷️: no tws! overall fluffy n i tried to keep this as gn as possible :33

AUTHORS NOTE: AHH TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!!! i’m so sorry this took so long to upload ahhh i’ve been so overwhelmed with school and stuff but i swear i won’t disappear this long again, i hope this suits what you wanted and i made it gn! just in case :D. i was also listening to I. Pink Toes (childish gambino) on loop while writing this, hence the title :<<

You had always known Sungchan for his playful nature and boundless energy. Today, you were excited because you and Sungchan were babysitting your friend's little boy, Jihoon. You knew Sungchan would be perfect for the job, and you couldn't wait to spend the afternoon with them both.

As soon as Jihoon arrived, his eyes lit up at the sight of Sungchan. "Sungchan hyung!" he exclaimed, running into his arms. Sungchan scooped him up effortlessly, spinning him around in the air.

"Hey, Jihoon! Ready for some fun?" Sungchan asked, grinning.

Jihoon nodded eagerly, his little face beaming with excitement. You watched them with a smile, knowing that the two would get along perfectly.

You headed to the park nearby, where Sungchan immediately transformed into Jihoon's personal jungle gym. He lifted Jihoon high above his head, pretending he was an airplane, and ran around the park, making engine noises. Jihoon laughed uncontrollably, his laughter echoing through the park.

"Let's play superheroes!" Jihoon suggested, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Great idea! What superhero do you want to be?" Sungchan asked.

"I'm Spider-Man!" Jihoon declared, striking a pose.

"And I'll be your trusty sidekick," Sungchan replied, mimicking Jihoon's pose. You decided to join in as Iron Man. The three of you ran around, pretending to save the world from imaginary villains. Sungchan even lifted Jihoon onto his shoulders, letting him feel like he was soaring through the sky.

After a while, you took a break and sat down on a picnic blanket you had brought along. Sungchan pulled out some snacks, and you all enjoyed a little picnic together. Jihoon chatted excitedly about his favorite superheroes, and Sungchan listened intently, genuinely interested in everything Jihoon had to say.

You leaned over to Sungchan, handing him a juice box. "You're really good with him," you said, smiling warmly.

Sungchan took the juice box and shrugged modestly. "He's a great kid. It's easy when they're this fun."

You shared a quiet moment, watching Jihoon play with his action figures. You nudged Sungchan gently. "Remember when we used to do this? Just the two of us?"

Sungchan chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, those were good times. Now we've got an extra little buddy."

Jihoon suddenly looked up, holding out a toy car to Sungchan. "Hyung, let's race!"

Sungchan and you both got down on your knees, each taking a toy car. Jihoon counted down, and you raced your cars across the blanket, laughing as you tried to outdo each other. Jihoon won every time, much to his delight.

As the sun began to set, you headed back home. Jihoon was tired but happy, his energy finally starting to wane. Sungchan carried him on his back, Jihoon's head resting on his shoulder.

"Did you have fun today, Jihoon?" you asked gently.

Jihoon nodded, his eyes drooping with sleep. "The best day ever," he mumbled.

Once you got back, you prepared Jihoon for bed while Sungchan tidied up. When you came out of Jihoon's room, you found Sungchan sitting on the couch, looking thoughtful.

"What's on your mind?" you asked, sitting next to him.

Sungchan smiled softly. "I was just thinking about how much fun today was. I really enjoyed spending time with Jihoon. And with you."

You leaned against him, feeling a sense of contentment. "Me too. We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

Sungchan wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Yeah, we do. Let's do this again sometime."

You nodded, closing your eyes as you leaned into Sungchan's embrace. Babysitting Jihoon had been an absolute joy, and you knew that today would be a cherished memory for all of you.

[alwaysurvalentine]

trick or treat - st fic

Written for day 31 of @steddie-spooktober - prompt: trick or treat - wc: 888 - cw: none! Just lil steddie meeting as kids one halloween :)

enjoy! 💛

There’s a little boy sitting all alone on the curb at the end of the street. Eddie’s walking over before he’s fully made the decision to do so. When he gets closer he can hear the other boy sniffling, shoulders shaking slightly as he stares down at his own knees. A bag lays discarded next to him, only a couple pieces of candy in the bottom. 

“Hello?” Mystery boy shoots his head up fast, eyes wide. He doesn’t say anything, just scrubs at the tears on his cheeks before blinking up at Eddie. It doesn’t look like he’s wearing a costume either, just a white sweater with blue jeans. 

“My name’s Eddie, but tonight I’m Dracula!” Eddie pulls his cape out around him, flashing the red underside to the boy in front of him before doing his best vampire hiss. He’s been practicing for the last couple of weeks in the mirror, it’s pretty scary if you ask him. 

Instead of the fear he expected, the boy in front of him giggles. His giggles get louder and he even snorts. Eddie frowns and crosses his arms, his pillowcase full of candy swinging with the movement and hitting his side. It knocks off his balance enough for him to stumble and the boy laughs harder. 

“If you’re just going to be a meanie then I’m not going to hang out with you!” The laughter abruptly stops. Now he’s stuck looking at tears welling up in the other boys eyes. 

“Please don’t leave me alone. I promise I won’t laugh again.” Part of Eddie still wants to leave, his mama worked really hard on his cape, but the other boy looks so sad so he stays. 

“Fine. Who are you supposed to be anyway?” 

The other boy stands up and brushes off his pants and pulls his sweater down like that’s going to help Eddie figure out who he is. 

“I’m Fred, duh.” Eddie must still look confused because ‘Fred’ rolls his eyes and sighs. “You know, from Scooby Doo? He’s only the coolest person ever.”

“Um, Fred has a cool orange tie thing, I don’t see one of those on you.” ‘Fred’ stomps and crosses his arms with a frown.

“There wasn’t anything orange in my house.” 

“Eddie? Eddie? Where’d you go?” His mama’s voice distracts him and Eddie turns to see her further up the road turning every which way to try and find him. She’s wearing a long white dress and it swirls side to side as she turns. Eddie doesn’t know how she did it, but there’s also white streaks in her hair, which look cool even if she couldn’t get her hair to stand up like Frankenstein’s bride in the movie.

“Mama!” Elizabeth turns at his call and rushes through the small crowd between them. 

“I thought I told you not to wander off, mister!” She might be scolding him, but there’s a relived smile on his mom’s face when she crouches to see at his level. 

“Sorry, Mama. I just saw him sitting all by himself and I thought he might be lost. Are you lost?” The other boy just blinks at Eddie and his mom when they turn to him, eyes wide as he bends to pick up his almost empty candy bag.

“You could’ve told me that so we could walk over together. Who’s your new friend?” His mom stands and offers a smile up to the other boy.

“Uh, I-I’m Steve.” 

“Well, Steve, do you know where your parents are? I’m sure they’re worried about you.” Steve kicks at the ground and shakes his head. Eddie turns towards the street again, looking for any other adults like his mama, searching for the boy in front of him. Instead he sees different kids running up to houses, bags extended in front of them, with their parents watching from the road.

“Do you want help finding them?” Elizabeth’s voice is gentle at the suggestion, but Steve stumbles with how quickly he backs up. 

“No, it’s okay. I know which house is mine. They said I could come out here. I promise.” A pinkie is held out to Eddie, like he’s waiting to have to swear to the two of them that he’s telling the truth. 

Eddie believes him but still loops his pinkie with Steve’s with a grin. It’s so cool that Steve’s parents let him out on Halloween by himself, that means he gets to eat all kinds of candy before he gets home without getting in trouble. His mama’s only let him have two pieces for the night and said he has to save the rest for later. Especially the Reece’s, since those are Uncle Wayne’s favorite. When he looks up though, his mom isn’t smiling. Instead she’s got the same frown on that she gets when they pass by the neighbor’s dog tied to the tree. Before he can ask her why, she claps and turns towards Eddie with a wink. 

“How do we feel about Steve joining us for trick or treating? Looks like he has plenty of space in his bag for some candy.” Eddie’s nodding before she finishes talking, turning to see a matching smile on Steve’s face. 

“Really? I can come with you?”

“’Course you can, Fred. I’ll show you all the best houses. Let’s go!"

~

I kept thinking about writing more, but I think I'm gonna leave it as it is. Up to you on how their Halloween adventures go! (More than happy to discuss my ideas tho 👀 might have thought up some angsty stuff for this one but held back)

[slowlydifferentbluebird]

Do you still do “How would (X) react to?” Would love to see you do a “How would IVE react to Y/N after accidentally ignoring/neglecting them during a fanmeeting/concert.”

Gosh, it has been so long since I did one of these the last time. I don't even remember why I stopped, probably I was just overworked. I guess writing one of those can be fun from time to time, so yeah, I'll write it for you🙈

IVE reacting to Y/N ignoring them during a fanmeeting/concert

Gaeul

The oldest was confused about your behaviour. You two always had a great chemistry on and off the stage, but right now it almost seemed your first time working together. She tried numerous time to pose with you during the night, but you always were with another member. She smiled through the pain and waited the end of the stages. You didn't even notice and you were more confuse than her when she asked for explanations. However you two made peace in few time and a night of cuddles was the best way to close that silly story.

Yujin

If Yujin could overturn the table, she would have done it in that instant. She was the leader and she must behave in the perfect way, but, oh boy, she was so pissed at you for not accepting her flirt during the fanmeeting. Maybe she was too much in character but she hated seeing you being lovey-dovey with another member. She acted cool during the event but at the end she took you in another room and she gave you lesson(how? That's up to you👀)

Rei

The japanese girl was good in hiding her feeling and she really tried her best to be all smiling for her fans, but she could swear you didn't look in her direction for all night. She even tried to catch your attention, waving her hand in your direction but it almost looked she was invisible for you. After the show, she came to your room and she explained how bad she felt for your actions. You immediately hugged her and promised to be more careful the next time. Feeling your touch, her smile came back in no time.

Wonyoung

Wony is used to receive attentions, by the fan, the members and, in particular, you. You were her partner in crime, but right now the only crime you were doing was ignoring her. She had to make a "fake" complain in front of the public to have you by her side again. And from that moment she linked her arm with yours and never let you go for the rest of the fanmeeting. In the next day you better expect a lot of comments by her about betrayal and similar lol

Liz

Liz was so afraid of something she didn't even do. But if you were ignoring her, there was a reason, right? Well, actually no, you simply had your head on the clouds, but the poor girl couldn't have known that, so in the next days she tried her best to be forgiven by you: gifts, praises and a quantity of attention you have never received from her. When you finally understood what was all that about, you promised yourself to not ignore the cutie anymore, so you started to give her even more attentions that she wanted to🙈

Leeseo

It was a miracle that the maknae didn't start to cry during the fanmeeting. She always seek for your approval and when you started talking to everybody except her, her heart cracked a bit. When you noticed her lucid eyes tho, you immediately ran to her, asking what was wrong. Was she feeling sick? Did somebody piss her off? You were worried and ready to throw your hands at the same time. That was enough to make her understand that everything was okay and you didn't hate her or anything else. However for all the day you were extra-protective with her, keeping her close to you till night

~~~

Well, Anon, I hope you liked it. I'm definitely out of the loop and it might be not that great, but at least I tried 🙈💙

Zazá

[yuesya]

“Atten-tion!”

Maki-san’s hand raps sharply against the blackboard; Nobara straightens in her seat.

“Listen up,” the second-year student begins gravely, “There’s been a significant new development in our investigations. For those who haven’t heard the news yet –yesterday, the first years saw Geto-sensei on a date with his girlfriend!”

“Tsuna?”

Maki-san pauses. “Good point. Did you guys get any pictures?”

Nobara nods, “Yeah, I think Fushiguro got one on his phone–”

There’s a mad scramble around them immediately, as every other student jumps Fushiguro, making a grab for the startled boy’s cell phone. Mainly the second years, who hadn’t been there to spy on Geto-sensei’s date in person, and are intensely curious about the unsolved mystery that’s been plaguing them for the entirety of their first year.

“I got it!” Panda cheers, raising Fushiguro’s cell phone into the air, before it’s instantly snatched out of his paws.

“Give it here!”

“Hey, stop shoving me–”

“Okaka!”

The phone changes hands again, fumbling between students. Eventually, the dust settles; Nanako is the ultimate victor, and she promptly solves the problem by texting the picture to everyone in the room.

“There,” the second year student huffs, “Now was that really so hard, guys?”

“I hate you all,” Fushiguro wheezes, his voice coming out a little muffled from the bottom of the pile that he’s stuck in. Nobara doesn’t envy his position at all, ha! Itadori pokes their classmate with a finger, which earns him a faintly irritated look.

The second years aren’t really paying attention to them anymore at the moment, though, distracted by the evidence on their phones: A picture of Geto-sensei and his girlfriend walking side by side, with the white-haired lady’s arm intimately looped through his own.

“I knew it,” Maki-san hisses as a wide grin slowly spreads over her face, while Mimiko groans. “Pay up, girls!”

The Hasaba twins make identical noises of disappointment, but grudgingly hand over a few bills, which Maki-san promptly splits with Inumaki.

Nobara leans forward, “Wait, what?”

“It’s an ongoing bet,” Maki-san explains. “Those two were convinced that there’s something going on between Geto-sensei and Gojo-sensei, but Toge and I swear that we’ve seen Geto-sensei around town with another lady before. You really should���ve been here last year during Christmas, too, he was–”

“He’s best friends with Gojo-sensei!” Mimiko protests. “He called him his one and only–”

“Then explain this!” Maki-san brandishes her phone. Mimiko pouts.

“You don’t know that they’re dating for sure,” she grumbles.

“Ehh? But didn’t the lady feed Geto-sensei something from her fork?” Itadori pipes up, confused. “You don’t do that if you’re not dating, right?”

“Well… well, still!” Nanako blusters, coming to her sister’s defense. “Besides, look at that hair, that height. I bet that Geto-sensei is subconsciously still attracted to Gojo-sensei, if his girlfriend looks like this!”

“Ha!” Maki-san smirks. “So you do admit that this woman is Geto-sensei’s girlfriend!”

“W-wait, that’s not what I–!”

“… I don’t get it,” Yoshino says hesitantly as the argument carries on around them. “Is it really such a big deal that Geto-sensei is seeing someone…?”

Yoshino Junpei is still a new student, so it only makes sense that he still doesn’t get it.

“It is when he’s hiding his girlfriend from us and refuses to say anything about it when asked,” Nobara sniffs. “Listen up, Yoshino. This is the First of the Two Great Mysteries of Tokyo Jujutsu High: Who is Geto-sensei’s girlfriend?”

The boy laughs nervously, “Two Great Mysteries…? What’s the second one, then?”

“The second: Why is Gojo-sensei Like That after midnight?”

Yoshino blinks. “… Like what?”

Nobara gives the poor, unfortunate soul a pitying look. “You’ll see.”

[the-real-treasure]

Wish Wish! One Shot #1

A Picture Says A Thousand Words.

Main Masterlist: Here

Drabble Masterlist: Here

Read on AO3: Here

Zeff discovers something about one of the kids that he had been stranded with after they all get off the rock.

(One-shot #1) [Baratie Age 8] Zeff's POV Trigger Warnings: Mention of starvation, residual trauma from starvation, issues with eating, possible eating disorder Word Count: 1493

"What letter is that?"

Zeff looked up from the delivery slip that had just landed in front of him. The Baratie was still under construction and bills were coming in left right and centre for every little thing. He didn't much care, the gold he had kept, the sack of treasure that he had feigned as food, was more than enough to pay for all of it, as well as get those kids some new clothes that actually fit and shit while things were still being worked on. They had all lost a lot of weight over those eighty-five days, and while he and the little eggplant were slowly but surely returning to a healthy standard, he worried a lot about the other one.

The vicious freak of a thing was little more than a slip of flesh, any and all clothes hanging loose and limp over bone and sinew that he couldn't get coated in fat no matter what he feed them. Even now, a bit under a month off the rock, they still refused to eat until both he and Sanji had started their plates. They were like a feral kitten, screaming and yowling and scratching those first few days on board the ship that rescued them, stalking the little blonde boy and almost force feeding him if he did so much as offer them a crumb of bread before he began, their ringed eyes of gold and aqua swirling with unrestrained panic every time.

He breathed out a sigh. There wasn't much to be done about that but keep up the food. One of these days the kid would realise the rest of them wouldn't die if they took a bite whenever they were hungry. Instead of continuing to worry, he instead stood up from the desk and peeked his head around the corner.

Where he had set up camp in the still to be fully fitted kitchen, the two kids had made themselves at home in what will be the dining hall, in the shadow of the twin staircases that hug the opposite wall and curve with it. He could see them squatting next to the new sign, the light filled letters dull for now until they get hung outside. They really weren't meant to have arrived for another month or two, but the guys knew Zeff by name and hurried the job along to get themselves away from the, still notorious, pirate. Y/n was staring at the first one in extreme consternation.

"...B...?"

"Yeah, told you you'd get it!" Sanji gave their joined hands a shake, pointing to the second one that was propped up against the wall, the large capital 'R' wrapped in plastic but the shape still visible. "Next one!"

"What are you two doing ever there?" He watched as the two of you leapt away from each other like you were being burnt, your h/c haired figure, long messy mop pulled into a ponytail that fell down their back before looping back up to be held in place by the same tie, spinning on him with a glare as you leaped between him and Sanji, the little eggplant snarling at him as well.

"Mind your own business, you nasty old pile of fish food!" The wee boy shouted from behind you, and he squinted down at the pair of you, hobble extra pronounced due to his still new peg leg as he walked out to meet yous.

"Little eggplant, honestly, just swear like a normal person."

"Least I don't use so much oregano I could kill a person." He snarked and Zeff presses his eyes and mouth closed and blows a sigh out his nose. He is a scared little boy trying to act brave, not a disrespectful crewmember. He doesn't need hit. Opening his eyes again, he finds your eyes burning into his skull, searching his eyes for an intention to harm. You wouldn't find it.

"I'm gonna ask again." You drop your eyes away from his, "What are you doing out here?"

"I said, mind-!"

"-Practicing."

"Eh?" Their eyes dart from his feet to theirs, scuffing the toe of their shiny new boots on the tiles floor.

"I was... practicing my letters." His eyes flick over to Sanji, the boy already glaring heatedly at him, hand clasped in theirs squeezing so tightly that their claw like nails dug into his skin.

"You haven't been able to read this whole time." Their shoulders scrunched up to their ears, head ducked down further and Sanji pulled them into him. "Fffffff-" The kid doesn't swear, Zeff, let's keep it like that. "-Fflip sake, could'a told me. Would've got you books or something." Your eyes snap up to him, and even Sanji glare fades to confusion.

"...What?" He rests his curled fists on his waist as he looked down at the pair.

"You think I would want you running about taking orders and counting stock not knowing how to read or spell? Thought you were smarter than this, come on." He turns back to the kitchen, not knowing if you would both follow, but there was no use standing and letting you struggle, just the pair of you.

"To do what?" He can hear your boots on the tile behind him and can picture you dragging a stumbling Sanji behind you.

"To learn, you little donkey. I don't have any books but I have notes and stock lists so we can start with actual words instead of fumbling with random letters."

He pushes open the doors to the kitchen and lets the pair of you pass, hands still grasping each other, with you leading the boy into the kitchen, the few counters already installed littered with papers.

"Come over here, you can show me what you can make out so far. That'll let me know what we're working with."

"What about me?" The blonde boy chirped up beside you, still not parting your intwined hands.

"Either help, or stay out of the way. It's not hard little eggplant." As you pulled a small stool up to the counter to sit alongside his chair, Sanji inserted himself between them, inspecting the papers. Zeff tugged off his overcoat, draping it over the arm as he settled into the chair and handed you a small order slip over Sanji's head. "Start with that, read it out loud and we'll go from there. I'll see about getting a couple of books ordered for yous to practise with properly. These'll have to work for now."

Your voice, which had spent the evening stuttering and stumbling over the names of different companies and construction costs, had fallen silent. Zeff was finishing up filling a few more receipts in the dying light cascading through the kitchen when he looked over to the pair of you.

Sanji's head was flat on the table, his grey-blue eyes, normally covered by the long floppy fringe, were shut and he could make out the curl on his other eyebrow with the slant of the hair. His bones and new wooden peg leg creaked as he stood, stiff from sitting for so long. Pulling the fabric at his arm up with him, he opened it and settled the warm fabric over his charge's shoulders before his eyes met yours, aqua and gold light illuminating the scene as you peered at him. In the growing darkness that crept its fingers up the walls of the room, the sight in front of him was spooky.

It reminded him of being on that rock, the light from your eyes piercing the cloying darkness at him over the ridge of rock separating you all. Now, instead of a barren expanse of rock creating distance between your eyes and his, the only thing that stood between you was a sleeping boy that had hollowed a space out of Zeff's heart for himself and completely encompassed yours.

"He knew I was embarrassed." Your voice was a whisper, not wanting to break the quiet that had fallen over the room. "The ones on the Orbit made fun of me for not reading. I can count fine, but letters and words are... hard."

"I get that." His voice is as hushed as yours, "We'll work on it. The three of us, we look after each other from now on, yeah?"

"Until we go to find the All Blue?" A smile quirked Zeff's face at your misty glowing eyes and whispers of the shared dream.

"Nah. I'll still be keeping an eye on yous even when you head out." He reached over you and ruffled your carefully tied up hair and you whacked his hand with more ferocity than he expected. "For now we'll just worry about getting your reading up to scratch." He smiled as your nose rolled up, and you followed him as he lifted Sanji into his arms and moved towards the stairs to your little loft rooms.

"You can work on chasing dreams later."

[andysinterlude]

rosekiller microfic -- dive (aug 1) | @rosekillermicrofic | main acc: @andyxcds

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ Word Count: 889 tags: swearing. private displays of affection.

ᓚᘏᗢ ...

Two cars, both fresh-coated BMWs sat at the ledge of the cliff. A snake and a raven as finishing designs were impeccable in truth, making their way around the car in different loops. From below the cliff, the two BMW E39 5 Series looked the same tint with the help of the moon. In each car, a guy sat in the driver’s seat. Perhaps they bought it together. Perhaps they designed it together.

In the dark blue BMW, Barty switched out his Fall Out Boy cassette for his Type O Negative case and turned up the volume until he couldn’t hear the sound of Evan sliding out his dark green. He glanced over, holding his door half open, to watch Evan slam his door and toss off his white tee, leaving a grey tank underneath. Barty turned down the volume.

“Should I drive down?” He called out. In response, Evan shook his head, keeping his eyes set on the sea before him, letting the breeze fight his face and run its claws through his hair.

“And the towels?” Barty asked. “Pass it. I’ll take it down.”

“Barty, just get over here,” Evan said calmly. Awe twisted his words, making his tone sweet to Barty, trance-like. Barty turned up the volume of his car, pulled on his towel then slammed the door.

He ran over, pulling off his black shirt along with his tank, leaving his chest bare to the wind. Evan looked over his shoulder to catch Barty’s skin glint in the moonlight. Unseen rays of the moon traced over his abs and those lines down his hips. He was inclined to drop his tank as well.

Barty slid off his pants, leaving his boxers, the only thing he wore. When the sea breeze hit his thighs, not only did he begin to understand how romantic the view was, but he also began to see himself feeling colder in nothing short of a minute.

Slowly, Evan pulled his pants down, and let Barty watch the curve of his spine, the bone poking through his skin, and then the edges of his abs in the sunlight. They saw each other in each other. Evan flipped his hair then took Barty’s hand in his and stepped up.

“Ready?” Evan was proud to say he liked the rough feel of Barty’s hands. Calloused like they spent hours at work, on the cars and on his body.

“Yeah,” Barty whispered, leaving goosebumps on Evan’s skin. Maybe his too.

They plunged in a dive, feet tucked, fingers intertwined, mouths wide in a soundless scream. Wind tore at their outstretched arms, and then the water did. It whipped around them as they hit it with a smack and engulfed them in twice the chill they felt on the way down. Barty knew he felt the cold a couple of feet below.

For a moment, they sunk with their eyes wide, adjusted to the sting of the water. Underwater, they could hear the guitar riff of ‘I Don’t Want To Be Me’ and Evan let out a gasp of air he thought he needed. Slowly, they rose to the top, closing in on each other, arms out to grasp onto each other.

Fiercely, Barty grasped onto Evan’s ribcage as Evan hooked onto Barty’s shoulders and swiftly pushed him deeper into the water with a sly shriek.

Barty fought for grip until he caught Evan’s ankles, pulling him down, but stabilizing his own body to get afloat. Whereupon Evan came down, he flung his arms into the air as he went down, then grabbed Barty’s neck in an attempt to save himself.

In that moment, the moment when they were now face to face, skin to skin underwater, something passed through their bodies. Something not physically tangible but physical, nonetheless. That physical thing passed through them as their lips caught each other in the water. It passed as Evan splayed his fingers across Barty’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together as they kissed.

It also passed as they felt themselves slowly rise to the surface and gave themselves air to breathe. That feeling – the one that feels like going every mile above the speed limit, the one that feels like falling down a cliff with the love of your life in your arms – was like ecstasy. To them both at least.

 “Fucking cunt,” Evan said breathlessly.

“What?” Barty reeled back, cocking his head to the side.

“I really fucking hate that song.” Barty couldn’t help but let out a devilish howl matched with a grin of the same. He wrapped a leg around Evan’s .

“No, really. I do. I’m picking next time,” He said playfully, pushing Barty away from him, kicking his feet out from the tangle.

“Alright.” Barty said with a sigh, wading back to Evan and grasping his head and pressing his lips to Evan’s forehead.

“That was crazy. Wanna go again?” Evan said underneath Barty’s grip.

“We have to walk all the way up there.” Barty groaned, pulling his hands down to Evan’s hip, letting himself feel Evan’s muscles relax under his touch.

“I’ll walk up, bring the car down and we can go again,” Evan proposed, staring into Barty’s brown dripping hair.

“It’s fine. Let’s go together.”

“Okay.” Evan changed the song as soon as he got his hands on Barty’s car.