#FINALLY the plot gets revved up

[logaenhowlett]

THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IN HER HANDS - L.H.

Summary: After months of watching you relentlessly try to gain control of your powers, Logan finally takes matters into his own hands.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff - so much damn fluff, Slight angst, Language

A/N: Suffering from writer's block on a plot-driven angsty Logan fic so I wrote this to focus on something else. Shout out to End by Frank Ocean. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“You’ve been going at it for hours.”

His voice makes you pause, shifting your concentration to the man leaning against the door frame. Logan watches as you swing your head down, possibly frustrated by his interruption.

“Professor said I’d get better at this,” You swipe the sweat off your face, grabbing your drenched shirt as it clings to your skin, “It’s been months and I'm nowhere near strong enough.”

He huffs in amusement, he would often catch you in moments like these, tiring yourself hour after hour till you were exhausted enough to finally pass out. It reminds him of his early days at this place. Young and eager to prove himself to everyone here, that he was capable of being good once again.

“Old man doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about.” A measly attempt to shut down your self-deprecation, he knows nothing will convince you otherwise, that much he learned over the last few times he tried reasoning with you. When you shoot him a questioning glance, he relents, raising his hands up in defense. “Alright. But you’re not doing any good wearing yourself to the bone.”

“I just want to be like Storm and Scott and you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case, the bar ain’t that high.” A teasing grin shining as he approaches you, the annoyed expression on your face does little to stop him. “Come with me.”

“What?”

He chuckles at your confusion, wandering dangerously close into your personal space. “I wanna show you something,” He murmurs.

Flirting isn’t a new concept to him at all. Though you never get used to his attempts, always brushing it off with the assumption that it’s just a game.

“Logan - I need to keep practicing.” You take a few steps back, creating a little distance from his very distracting presence. “It’s the only way I’ll get better at controlling this.”

“Okay.” He drags out, “You can still keep doing this when we come back.”

As you contemplate his request, he knows he has you convinced, a grin tugging on his lips. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

When he leads you to the mansion's garage, you recall all the times he'd whisked you away from moments of misery and fatigue. He seemed to have this innate ability to know when you're in over your head, too absorbed into whatever you were doing to take a step back and relax. A tinge of embarrassment creeps into your thoughts, feeling bad for him to constantly keep checking in as if you were incapable of knowing your limits. Fuck, I'm a mess. You snap yourself from going down the negative route, shifting your focus to Logan, a chuckle escapes you.

“You know he hates it when you steal his bike, right?”

He swings a leg over, revving the engine. The sound seems to unintentionally comfort you, your mind having subconsciously associated it with him. Despite Scott being the owner of vehicle, he rarely saw it since it was Logan’s choice of transportation. Fucking dickhead, he used to curse up and down, unwillingly giving up after Charles reasoned with him one too many times. You remember the entire ordeal, having to intervene during one of their many childish fights when Scott attempted to blow up Logan’s ass.

“I’ll fill up the tank.”

“No, you won’t.” A short laugh leaves you as you wrap your arms around him.

He flashes a smile, tilting his head back to ensure you’re properly seated. “No, I won’t.”

You hardly pay attention to his driving, instead mindlessly watching the scenery zip past. It wasn't the first time Logan had taken you on a ride. In fact, after the initial fear, you had grown fond of this time you got share with him. A quiet and peaceful journey where you could turn your restless mind off and simply enjoy each other's company. An unspoken vow of trust had always lingered between you two, which was something he cherished more than he could ever express. He smiles softly at the weight of you resting on his back as the breeze encompasses around you.

“How’d you even find this place?” You ask, sliding off the seat as he kicks the stand.

“Used it for shelter during that snowstorm a while ago. The bike gave out on me.”

You hum in response, spinning on your feet to look around. It's an abandoned gas station that had definitely seen better days. Despite all the damage and vandalisation, it was an oddly interesting location, a lake nearby overlooking lush fields. Nothing in Logan's expression gives away his intention of bringing you here. He slowly steps backwards, a hint of a smirk tugging his lips and when he's a decent distance away, “Hit me.”

“What?”

“Use your power, sweetheart. Don’t be scared, you can do it.” It's rather encouraging and not at all akin to his usual cocky tone.

“Logan - what, no!” You exclaim, finding his proposal ridiculous. “I’m not - I can’t even fully control it. What if I hurt you?”

He scoffs, amused you could even suggest such a thing, “Well, you’re gonna have to control it, aren’t ya?” When you make no attempt to try, his gaze softens, “I can take it.”

You take a deep breath, channelling your focus to create a ball of energy between your hands. Despite being small, it hits him with enough force to push him back a few steps. A groan leaves him as he clutches his stomach, you shift to run towards him but he lifts his hand, making you stop.

“Again. Don’t hold back.”

This time you think of Charles, remembering all the lessons and training sessions you've had with him. Where you had always doubted yourself, he had constantly reassured you and your ability to control your gift. The ball of energy grows more between your hands, crackling with intensity. Using all your might, you aim at Logan once again, hitting him square in the chest, thrusting him back several feet, the impact denting the ground in the process. He stands up feeling a bit lightheaded, though that sensation disappears as he flexes his muscles, grateful for his healing factor.

“I did it!” You laugh in surprise, running to him.

His arms immediately wrap around you, slightly lifting you off the ground. “You did it,” He says with a faint smile, taking in your satisfaction.

Caught up in moment of finally making progress, you notice the lack of space between Logan and you. And suddenly, his hands on your waist, his tender expression, it all becomes too much, making you pull back. “You’re insane. That could’ve gone so wrong,” You spit out, trying to relieve some tension.

“I trust you.” He whispers, softly.

Your body seems to be on fire, everything about this begins to overwhelm your senses. With a shaky breath, you try stepping away from his gentle grip.

“Why do you always run from me?” His words still your movements. His eyes can't seem to find yours, instead settling on the charred ground beneath him, "I know… you feel this too.”

“I’m - I don’t…”

“Let me in, sweetheart. I won’t run away.” He approaches you, giving you the space to reject his advances. ”I promise.”

When you don't respond, he hangs his head low, accepting your decision. “Let’s go home,” He mumbles.

As you walk down the hallway to your room, you can't seem to shake the urge to run back to him. You take a moment, hand grasping your doorknob before you spin around. Within seconds of knocking on his door, he swings it open catching your distinct heartbeat on the other side.

“Logan - I just…” The words die on your tongue. Every little feeling you'd held for him comes rushing forward. As he stands there, growing concerned for your wellbeing, all you can think about is kissing him till the air leaves your lungs.

“You okay?”

That's enough for you to slam into him. You grab the collar of his white shirt, pulling him down. Your lips find his own, slowly moving against the soft flesh. It takes him less than a second to comprehend what's happening before he reciprocates your actions.

You tilt your head back, inhaling his comforting scent. He continues peppering kisses on your face, unable to stop once he finally got a taste. “I'm sorry, I was scared. I am scared,” You whisper.

“I know. But I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you.” He murmurs against your lips, “If you let me.”

Your smile sends flutters to his heart. His low chuckle echoes within you as he leans down, capturing your lips with a hunger he'd suppressed for as long as he could remember. When your moan teases his senses, he lifts you with ease, one arm securing your waist and the other gently stroking the underside of your thigh. He lowers you down onto the bed, noting your exhaustion from earlier. Sliding right next to you, he presses a light kiss on your temple, pulling you into his warm embrace. A silent promise that he'll never let you go.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Sabo analysis time!!!!

Do you guys ever think about how Sabo didn't visit Dressrosa to see Luffy again? And him meeting up with Luffy was probably his very last option to secure the fruit, otherwise he would probably avoid it? Cuz i do…

Let me elaborate.

So here's what we know from the source material:

We know Sabo and the other revolutionaries were there since the early morning since Hack was already inside the coliseum for RevArmy snooping reasons.

The prize of the Tournament was revealed after the Revs were already there.

Sabo/Koala were not in contact with Robin to know if the straw hats were anywhere near Dressrosa as seen by Koala saying "I hear Robin-san’s here in this country, too."

Sabo confronted Luffy about getting the Mera-Mera No Mi only after Hack lost during Block B and Luffy got out of his own block.

I had always assumed that Sabo showed up to Dressrosa for the Mera-Mera No Mi and meeting Luffy, but that really isn't the case. Idk why it took me so long to figure that out, it’s literally shown in the Episode of Sabo (EOS) explicitly. Although, the EOS isn't exactly source material. I cant find anywhere stating whether its canon or not, but I cant find anything that would have it conflict with the original plot so i see no reason why it wouldn’t be. All that evidence from before is canon though so even without the EOS, this claim still holds water.

Speaking more of the evidence we have from of the episode of Sabo, we see him snooping around the Colosseum during the tournament, we see the moment he realizes that Luffy is participating in the event, and we see the moment he realizes that Luffy cant participate any further.

Like look at him here. He looks absolutely unprepared for what he knows he has to do. And after this in the scene right before he starts talking with Luffy, he’s like literally walking to him as slowly as he possibly can. Taking pauses in his stride to probably think about how much of a bad idea this is.

Plus, at the beginning of the episode when he’s visiting Ace’s grave, he says “I guess both you and Luffy are both mad at me.”

Sabo has had so many opportunities to meet up with Luffy before he actually does, both in Dressrosa and since he regains his memory. But he doesnt. Because he cant. Because he’s terrified of being met with scorn, anger, or even violence from his beloved little brother.

Finally, we see him plucking up the courage to walk over to luffy. All surroundings are silent besides the loud footsteps coming from his approach echoing in the hallway.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Then he stops.

Its dead quiet.

Sabo has been pretty much deadpan this entire time, but he then smiles before he says

“I wont let you have the Mera Mera No Mi, ‘Straw hat’ Luffy.”

This is a fairly serious thing that he’s saying to this man in a fake beard and outrageous helmet, and he’s terrified of this meeting with his brother, but he cant help but smile when he’s talking with him.

The conversation that continues is very confrontational, but suddenly something clicks in Luffy’s mind. His body relaxes from it’s tense posture, he starts to tear up, his speech slows,

Then he starts to scream with recognition.

That’s his big brother.

He’s alive…

He’s Alive!!!

He’s here! Right here! Right where he should be!

Alive. Living. Free!

Luffy GRABS Sabo’s face and propels himself towards him. Suffocating and probably giving his brother whiplash in that second within that assault-hug.

All of a sudden, Sabo’s fears of scorn, anger and violence all wash away.

Luffy loves him.

They have each other now.

And now, Sabo is on his way to get that god damn fruit.

Sabo absolutely didn’t think he was ready for this re-connection, but he’s so glad he went through with it.

He has his brother back, his other brother’s powers, and the bragging rights of being able to flaunt both.

This is what I'm sayin with the "seems like fire favors these brothers" post I made. The fact that both the mera mera no mi and Luffy and Sabo were all in the same place to come together at once is a crazy coincidence. How many coincidences does it take, for a happenstance to be Fate? Probably that amount.

In conclusion:

Get this man a therapist. Please.

Heres another sabo analysis if you wanna hear more

Thank you for reading my ramblings about a fictional man. I think about him a completely average amount.

[luvjunie]

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst to fluff

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

- do not copy, plagiarize, or post my works onto a different platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

[sherewrytes]

Half crazy, Toji x reader

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

REBLOGS HELP ENGAGEMENT

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

character lookbook

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

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@sparkling-obsidian @queendessi24 @masterofthepp @thedondiva45

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Chapter: Racing Shadows

The streets buzzed with tension as the underground scene reached fever pitch. The scent of rubber and gasoline hung in the air, mixing with the hum of engines revving and the low chatter of spectators. It wasn’t just any race night—tonight, the stakes were higher, and reputations were on the line. Toji Zenin’s crew was about to go head-to-head with Hiromi Higuruma’s squad, a rising force on the circuit.

Toji stood by his black 1979 Dodge Charger, white neon lights flickering beneath it. The beast was all muscle, just like the man himself. Tattoos snaked down Toji’s arms, and his eyes were fixed on the crowd. Somewhere out there, Y/n was watching. He’d spotted her earlier, and his jaw had tightened, though he’d tried to play it off. He wasn’t about to show weakness in front of the crew or, worse, Hiromi.

Hiromi Higuruma stepped out of his blood-red Ferrari F12 Berlinetta, a confident smirk playing on his lips. His ride was a monster, all sleek curves and roaring power, but Hiromi was the real threat tonight. The man exuded arrogance, as if every win was already guaranteed. Dressed sharp as always, Hiromi’s eyes landed on Toji, narrowing as he walked over.

“Zenin,” Hiromi’s voice dripped with disdain. “You ready to finally lose that rust bucket? Or are we going to pretend you’re still the king of the streets?”

Toji exhaled smoke from his cigarette, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “ Rust bucket, are you a fucking 5 year old, try harder with the insults. We’ll see who’s still standing by the end of the night, Higuruma. You sure you can handle it?”

Hiromi chuckled darkly, stepping closer, his voice low and taunting. “Handle it? Please. I’ve been handling everything—money, cars... women.” He paused, locking eyes with Toji. “Though, from what I hear, you’ve been slacking on that last part. You got eyes for one girl, but I haven’t seen you make a move. What’s the matter, Zenin? Can’t close the deal?”

Toji’s jaw clenched. Y/n had been the only one he cared to look at, but Hiromi’s words hit a nerve, one he didn’t want exposed in front of the crew. Sukuna, leaning against his blood-red Chevy Camaro, shot a glance at Toji, sensing the rising tension.

Hiromi kept going, his voice louder now, trying to rile Toji up. “What’s wrong? You’re afraid? Because the way I see it, all you do is stare. No approach, no talk. Is that your game now? Losing it with cars, losing it with women?”

Toji’s cigarette dropped from his lips, his fists tightening. Before anyone could blink, he was inches from Hiromi, nostrils flaring. “Watch your mouth, Higuruma, or I’ll shut it for you right here.”

The crowd quieted, eyes widening as the tension crackled between the two racers. Gojo, ever the joker, stepped forward with a grin. “Relax, Toji. Hiromi’s just bitter ‘cause he thinks he’s hot, but no one actually wants him.”

Hiromi’s eyes flicked to Gojo, but he wasn’t backing down from Toji. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve? Seems like your boy over here just confirmed it. Maybe after I take your car tonight, I’ll take the girl too.”

Toji lunged, grabbing Hiromi by the collar, ready to throw a punch. The crew moved fast—Geto, Sukuna, and Gojo pulling Toji back while Panda and Nanami stepped in to hold Hiromi. The energy was electric, and it felt like a fight was moments away from breaking out.

“Save it for the track!” Geto snapped, his voice cutting through the chaos. “We’re here to race, not brawl.”

Hiromi straightened his shirt, his smirk never faltering. “Yeah, Zenin, listen to your crew. You’d need them after I beat you anyway.”

Toji glared, seething. “You want to raise the stakes, Hiromi? Fine. Pink slips.”

The crowd gasped. This wasn’t just a race anymore—it was a declaration of war. Racing for pink slips meant losing your car if you didn’t win, and with cars as custom and expensive as these, that was everything.

Hiromi’s grin grew wider. “Now we’re talking. But just so you know, Zenin, after I win your car, I’ll put it to good use. Probably better than you ever could.”

Toji’s smile was sharp, dangerous. “You better pray you’re fast enough.”

Hiromi leaned in. “Always am.”

Race 1: Gojo Satoru vs. Kento Nanami

The first race was Gojo against Nanami, and the tension was palpable. Gojo, all smiles, pulled his baby blue Mazda RX-8 to the start line. His white hair practically glowed under the streetlights, and he shot Nanami a playful wink. “You ready to get smoked, Nami?”

Nanami, leaning against his sleek black Porsche 911 Turbo S, didn’t even respond. He was all business, adjusting his sleeves and climbing into the driver’s seat without a word. His car was a silent killer—sleek, powerful, and devastatingly fast.

As the light flashed green, both cars roared to life. Gojo’s Mazda took off like a rocket, zipping around the first corner with ease. His grin widened as he weaved through traffic, laughing to himself. But Nanami was calm, composed, and relentless. His Porsche moved like a panther stalking its prey, never too far behind, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Gojo’s hands moved fluidly, switching gears, his confidence unshakable. But on the final straight, Nanami closed the gap, his Porsche’s power surging forward. It was neck and neck as they approached the finish line, but Gojo’s laugh echoed as he barely edged out the win.

“Close one, Nami!” Gojo called, leaning out his window, though Nanami’s stoic expression didn’t falter.

Race 2: Suguru Geto vs. Toge Inumaki

Next up was Geto versus Inumaki. Geto slid into his yellow and black Nissan Primera GT, the green neon lights casting a ghostly glow beneath the car. Inumaki, his face tattoos glowing under the streetlights, pulled up in his dark green Mitsubishi Eclipse, the car’s wide body kit giving it an aggressive edge.

Inumaki’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes focused ahead. He was new to the scene, but everyone knew he had potential. The light flicked green, and Geto’s Primera shot forward, the engine howling as he took an early lead.

Inumaki followed closely, his Eclipse cornering sharply, though Geto’s experience gave him the edge. Inumaki’s focus was fierce, his tattoos and piercings giving him an intimidating look as he raced, but Geto was smooth, taking corners like a dancer, always a step ahead.

In the end, Geto crossed the finish line first, but Inumaki wasn’t far behind. “Not bad, kid,” Geto smirked as he pulled up next to him, and Inumaki nodded, his face unreadable.

Race 3: Sukuna Ryomen vs. Panda

Sukuna was up next, and his blood-red Chevy Camaro looked like a beast ready to devour the streets. Across from him, Panda, with his massive build and double-sleeved tattoos, slid into his blacked-out Dodge Challenger. Gold cuffs glinted on his wrists as he revved the engine, the roar echoing through the lot.

Sukuna grinned. “Let’s see what the new guy’s got.”

The race began with a thunderous start, Sukuna’s Camaro exploding off the line with raw power. But Panda’s Challenger wasn’t far behind, the massive car barreling forward with surprising speed. Panda’s calm demeanor didn’t match the intensity of his car, but his control was impeccable.

Sukuna’s grin widened as he pushed the Camaro to its limits, weaving through the course with reckless abandon. Panda followed, his Challenger staying close, but Sukuna’s experience won out. As they crossed the finish line, Sukuna let out a whoop of victory.

“Not bad, big guy,” Sukuna called out. Panda, ever the silent type, simply nodded.

Race 4: Toji Zenin vs. Hiromi Higuruma

Finally, it was time for the main event: Toji versus Hiromi. Toji stepped into his black Dodge Charger, the white neon lights flickering ominously beneath it. Hiromi, across from him, sat in his Ferrari F12, its blood-red body gleaming under the streetlights.

Toji’s face was set, jaw clenched as he revved the engine. This wasn’t just about the race anymore—it was personal. Hiromi had thrown too many insults, and Toji wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

Hiromi’s smirk hadn’t faltered. “Better say goodbye to that Charger, Zenin. It’ll look better in my garage.”

“Keep dreaming,” Toji growled.

The light flashed green, and both cars roared to life. The race was on.

The moment the light flashed green, the sound of tires screeching and engines roaring filled the night air. Toji’s Charger took off like a bullet, but Hiromi’s Ferrari was right on his tail,

a sleek red blur chasing the massive black muscle car through the neon-lit streets. Both cars thundered down the highway, weaving through the urban landscape at breakneck speeds.

Toji gripped the wheel, his hands steady, eyes razor-focused on the road ahead. The raw power of his Charger reverberated through his body, the engine growling as he pushed it harder.

This wasn’t just about racing anymore; this was about showing Hiromi, the crew, and especially Y/n, that no one could touch him—not on the streets, not anywhere.

Hiromi, in his Ferrari, was grinning like a madman. His sleek, custom-built machine cut through the air with a deadly precision, roaring behind Toji.

Hiromi’s confidence was palpable as he drew closer to Toji, pushing the Ferrari to its limits. He flicked his eyes to the side mirror, watching Toji's Charger devour the road ahead.

"You’re slipping, Zenin!" Hiromi shouted through his open window, his voice taunting, carried by the rush of wind. "You drive like you fight—sloppy and slow!"

Toji didn’t take the bait, but the fury in his chest burned hotter. He pushed his Charger even harder, the custom-built engine roaring with every shift of the gears. His knuckles whitened on the wheel, his jaw locked in determination.

Hiromi swerved up alongside Toji, their cars nearly kissing as they raced through a tight alley. The Ferrari’s sleek frame allowed it to glide with ease, but Toji’s Charger was a beast, chewing up the pavement as he powered through the turns. Hiromi’s laughter echoed across the alley as he pulled ahead slightly, his red Ferrari glinting under the streetlights.

"Guess I’ll be taking that Charger home tonight," Hiromi mocked, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Maybe I’ll even take the girl too. She deserves a real man."

Toji’s teeth ground together. His muscles tightened as Hiromi’s words fueled his fire. Y/n flashed in his mind, her eyes on him earlier tonight. She’d watched him, and in that moment, Toji knew he couldn’t lose. Not to this prick.

Without warning, Toji slammed his foot on the accelerator, the Charger’s powerful engine snarling as he surged forward. The gap between their cars closed in an instant, and Hiromi’s smirk vanished, replaced with shock as Toji pulled ahead.

"You’re not taking anything, Hiromi," Toji growled, eyes locked on the road as he took a sharp corner, his Charger sliding sideways with precision, drifting flawlessly. The tires screeched against the asphalt, sending sparks flying into the night air.

Hiromi’s Ferrari struggled to follow Toji’s aggressive moves, and for the first time in the race, doubt flickered in his eyes. Toji’s car was a monster, devouring every turn, every straightaway, with ferocious speed.

From the sidelines, the crowd roared in approval, the energy electric. Gojo, Sukuna, and Geto watched intently, knowing this race was more than just about cars—it was about pride, respect, and dominance.

"Toji’s got this," Gojo smirked, leaning against his RX-8, arms crossed. "Hiromi’s not ready."

Sukuna exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes following Toji’s Charger as it surged ahead. "He better be. That Ferrari’s not playing around."

Back on the road, Toji took another sharp corner, the Charger roaring as it bolted down the final straightaway. Hiromi, desperate, pushed the Ferrari to its absolute limit, trying to catch up, but it wasn’t enough. Toji’s skill, his raw determination, and the power of his custom Charger were too much.

As the finish line approached, the crowd leaned in, holding their breath. The neon lights from both cars flashed as they tore through the final stretch, but it was Toji’s Charger that crossed first, Hiromi’s Ferrari trailing behind by mere inches.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Toji let out a breath, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he slowed his car, pulling it to a stop. Hiromi skidded to a halt beside him, fury etched across his face.

Toji climbed out of his Charger, his expression cool and composed. Hiromi, on the other hand, slammed his door shut, his pride in tatters. The tension between them hadn’t diminished, and it was clear that things were far from over.

"You got lucky, Zenin," Hiromi sneered, stepping closer to Toji. "Next time, I’ll bury you. And we race for pink slips again—because I want that Charger."

Toji turned, his gaze cold, his voice low and lethal. "You don’t stand a chance. But if you want another shot at getting humiliated, I’m all for it."

Before Hiromi could respond, Gojo strolled over, grinning. "What’s this, boys? Another rematch already? Damn, Zenin, you really don’t let these guys breathe."

Hiromi glared at Gojo but kept his focus on Toji. "Next time, Zenin, I’ll take everything from you."

Toji smirked, leaning against his Charger, eyes gleaming with confidence. "You couldn’t take it if I gift-wrapped it for you."

The crowd began to disperse, the adrenaline still pulsing in the air as the racers regrouped. Y/n stood at a distance, her eyes fixed on Toji, who caught her gaze for a brief moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

Hiromi stalked back to his Ferrari, his crew following behind, but the tension between him and Toji lingered like a storm cloud, promising that this rivalry was far from over.

Toji’s POV:

The race had been a rush, but now that it was over, Toji leaned against his Charger, the heat from the engine warming his back as he took a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled from his lips, drifting into the cool night air, mixing with the distant cheers and hum of conversations around the lot. His eyes flickered toward Sukuna, who was sitting on the hood of Gojo’s RX-8, rolling up another joint with meticulous precision. The whole crew was there, unwinding after the adrenaline-fueled race.

Toji’s mind was still buzzing. Hiromi's words replayed in his head, especially the part about taking everything from him—including her. His jaw clenched slightly, but he masked it with another pull from his cigarette. He wasn’t going to let Hiromi—or anyone—get under his skin. But Y/n… she’d been watching, he could feel it. Every time he was around, he caught her eyes on him, just like his had been on her since that first time outside the library.

Gojo’s loud laugh snapped him out of his thoughts. The man was standing a few feet away, chatting up some girls who had stuck around after the race. Typical. Geto was nearby, doing the same, his relaxed posture oozing charm as he leaned in to talk to one of the girls, a grin tugging at his lips. Meanwhile, Choso rolled up late, as usual, pulling up on his custom motorbike with a low growl. He parked and swung his leg off, the gold accents on the sleek black bike gleaming under the neon lights.

"Why is she walking over here?" Choso asked, nodding in the direction of Mei Mei, who had just broken off from Y/n and Shoko. The rest of the guys followed his gaze.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, already grinning as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Shit, hide your wallets, boys. She smells money from miles away."

Toji’s eyes shifted, narrowing slightly as Mei Mei strutted toward them with her usual confidence. And, as if it were instinct, his gaze flickered past her, locking onto Y/n who was standing a distance away with Shoko. She looked good—too good, even in the simple outfit she had on. His cigarette paused mid-air as his eyes lingered just a little too long. He forced himself to focus back on Mei Mei when Gojo's voice rang out again, teasing.

"Yo, isn’t that Y/n’s friend?" Choso asked as he parked his bike and sauntered over to the group.

Toji straightened, keeping his face neutral, but he knew what was coming. Damn Gojo. The guy always had a knack for turning the spotlight on Toji when he least wanted it.

Mei Mei arrived, glancing around the group before her eyes settled on Toji, her usual cool demeanor not faltering even for a second. "So, Toji," she started, her voice casual but carrying an edge of curiosity. "You gonna tell me what’s the deal with you eyeing up Y/n everywhere, or what?"

The group erupted in laughter, Sukuna shaking his head as he exhaled a puff of smoke. Geto chuckled, leaning back against the wall with a knowing grin.

Toji took a slow drag from his cigarette, playing it off, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream. "What are you talking about?" he said smoothly, though his heart skipped a beat. His eyes darted briefly toward Y/n again—bad move.

Gojo was on it in a second.

"Ohhh, Toji’s playin’ dumb now, huh?" Gojo piped up with a smirk. "Come on, man. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you checking her out at every turn." He nudged Sukuna, who snickered beside him, still focused on rolling his joint.

"Maybe he’s just shy, y’know?" Geto added with mock seriousness, shooting a wink in Toji’s direction.

Toji shot Gojo a glare. Bastard. He tried to play it cool, leaning back against his car with a shrug, tapping the ashes of his cigarette. "You all got nothing better to do than gossip like high schoolers?"

"Hey, no judgment," Gojo teased, his grin widening. "I’m just saying, if you’re gonna keep staring, might as well make a move, man. Y/n’s right over there."

Toji felt his pulse quicken, but he wasn’t about to let Gojo get the satisfaction. "Fuck off," he muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette as he side-eyed Gojo. The group continued to laugh, but Toji’s gaze inevitably drifted toward Y/n again.

Y/n’s POV:

Y/n could feel eyes on her before she even looked up. The race had been exciting—chaotic, really—but now, standing with Shoko, she felt a different kind of tension hanging in the air. She glanced across the lot and saw Toji’s crew huddled together. Mei Mei had left her and Shoko, heading straight for the guys, her usual confident strut not faltering for a second.

"She’s gonna stir up trouble," Shoko muttered beside her, lighting a cigarette as they watched the scene unfold.

Y/n nodded, biting her lip. She could see it from a mile away—Mei Mei had a habit of stirring the pot. But that wasn’t what was really on her mind. It was him. Toji Zenin. Or was it Fushiguro? She still didn’t really know why he switched between the two names. Either way, there was something about him that she couldn’t shake.

She’d seen the way he looked at her—subtle, but not really. The way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the tension in his jaw when she passed by. And now, standing here, she could feel his eyes on her again, even though she wasn’t looking directly at him.

"What’s the deal with him anyway?" she asked Shoko, trying to sound nonchalant, though her heart was beating faster than usual.

Shoko took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling before answering. "Toji? He’s… complicated. Quiet, but intense. And those rumors—yeah, they're wild, but it’s mostly because he and the guys are street racers. They’ve got that whole ‘bad boy’ rep going on."

"Bad boy, huh?" Y/n murmured, trying to mask her curiosity.

Shoko turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "You’re curious, aren’t you?" she teased.

Y/n didn’t answer, her eyes now locked on Mei Mei, who had stopped right in front of Toji, clearly about to stir something up. She watched as Mei Mei pointedly asked him something—probably about her. Toji’s reaction was calm at first, but then the guys started laughing, Gojo especially, and Y/n could see Toji shift slightly, his body tensing.

"Here we go," Shoko said with a smirk, flicking her cigarette onto the ground.

Before Y/n could respond, Mei Mei turned, smirking slightly, and began walking back towards them. Y/n could feel her heart racing. What the hell had she said to him?

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Gojo shift his stance, his usual grin replaced with something more mischievous. He turned toward her direction, eyes glinting with that playful arrogance he always carried, and called out loud enough for the entire group to hear as well as other surrounding groups.

"Y/n! Toji’s been checking you out all night—why don’t you give him a reason to stop pretending he’s not interested?"

The words hit her like a punch, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She caught Toji’s eyes for a split second, and his expression, usually so unreadable, flickered with something—frustration, maybe? Annoyance?

Y/n swallowed hard, her pulse skyrocketing. She didn’t know what to say or do. But then Toji moved so fast it was almost a blur—he grabbed Gojo by the collar, jerking him forward as if he was about to land a punch. Gojo, ever the jokester, just laughed, his smirk unfazed.

"Come on, man," Gojo grinned, still laughing. "I wouldn’t steal your girl... unless..." His smirk widened.

Toji didn’t hesitate. His fist swung, but Gojo dodged easily, still laughing as Toji’s temper flared.

Toji’s fingers still buzzed from nearly decking Gojo, the cigarette barely hanging from his lips as he clenched his jaw. He wasn’t usually this quick to react, but Gojo had hit a nerve tonight, pushing him to the brink.

He took a deep drag, eyes narrowing as the smoke left his lips, rolling his shoulders back, trying to cool off.

That’s when Mei Mei casually sauntered over, plucking the freshly rolled joint right out of Sukuna’s hand as if it was hers to take. Toji's eyes flickered toward her in mild annoyance, but Mei Mei simply ignored him, lighting up the joint and taking a long, deliberate pull. She tilted her head back, exhaling the smoke with an almost too-calm demeanor.

Then, without missing a beat, she pulled out her phone and texted something, her lips curling into a smirk as she glanced briefly at Toji before looking down at her phone again.

She sauntered over to Gojo, who was still smirking, watching Toji carefully from the corner of his eye. "Mr. Moneybags," Mei Mei said smoothly, locking eyes with him. "Tell your dad to call me."

Gojo groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Mei Mei, please leave my dad alone. I beg you."

She just laughed, a soft, almost musical sound, clearly enjoying the way Gojo’s eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "We both know you like when I bother him, plus he is one of my sugar daddies" she teased.

Just then, Toji’s eyes snapped across the lot. Shoko was dragging Y/n, who was clearly resisting, toward their group. Y/n tugged against Shoko’s hold, but Shoko was relentless, her arm wrapped firmly around Y/n’s wrist. The closer they got, the more Toji could feel the tension building in his chest. He’d already been thrown off tonight, and now she was being pulled right into the middle of it.

He could feel his heart rate pick up, but he tried to play it off, taking another slow drag from his cigarette, acting like her presence didn’t throw his whole vibe off.

Y/n’s hair was slightly tousled from resisting Shoko, her eyes wide as she shot a pleading look toward her friend. Shoko, completely unfazed, kept dragging her forward until they were finally in the middle of the group. Geto, who's leaning casually against his car now, sizing up the situation, turned his gaze toward Shoko and smirked.

"Shoko," he drawled, eyeing her up. "You’re looking a little too good tonight."

Shoko didn’t even blink, shooting him a look of pure disgust. "Eww, bro, no," she replied flatly, which only made Geto laugh harder, shaking his head as he pulled out a cigarette of his own.

Then, Shoko turned on her heel, fixing her eyes on Mei Mei. "Cough it up," she demanded, crossing her arms. Mei Mei, still with the joint hanging loosely between her lips, raised an eyebrow and chuckled. She rummaged through her designer bag for a moment before pulling out the Jacquemus wallet that Shoko had been nagging her about for weeks.

Shoko snatched it from her with a satisfied smile, examining the sleek leather. "Finally," she muttered, tucking it into her own bag.

Geto leaned over, still smirking. "I could’ve gotten you something prettier," he said smoothly, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Shoko waved him off. "Geto, please shut up," she deadpanned, pulling out her own cigarette to light up.

But Toji’s focus had already shifted completely—Y/n was standing right there now, wearing just a skin-tight white tank top that clung to her every curve, paired with her jeans. His eyes lingered on her, muscles tensing beneath his wife-beater.

He’d ditched his jacket after the race, feeling the heat in more ways than one. But now, standing here, trying not to look directly at her? That was a challenge he wasn’t sure he could win.

And, of course, Gojo noticed. The guy lived to mess with him. The smirk on Gojo’s face widened when he saw how hard Toji was trying not to stare at Y/n.

"Well, well," Gojo said smoothly, sidling right up next to Y/n with that cocky confidence only he could pull off. He leaned in close, flashing her a playful grin. "Y/n, you know," he began, his voice low, dripping with amusement, "I always knew you had good taste. Hanging out with us, looking all... well, let’s just say you’re the highlight of the night."

Y/n couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped past her lips, half-embarrassed, half-amused by Gojo’s blatant flirting. He had that charm about him—so easy, so smooth. But at the same time, her eyes kept flicking over to Toji, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

Toji was pretending he didn’t hear it, trying to stay cool, but the cigarette between his fingers was burning faster than it should have been. He took another drag, slow and measured, trying to keep his expression neutral. But Gojo wasn’t letting up.

"You know," Gojo continued, now leaning even closer to Y/n, "you should really consider hanging out with us more often. I mean, I could show you a good time—better than some guys around here."

It was a direct jab at Toji, and Toji knew it. His eyes snapped up, locking onto Gojo with a dangerous glint. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot as he straightened up, his broad frame tense.

"Oi," Toji’s voice cut through the chatter, low and sharp. His eyes were focused, burning with a barely-contained fire as he looked directly at Gojo. "Back off."

Gojo laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Toji," he teased. "I’m just having a little fun."

Y/n felt the tension spike in the air, her heart racing. She hadn’t been sure what Toji’s reaction would be, but now it was clear. He was pissed.

Toji stepped closer, his eyes now on Y/n, ignoring Gojo completely. "You okay?" His voice was a little softer now, but there was still that edge to it.

Y/n nodded, though her pulse was racing. "Yeah, I’m fine," she said, her voice a little breathless.

Toji’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to Gojo. "Stop messing around," he muttered, the warning clear in his tone.

Gojo just grinned, but this time, he took a step back, deciding to back off—for now.

Sukuna, who had been watching all this unfold with mild interest, finally spoke up, his voice lazy and amused. "Damn, Toji. Didn’t know you had it in you to get all protective."

Toji shot him a look, but didn’t say anything. His heart was still racing, his mind still half on the race, half on Y/n. But one thing was for sure—next time, Gojo wouldn’t be running his mouth so freely.

Toji’s POV:

Toji felt the air crackle with tension as Gojo leaned in closer to Y/n. He clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling beneath his skin. But before he could act on that impulse, Gojo piped up, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Come on, man, I won’t do that... unless..." He let the words hang, his smirk widening.

Toji reacted instinctively, grabbing Gojo by the collar and yanking him forward. “You really want to test me right now?” he growled, eyes blazing with barely-contained rage. Gojo just laughed, clearly enjoying the playful threat. “Chill out, I was just joking!” he wheezed, still chuckling as he pushed Toji away.

Meanwhile, Y/n turned to Shoko, a frown on her face. “How could you sell me out for a wallet?” she teased, shaking her head.

Shoko shrugged, a playful smile creeping across her lips. “Two birds with one stone,” she replied, nudging Y/n gently.

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me about the whole ‘I’m getting a wallet’ plan!” Y/n protested, laughing.

Choso, who usually stayed quiet, chimed in unexpectedly, “So, Y/n, are you coming to my party later tonight?” His voice was casual, but there was a hint of excitement in his eyes.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “It’s 1 AM in the morning, Choso,” she replied, ready to decline.

“AND?” he shot back, not missing a beat.

Just as she opened her mouth to say no, Mei Mei cut in with a sly smile. “Give me the location; we’ll all be there.” Then she turned to Toji, that same playful grin lingering. “Including Y/n,” she added, her tone teasing.

Choso eagerly shared the details, his eyes glinting with anticipation. “It’s at my place—just a few blocks from here. Should be a good time.”

Geto leaned back against his car, his gaze fixed on Shoko. “How are you guys getting there?” he asked, his voice casual, though the excitement simmered just beneath the surface.

“I’ll drive,” Shoko replied, rolling her eyes at Geto’s obvious interest. He shot her a cheeky smile and a wink, which made her shake her head in exasperation.

“Alright, well, see you boys at the party!” Mei Mei said, leading the girls away, Y/n glancing back at Toji one last time before she was whisked away.

Toji kept his gaze locked on her as she walked away, a mixture of longing and frustration swirling inside him. But then he noticed her stop, and his heart dropped. Y/n greeted Hiromi with a hug, her smile wide as she wrapped her arms around his rival.

His blood boiled instantly, anger flaring through him. “Holy shit, she knows him?” Geto exclaimed, his surprise mirroring Toji’s internal turmoil.

Toji took a step forward, ready to pounce, fists clenched at his sides. “What the hell is she doing?” he muttered, unable to contain the rage that bubbled inside him.

“Wait,” Sukuna said sharply, grabbing Toji’s arm to hold him back. “Ask her at the party. Don’t make a scene here.”

Toji gritted his teeth, struggling to rein in his anger as he watched Y/n and Hiromi laugh, completely unaware of the storm brewing within him.

Y/n’s POV:

Y/n felt a wave of relief as she stepped away from Shoko, laughing at their playful banter about the wallet. But then she turned, and her heart did a little flip when she saw Choso looking her way. His friendly demeanor was hard to resist. “Are you coming to my party later tonight?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to decline, but then Mei Mei chimed in with her usual enthusiasm, and suddenly the idea of going didn’t seem so bad. “Give me the location; we’ll all be there,” Mei Mei said confidently.

The prospect of a party was tempting, and Y/n felt a rush of excitement. But just as she started to think it over, she caught sight of Toji. He was watching her intently, a storm brewing in those dark eyes of his. She had never seen him look so intense, and it made her heart race.

When she hugged Hiromi, she was blissfully unaware of the tension spiraling around Toji. His arms were so familiar, and she felt safe in his embrace. They laughed about something that had happened during their last encounter, completely lost in their own little world.

But when she pulled away, she felt the weight of someone’s gaze burning into her back. It was Toji. She turned slightly and caught his eye, but the moment didn’t last long. The tension radiating from him was palpable, and it made her stomach twist in an odd mix of excitement and unease.

Then she noticed the anger flaring in Toji’s expression, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at Hiromi. She realized then that she might have unintentionally stepped into the middle of something brewing between the two.

“Hey, Y/n,” Hiromi said, his voice smooth. “You got plans after this?”

“Yeah, heading to a party apparently. I'll see you around!” she replied, trying to keep the conversation light as she pulled away from him.

As she walked back toward Shoko and Mei Mei, she glanced over her shoulder at Toji, who was still watching her. The expression on his face was intense—almost possessive, and it made her wonder about the undercurrents she sensed between them. What did it mean that he seemed so affected by her interactions with Hiromi?

The tension in the air felt electric, and as they headed off toward the party, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated between her and Toji.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭Destination(!): Middle of Nowhere — Toji Fushiguro

Synopsis: A long drive—a little crush and a hot dilf, not much can wrong- only that you were drunk and he was no less of a bastard.

— Word count: 2.2k

— A/n: Nobody come at me ok? This was meant to be full smut and just a drabble but here I am 💀 and this is like a piece I’m writing after a decent while so stfu ok- as is Toji ain’t my boo

— Warnings: smut!! MDNI!! Toji x Fem! Reader (reader is at least 19); age gap (reader is the age of Megumi and they’re not in college <3); stupidly fucked sense of alcohol consumption and hangover (for the sake of plot); degradation; spanking; idk basic nonsense- exhibitionism; usage of word "daddy" (twice)

“That’s what you fuckin’ like huh?” A sharp slap landed on your ass, whimpers barely contained as you sobbed as his fast-set pace—“Gettin’ fucked at the side of the highway?”

Days spent saving the money so carefully, so long—it had to be a night well spent.

“Gumi’!” You sounded out again, the skirt rested so low on your waist—the top barely holding up too, you grinned as your friend made his way to your car, disgruntled a face.

“Why the long face lover boy?”

Not a word, motioning just his head for you to focus on the body in the periphery—it was similar to your Friend, well, at least by the face of it and some mannerisms.

Megumi’s father after all, was the book definition of what a dilf is—you couldn’t help but giggle at the way the older man flicked off his son—usual banter, you presumed.

“What happened now?”

“I was running late, so I made eggs—he wanted to eat some cereals or whatever,” you chuckled at the annoyance his tone held still—“and he couldn’t have made it himself?”

A deadpan that Megumi passed you, “is it not obvious the only thing he can make is women pregnant left and right.”

Another gaze, yours flickered to his father- shyly looking away immediately when your eyes seemed to catch—he was, in most senses, scary.

But hot—because how else would you explain the sudden flutter of the nerves as your eyes caught sight of Him, pants resting low on his hips—no shirt, fuck was he hot.

Another laugh, unassuming as your car revved away.

-

The concert was fun, mostly.

Besides the time that you lost sight of Megumi, besides the creeps that you caught along the way, besides getting your drink almost spiked- yeah.

What wasn’t fun, it was simply realising that you did not in fact have a ride to go back anymore. But as it was, absent father or not, he made for a decent chauffeur- because there at 11:30 at night he stood with his car.

“How the fuck do you lose your car keys?” His voice was rushed, Megumi’s—staring daggers at you, you simply chose to giggle, too drunk to register anything properly.

“I lost you at the concert- I think losing is a simple concept,”

A scoff- Megumi could not deal with this anymore.

“Remember when we lost our virginity-? That motel was so shady, and the bitch you were with-” words punctuated with hiccups and giggles, Megumi groaned, ears burning when his dad replied with “Hah?” To your words, apparently having heard everything.

A hand shoved to cover your mouth, Megumi grimaced-“don’t mind her, she’s drunk, I need you to take her home- ours,”

A short silence followed the info, “take her? Where will you be?”

Megumi paused, “I’ll stay off at a friend’s t’night—need you to take her back,”

A scoff—Toji’s, “can’t the brat stay with you too? M’busy,”

“He wants to get railed,” you hollered from behind—warning yourself a gruff smile from Toji, not that you’d care at the moment- “off y’er rockets, both of you,” a mumble Toji passed, then a scoff.

“Alright,” he finally muttered, not without making Megumi beg thrice, compensating the night drive by leaving the apartment alone to his father for three days further, “stay with her while I back the car- don’t lemme catch ya fuckin’ some whore when I get back either,”

“Don’t ya worry Mr. Fushiguro—ain’t gonna let him get STD so fast,”

Another short chuckle, hm, the ride could after all be fun.

-

“Thanks dad,” Megumi muttered another his breath- fastening your seatbelt, not daring to meet his dad’s eye, all too aware of the smirk on his face.

“The chick’s hot,”

“That’s why I’m leaving with her and not- oh,” Megumi paused mid-statement realising it was you his father was referring to, not the girl he was leaving with, he bit his lip hard.

“Don’t try your shit with her, don’t mess with her,”

A smirk, “how would you know,” Toji shrugged, “I could fuck her roadside and you wouldn’t know,”

A lick of his lips, “which is why I’m asking you to simply not do it,”

Flick of his head, “I’ll do what I want,”

Megumi watched as his father’s gaze lingered upon your form, it was simply too easy- especially the way Toji’s eyes held a hungry look.

And just like that, you—half passed out, beside Toji swerved away, Megumi would’ve perhaps minded a little more, had the girl beside him not been actively trying to kiss his face off- not that he minded.

Ps. One thing about Toji, he did do what he wanted after all.

-

The ride back home was smoother, partially because you were almost passed out, and there was no traffic to hinder your way either—and yet, hours it took the both of you to reach.

After all, there were stops made continuously, here and there- “ya hungry?” You muttered suddenly, 15 minutes into the ride, the silence all so overbearing—a mindless “huh?” Toji passed, a mere snicker you offered “hungry? I am,”

Toji stared blankly at the road—he wasn’t sure, a small smirk made its over still, “you don’t typically talk so much,” and true he was of course—but that was mostly because Toji always shivered your timbers, which rarely mattered when you were as drunk as you were.

“I’m typically never this hungry either,” a gruff scoff he passed, “Gumi’ didn’t feed ya or what?”

A silence you let pass over the two of you- he sighed taking the worse of the cases, “whatever I’ve got me some cash, sure, whatcha’ wanna eat?”

“Whatever pops up on the road first,”

A smirk, Toji looked over the convenience store that seemed to be approaching—“I like decisive girls like you,”

A giggle you passed, so drunk, “wanna know a decision I’ve made?”

A cocked brow met your gaze as Toji pulled the car over the side of the road—“you’re one man I wanna fuck,”

A cough and a widened set of eyes fretted Toji before the smirk could even wipe you across the floor, a short silence met you- sober you would’ve already climbed over the lay on the road ready to be run over, the sheer embarrassment.

A small chuckle the older man offered, “y’er not so bold usually eh?”

“You’re scary,” your voice came out as half a whine,

“eh? And I’m not scary right now?”

A giggle again—“you’re much more fuckable right now, especially with how you were in the morning- been on my mind since,”

Oh?

Oh.

The vision of himself in just a vest and grey sweat-pants, understandable, he shrugged—“gotta be honest doll, you look way more slutty than I did,”

An amused smile he held as you giggled again—“yeaaaah?” Your words dragged, “S’pretty skirt ain’t it? Gumi’ thought it was too short,” a small pout that you held with end of the statement.

A snort Toji passed—“Gumi? An idiot, a doll like you deserved to flaunt that ass in as short of a skirt you like, don’t ya?”

Your head bobbed in compliance, slowing only when his hand came to rest way too high on the plush of your thighs—it felt hot.

Hot in the way it seemed to creep up your skirt, hot in the way the hem of your skirt tickled you—hot in the way his gaze held yours, hot in the way Toji knew exactly what he was doing.

A lick of your lips, a lean in from him, a lean in yours—“you were hungry, yea?”

And just like that, Toji did exactly as he pleased.

-

Toji stared, jaw stacked as his eyes remained stuck on your form, bent over—legs spread, all just to tease him while you pretended to be confused about flavour sandwiched you wanted to grab.

A hum entered his ears, you bent over further—your panties, the fishnets all on display —“I don’t like the mayo they used in this,” a whine as you wiggled your ass, his eye twitched.

A step forward, he stood directly behind you, crotch pressed to your ass, a hand on your back which kept you in position—“and I don’t like the way you’re acting,”

The store was empty, you smirked—grinding back into him, “you seemed to like how I was back in—”

-slap!

A sharp inhale, yours, a sting that you could feel building up on your ass—“hey! What are you-”

-another harsh slap fell on the same spot, the fat of your ass squeezed suddenly, “what do you think y’er doing?” Almost a growl—the store was empty, he was using it to his advantage.

A smile rested on your lips—“trying to decide on what I wanted to eat but…” despite the dull warmth you’d just felt you grind into him yet again—your intentions were clear, all too drunk to even care about being humped in the middle of a convenience store—as you seemed to be at the moment.

Toji realised all of this— in the sound of your gasp as he pulled at your hair roughly, back arching as he brought you close enough to his mouth as he leaned down himself—you could feel his hardening dick pushing against your ass—“but what?”

A smile, almost innocent that you flashed, “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore…” a bite of your lip—then another hitch as you felt him spank you yet again, all too done with you.

The heat radiated through your body, “you think it’s funny huh? Grinding’ into me like a whore?”

A moan escaped you, his fingers roughly pushing at your clothed pussy, skirt hiked up- your face heated up at thought of someone walking in—fingers feeling around your wetness as it spread, “wearing such a fuckin’ short skirt—I can practically see your slutty pussy when you bend,” another sharp slap, you whined at the absence of his fingers from your cunt.

“Ofc Gumi’ let ya go—such a whore, poor boy had to take care of you huh? But that’s ok—daddy’s better than him at dealing with bratty ones like you,”

Shameless, in the way you moaned—not caring about the store manager who was probably watching through the store camera—you smirked.

“Yeah?” You grinned up at him, “what’ll you do hm? What does “daddy” do?”

A hard stare he passed, suddenly pulling away from you entirely, let alone for the hand that grasped your hair, “think I prefer you better when you’re quiet and crushin’ on me,”

A mischievous smile that you held—“you should gag me then,” he couldn’t help but roll his eyes, and smile at your words—you were adorable, he wouldn’t deny that—he pulled you away from the shop slowly, back to the car, not without winking at the guy working at the store—all too aware of the breathy moans he’d let out stroking himself, watching the two of you too.

As for gagging you, Toji would.

-

Fifteen minutes the both of you rode in silence—sheer fear that his words had held, “not a peep,” he’d whispered as he closed the door for you, a hard glare followed as the engine was turned on.

Fifteen minutes gone by, you were wet—turned on simply by the silly ministrations in the store, your cunt was practically begging to be touched.

But ah—for someone too afraid to even breath loudly at the moment, to touch yourself seemed off the plate, but the thought may enticing nonetheless.

“Feelin’ horny?” His voice rasped—and oh boy, you were—“same,” a short smirk has evident in his voice, “no touching or sounds till you’re at home though,”

And quite Instantly and regrettably, “Please…” you whispered, hand reaching over to stroke his thigh once —just as quick the car was pulled aside, Toji’s face remained blank.

“Get out,” he murmured, breaking the moment of silence—his gaze was hard, “huh?” Was all you could manage, “ya heard me doll, out. Out and your hands on the hood,”

And as if on a spell, there you were- bent over, it was chilly, pleasantly so—waiting all so impatiently, squirming, he sat in his seat, light shining all upon you- his star of the night.

Slow, taking forever it seemed, that he stood up- walked off, you dared not to move, staring in the little awkward position that he held you in, as he stretched in his leisure.

He didn't seem to come close, not once- or at all, not a single word —“Mr. Fushiguro…please?”

A smirk- fast spread to a grin- “shy again? We gettin’ sobered up? Not so quick doll,” and yet, with all his teasing words, not a single step taken to help- you squirmed, ass sticking out, it was tempting but Toji was a man of will power.

“Please,” you muttered meaninglessly- and the moment continued for a decent two minutes- nothing made sense, you knew he was merely teasing- but oh how the riddle onto whatever that would make him crack was unrelenting.

And perhaps, when he couldn’t take it further, “what’s my name?”

A hesitant, “Mr. Fushiguro,” you dropped off yours lips- he smirked, a step closer- your panties, soiled already we’re almost dripping now and you were sure no piece of groundbreaking porn would ever get you this worked up again- “No. What is my name?”

And as if a light bulb got switched on- “Toji,” you whispered- he was finally close enough though, close enough with his hands on your tits, roughly squeezing and slapping them, “what was that?”

You purred softly, the way his hands pushed your spine, arching your back further- fingers brushing against your hip, “Toji,” his name rolled off your tongue again, louder- he snickered.

“That’s the name you’ll be screaming alright? Why will you scream it doll?”

And yet again, all logic flew off you as you felt his hard-on press onto your ass, “because I’m a slut who deserves to be fucked shamelessly on a highway,”

A final cackle that Toji held- a slap to your face, soft- “such a good fuckin’ whore.”

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[lilac-5ky]

Hiya! Can you do one when y/n is bratting off to toji while grocery shopping at 3am(they're alone)🤩😍

A/N: Funnily enough I was sent this while grocery shopping myself. Also, I'm aware that another writer also did a request like this recently, but who am I to say no? However, I'll raise you this: Bratty!Reader dragging Toji to the store at 3am with the goal of having fun 'cause he's been neglecting her.

Tags: public sex gone wrong, unprotected sex, implied car sex, age gap (toji 30's, reader 20's), spanking, bratty reader, soft!dom toji, light degradation, daddy kink, piv, standing sex, name calling (slut, whore), nicknames (baby,sweetheart, kid, etc.), lowkey sugar daddy vibes from toji, talk of masturbation, our man being pussy drunk, theft!?!

Word Count: 3.9k

“Ya seriously gonna wear that?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrow quirks at the sight of you plopping down on the passenger’s seat, the sharp green eye it framed cautiously studying the naked parts of your body; dressing rather than undressing you whole.

“Already am! Why—‘s there something wrong with my clothes?” You bat your eyes sweetly.

This was all part of a bigger plan that was set in motion the second you interrupted his sleep and dragged him out of bed to rev up the car for your nightly excursion to the 24/7 grocery store. Your pink terry-cloth shorts and loose-fitting crop top that barely stretch over your thighs and belly button, respectively—those are your props for the final fact, and you, the star of the show.

“You’re wearing makeup.” Toji accuses as if that’s the root of all evil, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His nose scrunches up. “And perfume.”

“Really?” You feign ignorance with a candied smile. “Must’ve forgotten to take it off. Oopsie.”

“Forgot…sure.” His fingers are still in your hair when he nods, his hand sliding down your neck as he leans closer.

Toji isn’t an idiot. He sees it in the way your pink tongue darts outside your lips a bit too often, wearing off the two layers of gloss you’d carefully applied while he was waiting for you to fetch your precious coupons. He notices how your thighs rub together, your little pussy silently protesting for his neglecting it all night long. And when your cheek willingly tilts into the warmth of his large palm, he knows neither radishes nor toilet paper are what’s in your mind right now.

“My baby doin’ all this for my attention?” His thumb pads across your skin, swiping below you defined eyelash line. “Acting pouty cause I didn’t take care of her needs?”

You find it hard to resist when his other hand dives between your thighs, sidetracking from your own devious plot. He sounds earnest in his efforts, his lips curling into an an apologetic smile they sear on yours. You almost moan from that.

You can’t remember the last time he’d kissed you, even when that was a few days ago, at worst. What you do remember is the reason why you’re doing all this, and you refuse to return it. You let him pointlessly swirl his tongue in your mouth, failing to meet with your folded one.

“C’mon, princess, don’t go cold on me,” he mumbles. “Told ya work was shit today.” You said that the previous day, too. “Couldn’t even keep my eyes open to see how pretty you are. So damn pretty,” he takes his chances again, only this time you have no qualms about backing away toward the window.

His frustration gathers in his grip, his fingers digging crescent moons in the fat of your thighs. He glares, and you chuckle awkwardly before the situation can get out of hand.

“That’s not it! So what if this is the eight night in a row you come home beat after midnight and we haven’t… you know, in nearly two weeks? You think I’m counting? You think I don’t know how hard you work? That I don’t appreciate all the nice things your money’s gotten us?”

You plant a quick peck on his blossoming scowl. “Because I do. I really do, it’s just today’s the last day to cash these coupons out. Don’t want me going off on my own in the middle of the night, do you?”

He keeps quiet, the sole reason he allows himself to be manipulated by such cheap tricks being that up until fifteen minutes ago he was —unbeknownst to him— drooling on your pillow. That and to strip you off your clothes later on; a reason not too dissimilar from your own.

“Let’s go. I promise we’ll be snugglin’ in bed before you realize we were gone.”

“Are those stupid coupons worth that much to ya?” Toji asks.

No, they aren’t. You couldn’t care less about these stupid coupons if you tried, but staying home means spending another night burning your eyes at your phone’s screen by the snoring corpse on the left side of the bed. And you’d tried. You’d gone through every lingerie set in your possession, dabbed a generous amount of that falsely advertised Moroccan oil across your legs and rubbed your silky-smooth cunt all over his crotch like a bitch in heat, only to be turned down with another of his hoarse groans.

You’ve been patient with him. You are grateful that as tired as he was, he chose your bed to pass out on and not some random “coworker’s”. That the flawed man you’ve fallen head over heels for put up effort into straightening up for you. But relationships don’t run on gratitude alone. You miss him. His touch, his kiss, his fuck—even the green color swallowed past his permanently shut eyelids. If a silly idea is what it takes to have your boyfriend back, then you’ll gladly sit through a ten-minute drive of resentment.

“Yes, they are.” You smile, watching his hand relocate to the gear lever.

The clock points to 3:18 AM when Toji pulls over at the vacant parking lot that mirrors the state of the store; no one but a single employee to defend the fortress from the safety of his register. He acknowledges your presence with a nod, his head buried between the pages of the latest Shounen Jump. That’s not very professional of him, but what can you expect from someone who receives his paychecks for acting as a guard dog?

Toji grabs a cart from the stand and lazily pushes it into the first aisle, while you follow after the long-drawn gait of his sandals. You can’t help but pick on his slouch, both elbows balancing against the handlebar. His hair’s still ruffled from sleep, though it’s always kind of messy in a cute, boyish way. His shoulders seem twice as broad, prompting you to loop your arms around his slim waist and nuzzle your cheek against his back. You love how big he looks from this angle, yet not as big as he looks when he’s hunched over you with both your legs on both his shoulders—

“What’s your first coupon for?” He glances at you over his shoulder.

You sort the coupons in your hands, finding the one closest to the aisle you’re strolling.

“Soda. It’s right there,” you point out, and he takes a turn.

He parks the cart on the opposite end of the shelves while you take stock of the different cans and bottles, contemplating whether to start high or low. Your eyes fall on a six-pack bundle of grapefruit soda shoved deep into the highest shelf. You don’t love the flavor, but this will do.

You tiptoe to the shelves and stretch your arms as much as possible, your shirt lifting to reveal your bare back to him while your fingertips barely make contact with the edge of the plastic packaging. Your tits bounce as you jump up and down a few times before you graciously admit defeat.

“Toji? Would you mind getting that for me?” You ask pleadingly.

His jaw falls slack after a minute-long yawn, his eyes tracking your index finger to the bundle it points at. He cocks his head while sizing you up, a hint of a smirk twitching at his scar. He’s finally awake.

“Nah, you do it. Aren’t ya the one who preaches women’s equality and says there’s nothing men can do that women can’t?” Toji sneers. “Go on, kid. ‘m watching.”

A sigh leaves you as you turn around. “Feminism‘s got nothing to do with height.”

You throw yourself over the shelves again and hook a finger under the plastic net that binds the sodas together. The cans shimmy near the brink, and you are certain you will catch them when Toji’s hips suddenly snap against your ass. You yelp as the cans threaten to squash your head, a hand catching them with ease in mid-air while another hikes up your shirt and exposed underboob.

His hot breath tickles the shell of your ear as his lips attach to your lobe. “It’s got everything to do with you dressing like a whore, though, doesn’t it?”

You bite your lip into a straight line as you’re sandwiched between his body and the shelves, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. You almost whimper—almost give in to him too easily when he starts grinding onto you, the press of his groin becoming more prominent with every languid sway.

“Wanna get fucked like one?” Toji doesn’t mumble so much as groan in your ear. “Promise I’ll be quick; heh, might give ya some more coupons after.”

An automated message informing you of the special discount in the baking aisle allows you to slip away from his clutches, and you’re unable to keep your giggles to yourself. His fists pang against the shelf while he curses under his breath. The sight is pathetic, but not pathetic enough for you to call things even. You want him to suffer like you did.

“On second thought, I’m trying to cut down on soda.” You declare much to his audible dismay. “Let’s check the baking aisle next. We’re out of bread.”

Toji stalks behind you, assuming his previous bored stance while pushing the cart forward with his entire body. You hear him huff every now and then, but don’t pay any mind. At least he’ll be rewarded handsomely for his patience. Yours wasn’t.

You halt in front of the various loaves and pastries, overjoyed to see that the overpriced organic linseed bread you constantly made excuses to not buy is 50% down. This might be a good chance to try it out. You fling it in the cart and continue your search for baked goods on the lower shelves. Jam-filled donuts. You definitely don’t need those, but it’s the only purchase you can justify, considering you have no use for the baking supplies surrounding them.

You make sure his eyes are fixed on you and bend over, exaggerating the arch of your bum. You hum softly, unsuspecting of any danger, and rock your hips while supposedly inspecting the labels. Strawberry jam, cherry jam, apricot jam, and—there it is. Your hair falls over your face as you catch his feet stepping between your own. Soon, his presence is felt rather than sensed.

Toji’s palm spreads over your cheek, his fingers long enough to squeeze a good chunk of flesh between them. “You cunning little slut,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Y’think I don’t know what you’re trynna do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just checking the fillings; can’t read the letters while standing.” You lie through your teeth.

“Fillings, huh?” He repeats, and the word changes meaning on his tongue, gaining a lewd intonation. “Anyone can fill that sloppy cunt from this angle, sweetheart. That why you insist on doin’ groceries alone? Y’enjoy letting others see my pussy?”

You love how possessive he gets over your body. That’s another thing you’ve missed. You want him to say it again—to stake his claim over every inch of your body like he did before this hellish month began. You chose this store because you knew it would turn into a graveyard at this hour, but you honestly wouldn’t mind if it was packed with people either. You’d want to be filled by him all the same.

In a moment of weakness, you breathe out his name, and he slaps your ass so hard it reverberates across the aisles as an off-beat drum to the chirpy background music.

“Don’t ‘Toji’ me, girl. Y’know what to call me.”

“D-daddy,” you correct.

“There’s my baby,” Toji praises. “Taught her good manners, mhm?

Your cheeks assume a rosy shade. You’ve never used that name on him in public. It feels exhilarating—perhaps even more so than his fingers shoving the fabric of your shorts to the side and slipping right between your dripping folds.

He gasps. It’s a tiny sound that he thinks you missed, but it’s enough for you to gain confidence. Not many things are capable of shocking the Fushiguro Toji. His other hand joins in the action, rolling your shorts until they dig into your skin like a thong, and his suspicions are confirmed; you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Such a naughty girl,” Toji says, and his voice reaches deep within your pulsing core. You don’t think you can do this anymore. Correction: You don’t want to do this anymore.

His middle and ring fingers push into your hole a second time, and he slowly pumps them in and out, your clear essence coating his knuckles. Two fingers shouldn’t stretch you this good. You’re scared that in all these days, your pussy forgot the stretch of his cock.

“I oughta punish ya for acting up like a complete brat without my permission, but I’m feeling generous.” He says and you thank the gods, the universe, and whoever else is listening to your prayers for not letting you become the first woman in human history to experience blue balls.

“Tell me what ya dragged me here for, and don’t gimme any of that coupon bullcrap, or else you’ll be crawling outta here on all fours.”

Is that a promise or a threat?

His thumb finds your clit and you choke on a moan, the red jam squirting out of the donuts you grip. That’s plenty to answer his question.

“Now tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it for ya,” He rubs a full circle around the nub, the rest of his fingers plunging in so deep your knees go weak. “Got lots of options,” he reads the signs over your heads. “Canned; Deli; Snack; Dairy Aisle might be too cold for ya, hah, unless you’re into some temp play.”

His stalling makes you impatient. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right here, right now I’ll fucking implode.”

The older man chuckles lowly, finding your outburst positively endearing. He fixes your shorts back in place and instead grabs your hand, forcing you to follow him through the empty aisles on a walk that seemingly lasts for hours. He finally lets go when you make it to the Candy aisle, where thousands of colorful gummy bears can bear witness to your sinful act.

Toji flashes a wolfish smile as he corners you between two walls and the door leading to the store’s storage room. He points at the ceiling, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking for until he explains, “It’s a blind spot here. Only place without a working camera.”

He cups your cheek and brings your face to his, licking his lips.

“How do you know that?”

“Great minds think alike. Wanted to bring ya here myself some day. Didn’t think your prude ass would act out first. You’re full of surprises.” His tongue enters your mouth and presses flat against your own. Your fingers lace behind his neck, and his get a firm grip on your hips. He’s much harder than before.

“Speaking of your ass,” and they slide to seize both cheeks, “mind turning ‘round for me?”

His question isn’t a request so much as an order you must obey. “Good girl.” Toji praises you and cages your chest with one arm while the other searches for the zipper in his pants. He lets them ride low around his hips and pulls his cock out of its confinement, stroking it with his fist. You hear his breath grow sharper—or maybe it’s yours. You can’t tell over the sound of your heart; the excitement the same as if it were your first time with him.

Instead of tugging your shorts off, he yanks the fabric to one side and runs his reddened tip between your puffy folds. He hasn’t even pushed it in when you tilt your head to meet his hooded green eyes. “I’ve missed you.” His stare lifts, lustful and adoring as ever. “I’ve missed you so damn much, Toji. You’re always here, but never really here—you know?”

Toji cranes his neck to kiss you, you think, but in reality all he does is swallow the moan that comes out as he drills his cock in your hole. “Missed ya more, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes. He just has to win this too.

Once he bottoms out, he takes a moment to snare his arms appropriately around your body; one holding your shoulders semi-straight and the other spanning over your tummy to grab onto your tit, bulging muscles on both. There’s not much you can do with your hands in this position. You plant them over your mouth to drown out some of your sounds before they can pour out, though most end up slipping anyway as his cock begins to bully your insides.

You were right. It’d been so long that your pussy had reverted to its previous state. It’s more than you can take. More overwhelming and much more pleasurable than you remember.

“Got no idea how much I missed you,” Toji grunts, his voice falling out of tempo while his hips rut at a steady pace. “Got no idea how many times I jerked it to your pictures in the stall. How many—times, I beat my meat to that gorgeous face and spilled my load over your pretty lips.”

Tears well up in your eyes from how fast he’s pounding you; the imagery of his balls tensing up with all that cum he’d wasted fantasizing about you making your pussy sob for him, too.

“You got me running there so often, the guys talk shit behind my back, saying pussy got me whipped. They dunno how perfect this tight little hole is—fuck, baby.” He stutters, his teeth sinking into your neck. “Gonna cum if ya keep grippin’ me like that. So fucking tight cause ya gettin’ fucked in public?”

You whine out loud as he slows down, allowing for your hips to meet his thrusts half-way. Your head is drooping forward and your hand sneaks inside your shorts to play with your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves while his fat cock continuously brushes against your sweetest spot. You bite at your own palm to keep quiet. It’s always the way he runs his mouth that gets you going the most, clouding your inability to think straight.

“Should I just quit?” Toji asks between heavy pants. “Stay home and fuck every day like we used to?”

You nod furiously without anything of what he’s saying registering. Your legs are turned into jello and your mind into mush while his cock splits you open, and you know that if he retracts his arms you’ll collapse on the floor like a rag-doll.

“C’mon, speak up. No one’s gonna hear us, that nobody doesn’t have the guts to come check.” He rolls your stiffened nipple between his calloused fingers, a palm coming down to slap your ass. “Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

“Y-yes.” You rely on pure perseverance to keep your pitch low as you plant your palms on the wall for support. “Don’t wanna share your cock with anyone, T-Toji.”

His lips print a smile on your neck and another on your cheek. “Don’t you mean me, darling?”

You can’t find your voice to answer him, the coil in your guts continuously tensing up—promising the best climax of your goddamn life until it’s taken away by the rapid stomping of the short-stature employee.

“What are you two doing here?” The man asks, unable to fully take in the scene from the other end of the aisle.

Toji’s large frame covers both you and the point where your bodies connect, his hips still moving on their own in spite of his attention being elsewhere. You pull away half-heartedly and straighten the shorts over your body. He leaves to fix his own clothes, while he does all the talking.

“Huh, this place got no restroom?”

Toji scratches the back of his head, waiting for his zipper to be back up before turning to the man. You mentally cast a curse on the employee, wishing it follows his family down to at least three generations, while your walls still flutter over the absence of Toji’s cock, which by the way, is impossible to hide when it’s throbbing a dark stain in his pants.

To no one’s surprise, the employee doesn’t buy your boyfriend’s excuse and demands you leave before he calls the cops. Seeing as Toji’s had enough trouble with the law as is, you grab his hand and the two of you bolt outside, the linseed bread bidding you a sorrowful goodbye from the cart you abandoned.

You don’t stop running until Toji beeps the car doors open and you fall back into your seats, the first glance you share causing you both to burst into laughter. He leans in your direction and you tilt your head in his, lips stealing a quick kiss that’s soon replaced by a playful punch of his shoulder.

“I liked this grocery store!” You complain as if it’s his fault. “Won’t be able to set foot in here ever again.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea, kid.” He shrugs, twisting the key in the engine. His hand moves to the gear, but when he notices your pout persisting, he turns off the ignition.

“Couldn’t even cash out any of my coupons,” you say in a whiny tone.

“At least we got these.”

Your eyes widen as he reveals a small box of Konpeito candy, having not a single clue when and how he managed to get them. “You stole them?”

“Uh… let’s just say I wasn’t allowed to pay for them.” He answers with an innocent smile.

“Toji!” You yell as if stealing candy is any more severe than any of the multiple felonies he’s committed. It isn’t. “Gimme some.”

Toji holds the box out of reach, extending his arm over his headrest to the backseats. “Nah. You said it’s stolen goods, don’t wanna make my baby into an accomplice. You’re far too cute to have your own mugshot.”

His sweet-talking doesn’t stop you from pouncing at him again, your hands attacking each side of his head while he insists to wiggle them away from you. The second-hand vehicle tips back and forth at your attempts, and eventually honks are fired as you climb on his lap, the fight resulting in another make-out session that reaffirms all of his statements as he tears your clothes off your body and pulls his dick out.

He missed you too.

“I’ll give ya some, but… you gonna let me choose where we do our shopping next.”

A/N: I'm happy this was my first request, had fun writing this!

[xenaxena]

Needy

— masterlist

— pairing: dean winchester x female reader

— summary: you go to dean’s room begging

— word count: 1.1k

— warnings: smut, porn with little plot, p in v, cock warming, orgasm denial, dom dean sub reader, unprotected sex, i’m like 99.999% sure doing what’s described in this fic will give you a serious std so do not do this!

— want smut without plot? scroll down to —xxx—

— author’s note: my first time writing smut and publishing it, feedback is always welcome and appreciated! (seriously please let me know what you think! i can’t answer comments but i will read and appreciate each one! if you want to stay anonymous please don’t hesitate to send an ask! <3)

You shifted uncomfortably on your desk chair, unable to focus on the work in front of you. It was just general research, not really important.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself, slamming the book closed. You stood up, left your room, walked down the hall, and knocked on Dean’s door.

“Hey, Y/n,” he smiled when he opened the door. “Everything okay?”

“Really need your cock,” you blurted, eyes widening a bit when you realized you really said the exact words running through your head. “I mean- Uh-”

“Come on in, sweetheart,” he replied. He stepped aside so you walked into his room, he shut the door behind you. “Really need my cock, huh?” He smirked.

“Um…yeah.” You nodded a little. He backed you up into the wall, still smirking. He cupped you through your leggings.

“Fuck!” he groaned. “You’re fuckin’ soaked!” He squeezed your pussy, making you moan. “All for me?”

“All for you, just you Dean!” you exclaimed.

He pulled his hand away suddenly, you whined a little.

“Take off your clothes, wait for me in my bed,” he told you. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“Yes, sir,” You replied, he smirked again. He slapped your ass as you walked over to the bed.

***

He’d been in the shower nearly thirty minutes. He’d never taken that long, you were getting inpatient. You knew he was teasing you. Truthfully he’d been out of the shower nearly twenty minutes already, he’d just been sitting in the bathroom thinking of you. Thinking about how you looked right now - naked, waiting for him, needy. You were so fucking desperate and he knew it.

When he finally came back into his room, he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

—xxx—

“You naked under there?” Dean asked, seeing you sitting in his bed with the blankets covering you. You nodded vigorously. “Good.”

He dropped the towel and you let out a gasp, squeezing your thighs together at the sight of his hard dick already leaking with pre-cum. He must’ve been needy too. His smirk just grew as he walked over to his bed before he tore back the covers and revealed your naked body.

“Mhm, gorgeous as ever, sweetheart,” he muttered, biting his lip and eyeing you up and down.

“Right back at you,” you replied. You went to grab his cock but he gripped your wrist and shook his head.

“No, no, you don’t touch me, I touch you.”

“Dean-” you groaned but he cut you off with a rough kiss to your lips. He climbed into bed, not breaking the kiss, and manhandled you until you were on top of him.

“Ready?” he asked, you nodded. “Words, sweetheart.”

“So ready Dean, fuck!”

He lifted your hips and slid you down onto him. Your velvet walls fluttered around him as you struggled to accept his size. Your breath had caught in your throat but when you bottomed out a loud groan erupted from your lips.

You waited a moment before starting to bouce up and down; your hands on his abdomen and keeping you balanced on his cock. He gripped your hips and slammed you down after you lifted.

“Don’t move,” he instructed, you furrowed your brows a little. He let go of your hips but you didn’t dare move.

“Dean?” you whimpered. He didn’t say anything, just watched as you got more and more revved up. “Can- Can I move now?”

He shook his head. “I never actually said I’d fuck you, did I?”

“Wh-What?” you asked, brows furrowing with worry as your core continued to ache with want.

He faked a huge yawn. “I’m actually pretty tired, let’s go to sleep.” He reached to the side and turned off the light.

“Dean!” You lightly smacked his chest.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart! You can keep me warm all night,” he mocked, smirking. “Now, c’mon,” he pulled you down onto his chest, keeping himself nestled in you, “let’s get to sleep.”

“Dean, please!” you whispered, tears brimming your eyes.

“I promise I’ll fuck you raw in the morning, okay?” He stroked your back.

“O-Okay,” you whispered.

A few minutes passed and Dean was getting more and more frustrated. You were soaked and feeling your wetness drip onto his pelvis was driving him nuts. He suddenly lifted you off on him and tossed you to his side.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled when you let out a whine. “Just putting you on your side.” He slipped back in from behind you and you groaned.

***

You woke up before Dean; sore and starved for sex. You sat up and checked the clock to be sure it was in fact morning. You flipped the light on but that didn’t wake Dean up. You looked down at him; he was still hard, he was starved for sex too.

You positioned yourself above his hips, lined yourself up, and slid down his length with a loud moan.

Dean’s eyes flew open.

“Good morning!” he exclaimed. He pulled you down into a kiss before flipping you both over so he was on top. “Gonna make good on my promise,” he groaned, you let out a sound. “Words!”

“God fucking damnit Dean!” you exclaimed. “Fuck me!”

“Whatever you say.” He smirked. He watched your facial expressions as he thrust himself into you repeatedly.

You chanted his name like a prayer; as if he was your god and you were a mere witness to his glory.

He watched as your tits moved with each thrust, as your face contorted with pleasure, as your mouth hung open. You reached down to touch yourself but he slapped your hand away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. He replaced your hand with his own, took your clit between his thumb and index finger, and tugged at it.

“Oh god, Dean!” You moaned as your eyes flung open to see his smirking face. “Fuck! You feel so good!”

“So fuckin’ beautiful when your like this,” he groaned. “All fucked out, taking me like a pro, moaning like a goddamn porn star!” His praises only made you moan louder. “That’s my girl!”

“I-I’m c-close! So close Dean,” you whined.

“Me too, baby, me too.” He nodded, rubbing your clit forcefully. Your eyes started rolling back, indicating you really were about to gush all over him. “Come with me.”

As if on cue, a wave of pleasure washed over you as a powerful orgasm ripped through your body. Dean let himself go, shooting ropes of cum into your tight cunt.

After a few moments, he rolled to the side as his limp cock slipped out of you.

“Best damn wake up call ever,” he breathed, causing you to smile. “If you ever feel like waking me up like that again, don’t you fuckin’ hesitate.”

“Right back at ya, Dean,” you replied.

[myscenic]

Pairing: haunted house actor!park jisung x male!reader

Genre: fluff, strangers to ??

Warnings: bad lol

Word Count: 1.6k+

Synopsis: y/n's friends wanted y/n to rest and stop studying so they took y/n to a haunted house. y/n carelessly got lost in the haunted house alone, he was very afraid of monsters and ghosts, so he didn't know what to do.

☠ Note: it's 2am and i can't sleep so i quickly wrote this to kill time, and its for something for yall to read while you wait for jeno's fic :) this is really short like a drabble, the plot is fast and not that detailed.

y/n sighed as he looked over his notes one more time. finals were coming up and he wanted to make sure he was as prepared as possible. his friends often told him he studied too much, but school was important to him.

there was a knock at his door, pulling him from his thoughts. "come in," he called. the door burst open to reveal jaemin, mark, and haechan with wide grins on their faces. "we're taking you out today!" jaemin declared.

y/n raised an eyebrow. "out? i need to study-"

"nope, you study wayyyy too much!" haechan cut him off. "we're going to break you out of your bubble for a bit of fun."

"fun? what did you have in mind?" y/n asked warily. he trusted his friends but their ideas of fun rarely aligned with quiet studying.

mark smiled mischievously. "we're going to the haunted house at the amusement park!"

y/n blanched. "the haunted house? but it's supposed to be super scary..." he had never been a big fan of anything too frightening.

"exactly, that's why you need a break. it'll be a good way to take your mind off school for a while." jaemin gave him puppy dog eyes, knowing he'd have a hard time refusing.

y/n hesitated but eventually caved with a sigh. "alright fine, but if i have nightmares i’m blaming you guys." they whooped in victory, pulling him up from his desk.

as they walked up to the entrance of the haunted house, y/n gripped jaemin's shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. jaemin laughed and pried y/n's fingers away gently.

as they drove to the haunted house, y/n felt his nervousness grow. what if it was too scary? he wasn't really one for jump scares. but he knew his friends meant well, thinking a change of pace could do him some good.

"relax, it's just people dressed up. none of it is real, you know that," jaemin reassured him. mark rolled his eyes fondly. "and you call yourself a man of science, not believing in ghosts."

they made their way deeper into the haunted house, the rooms getting creepier with each turn. y/n was practically clinging to jaemin by this point, jumping at every small sound.

y/n took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "believing and not being scared are two different things. let's just get this over with." haechan cackled and slapped him on the back. "c'mon let's go!"

around the next corner, a costumed actor with a chainsaw came roaring towards them. y/n screamed and scrambled behind jaemin, clutching his shirt so tight he worried it might tear. even jaemin seemed a bit startled by this one.

the actor chased them down the hallway for a bit, the chainsaw revving loudly, before disappearing around another corner with an evil laugh. y/n's heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest.

"you okay?" jaemin asked with a sympathetic smile, prying y/n's fingers loose again. he took a few deep breaths to calm down. "y-yeah, let's keep going."

they proceeded into a dark maze area next. eerie lighting and sound effects abounded as they tried to find their way through. but every twist and turn seemed to reveal another ghost or monster jumping out at them from the shadows.

the group continued cautiously making their way through the dark maze-like halls of the haunted house. y/n kept as close to jaemin as possible, not wanting to get separated from the others.

as they turned a corner, a hideous monster creature suddenly dropped down right in front of them from above with a roar. y/n let out a blood curdling scream and instinctively bolted away in fear, losing sight of his friends in the dim lighting.

"hey y/n, wait!" mark shouted after him but it was too late. panicked, y/n ran blindly down some twisting passageways, having no idea where he was going in the disorienting maze like structure.

his heart was racing a million miles an hour as he whipped his head around frantically, searching desperately for any sign of his friends or an exit. but there was nothing but darkness in every direction.

"mark? jaemin? haechan??" he called out, his voice shaking with terror. only his echo answered back mockingly. he began hyperventilating, the utter isolation and uncertainty spiking his fear to an all time high.

y/n stumbled blindly through the darkness, whimpering in terror as every small creak or groan threatened to stop his heart. he just wanted out, more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

how could he have let himself get separated? what if he was trapped in here forever, completely alone in the endless maze of horrors? y/n gripped his hair tightly, feeling completely overwhelmed with panic and dread.

rounding another corner, a ghostly figure suddenly phased right through the wall with an eerie wail. y/n shrieked and fell backwards in terror, scrambling backwards until his back hit a solid surface. shaking violently, he curled up into a ball and broke down sobbing.

the actor paused, taken aback by such an extreme reaction. most people just jumped or screamed, not full on crying. feeling bad, they knelt down and gently touched y/n's shoulder. "h-hey, it's okay, it's not real."

y/n flinched at the touch, eyes squeezed shut. slowly opening them, he was met with a concerned face framed by fluffy black hair, mask in hand. "you're really scared, huh? i'm jisung, i work here. what's your name?"

as jisung led y/n through the remaining haunted areas, every sound and movement had y/n grasping onto jisung's hand even tighter. jisung gave it a reassuring squeeze. "it's okay, i've got you. just stay close to me."

trying to catch his breath, y/n shakily replied "y-y/n...i g-got separated from m-my friends..." jisung nodded in understanding. "well don't worry, we'll get you out of here. deep breaths, you're safe now."

they turned a corner and came face to face with a gruesome corpse prop. y/n yelped and buried his face against jisung's arm with a sob. jisung wrapped an arm comfortingly around his shoulders. "shh, it's okay. i'm right here with you."

he began gently rubbing y/n's arm in soothing strokes. "take some deep breaths. you're safe with me, i promise." his calming voice and tender touch slowly helped y/n's erratic breathing start to steady.

emerging from the darkness of the haunted house, y/n could finally see jisung clearly in the moonlight without his mask. and his breath caught in his throat - jisung was stunning, the most gorgeous face he had ever laid eyes on. plush pink lips, sparkling eyes, soft black hair that looked so touchable...y/n thought he must be dreaming to encounter an angel like this.

as they walked, jisung continued holding y/n protectively against his side, occasionally whispering gentle reassurances. the fear began to melt away under jisung's caring attentions. by the end, y/n was still alert but no longer trembling violently.

"there, see? we made it through," jisung smiled as they exited. the ordeal had left y/n exhausted but also strangely comforted by this new presence. he felt a connection forming with the black haired boy who had saved him from his panic.

just then, jisung turned to him with a smile, opening his mouth to speak. but before he could get a word out, a familiar voice rang out: "y/n!!"

he turned to see jaemin, mark and haechan running towards them, relief and worry on their faces. "you made it out!" jaemin exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "we were so scared when you took off like that."

y/n hugged them back, grateful but also a bit disappointed that the moment with jisung was interrupted. he glanced back to see the black haired boy watching with a shy smile, hands in his pockets.

"i, uh, actually ran into a person in there. he helped me find my way out, his name's jisung," y/n admitted sheepishly as his friends finally released him. jaemin turned to jisung with a grin. "thanks so much for saving our scaredy cat friend here!"

a light blush colored jisung's cheeks at the praise. y/n couldn't help but gaze at him softly, already smitten by this unexpected savior and his kindness.

y/n turned back to jisung, mustering up a shy smile of his own. "thank you...really, for everything. i don't know what i would've done without you in there," he said gratefully.

jisung rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pinking up again. "it was no problem, really. i'm just glad you're feeling better." y/n was struck again by how kind and beautiful his savior's face was.

an idea came to him then. "at least let me treat you to dinner, to say thank you properly." jisung hesitated, not wanting to impose. but y/n insisted sweetly, "please? i’d really like to."

those soft brown eyes were impossible to say no to. jisung laughed softly. "alright." they shared a smile, something blossoming between them in that moment.

y/n turned back to his friends. "wanna hang out at the park until jisung's shift is over? then we can go get food." they all readily agreed, interested to get to know their new friend as well.

a couple hours passed in a flash of games, rides, dinner and jisung's delightful company. all too soon, it was time for them to go home. but y/n had other plans.

"you guys go on ahead, i’m gonna walk jisung home," he said simply. his friends shared knowing grins and catcalls as they departed, leaving the two boys blushing in the night. could this be the start of something truly special?

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Got You Good, Kid

Day #15 - Let's Talk About That | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Smoking, Mentions of Unplanned Pregnancy, Eddie Being a Bit Lot of a Dick | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/OFC (Off-Screen), Background Steddie | Tags: Modern Day Setting, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie and Gareth are BFFs, But Gareth's Keeping Secrets, So They're Fighting, Fucking Interviewers, Fucking Paparazzi, Fucking Eddie

Gareth adjusts the mic on his collar. Beside him, Eddie's fidgeting, Jeff is texting and Goodie's head is tipped back like he's sleeping or counting the ceiling tiles. 

It's the usual press junket. The same ten questions they all answer, over and over again. It's a goddamn bore. 

"One more question," the journalist says. 

She turns her iPad towards them. It's a picture of Gareth, standing on a sidewalk, a lit cigarette in his hand.

Yeah, he smokes when he's stressed sometimes, sue him. 

"Any comment?" 

Eddie leans forward, looking more closely, "Yeah. Don't smoke, kids."

Everybody laughs, and Gareth thinks that's it, until the reporter swipes to the left and another picture fills the screen. Eddie's not looking at the screen anymore. Now, Eddie's looking at Gareth.

Steve comes in out of fucking nowhere, "No comment. We're done here."

And they are. The room is cleared, and they make a quiet trip back to the hotel. 

Only after the door closes, does Eddie wheel on him.

"What the fuck is going on? Did you get a girl pregnant, and what? Just not tell any of us?" 

Gareth quickly looks at Steve, and Eddie doesn't miss the flick of his eyes.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me. Steve knew? Before me?" 

And Gareth can't really determine if Eddie's mad that he's gonna be a dad or that Steve knew before he did. 

"He's Steve. He manages everything. I was waiting until the tour was over to tell you."

"Are you with her?" Eddie asks. "Is this why you've been bailing on us?"

"We're taking it slow," Gareth answers. He likes her. Could love her. But they agreed to focus on this first.

"Yeah, looks real slow to me."

"And I haven't bailed. I haven't missed shit."

"Eddie," Steve says, trying to rein Eddie in before he's too revved up.

Too late.

"How goddamn stupid are you? She got you good, kid."

Gareth clenches his fists, instantly mad, because that's not true. Not at all. He doesn't think this was some scheme to baby trap him and milk him for money. Corroded Coffin is famous, but they aren't so rich and famous that he'd be a mark for that kind of plotting. 

He had a one night stand, and she got pregnant. She told him. They made the decision together to proceed.

"That's not fucking true. The condom didn't work." 

"That's convenient. She probably poked holes in it."

"Well, it was mine, so..."

Eddie just stares at him, before finally saying, "Mark my words, because you're definitely getting an 'I told you so' when you're nothing but a checkbook and never see this kid."

"Eddie," Steve warns, and Eddie turns on him.

"And you? Not telling me."

"It wasn't for me to tell," Steve says, calmly. Because Eddie can't ruffle Steve's feathers, not like he can Gareth's. Steve won't allow it. There's no steamrolling of Steve Harrington by Eddie Munson.

"She looks like she's about ready to pop! How long have you known?" Eddie demands. 

Gareth's known for months. He just didn't know how to tell Eddie, because Eddie would be worried about the tour, the album, and everything else that affects Eddie. 

Gareth knows Eddie loves him, but Eddie still thinks he's a kid that needs tending to, even if that hasn't been true in years. 

"A while."

"Where does this girl even live?"

"She's a woman. We're both over thirty, yet you're acting like I preyed on a groupie."

Steve interjects, "I'm in contact with her dad, he's a lawyer. We're getting the parenting plan hammered out so Gareth can co-parent."

"Co-parent a kid from where?" Eddie repeats.

"Omaha."

"Omaha. That's great. Convenient for us all." 

"Well, it's centrally located," Steve offers. They both ignore him.

"She probably sold those pictures. No paps were in fucking Omaha."

"I think it was probably a fan…" Steve trails off, trying to bring reason to an unreasonable fight.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Eddie. I can't unring this bell."

And, honestly, he doesn't want to.

"You were smoking near her. Good job, dad."

"Did you see her when I was smoking? Fucking no. Because she wasn't there yet. Goddamn. You judgmental asshole."

Eddie huffs dramatically, "This is a fucking mess. If Steve wants to help, that's fine. But I'm not."

Gareth nods as Eddie storms off, and he'll come around. Gareth can't have a kid Eddie won't have anything to do with.

This'll blow over. It has to.

But Eddie's still mad. Weeks later. After the show, Steve's waiting with a smile, "You're having a baby. Wheels up in an hour."

"Oh shit," Gareth says, "too early?"

"No," Steve says, "just unwilling to consult the tour schedule. Already rude, just like you."

Gareth laughs, and runs towards the dressing room to shower. He passes Eddie without a word, but tells Jeff and Goodie the news.

Eddie pretends he doesn't hear, and Gareth can't dwell on the fact that he's losing his best friend. Has maybe already lost him. 

His daughter is coming, no matter how Eddie feels.

And an hour later, when Gareth is climbing the stairs of the borrowed private plane, Steve is the one behind him. Jeff and Goodie, already on board. 

The plane is crawling across the tarmac, when Goodie speaks, "Hey, wait, there's Eddie."

Sure enough, Eddie's on one of those little carts, being shuttled by airport staff, arms waving.

They must radio for the pilot to stop, and Eddie eventually slides into the seat next to Gareth.

"So, we're having a baby," Eddie says, and that's enough of an apology for now, because he needs Eddie.

There's a beat, and then Eddie asks, "Are you sure it's yours? You've never been early a day in your life."

Gareth laughs, "I'm sure. She must get that from her mom."

Eddie smiles, "We're having a girl?"

Gareth nods.

Eddie leans over and kisses Gareth's head, "Sorry, I'm late."

It's okay. Gareth thinks he's right on time.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Lord, I think one was edited and changed and fiddled with the most to stay at 1000 words but say everything I wanted to say. Take away ten, add twenty-seven. Rinse, repeat. There was a whole flash-forward at the end that just had to go for word count reasons. But just know. It works out, for all of them. ❤️

[yestrday]

— TIE ME UP. yan! rich kid! childe x gn! mercenary! reader

your latest hit is a boy named ajax. the job's easy— kidnap him, bully him a bit, then send him back without any will to live. easy enough, it seems, but not everything will go the way you expect it.

( reader is not a good person; murder, mentions of torture; kidnapping; obsessive behavior, tying up, slight mentions of n/sfw, masochistic childe )

note. ahhhh im in a writing a slump so i decided to write the other part of anon's request to practice. idk if it's good enough, but childe will always be my go to whenever i want some disgusting yandere boy

you might like: childe's spiked drink

it's nothing you haven't seen. someone wants someone dead and they would pay millions just to see that come true. you whistle when you open the case of green bills for the nth time this day and the sight makes you smile.

what a haul you've gotten. despite the dread that's been growing inside you since you took this job, the million worth of cash inside this single suitcase is enough for you to retire. maybe you'll finally take a break from all this gory business, find a nice plot of land where the police can't find you, and make a farm for yourself. that sounds nice.

determined to finally finish this once and for all, you slam the suitcase shut and chuck it into the back of your car, along with the squirming ginger screaming at you through his gags.

"it'll be all over soon, love," you croon, sporting a wicked smile. "jus' get some sleep in here, mmkay?"

with one last muffled scream of his, you slam the trunk on the poor man's shaking expression and rev the engine to life.

"'ello there, babe," is the first thing the boy hears when he blinks his eyes awake. "good ting ya slept, hm? the road here was full of em potholes. not exactly pleasant for a passenger in the truck, right?"

it's a classic stereotype— that heavy country accent tinged with seduction and danger— even you're painfully aware of how cheesy your voice is. but it's what you were raised with, plus most of your victims dig the accent anyway, so might as well make use of it. the boy grimaces when the single fluorescent bulb swaying on the ceiling hits his sight, and he lets out a little grunt. 

"ajax childe. third son of the ceo of childe's toy corporation and now…" you plop yourself onto the wooden seat in front of him, nonchalantly waving the knife in front of his wide-eyed stare. "the target of some rich sod's hatred." you give him a lookover, from his ruffled ginger hair, his lean bod, down to his strong calves. clearly, he's been working out. you sigh in mock pity. "what the hell did ya do anyway? make off with someone's girl?" he's pretty enough to entertain the thought, and judging how flirtatious he acts in front of the paparazzi, that very well might be the case.

he protests against the gag once again, and you shake your head. "sorry, babe. not really in the mood to listen to sum brat scream." you tap your cheek as you contemplate on what to do with him. "hmm... they didn't actually want ya dead, if i'll be honest with ya. just bully ya a little till ya want yerself dead, y'feel? it's good to 'ave less blood on my hands, but hm, when i get commissions like these..." you cock your head, pondering over the countless victims you had over the last decade.

"they don't usually come out alive, yanno?"

another muffled scream through the gag, and you watch in boredom as he tries to wiggle his way out of his binds. clearly, however, it's futile when all he accomplishes is burn himself with the rope. well, what else was he expecting? you were a hired mercenary, he a mere ceo's son living a cushy life. there really was no challenge here.

but looking at him... you feel somewhat sympathetic. you have no respect for those high-class scum who like to hide behind fake smiles and faker compliments. but the kid in front of you was just some irresponsible young adult who just happened to be born into the elite, and well, if he wasn't the son of such a big corporation, he'd probably have gotten away with whatever he did. such was the consequence of having too many eyes on you. maybe it'd make you less worse of a human being if you let this kid air his grievances out.

you sigh, getting up from your spot. "alright, alright, i'll ungag you. just shut up already, jeez." he seems to jostle around less when you say that, and you swiftly untie the cloth to let him talk.

you already know what to expect— teary pleas, desperate bribes, maybe even some angry threats. all these are common in victims and more often than not are you forced to listen to all that shit before you decide to gag them again or just shoot them in the head. so you brace yourself for whatever agonizing scream they might have in store for you.

"ah..."

you grimace. here it comes.

"you're prettier than anything i've imagined..." he tilts his pretty face up, gazing at you with lovestruck eyes under the shine of the harsh light. your shock is mirrored in those loony eyes as his smile widens till it almost splits his face into two,

"...[your name]."

"what the fuck?!" instinctively, you recoil away from him, taking steps back while he continues to pin that heart-eyed stare on you. "what in the–?! how the fuck do you know me?!"

"oh, [your name], is there anything i don't know about you?" this... this freak sighs almost dreamily, and it makes you grimace by how slimy it is. "your name, your occupation (obviously), your favorite drinks, your... heh, three sizes!" he lets out a low giggle. "finally...! to finally see you right in front of my very eyes!"

you blanch. "three...?!" this cannot do. you are being outdone and outsmarted by some rich playboy. clearing your throat, you regain your composure and narrow your eyes at him in a glare (why... why is he shivering?!). "bluffs won't save you from your fate, childe."

you live a life in the shadows. leaving traces of yourself for people to find could spell to be your doom, and yet here was this kid claiming that he knew everything there is to you. it was a laughable attempt at a bluff, and he only caught you offguard by that disgusting grin of his. you're confident enough in your own abilities that you know that no one would be ever able to track you—

"[your name] [last name]. single father, three siblings, but they're all dead. you became a mercenary at age 16 and you go to your headquarters every weekend. you like the cafe at sixth avenue and you order the fourth thing on the menu almost every time." his grin widens when he sees the alarmed expression on your face. "should i tell you more?"

impossible. gritting your teeth, you pull him by his collar, almost tipping his chair over until you catch it with your knee. it... spreads his legs and pushes against his bulge, and you want to scrub yourself clean when you see his red blush and lip-bite. "how the fuck d'you know all that?" you snarl. you shake him. "tell me!"

"because i love you," he says, almost breathless. he looks at you with eyes so full of devotion and obsession that you might believe him. "there's not a single piece of you that i don't love."

you pull your lip back. "you're fuckin' disgusting."

"ah, but!" he wiggles in his chair, his clothes straining against the binds. "you're the one who tied me up like this! all vulnerable and ready for you to torture, right?"

you can't believe this man. "that's how kidnappings go, you idiot!" unable to hold on to this weirdo any longer, you let go of him and he and the chair he's tied to collapse to the floor. it's a nasty fall, but you're too busy rubbing your hands together in some attempt to rid yourself of the germs he may have transferred over to you.

the gasp of delight when he hits the floor grates like metal against your ear, and he squirms when you look down at him with such hate and disgust in those pretty eyes of yours. "is it starting? are you gonna torture me now?" your eyes flit to the array of tools you laid out on the counter, but now you feel reluctant to dirty this man's blood with the tools you painstakingly polished to shine. "ah~ ♡ i wonder what you're gonna do to me! are you gonna cut me up and leave me to bleed? tie me up till it hurts to breathe? ah, [your name] ♡" he calls your name with ecstasy. "i'm so excited to see what you'll do!"

with your back turned towards him and facing the tools, you don't grace him with a reply. instead, you bite your lip, panicked and pale expression reflected in the cold reflection of a knife.

'why me?!' your thoughts scream. 'i've never met this man in my life before!'

'how am i supposed to break someone who's gone too fucking far?!'

he continues to smile at your back, watching as you contemplate which torture device you'll bless him with for that night.

'so, so cute!' you're shorter than him, but somehow the thought of you dominating him and spilling his blood makes his jeans tighter. 'they're gonna make me go through sooo much pain, i can feel it! they'll have the power to kill me. they might kill me!'

just like that man you shot in that alleyway, eyes staring blankly at the mess of guts and brain splattered against the wall. there was no remorse in your eyes as you wipe the blood off your cheek with the back of your hand. no remorse as you stuff that body into a bag and make a mess all over yourself.

he remembers it clearly. your skintight black bodysuit, how the blood seemed to match your soulless eyes, the peek of tongue as you licked the blood from your thumb— he remembers it all too well.

how could he not, when he had his back pressed to the wall, out of your sight, hand clamped to suppress his noises. not a terrified scream, mind you. but his heavy breaths as he continued to observe you from a distance.

better than an angel. more divine than an angel. you were the reaper itself, stained in blood and black.

and his obsession with that reaper grew, as you revved off with your motorcycle with the corpse in tow, and he lay in the alley shadows with a hand in his jeans and blood at his feet.

if you had looked closely beneath all the money, maybe you'd see one damning clue that would tell you that this commission was a bad idea. a clue stitched at the bottom of the suit, fancy lettering showcasing initials in cursive:

a.c.

ajax childe's grin grows wider when he sees you finally settle on a tool. even when bound up and knocked to the floor, those hungry eyes and crazed grin seem to make him more of a predator than the you holding a knife.

[terras-domain]

Rev It Up, Baby!

Characters: Jung Eunbi (Eunha)

Tags: teasing, thighs, car porn, street racing, male reader x gg idol, slight plotted smut, mechanic y/n, sex in and outside of car (if that makes sense lololol)

Words: 3813

Note from author: Halloooo! terra here. Been a while, this one is from a fren's request (well they just want eunha tbh) but THE CAR PART is basically y/n (you, YES YOU) tuning up her car for a street race she'll be doing and the reward, is ummm well...you can guess it,right? ANYWAYS ENJOYYYY (hopefully..?)

Reader's POV

"Boss...business hasn't been rolling today. Think we should call it a day a bit sooner?" Ken, one of my workers started to complain, the boredom was clearly making the guys at the workshop gloomy. "Fuck no Ken. We gotta business to run, so go jerk off or something if you're that bored kiddo" a puff from my cigarette flew in the air, disappearing in seconds. The kid's not wrong, we haven't had some serious customer coming in today, or even in a few weeks. Just some boring ass family sedans and some basic repair shit, nothing too fancy so far. But that all change when a loud rev roars towards the workshop. "My~ hello sexy"

Loud roaring fills up the workshop, making me throw the cig in my ashtray. "Ken! Your entertainment is here!" I smirked looking around the big boy shining in the dusty workspace. "Alright man, welcome welcome. How can I-" My words got caught in my throat the moment I saw the driver step out of the door. Thought it'd be some rich old bastard; but the smoking hot chick coming out looks nothing like the image I had in mind. "And I thought the car was sexy~" One of the boys cracked a chuckle. The car now looks like junk compared to the lady standing in front of me, pretty face, thick body and not to mention the shorts showing off those thick thighs. "Well hello beautiful~ welcome to the shop" I smirked, lighting up a second cig as the pretty girl walked over to me, while she does so it's obvious how thick she was judging by how those legs were jiggling.

"Did daddy buy you the cute ride you got here?" puffing out another wave of smoke, I looked around the car while she still remained quiet. After a few more glances on the car, my focus was still on her. "You know it's dangerous for a pretty girl such as yourself to be driving a beast like this you know?" I grinned, putting away the cigarette away from her as I tower over her cute figure, looking down at the cutie in front. "I'm a racer," she finally let out her voice, if I were to be honest I'd bust a load there and then on another day from how hot she is, but I gotta play it cool in front of this chick. "Oh really~! Well I'm sure you're a great racer ain't you, Miss...." I gave a long pause, giggling to tease her so called racing abilities. "Eunha. And don't act cocky, dirty hands. I'm not some whore for you~ I'm here to mod this car." Eunha clicked her tongue, clearly a bit annoyed, but fuck do I care. The more annoyed she looks, the cuter; I like that. "Oh really? Where you going so fast? Walmart?" I chuckled, making the tiny Eunha lose her patience and turn her face bright red. "I'm here to make Lloyd eat my dust!"

The laughter, the teasing, everything stopped. All eyes were on Eunha, almost choked by the ludicrous words coming out of her mouth. "That Lloyd? That dude's crazy dangerous y'know?" Bob, the old head in the office started talking, the teasy and all-jokes vibe suddenly blew away from the room. "I know. The more reasons to kick his ass." The cutie's little words attracts me more, love me a strong woman. "Well then missy, what do you need?" I asked, throwing the cig to the floor, stepping on it to extinguish the smoke. "I need it to be faster." Hearing her replies only makes me smirk as i moved towards the black beast parked in the garage. A little smack on Eunha's cute butt made her squeak, making me laugh a bit as I shifted my focus to the guys. "Time to get to work, boys!"

The car is honestly pretty much in great condition. There's not many that needs to be fixed, just things to upgrade. The spark plug of the car needs some changes, a change of exhaust which thankfully Eunha brought for us so it's no issue for us to wait too long to order a new one. One thing left is the engine, we gotta tune it up to get that Acura a winning chance. "This is a problem." I puffed after a deep breath. Honda engines in general isn't really the best, especially if it's for a car back in 1992, but oh well. If that hottie wants to win, might as well do it with a sick ride. "Why didn't you change the chassis?" Eunha asked. I mean, I don't blame her for asking, but clearly if she wants to race this car against a bastard like Lloyd, she needs a car that can take a beating. "Well sweetheart, if you wanna live long enough to win that race, this car gotta make sure it didn't trip over itself in the middle of the road." I shook my head while I approached her, grabbing a hand towel to clean my dirty hands, I need to lead her to my office.

"Imma keep this to you straight cutie," I paused, looking at Eunha, looking at her adorable cheeks when she looks serious, it made me smile. "Your chances of winning are slim if you keep this engine. You know the type of guy Lloyd is known for. He'd kill to win" I went fully clear to her, clearly makes her a bit frustrated. "Well...tell me what I gotta do." She answered short, this bitch sure is persistent. "Well, I first need to know how serious you are in this." I inched closer, grabbing her shoulder, waiting for her nodding response which she did immediately. "Well your engine needs some work, some mods actually. And the money...well I'm pretty sure you know how that goes. But that's not all" I paused looking up and down. "You clearly don't know what you're doing...telling me to change a car chassis when going against a road killer~" A sighed as Eunha finally got her needed reality check, it's almost impossible to win if she relies 100% on her knowledge, which clearly not enough.

"Tell me what I need to do then." She persists on further, she sure is confident on doing this. "Well first of all, you need a co-pilot. Someone who knows how to drive." I suggested, inching closer as our shoulders now touch, I think we both know where we're leading. "And I know a person who could teach you a thing or two" I chuckled, with Eunha slightly pushing me away only for me to hold her hand so I kept my distance close, our faces just a finger apart. "Men sure are greedy." She sighed after whimpered, trying to break free. "Relax, we're partners anyways. You need to trust your co-pilot Eunha." Those were my last words before my lips reached hers, which I can feel a reply coming. Glad to know my hard work is paying off. "You aren't a bad kisser aren't you" a soft chuckle escaped my mouth when I pulled away, looking at her soft pale face blushing. "I just did it cuz we're partners" She replied, her chest pumping from the rush of emotions. Holding her hand and intertwining them together, I inched for another kiss. "Just follow my lead, your co-pilot got this~"

Her smaller body makes it easy for me to lift her on my office desk, resting her body on the solid wood while I kept my lips glued to hers. My hands travel to her shorts, aiming to play her mind a bit more, just to ease her up. With one hand I easily unbutton her shorts, pulling them down to her ankles, revealing her soft cotton panties, hiding her most prized treasure, a little circle soaking in the middle. "Clearly you're enjoying this~" my fingers pulled her panties to the side, revealing her lower lips soaking wet, pretty in pink. A slight touch with my index finger makes her whimper, she sure is sensitive. "Awww~ I love that sound. I want more" I circle around the entrance of her pussy, slowly inserting it inside. "Ngaaah~ y/n!" A little scream lets out of her mouth which I immediately cover with my free hand. "We don't want the boys to hear you do you?" She shook her hand, knowing we're both on the same page. Now in control, I started putting another finger in, pushing in and out of her tight pussy. Her hands forming knuckles to endure the pleasure she's receiving, my hand covering her steamy moans, I finally pulled my fingers out just to switch with my hard shaft inside her.

With my thick cock now fully inside you, i start to slowly thrust, pushing and pulling at a slow tempo as my new partner, Eunha, whimpers and muffles her moan as her voice is suppressed with my hand, the other hand holding her in place by grabbing her tight waste. The guys at this point are already starting to work on the car, they know Eunha will agree with my terms and modify the engine. Besides, it was her only shot of winning. But the car is probably the last thing in her mind right now. With my shaft in her tight pussy, her eyes looks dazed, almost as if she's drunk. Her moans were just getting louder as I gradually picked up a pace. My cock just got stiffer and more sensitive, getting close to climax. "Nghhh~ Eunha, I wanna cum." I moved my hand away from her mouth, just to let her respond and tell me where she wants it. "Nghhh~ just cum inside y/n~ I can't have your cum on display....so just do it in me~" she bit her lower lip, hoping her moans didn't attract the attention of the workers, my workers as they tune up the car. After a few more thrusts, I finally couldn't hold it any longer. "C-cummiiiiing~" I grunted, trying not to moan too loud, with the help of Eunha's small hand covering my mouth it did indeed help me not to make a scene with my moans as I filled her up with cum. The two of our moans were luckily synced with a loud noise coming from the work, so we didn't cause any of us getting caught. "So...hopefully we'll work well, partner~" I sighed, smiled as I ended with a smile.

A few days pass, filled with work to mod the car and also some 'team bonding' time, but we finally got to the race, revving up to the venue. The car felt much lighter, yet still easy to drive as Eunha looked confident on the wheel. "Someone looking pumped!" Being on the passenger seat I can see her smile, not a sweet one, more like a determined one. Just hope she realizes the dangerous guy she's up against. The crowd was cheering for her, praising the crazy ride she brought roaring through the night life of the road. All that attention began to fade away as the person everyone was waiting for finally drove in. A mean and intimidating rev fills the night air, lights flashing as if a high beam was put on the back of Eunha's Acura, mocking her. we both looked back, knowing who's here. "Well welcome to the game Eunha. Here's your challenge." I sighed, looking a bit shaky as the big and bad Ford GT LMT 2022 driving in.

As Lloyd's mirror slides down, the arrogant young adult smirks, looking up and down. "This better be worth my time, slut" A teasy smooch came from him which clearly made Eunha's heart filled with disgust. "You know he's a road killer right?" I tapped on her thighs, giving her a call to reality so she doesn't get too caught up in the mood. Yes, Lloyd is notorious for road killing, crashing into his opponents or forcing them into difficult spots which are impossible to get out of a serious accident, sometimes even lethal situations. I figured this was the reason Eunha wanted to beat her, as a humbling statement for this jackass. Personally, I don't give a fuck about Lloyd's behavior as long as they don't harm people I care, but now since I'm in the same car that Lloyd might kill, I have to care. Plus, can't risk losing a cute bunny like Eunha to an asshole that has the attitude of a 10 year old. After aligning our cars, the crowd cheers, hyped for the race. "Hey cutie! Try not to kiss my ass okay? I'm not into that weird shit, unless it's your face~" Lloyd's torment kept coming, but Eunha didn't care. She even let the window down, letting all of Lloyd's words come into her ears but not her mind. She seems locked in.

The race gets closer to it's beginning. Ready. Revving sounds roars as smoke fills the back of the two monster cars. Set. The two racer stops talking, both Eunha and Lloyd lift their windows up, ready for the final call. Go. As the call goes, tires screeching fills the ear lobes of the audience, silencing the crowd for a second only to make them cheer louder as they lift off, both Eunha and Lloyd are now off, starting the race. " Now just like I told you Eunha. Keep your distance bunny" I let out a little reminder, and important one if we both want to stay alive. Of course the futuristic Ford was on the lead from the get go, but it's a long 20km race, this is just the beginning. Eunha's Acura got an advantage with a smaller body frame, which made it easier to slide between traffic. The road has a lot of sharp turns so Eunha has to be careful with her speed, not to go too much and keep control.

A race will never be a safe race if it's Lloyd we're up against. His constant brake checking and closing in to Eunha whenever they're side to side is surely dangerous, making Eunha scared and hit the brakes, getting a bit too far behind half way through the race. "Fuck!" The stressed out Eunha shouted as she had to pick up pace to catch up, she's starting to lose focus. "Relax, we're still in the game cutie." A soft finger flick snaps her out, making Eunha look at me. We both smirked as she stepped on the gas and caught up with Lloyd. We were approaching a sharp slope, so we need to be extra careful not to cause some serious damage to the car and ourselves.

In the sharp turn, Lloyd fucked up, taking a turn too early resulting his car to drift a bit to the far end of the roadside. It gave a tight chance for Eunha's smaller car to slide in and cut past him. "Fuuuckk yeaah!" Eunha cheered as the road got back in a straight line, a wide smile appears on her face and beaming at me. "Cool down bunny~ we're not done yet." I sighed and pat her head as she kept on the drive, dashing through traffic to lose Lloyd off her tail. But with the horsepower of the Ford beast, it's nearly impossible, Lloyd caught up just moments after. With his car literally behind her, Lloyd's infamous behavior starts to reveal. Speeding up while tailgating Eunha's Acura, running over her and trying to knock her out, the scariest part of Lloyd's dangerous race driving. Panic rises, Eunha trying her best to keep the wheels steady but Lloyd's relentless driving, hitting the tail of her ride makes everything so scary. "Hang in there Eunha" I pat on her soft thighs, letting her calm down and wait for a moment to break free. And there was the moment we both hoped for, a truck right in front of us. We went to tailgate the truck which Lloyd didn't realise because well, either he was too busy trying to destroy Eunha's car or he's just pure stupid. Once we were close enough, we made sure to wait for a moment where Lloyd's Ford GT to ram up Eunha. When he did, Eunha swiftly took a sharp turn to switch lanes, forcing Lloyd to hit the truck. "Noooo!" The shocked Lloyd was terrified, having to run over the slow moving truck and crashed, not serious enough to immediately eliminate him from the race, but enough to buy us some time away from that asshole. Victory is now in Eunha's hands. Didn't take long before the Acura reached the finish line, Eunha won.

Eunha kept driving, trying to slow down. As the meter slowly goes down bit by bit, it finally reached zero as we stopped at an empty parking lot. "I won....I actually won..." Eunha muttered her words, her eyes looking at the steering wheel, still in shock and couldn't believe the outcome. She won, and that realisation soon hits as she screams out and hugs me. "WE WOOOOONNN!" Her soft cheeks touches mine, rubbing our faces as we hugged. Before we even noticed, the emotions, the adrenaline, every single drop of chemical clicked in. That satisfaction of victory turned into lust, and we have each other to fulfill it. Eunha's lips reached mine and before we knew it, we're already making out and enjoying each other, our tongues battling as we hold each other. I grabbed her tight waist as I moved her on top of me after leaning my seat lower so we can both fit on one seat.

With Eunha on top of me, I could feel her thick thighs pressing on me. It felt so smooth as she was wearing short jeans. As she leans her body on mine, our lips meet again. Feeling our kiss connecting our two bodies, I hugged her tight, holding her as we enjoy each other's mouth, tasting each other. "Y/n, I need you~" Eunha plead, and I could never say no to her. I opened the door and helped her off, kneeling on the floor. "Wait, Eunha." I took off my jacket and put them on the floor to make it less uncomfortable for her to be kneeling on the tarred floor. She grabbed my pants and guided them down to my ankles, pulling out my shaft that sprung out, pointing to Eunha's cute face.

With the cute little bunny on her knees, level with my cock, there's only one thing coming for her. Her mouth starts to open wide, taking my cock and slide it slowly inside her mouth as I feel her soft mouth slowly taking my length, with her plump lips enveloping my shaft. It felt like heaven and back, making me throw my head back as she slowly bobbed her head, slurping the taste of my cock slowly. As a source of motivation, I pat her scalp, encouraging her to go deeper. "Fuuuck yes Eunha pleaseee...go deeper oh my god!" Her lips, her mouth, my tip poking her throat, everything about this felt so good I need to do my best to contain myself just so I don't cum too soon. My words backfire as she only doubles her efforts, making it harder for me to last even though I try, holding it in before eventually, she pulls out and smirks and spits on my cock to make it wetter than it already is.

It was feeling so good, but there's no way we're stopping there. I stepped out of the car and guided Eunha to be putting her hands on the door, bending over. I need those thick thighs sandwiching my cock so bad. Holding her hips I slowly guided my cock between her soft meaty thighs. "Mmmh your cock is so wet~. Fuuuck it feels good~" Eunha bit her lips, feeling me thrust back and forth slowly as I moaned, being out public late at night in a parking lot like this, it's so risky yet so good, I love it. Her hands on the winning Acura as I kept on thrusting back and forth, moving my hips swayed and my face glued to hers, kissing her cute puffy cheeks. My hands got bored too and wanted some actions, travelling towards Eunha's soft upper body, groping them softly which made the bunny whimper. "Mmmmh~ yeaah y/n just like that~ oh god~" the cold breeze of the night didn't help settle down the mood either. it just made us more and more lustful, feeling the need to express our emotions physically out in the open on the car.

We both couldn't take it any longer. The expressions we were making made it clear we want to fuck. And we'll do just that. Holding Eunha's tight body, I carried her as I laid her on the back seat, her legs exposed out in the open while her upper body is in the car. I quickly align my cock with her entrance and thrust it in as fast as I could, the wetness of my cock surely helped. "Fuuuck~ y/n! It's so fucking goood!" Eunha screamed out as we're alone, we don't need to hold back, we just let out all that bottled up lust and excitement over the win. "Eunha...you're so tight~ fuck I'll fuck you all day if I could" I grunted as I started going back to a fast pace holding her legs as I piston my cock in and out of her, feeling her tight pussy wrapping my shaft, denying me to pull out. With each thrust getting closer to my climax, I just held her tight while grunting as I stared into her lustful eyes. "Fuuuck Eunha, I wanna cum for you so bad~" I grunted, my hips barely moving because I don't want to cum just yet. "Fuuuck~ just cum in me y/n. Fill me up~!" Eunha ordered, and what she wants is what I'll give. A few more deep thrusts and my load couldn't be held back anyore, I just let it all out and shoot every load of it inside her. "Cu-cummiiiiing~!" I exclaimed as I held her tight, hugging her tight waist as my cock spurts cum deep in her pussy, covering her insides while Eunha screams in pleasure and fills her tight pussy receiving every single drop of cum, leaving my balls emptied.

Both exhausted, we got in the car and cuddled, laying on the car's back seat, huffing and puffing to catch our breathe. "What a mess" Eunha broke the silence, ending up with both of us kissing whilst we cuddled, trying to cool down and relax. "Congratulations on your win, partner." I had to say it, she fully deserved it so a congratulations is much deserved. But I'm pretty sure what happened here was a congrats gift in her books~

[corrodedbisexual]

92, baby!

Steddie | E | ~7.1k | AO3 link

Written for @steddie-week Day 5: reunion

Featuring: Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Future Fic, POV Eddie Munson, Reunions, Steddie in the 1990s, Clubbing, Flirting, Drinking, Dancing, Confident Queers Steve & Eddie, Businessman Steve, Mechanic Eddie, Eddie Munson Wears a Skirt, First Time, Kissing, Clothed Sex, Rimming, Coming Untouched, Anal Sex, Riding, Spit As Lube, Service Top Steve Harrington, Laughter During Sex, Dork4dork, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending

Hundreds of miles away from Hawkins, Eddie reunites with an old crush, completely unprepared for all the ways Steve Harrington has changed over the past six years, but happily coming along for the ride anyway. And what a ride it turns out to be.

It’s almost the end of Eddie’s final shift of the week at the auto shop. Only half an hour left; he’s starting to count down the minutes.

Honestly, most of the time, Eddie likes his job. He’d probably like it more, though, if he could maybe work, say, 2 hours less in a day (but for the same overall pay, obviously).

It’s not his lucky day, apparently; just as he’s about to start cleaning all the instruments and putting everything away when his boss, Jim, pops his head into the garage.

“Hey Munson, got a late client!” He calls out. “He complains about a noise in the engine, could you take a quick look?”

Eddie suppresses a groan and nods. “Yeah, sure, send him in,” he says, heading for the garage door button.

It’s a bit of an annoyance, this kind of last-minute job, but he knows Jim’s a fair-and-square guy. If Eddie deems the work to be more than half an hour long, he’ll have the client either leave the car for the next day’s morning shift, or come back again.

A burgundy car rolls in with a loud revving sound; Eddie narrows his eyes at the model. It’s very familiar. An ‘83 BMW. The same kind that—

Eddie’s heart kicks against his chest. No fucking way. It’s just a coincidence.

He can’t see the driver with the headlights on and the garage lights reflecting off the windshield; but as soon as the person behind the wheel kills the engine and steps out, Eddie’s jaw drops.

So does the driver’s. Who is none other that Steve Harrington, like a ghost of Eddie’s past, here, in Chicago, in goddamn 1992.

“Holy shit,” Steve breaks the silence first, his gaping expression slowly shifting into a huge grin. “Eddie?!”

It warms Eddie’s heart, the way Harrington instantly recognizes him, too. True, he probably hasn’t changed much since ‘86, minus some additional tattoos and piercings now; but he’s sporting facial hair these days, his hairstyle is up in a messy bun, and he’s not wearing his rings or any of his other signature attributes for work.

“Steeeve Harrington,” Eddie drawls, shaking his head and grinning.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind the grease-covered overalls Eddie’s in. He just steps forward and instantly scoops him into a brief, yet lung-crushing hug, actually lifting him off the ground there for a second. Eddie laughs joyfully, patting Steve’s back with sincere enthusiasm before the guy lets go of him.

“Oh wow, it’s been—”

“Six years, I know!”

For a moment, they just stand there, a foot apart, staring at each other. Steve hasn’t changed at all. He’s still annoyingly beautiful; Eddie has to force himself to look away.

Read on AO3 | Divider credit

[rimunagenius]

Number

Pairing: Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford x f!Reader (soon will become an ‘x fem!OC’ during the second chapter)

Word Count: 897

Warnings: I think it’s just foul language

Summary: Getting a new neighbor is always fun or even interesting. But an annoyingly cute biker who makes too much noise, isn’t.

Note: I did totally get this from a movie or show i saw on my tt fyp soooo…i don’t own the plot, nor do i own the Sons or the SOA plot (my boy Kurt Sutter does) but i just own my reader inserts kids as characters. If you find the name or know the name of whatever movie or show this is (if you recognize the dialogue), pls comment it so i can put it in here.

Masterlist

Part 1 of the Unexpected Treasure series !

It was hard to get your little one to bed. Recently she’s being crying all night long and when she sleeps, she only sleep for two hours and then wakes up. Your oldest ones weren’t bad at all. So easy even.

Tonight was a rough night. You had already done three laps around the back yard, two around the kitchen and living room, and 6 of her bedroom. Her eyes finally started to close as you were slowly and silently rocking her in the rocking chair in her room.

Laying her in the crib slowly, carefully calculating any moves to not wake her up, you stood up and closed the door, leaving a crack so you could hear her from next door.

You had applied moisturizer to your fresh and healing tattoo before hearing the an odiously loud rumbling of bikes outside the door.

Groaning loudly you quickly made your way outside the front door before crossing your lawn over to the neighbors. You saw four men outside and just one bike while they stood in the garage. The rumbling was loud that you signaling them to keep it down wasn’t heard.

“Hey!” You stood closely behind the two with their backs faced to you, and yelled in their ears so they could hear. They turned around quickly and looked upset at the loudness of your voice.

“What gives, lady?!” One with crazy messy curly black hair turned around, finger lodged in his ear.

“Bloody hell, woman.” The other one who seemed to have facial scars turned around. The rumbling of the bike stopped immediately after the two stopped yelling at you. A man with long blonde hair and another man with long brown hair looked at you.

“Why are you guys doing making so much goddamn noise!?” You were visibly upset that these men dragged you out of your house at 10pm to rev stupid bike engines.

“Introducing ourselves to the neighbors, darlin— his neighbors.” The blonde one pointed towards the man with the crazy scars. You knew someone was moving in but the bikes weren’t really a problem when they were leaving and coming back so little.

“Well, I’m the neighbors, and we’re introduced, so if you wouldn’t mind, could you please shut the fuck up.” You looked at all four then before turning around and walking back across your lawn. You made it to the door before the one with the accent started talking to you.

“Wait, hold on. Let’s start over okay? My names Filip, what yours?” He had long hair, salt and pepper colors and the leather and kutte were actually very attractive on this man. But you didn’t know him, and men weren’t exactly your specialty considering you have three kids who’s dads left them.

“That’s cool. Just think of me as the person next door who likes it quiet.”

“Aye, but come on, love. Don’t be like that. We live next door to eachother and I feel bad. I feel terrible. I’m sorry. Will ya accept my apology?

“I don’t need your apology, I just need the quiet.” You then turned to go up the 3 steps to your porch before he started talking once again.

“Why don’t I take ya out to dinner to apologize for my rudeness? You give me yer’ number and I already have your address. I’ll call you up like a proper lad, and ask ya out.”

You giggled, “You want my number?” You smiled as you looked at him, and back at the other three men who seemed to resume talking but kept looking over to listen. Your sarcasm evident to them as the snickered amongst eachother.

“I do. I do want your number.” He nodded as he fixed his hair, his eyes never leaving yours once.

“Which number do you want? Filip?” You knew his name, you just didn’t have the capacity to care about or spare his feelings considering you had three children to get inside to and a early shift at the hospital to get some of the very little sleep for.

“Filip, now I like the way you say that, darlin.” He huffed as he smirked while he looked at you and then back to his friends before looking to you again. “How many numbers do ya have?”

“Oh I have plenty, darlin,” you mocked his endearment for you. “I have numbers falling out my ears. For instance, nine.”

“Nine?”

“Yeah, that’s how many months my baby girl is.”

“You got a little girl?” He looked intrigued and surprised in your statement. The guilt for being too loud already getting to his conscience.

“Yeah. Sexy huh? And how about this? Four is how old my oldest boy is. Two is how old my other son is. Two is the amount of time i’ve been married and divorced. Twenty is the amount of money I have left in my bank account. 850-3943 is my phone number, and im guessing zero is the amount of times your going to call it.”

“That impresses me, and your wrong about the zero thing, sweetheart.” He spoke as you walked inside and shut the door. He turned around and walked back to the boys as she looked back at your house, the living room light being shut off at the same time.

“Damn, she was pissed.” The man with long hair spoke, adjusting his beanie.

“Yeah, Chibs. Opies right, you gotta stop moving and pissin off your neighbors. This has happened like four times already.”

“Oi, shut up, Tiggy.”

“You got her number though, right?” The blonde asked, his eyebrows wiggling in a mockingly manner.

“Aye, Jackie boy.”

༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ ༒

IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC I CAN MOST DEFINITELY START ONE!!

Taglist:

Hey, heads up! future chapters will be longer, but i made this one short bc i didn’t have any idea on how to make further scenarios where they interacted more.

[iraprince]

Any ttrpgs (including/especially yours!) that you recommend to get the oc wheels turnin’? Or especially fun as oc design tools/inspiration?

as an overall recommendation for this, from the perspective of design tools, solo journaling games are often excellent for this -- you can browse the entire solo tag for the physical games category on itch and find TONS!!

moving on to specific recs: not for characters specifically, but for general worldbuilding one of mine i can recommend is lamplighter's festival! it's about building up the history and culture of a location by developing a ritual or holiday that's celebrated there, and i think sometimes creating a location with a lot of intention and thought will of course naturally get you thinking abt the ppl who live there. (i think this is also a great gm tool if you want to bring your party somewhere special!)

divined journey is a game about outlining a character's story in detail using tarot cards -- i've had a lot of fun using this to flesh out existing characters and imagine plot arcs that are different than the ones i'd come up with on my own, but i think it could absolutely start u running on a brand new character too. often the order ppl go in is make the character, THEN put them in a story, but forming a character BY putting them through the story (i.e. keeping them more malleable and considering events the primary development vs "backstory") can be extremely cool

on the more... i don't wanna say "traditional" but like, "narrative tabletop games as we know them" (vs solo journaling stuff/things that lean towards being design tools):

time to drop is a game about pulling one last heist (again and again and again, in a timeloop). i often find that games with a really specific premise/setting kickstart tons of fresh thought; as much as i love just doing the exact tropes i already like ad nauseum (being completely genuine there), restrictions and a narrowed focus are GREAT for getting the brain churning. and trapping a bunch of criminals in a time loop is a great way to develop necessarily juicy oc dynamics :3c

sapphicworld is a game that has gotten me SUPER revved about ocs (up to the point where i once planned out a 12 course formal dinner menu for a campaign finale.....). it's still in development, but you can get a pwyw glimpse at the ashcan here (kind of like a tasting platter of the style and mechanics of the game, which the dev describes as a dream about sapphicworld), and get access to the entire wip game on the darling demon patreon for five bucks. it's worth a billion times that. i love sapphicworld lol

in general i think games that have playbooks and picklists always get me going, for that same "narrowed focus" reason... at first ur urge might be to push outside the picklists, bc u have a different idea or none of the stuff on the list exactly matches what u had in mind for the character, but forcing urself to adhere and then branching out from that is something that i think creates a lot of really fun combinations. for this reason i think that a lot of PBTA stuff fits the bill -- i realize that doesn't narrow things down at all lol but it DOES mean u can browse the pbta tag and then just snag anything that seems to have a setting/tone that you're in the mood for!

i feel like this is a woefully small selection but it's all i have time for today, and ttrpgs are just so broad....! i would love if ppl gave more suggestions in the reblogs + replies!!!

[gnomewithalaptop]

I am once again thinking about my Reverse Falls plot bunny where Canon!Dipper switches places with his Rev Falls counterpart

Just hear me out! Like -- the dynamics would be so good. Because in either universe, the twins know each other better than anybody else, right? They've known each other their entire lives! So they'd obviously realize something was up pretty quickly, but the way that goes down would vary wildly depending on the combo you've got going on

That's why I really want Canon!Dipper in the Reverse universe -- out of the two of them, I definitely think he could "fake it til you make it" a bit longer than Mabel, but I also think the potential dynamics between him and Rev!Pacifica and Rev!Gideon would be fascinating to see play out. Cause like, let's be real: that kid can hold some grudges, and he's pretty pessimistic when it comes to people and second chances (at least compared to Mabel). I can see him having a really hard time wrapping his head around the personality shifts and trusting Pacifica and Gideon with anything -- which would only make things harder, since they'd already be predisposed to hating his guts. But also, just the idea of Dipper trying to navigate a strange world where his family is full of manipulative bastards and the entire town seems terrified of him makes my inner ten-year-old extremely happy

And then the dynamics with Rev!Dipper and Canon!Mabel would be playing out in tandem with all of this. And the script is completely flipped from Canon!Dipper's, because Mabel doesn't go into this knowing something's wrong. She has to figure that out for herself from context cues, and like. I doubt "evil mirrorverse version of my brother" is going to be her first guess right off the bat. So you get extra wiggle room for Rev!Dipper to get situated as a quasi-antagonist and start screwing things up, and you get fun hijinks while Mabel and the gang make several very wrong choices about what's going on with Dipper

And like. Okay, so: I've always interpreted Reverse!Dipper as somebody who's very pragmatic -- he's very much an "ends justify the means" sort of guy. Don't get me wrong, he's not as vindictive as Canon!Gideon, but he also isn't particularly sentimental either. He's lived his whole life in "every man for himself" mode (with some small exceptions for his sister).

And then I think about combining that kind of mindset with Mabel's unstoppable wave of optimism and endless harebrained schemes where she tries to make things better for a person she doesn't even know that well. And I think about Reverse!Dipper being faced with this realization that his world is dark and cold and uncaring because that's how he relates to the world.

Let's be real: at the end of the day, both sets of twins love each other so fiercely. It's just that the Rev Falls kids have gotten caught up in all these manipulation games and power plays, and once you get caught up in that kind of cycle, it becomes harder and harder to get out again. So I can see this swap having a positive shift on both the Rev Falls kids -- taking them away from their lives and showing them that they don't have to interact with the world this way

I'm thinking about Canon!Dipper seeing the humanity in Rev!Mabel and talking to her straight the way he did to Pacifica in Northwest Mansion Mystery. I think about how she hasn't gotten to be a kid because of the Tent of Telepathy's whole Dance Mom schtick, and finally getting it impressed upon her that that isn't normal. I'm thinking about Canon!Mabel showing Rev!Dipper it's okay to trust people and let them in. That he doesn't have to treat the entire world like it's out to hurt him, doesn't need to strike first to make sure the other guy never gets a chance to

Anyway. This got so long but -- yeah. I yearn for the Gravity Falls Mirror Mirror episode that exists only in my mind

[prolix-yuy]

Rising Phoenix

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian offers a gift greater than he imagined.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: M, allusions to sexual acts, some heavy petting, flirty banter up the wazoo, minor injury treatment, hand kink, hand worship, plot? Plot. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Is this an excuse for me to put all of my favorite things about Mando into one story? Yes, yes it is. Including making fun of that tin can man's ridiculous fashion choices.

Takes place after If the Moon Walks Out.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

Mando is hiding something from you.

If anyone on the outside was looking in, they’d think the opposite. They might even say he’s being more open than in months. After the bite and subsequent breakdown (which you’re still a little embarrassed about), Mando started showing you how he runs the Crest. Walking you through a takeoff sequence, demonstrating what the other buttons along the cargo hold walls do.

(you didn’t know there was a button to close Mando’s cramped cubby)

(might come in handy when you want a little privacy)

You were appreciative at first, until Mando started disappearing in the evenings with no warning or explanation. One minute he’d be feeding the child, the warm thrum of your cavewoman brain revving up -

(he wiped the child’s mouth with the edge of his cape and you had to go take a breather in the kitchenette)

- the next moment he was gone, up in the cockpit or down in the hold, wherever you’re not. A whiff of solder sometimes wafted by, or the clunk of metal on metal reached your ears. You’re curious, endlessly so, but if there’s one thing you would not betray, it’s the trust Mando has finally given you.

(he’ll come to you when he’s ready)

Instead you prepare food and tidy the hold and read on your holopad until he returns, either to bid you goodnight with the child tucked into his arm, or to put him down before sneaking back to you, large hands on your hips a precursor to his hushed question:

“Can I have you tonight, Mesh’la?”

(more often than not your nights end with him inside you)

But as the days continue, another bounty on the horizon, your treacherous mind begins toying with your insecurities. The next planet wasn’t far but Mando’s taking his time, making short hops instead of fast travel. When you questioned it, the threat of Imps and blaster residue in your nostrils, he said it was to show you how to hop in and out of hyperspace.

(the holopad full of calculations makes your head spin)

(you hold it like a lifeline)

“Mando, I appreciate you taking my feelings to heart, but moving this slow…aren’t we tempting our luck?” you finally asked, legs crossed in the jump seat when Mando pulled out of hyperspace yet again.

“I’m willing to press it,” he replied, “but not much longer. Tomorrow we land.”

“Could have landed three days ago,” you said, goading Mando to turn to you. He cocked the helmet, which still managed to thrill you, and leaned back.

“I thought you enjoyed my company,” he said, the tease making you smile. “You certainly did last night.” Your face turned molten as you played up a salacious gasp.

“That was a low blow, Mandalorian, you won’t get many more nights like that if you use them against me,” you scolded, biting back a bigger smile when Mando stood up to tower over you, cocking his hip.

(what you wouldn’t give to leave a mark on the flesh there)

(make him wear it under the armor)

(your own symbol of devotion)

“That’s an empty threat,” he said coolly, making you roll your eyes before he tucked his knuckle under your chin, swiping his thumb over your lower lip.

(a Keldabe kiss is one thing)

(this kiss is only for you)

“Only a little longer, Mesh’la. I promise it’s worth it.” he said, quieter, and you nodded, wrapping your hand around his wrist. One squeeze before he moved to the cargo hold.

“I was going to show you how to dump the waste reserves today,” he called up the ladder as he descended.

“Oh thank the Maker, the suspense was killing me!”

You chased his huffed laugh.

An arid planet comes into focus, the child perched in your lap as Mando begins descending into the atmosphere.

“We’re a day early, bounty’s not expected to be on world until tomorrow,” Mando says as the Crest leans into entry, hull shaking against the heat as it skims over the bubble-like surface of the atmosphere.

“What should we do until then?” you ask, lifting the child a little higher so he can watch the descent. “Looks like a dry planet, Bean, no frogs for you.” His trill of disappointment makes you wonder, yet again, if he understands you more than the energies you assume he’s reading. The thought is dashed from your mind as you focus on Mando’s technique, riding the curve of the planet until gravity begins to tug you down in your seat. The Crest dives like a much more graceful bird than her silhouette, weaving through clouds and pockets of rougher air as a stretch of open land surges up to meet you. With a gentle lurch (good job landing Mando), you’re back on solid ground and the child is chirping at his father.

“Yeah kid, we can go outside. We’re far out, should be safe,” Mando says, directing the last part of the sentence to you. As you make your way to the ramp Mando calls down.

“Wear something warm.”

Your head cocks at the request.

“It’s a desert, I’ll cook alive.”

“Trust me.”

You exchange a look with the child, who lifts and drops his ears in as close of an approximation to, “Beats me.” You shrug on a long-sleeve shirt (one of Mando’s old ones, you still covet a few) and comfortable boots. Giving the button a slap, you wait for Mando by the cargo ramp as hot air blows into the hold.

“I don’t agree with your opinion on the climate,” you call back, turning when his footsteps near. “I think the armor’s skewed your perception of heat.”

“You’ll need it for this.”

In Mando’s hands is a harness, leather straps reinforced with thick thread along the seams. A hefty buckle centers in the loops, which attach to the baffling item in question.

(a jetpack?)

Mando has his on too, clasped into the backplate of his armor. This secondary one is more beat-up, yellow and green paint flaking off in places. It hangs heavy, the straps gathered in one hand as he lifts it to you.

“It’s old, but it works fine. Used to belong to Cobb Vanth,” Mando says, shifting a little as you watch him with parted lips. Your eyebrows raise briefly at the name of the Mos Pelgo Mandalorian you ventured to meet when (your) Mando was still among the stars. The jetpack, however, and all its potential holds your attention.

When you don’t say anything, Mando continues. “The Rising Phoenix is calibrated to my vambrace, but this one could be programmed to a…” He trails off as you step closer, shifting the child in your arms to reach out and finger the leather strapping. “Is this okay?” he finally asks, low and quiet as you feel the T-visor burn along your cheeks.

“You made this?” you finally say, barely registering Mando taking the child from you so you can inspect the rig. “This is why we were taking so long?” you breathe out, realization warming you.The stitching is tight and neat, the soldering clean. It even looks like he tried to remove some of the flaking paint but gave up. He shrugs briefly.

“Makes sense for you to use it. It’s likely to draw attention. But if there’s trouble, it’s fast,” Mando says, his body language cautious right now. He must have been nervous at the proposition, anticipating your apprehension, but you feel anything but. This hunk of junk repurposed to protect you is a greater gift than he understands. It makes you break out into a dazzling smile.

“This is karking amazing!” you shout, the child joining in as you turn over the rig and inspect it from all angles. Mando’s chuckle sends tingles down your spine, and when you meet the visor again you can imagine a bashful smile gracing his face.

(a face you’ll never see, but dream of all the same)

“How do you…” you start, holding the jetpack to your chest like a child on Life Day.

“A desert planet with nothing to do seemed like a good place to teach you,” Mando says, sauntering down the ramp, the child’s ears bouncing. Your heart hammers into high speed while sweat beads along your hairline.

(you’re going to fly today)

Mando takes an especially long time to walk you through the components of the jetpack, how it works and what each part does. You’re barely containing your excitement, hovering over his quick-moving hands and nodding endlessly.

“What’s this for?” you ask, pointing at a cylinder in the center that looks empty. Mando shakes his head.

“That’s for another day, Mesh’la, today we’re flying,” he deflects, and you don’t push. The possibility of being weightless, suspended in air the way you’d only experienced in dreams, was a much greater distraction.

“Do you have the controller?” Mando asks. You flash the metal gauntlet on your wrist. It’s just as cleanly built, a small series of buttons that do the basics. You’ve ridden speeders with more complicated controls. Though speeders barely leave the ground.

“Ready?” he asks, holding the straps open for you to slip into. You flash him a bright smile before turning around, shouldering the bulky machinery like a school bag. It settles on the center of your back, Mando fussing with the chest clip and adjusting the tension of the straps.

“This needs a real harness, but for now it’ll work.” Mando slides his fingers under the restraints to test their tautness. “It won’t distribute your weight, so no long trips. You’ll bruise up.”

“I can handle a few bruises,” you challenge, a coy smile melting onto your face as Mando slows his pacing. He tips the helmet in, tugging on the central buckle once more.

“Cheeky,” he purrs before stepping away, typing something into his vambrace. You twist and test the harness. It’s a comforting level of snug, the kind that makes you feel made of durasteel. The child, left to his devices during the suit up, pats at your calf.

“Am I looking cool, Bean?” you ask, doing a quick spin for giggles. “I need a cape like your dad to go…with…” You trail off, a wicked little smile replacing your coy one. “Hey Mando,” you call out innocently, drawing his gaze. “Did you always have the Rising Phoenix?”

He tilts his head with some hesitancy.

“No.”

“So when we first met, you didn’t have it.”

“No.”

“And I remember you having quite the impressive cape back then.”

“I’ve always had…”

“And now it’s a little, you know. Worn. A little tattered. Maybe a little…burned.”

Mando stares you down and it takes all of your effort not to lose it.

“Do you…wear the cape when you’re flying, Mando?”

He shifts from one foot to the other.

“It takes a lot of work…”

“Oh my Stars, you do!”

Mando shifts into what you’ve come to call the Exasperated Stance, hands on his hips, shoulders squared, helmet tipped back.

“It’s easier to…”

“Mando, you are going to set yourself on fire, you kriffing idiot. I can see the scorch marks!”

Mando advances on you, and you skip backwards. Your hands fly to the controller on your wrist. It’s easy to psych yourself out thinking about flying, but with Mando stalking your way, your pounding heart could be attributed to that.

“Mesh’la…” he growls, but with little fire behind it.

(unlike the amount of fire he’s definitely set to that useless piece of fabric)

“Mando…” you mimic, hand dancing over the gauntlet like a gunslinger about to draw his weapon.

“Stop it.”

(perfect)

“Catch me and make me,” you taunt, taking off into a real run. Mando’s footsteps falter, then pick up speed behind you.

(now or never)

You press the short series of buttons to ignite the jetpack, your speed masking the initial jolt of thrust when it catches.

“Wait!” Mando shouts behind you. For a moment you do feel bad for the plaintive plea threading his shout, but adrenaline kicks in and if you do this right, you’ll be flying.

(if you do it wrong, well, you’ll just have a bruised ego…along with a few other places)

Three more long strides and the thrust lifts you off the ground, a disbelieving laugh following. Your feet dangle uselessly as you lift off, the wind in your ears drowning out further shouts. Faintly you hear another roar of ignition, Mando likely to yank you back out of the sky, but euphoria is all you can absorb. The drop in your stomach evens out as you slow your climb, easing the throttle until you’re hovering about fifty feet off the ground. You kick your legs, heat kissing the back of your thighs reminding you to be careful. Below, the sable sand and rock stretches like a rolling canvas, the undulations of hills and sharp creases of mountains in the distance shifting perspective as you absorb beauty at a height you’ve never known.

“Are you crazy?” Mando shouts, zipping into view right in front of you, broad beskar body blocking out the horizon you were just admiring. The startle makes your finger slip, and you drop ten feet fast, Mando’s hands chasing you. Regaining control, you zip away from him.

“I’m getting the hang of it!” you laugh back. His posture is rigid as he flies close behind, more disciplined with technique. You’re just happy that you haven’t crashed face-first into the hard packed dirt yet. Below the child watches you weave around, little hands raised when you zoom overhead. Narrowly avoiding Mando when he reaches out, no doubt to slow you down or scold you further, you speed up with the barest recognition that this is probably a bad idea.

“Look at this Bean!” you shout down, wobbling your shoulders back and forth until you discover how much sway banks you left or right. It doesn’t feel real, like you’re flying in a dream, even though the wind whips past your face and the straps pull painfully against your ribs.

(it feels like freedom)

A flash of silver glints in the corner of your eye and Mando is pulling up beside you, one hand clamping down on your bicep.

“Enough. Land,” he shouts, but for the first time in ages you feel light, like every care on your shoulders was left in the dirt. You don’t want to touch down and let it crawl back up yet.

Plus, it’s been too long since you sparred with Mando.

The controls are surprisingly intuitive, though considering he made them for you might that speaks to his intelligence. Or insight. But now he must be cursing his thoughtfulness because you speed up and up, the weight of his armor lagging him behind. His grip loosens and you spin away again, testing how quickly you can change direction. The dance continues, Mando’s hands coming close, his voice lost to the roar of the packs and the wind whipping against your cheeks. You push him back, kicking him in the chest once and feeling a little bad about it.

He finally yanks you down by your ankle, flipping you so the propulsion shoots you towards the ground. Righting yourself more nimbly than expected, he barrels into you and digs his fingers into your waistband.

“Stop. Teasing.” The growl is heavy, but even he can’t hide the winded excitement of the chase under the vocoder. You’re sure if you palmed him now he’d be hard.

(jetpack sex)

(no way, that’s how idiots go about dying)

“Make. Me. Mando,” you pant, hitting a random button on his vambrace. Thankfully it just stutters his jetpack, grip slipping enough for you to wriggle out. You want to see if you can do a loop, entertain the child below, fly along the horizon the way you’d always dreamed of when two desert suns set on your planet.

The jetpack lurches hard against you. The ever-present heat skirting down your thighs lessens. Something smells like chemicals and smoke.

(out of fuel)

(DANK FARRIK)

All the elation building in your chest freezes to terror when gravity pulls you, but before you can shout Mando’s hands jam under the harness, wrenching you to his chest as all your gravity-defying stunts fizzle out. You thud your forehead against his paudron as he lowers you back to solid earth, talking yourself down from the brief heart attack. Once your feet touch down you back away, Mando’s grip easing as you sweep sweat and dust from your forehead.

“Thanks for the rescue,” you mutter, cheeks hot with embarrassment before you turn your attention to the little green child hurrying his way over. “How’d you like the show Bean?” Kneeling down, he practically tumbles into your open arms, clawing his way up to your face to pat at your cheeks. “I’m okay buddy, had the time of my life up there thanks to…” Looking over at Mando you can almost see the frustration wafting off him in waves.

(kriff, you really pissed him off this time)

“Okay, how about we pop you in here and send you back to the Crest while I get a lecture,” you murmur as you tuck the child into the silver pram and send it scooting. The child looks back once, concerned ears perking, but turns back around when you wave him off. Mando’s footsteps approach heavily, scuffing in the dirt. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face.

“I’m sorry…” you start to say, ready for the harsh reprimand you’re sure is coming.

(how can you explain the wonderful gift he just gave to you?)

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” he says, dangerously low. His shoulders are tight, forehead almost pressed to yours. You can see how intimidating being on the Mandalorian’s bad side could be.

“I was…” you try to say, the emotionless visor following your gaze. The horizon, sparkling with midday sun, is where your gaze finally lands. “I’ve always dreamed of flying. I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

Seconds tick by as you wait for a scold, but it doesn’t come. Instead Mando sighs, and two heavy hands drop on your shoulders.

“You’re lucky I caught you,” he murmurs, squeezing briefly. You bring your eyes back to the smoky T-visor and quirk a wan smile.

“Seems like I’m always falling for you.”

(would that be such a bad thing?)

Mando stills, then cradles your cheek in his hand. The cool kiss of beskar on your forehead raises goosebumps despite the desert heat.

“Mesh’la,” he groans, “don’t tease.”

“Not teasing now, Mando.”

A rumble in his chest burns straight to your sex.

“Yeah? You’ll be good for me?”

(oh kark)

Mando twists you in his arms, back to front. The jetpack puts too much bulk between you, making you have to bend at the waist, but it’s immediately evident this is exactly what Mando wants. He palms your hips, dragging his hand up to stroke your stomach before sliding down to cup you over your pants.

“You want this?” he asks, but he’s already kneading at your mound, the heavy swipe of his fingers through your clothes sparking heat in your cunt.

“Mando…” you choke out, hands coming back to grab at his narrow hips. You’re unbalanced and clumsy against his unyielding stance. “The child.” His little silver pod is ascending the ramp into the Crest. Mando chuckles.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

Your cunt clenches, ripples of pleasure as you scratch your nails into the rough weave of his pants. The jetpack tugs against your chest and you realize he’s using it as leverage to pull you back into him.

(jetpack sex jetpack sex jetpack sex)

“Feel what you do to me, Mesh’la. All the kriffing time.”

Your hands scrabble behind you, fumbling between your bodies.

(give it to me)

(all of it)

(all of you)

Mando shifts, jostling your body a fraction to the side. There’s a sudden white hotness against your arm and you cry out, jerking against his hold.

(the exhaust pipe)

The jetpack is still cooling down, hot rings of metal that just touched you at the worst possible time. Mando’s grip disappears immediately, the press of his body against you suddenly gone.

“What happened?” he says, and the vocoder can’t hide his concern. You twist your arms back up by your face, straightening back to standing. There’s a small welt, hot to the touch. You’ve barely inspected it yourself when Mando’s familiar orange-tipped gloves take your hand into his.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, careful not to touch the mark but still holding your arm so gently.

(oh Mando)

(never)

“Just touched the exhaust, nothing a little bacta can’t fix,” you say breezily, but you know the moment’s passed. Mando’s already leading you back to the Crest, and you follow begrudgingly.

(trust you to ruin some of the hottest foreplay with an injury)

The child burbles at your entrance, hovering the pram over to where you sit at the table, injury outstretched on the durasteel. You turn your arm to touch the burn against it, offering a tiny sliver of relief from the dull throb. Mando bustles into a cargo cubby, pulling out the medkit you’d put to good use barely a week before. A packet of bacta gel, and the Mandalorian, settle across from you.

“I promise, I’m okay,” you say with a lopsided smile, reaching for the bacta. He snags it up first, motioning for you to reveal the burn. It’s halfway up your forearm, the flesh rising.

“I know,” Mando says before tugging at the tips of his gloves.

(Maker)

The last time you got to watch this ritual closely (not clouded by lust or in a frantic scramble) was when he stood at the foot of the bed in Joeken’s inn. You’d admired his wide palms, his thick fingers, how capable they looked. There’s much there you remember, but age and circumstance changes all. There are more scars along his knuckles, callused and rough. He almost glows in the artificial lighting, a deep golden tone forever under his skin. Being able to savor it screams of transgression.

“Let me,” he says, breaking you from your reverie. You extend your arm into his reach, the scratch of his well-worked fingertips tracing the injury. He squeezes a small amount of bacta onto the burn and works it in with two fingers, the touch featherlight and gliding. Mesmerized by the methodical strokes, your other hand drifts to the back of his hand, your fingertips sliding over the smoother skin. His fingers falter as you both watch the slow advance of skin on skin.

“Mesh’la,” Mando breathes. You start to retract, afraid of an overstep. “No, it’s…” he stutters out, “It’s okay. Just not…used to it.”

(touch him until he forgets what it was like to go without)

Bacta application forgotten (or completed), Mando cups your injured hand, tracing the lines in your palm that supposedly speak of your future. You let your own wandering touch linger along the mountains of his knuckles, slip along the veins and raised injuries, before resting on his wrist. His chest hitches like he’s in pain, or something much sweeter.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks, now holding your hand between both of his.

“No, much better,” you answer, leaning when a flash of black catches your eye. Your mouth and one eyebrow quirks up. “Who gave you that?”

Mando turns his wrist, a black tattoo - two rings around a dot - appearing on the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.

(target)

“Paz. A brother in arms.”

You stroke over it, no discernible texture.

“Did he give you more?” you ask cheekily. The child hovers closer to inspect his guardian’s ink, tilting his head and softly cooing.

“You’ll have to find those yourself,” he says, the edge of sass in his voice making you giggle. You move to pull away but his hands wrap around yours, warm and gentle for implements of such bloodshed.

“I never want to hurt you,” he says, much quieter. The vocoder almost loses his consonants. “If I ever do…”

“Hush,” you scold, leaning over the table to meet the visor. “It was an accident. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of them.” The stillness in his posture twists your stomach.

(he’d be devastated if he harmed you)

“You could never hurt me,” you say. Mando tilts his head, the sentiment too simplistic. But all of its meanings fill the silence.

(you would never do it purposefully)

(I’ll always forgive you)

(I would rather be hurt than without you)

With molten slowness Mando leans over your arm, raising it between you. You think it’s to inspect the burn, see that the bacta is working, but he just stares at it for a long moment. His hand drifts to the edge of his helmet, aimless and lost. When you touch him again he snaps back, standing up quickly.

“I have to make some preparations for tomorrow,” he squeezes out, taking a half step back. His movements are sluggish, quickening only when he strides away.

“Thank you, Mando,” you call as he mounts the ladder. He gives a nod, tugging his gloves on before climbing the ladder into the cockpit. The child hovers by your side, looking up at his retreating father figure before reaching up to you.

“Been a bit of a day, hasn’t it Bean?” you say, lifting the child out of the pram. The warmth of his touch lingers, the images of his hands holding yours only a blink away.

The baby yawn is all the answer you need.

In the cockpit, Din leans down and braces his hands on the console, trying to slow his pounding heart. He’s been inside you, why was letting you touch his bare hands more intimate? He’d had to cover them up to stop reliving every caress, the way your eyes roamed along the only bit of skin he’d allowed you to observe. His face burns with self-consciousness but also the thrill of your exploration.

But as much as that all excited him, it was that final moment that drove his heart into his throat and made him feel lightheaded. Because he held your hand and looked at the burn - an injury he caused, however inadvertently - and let a fleeting thought grow wild in his mind.

Kiss it better.

Something his mother would do with a scraped knee or a bruised finger.

Kiss it better.

Those three words grew from a whisper to an ocean roar as he considered how your skin would feel under his lips. If he could lift the helmet just enough to touch but not for you to see.

That wouldn’t risk his Creed.

Yes it would.

He crushed the desire down, left you behind a little more confused than before, but safe and cared for in his ship. Safe with the child and with him.

You could never hurt me.

You’re right. Din would never, could never bring harm to you. But some days, like today, he can see how much harm you could do to him. With your bright smile and open heart and patience, you could destroy the Mandalorian.

But from those ashes, Din Djarin could grow.

A flashing light grounds him as he flips on a holo-message. A halo of messy curls and a sassy expression glows to life, the dull scrapes and whines of a working hanger in the background. Din cocks his head as the message plays.

“Mando! Long time no see! Not that I miss that hunk of junk ship of yours. Well, I do miss the credits it brings in. Anyway, I’ve got a lead for you. You wanted those, right? About the Mandalorians? Got a client who may know where some are. The info’s not for free, I’ll fill you in when you get here. Bit of a time crunch, though, so you better shift that rust bucket into hyperspeed. You’re her last hope.”

Peli Motto’s image fizzles into static, and a blanket of duty settles back on Mando’s shoulders. A mission long paused. An outcome he comes to dread more with each passing day. A galaxy that spun on without the three of you for a long while.

But there is much work still to be done.

END

Episode 11 of the I Think of You Series