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ctrlsatoru · 4 months

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DIABLO CH2 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

content: techbro billionare!toji, reader is gojo's little sister, age gap (toji's in his mid 30s, reader in mid 20s) kind of ooc toji, suggestive themes, no smut yet. protective!toji and also asshole!toji. warnings: 18+ only. suggestive themes. explicit language, references to being roofied. toji being toji. minors do not interact. pairing: toji fushiguro x afab gojo!reader word count: 8k tags: @liitlesushi a/n: ok so this might be longer than I anticipated and also semi slow burn. it'll be worth it, trust. summary: It's Gojo's anniversary party, you're doomed by your Satoru's whims, haunted by your father's scheming, and now a devilish third player appears: Toji Fushiguro. And he's here to collect.

Toji opens his eyes, manually focusing on the ceiling above him. The strange pattern spun in slow circles, and then it settled.

This bed is not his own. The pillow feels too flat under his head, which is throbbing painfully. He feels like a dozen horses ran over him. A voice, distinctly female, unnecessarily loud, makes him wince and curse under his breath.

“... If I agree, and I haven’t, you’re not picking my outfit. Know that .”

This is unlike him. He can’t remember a thing. The one good thing about not recognizing the bed is that he’s not gonna have to deal with a strange woman in his place–

“Because your conception of what’s socially acceptable to wear to a formal function is not tethered to earthly reality, Satoru.”

Oh.

It’s you .

You’re on the phone, standing by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight casts off your ring like white laser when you turn, blinding him.

“Mornin’” he croaks, pushing himself to sit against rough the rattan bed frame. The room moves from side to side, like you’re both stuck in a boat, and not in one of Haibara's many guest rooms. It’s all coming back to him, the party, watching you and your boyfriend’s fight, the deck–

“Oh. Hey, buddy.” you say idly, looking over your shoulder as you sit on the other side of the bed, your ring-covered finger tying some slutty sandals around your ankles like some kind of shibari countess. The strap of your top falls as you lean over. Toji’s buffering.

His ears must be fucking deceiving him.

Buddy?

The fuck?

He can’t for the life of him remember anything after the deck. You’re zooming through the room, texting furiously. On top of that, you look fresh and plump like lettuce out of the fridge, don’t you? But he had to blink several times to break through the layer of crust around his eyelashes, and his body is telling him you two fucked like animals for the past 12 hours.

Or he spent the weekend in the trenches.

He feels wildly unprepared for this morning after, and it’s a just fucking relief that you’re keeping your distance until you start tap tap taping your little heels to the door.

“The hell do you think you’re goin’?”

You stop, surveying him over your shoulder like he’s coming close to being some sort of inconvenience.

And then the corner of your lips lifts, the mole on your cheek jumping with the motion.

“It was fun.” Your phone starts ringing again. The sound drills a hole into Toji’s temples. “Too bad that it never happened.”

With that, you’re gone.

You abandon Toji with a bunch of unconscious people scattered around the house and Haibara, who’s still young enough to not know what a real hangover is. The kid will just not shut up about some hardcore surveillance system he had installed around the house recently after he noticed someone was stealing from his Kaws collection.

Toji listens to the whole story, sipping on the cold pressed green juice Haibara made himself, simply refusing to use the crystal straw, and makes a promise to himself. You’ll pay for whatever it is you did to him.

Even if he doesn’t remember what that was. Yet. It doesn’t matter. You’ll pay anyway. Nicely.

“Say, kid.” he asks Haibara, licking the green foam off his lips and putting down the empty glass on the counter. The juice tasted just like it looks, which is cow puke, but his mind is somewhere else. Machinating. Scheming.

“This system of yours, does it cover the whole house?”

Here’s the thing.

There are many things Toji isn’t.

For starters, he’s not easily bothered by most things, a trait that people usually mistake for a personal attack, like it has anything to do with them and isn’t just the hand that he was dealt. People assume others, in this case him, think about them more than he can be bothered to.

He’s not a control junkie either, not anymore. He left those days behind.

Control isn’t something he needs to worry about anymore. He has plenty of it. If something gets out of line, it gets back on it automatically. That’s just the way life is. Sure, he had his vices back then; lactose, gambling, adrenaline, women.

But the thing is, you learn a few things with age, right? Shiny things lose their sparkle. The excitement wears off. Nothing is safe from becoming predictable, not even the rush of hearing bone crack under his fists or the juiciest, tightest pussy presented to him on a tray.

And this sheds a light on the fact that he’s way past the age of being pussy whipped.

“You cannot be serious.”

So why the fuck is Shiu Kong looking at him like that?

And who does he think he is standing next to him, all up on his screen, and mind you, only alive thanks to the fact that Toji has lost some edge from his gory days?

He shuts down the tab like a kid who got caught watching porn on the family PC.

“You listen to me. Don’t you ever fucking do that–”

“The Gojo kid?”

Toji’s eyebrows dig into his face because you’re certainly not a kid. No. Kids don’t look like that. Kids most certainly don't go around passing people horse tranquilizer or whatever the fuck it is you fed him with that glossy mouth of yours.

And that’s what you did. That’s as far as he can remember.

“Is that what’s been–”

“I’m gonna stop you before you say some dumb shit and piss me off any further.”

Shiu’s been pestering him for days now about the upcoming iteration and the threat of several deadlines. Toji has been brushing it off. No nagging back or shutting down his complaints.

Somehow, his silence only pushes the stick further up Shiu’s ass. Like he’s his sexually neglected wife of 40 years.

Truth is, he hasn’t given the dynamic with his CFO/best friend much thought lately. Why would he when there’s an infuriating, mouthy woman with siren eyes that somehow look down at him even when he’s about two heads taller than–

You.

“–stalking the poor girl on the desktop version of Instagram.”

Toji returns to the conversation. “I don’t stalk people. I’m a grown-ass man.”

And you’re not a girl either. You’re something else. He hasn’t figured what yet.

“Mm. So am I.” Shiu says, still standing there with his hands in his pockets, head tilting down at some forgotten paperwork on his desk. “And even I know looking at someone’s profile on a desktop computer is a concerning level of unemployment, which you’re not at. Yet.”

Toji’s not that thick-headed. He knows he’s been distracted, but he can’t just brush that night at Haibara's away.

You pop up in his head unannounced and make yourself comfortable, rent fucking free. Like a little squatter. In the middle of meetings, when he's driving back home, at the gym, when he’s at the club with a gorgeous woman on his lap.

It’s becoming so frustrating that he’s started to despise you for real, and not just the made-up version of yourself he created when he met you and decided you were an ill-mannered bunny that he wanted to toy with for a bit.

In this scenario, of course, he was a wolf.

No one ever talks about how sometimes the bunny knocks the wolf out and bolts the morning after.

Days pass and his mind is blank of memories, no glimpses, no time-stopping sex flashbacks, just a bunch of strange vivid dreams about you that would make any mid-century french cult film director weep and the Soviet Union recoil. They distract him to the point of him nearly knocking the front teeth off his trainer’s face, or spilling orange juice all over his clothes this morning.

Toji’s positive you didn’t fuck. Sure, you had a bit of bed hair, but your face lacked the I-was-fucked-by-the-Toji-Fushiguro glaze he's used to seeing in women and takes pride in. You looked perfectly fine, collected enough to be giving your dimwit brother hell on the phone and fuck with him before disappearing.

It was fun.

He was also wearing underwear, and you walked just fine. No wobbly legs or tilted hips. No bruises on your neck or scratches on his back–

Too bad that it never happened.

You had shared a bed, that much he knew. He caught a whiff of your perfume after you left. He had cursed you then, feeling like a pathetic fucking dog sniffing up some pillows, but now the confusion and annoyance faded to a curiosity that extends past the time in his head he gives to the best lays he’s had.

So today he put up an incognito tab and looked you up hoping to find something annoying, corny or pathetic about you to make you unappealing, and somehow he landed on your personal IG profile.

You posted a set of pictures three days ago of meaningless corners at some random location. The fourth picture is a snap of what looks like your desk. There’s a polaroid of you and your fiancé next to a stack of notebooks.

You’re standing in front of him, leaning your head to the side with his chin resting nice and cozy on your shoulder, his nose pressed against your neck. Toji's lip curled in distaste.

He found your twitter account as well, because why not? And found nothing of particular interest. You stick to promoting your work and that's the end of it. Other people in your circle, on the other hand…

Toji went through a twitter phase not too long ago. He found endless amusement in pissing people off with less than 140 characters and replying to those who enjoyed his work. He uninstalled the app the second he found people selling mugs with screencaps of his tweets.

Safe to say the decision made Shiu’s and the PR team quite happy.

He’s out of the loop with the overall discourse, but it’s clear that you have farmed your own dedicated micro following online and your boyfriend is some kind of A24 flowerboy on the rise.

Toji heard of him before meeting you. His newfound success is the byproduct of his dreamy looks, a melancholic breakout role and the occasional activism, something that's been often questioned due to his relationship with you, and the consequential ties to your family.

Both of you, as a couple, act like viagra for a very specific, insufferable and presumptuous crowd. They’re hyper-focused on the fact that you haven’t posted him on your stories for weeks, that Hiroki allegedly deleted some posts with you on Instagram, and that he's been caught dreamily staring at his female co-star during press conferences.

Why people choose to waste their time with their noses up stranger's ass is something Toji does not understand, life being as short as it is.

“Please tell me that’s not her twitter account,” Shiu says. Toji inhales sharply. “This is more pathetic than I thought. No wonder you haven’t gotten anything done in days.”

He kills the rest of the tabs, spitting over his shoulder “I can’t very well do my fucking job if you’re breathing over my fucking shoulder, can I? You know how I fucking feel about people standing behind me when I’m trying to get shit done.”

“Twitchy .” Shiu notes and takes his sweet time walking around his desk, plopping down on the chair.

“Yep, take a seat, why don’t you.” Toji grumbles.

Shiu drums his fingers against his knee, a sign that he’s craving a cigarette, surveying him.

“So I’m gonna take a leap of faith here and assume this is some kind of executive-level scheming, and you’re just exploiting a vulnerability.”

Toji’s face twists like he sucked on a lemon at the mere thought of it.

“You know damn well the day I do business with that old cunt will be the day your ex-wife comes clean about what she did at that yoga retreat in Bali and asks for forgiveness.”

“Figures. So?”

“You’d probably take her back. Fucking cuck.”

“She really got under your skin, didn’t she?” Shiu notes, unbothered by the unprovoked attack.

Toji sniffs, comes down from the spike of anger, and finds a more comfortable position on his chair.

“She owes me.”

Shiu leans his head back, mildly amused.

“You adding usury to your ledger now?”

“Not money.”

“Alright then, I don’t want to know.”

Lies. But Shiu knows better than to push too much. Toji’s the type to hoard details not because he’s afraid of compromise, just to be an asshole.

It’s refreshing to see him almost… desperate. If you were anything like your brother, Shiu thought, you might be just the perfect little karma agent for his best friend.

“Fine. You get that business sorted. You’re no use to me if you’re distracted.”

“You worry about sorting your own business and I’ll worry about mine, Kong.”

Shiu stands up, fighting back a smile until he opens the door, stopping at the sight of Toji’s assistant about to knock.

“What is it?” Toji asks, scratching his eyebrow, already exhausted.

Keiko looks down at the tablet in her hands, hesitant.

“The team at Gojo Corp has reached out, sir. It seems Gojo Shinobu would like to invite you to dinner next week.”

The look on Shiu’s face as he slowly turns to face him is priceless. Toji rests his elbows on his desk, a sinister smile pulling at his scar.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“Interesting indeed.” Shiu agrees. Keiko eyes them skeptically, because her boss smiling like that cannot mean anything good for society, or her sleep schedule.

“I better get to work then, eh?”

“Anytime would be nice, yes.” Shiu says, turning to Keiko. “I guess I’ll finally find out about Bali, then.”

So you might be thinking, look at him backtracking like that.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s nothing like that.

Toji’s sitting across from Gojo Shinobu, the man, the myth, the bigot himself, with absolutely no intention of making business with him.

He’s just sniffing the territory.

In person and up close, Shinobu's a disturbing aged mix of you and your brother: the hair and the uncanny valley eyes went to him, but the eyebrows, the slope of his nose, it’s you. Even the handshake, firm and tight like a war general, reminds Toji of you.

Gojo Shinobu’s old as the fucking bible. His eyes are graying, eyelids sagging but it's clear that grandpa's still sharp.

For the record, Toji doesn’t like the old fart. He represents many things that he despises about older generations, and his business model is one of the many reasons for the country living in the past, but he’s not about to get political.

Not liking Gojo Shinobu doesn't mean he has no respect for him, so he’s honest and immediately shuts down the proposal of Gojo Corp. being involved in future Diablo releases.

Dignified, not happy, but never one to accept a no, Shinobu just smiles, brushes his beard like a Ghibli villain, and switches the subject.

Alcohol involved and pretending to put business talk aside, the conversation flows easily. Your father has a surprisingly entertaining dry sense of humor. Toji supposes you stop giving a shit when you have one foot in the grave, he also imagines the borderline cruel wit had something to do with your mother getting knocked up with you at the peak of her career as an actress and sex symbol.

“I hear you have a kid.”

“Two.” Toji corrects, remembering that he’s supposed to pick up Tsumiki in an hour. Ballet class. She’s getting rather serious about it. “A girl and a boy.”

“Ah, good balance.” Shinobu nods with a knowing smile. “They listen to you? How old are they?”

“15 and 16. And they do.”

They don’t, because they’re teenagers, not soldiers. Megumi and Tsumiki are good kids, certainly better than he was at their ages, they don’t need him ordering them around, watching their every step.

“Dangerous, dangerous age.” your father hums. “You make sure they do that, save yourself the bitterness in the future.”

Damn. Alright. Toji lifts his eyebrows and leans back, listening. That’s all it takes.

“You’d be surprised. You get a little too light handed, and a perfect sapling can get ruined just like that.” he snaps his fingers. “It’s harder to straighten them up as they grow up.”

Toji takes a long, good sip, fighting back a chuckle. He has no concerns when it comes to who or how people choose to fuck, but the blatant homophobia is always amusing.

“And then they gang up on you.” Shinobu scoffs. Toji can imagine you and your brother scheduling a year worth of publicly terrorizing Shinobu. “No wife? You raising them on your own?”

“I am.”

“Good man. It’s hard, honest work. Make sure you look for a good one to settle with, not all of them are in touch with their motherly instinct.”

His assistant comes in, tells him someone has arrived, and Shinobu makes a noise with his nose or mouth that reminds Toji of an exasperated horse.

“Take the advice from me. You see–”

He leans over the table, brushes his beard.

“If, and I am not wishing this upon you, your daughter comes of age and– after years of picking up and dropping all sorts of interests with no interest in commitment,"

He pauses, chuckling humorlessly.

"–comes to the conclusion that she wants to waste her life playing with cameras and hanging out with gender-bending creatives,”

The word is said with so much despise Toji feels like there should be a new phobia for it.

“You have to sit down and choose what’s more important; letting her waste her potential away, or being in her good graces. More often than not it can’t be both, that’s just how it is.”

Perhaps Toji hasn’t given you enough credit. You could’ve ended up a lot worse than you are. Knocking him out was nothing. You could’ve chopped him up, kept his dismembered body in your fridge, and he’d see where you're coming from.

“But when she tells you she wants to let some vulture into your family and make him blood, you take matters into your own hands.” he nods firmly, like it’s Toji he’s mad at, and finally looks over his shoulder, nostrils flared.

Asaya Hiroki approaches the table. Jetlagged eyes, tail between his legs.

“Fushiguro, this is Asaya Hiroji, my daughter’s boyfriend.”

Hiroki looks like he has half a mind to correct him on either the name or relationship status but he’s too fond of keeping his head attached to his body.

Hiroki’s pretty. Toji can’t compete in that department. He looks like he puts sugar and milk on his tea and smashes the china on the floor when he’s told he can’t have more, like a psychotic puppy.

In other words, you make sense together.

You like to look at pretty things so your boyfriend’s cute. No harm in acknowledging that, though he remembers Tsumiki mentioning that when noses dip down like that it means there’s some kind of prosthetic.

And if you pay attention, really read between the lines of his 90’s film heartthrob face, something’s off with him, isn’t it?

But what does he care? A nose job is no crime. Hiroki has other flaws to offer. For example, he has a rather shitty way of hiding the fact that he’s doing something he’s not supposed to.

Perhaps, even, going behind someone’s back.

And the guy calls himself an actor.

Satisfied with the results of what he thought would be a waste of an afternoon, he excuses himself. He’ll be just in time to get to Tsumiki’s class before it’s done and have the other kids’ moms and nannies ogle at him. Tsumiki hates it when he does that.

“Don’t be a stranger, Fushiguro. I’d like to keep this channel between us open. I hope to see you at the anniversary party.”

“Pardon?” Toji stops, surprised.

“The company’s anniversary party this Friday,” Shinobu says, like it’s obvious. “I’d like you to meet my son, and well, you’re already acquainted with my daughter.”

Hiroki’s round bobba eyes follow him all the way to the grand crystal doors. Toji has the distinct feeling that he was just part of Shinobu taking matters into his own hands.

He’s both disturbed and impressed. He never mentioned meeting you, and he’s pretty damn sure that this detail didn’t slip from your lips either.

Every year the company throws an anniversary party, and you and your brother and every high-level employee have to attend and listen to your father’s rendition of why diesel was better and how you’re all wimps for being born after the extinction of smallpox.

The one year that you didn’t attend, because you were stuck in Norway with a canceled flight, your father spent exactly 11 months reminding you of it like you had any say in the weather conditions of the North Sea.

Tonight might be his last speech as chairman, since he’s about to step down from his position after growing health concerns. The company has gone all out; live music, huge venue, ice sculptures, people are dancing. They've put so much effort your father's probably more annoyed than anything.

Suguru approaches you at the empty family table and sits down next to you with a knowing smile, like he's thinking the same thing as you while you're watching people waltz. He’s looking as handsome as ever, you just miss the bangs framing his face.

“So, when do you think he’s going to publicly execute the medical staff that diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s?”

“Probably after he declares war on Gretha Thunberg.”

You’re wary. He might have everyone convinced, but it’s not like him to step down quietly. Your instincts are telling you to expect shenanigans tonight, and they’ve never once failed you.

“Seems too good to be true, don’t you think?” you say, eyeing the crowd. “I don’t know how Satoru’s so cool about it.”

Suguru sighs, craning his neck. “I wouldn’t say he is.”

And that’s when your brother slams his palm on the table, making you jump in your seat. He leans over the two of you, eyeing the room like it’s the school cafeteria and he’s the king of prom.

And he kind of is. Today your father will officially name him his successor, so the sour look in his face makes you and Suguru share a look.

“Do you see Hideo Kojima on steroids hanging out with Nanamin? I guess next year we’ll have the Yakuza on the jazz band.”

You laugh, only half weirded out. Suguru looks up at your brother, confused.

“Who? ”

“Toji Fushiguro. ” Satoru drawls, icily amused, and your neck turns so fast Suguru worries it’ll break. “And his underling.”

Remember your intuition? Red sirens start ringing in your head, and the edges of your vision start staining in with a deep burgundy color.

What on earth is he–

“Dad invited him.” Satoru says, still not sitting down, still scanning the room with deadly eyes. You feel the urge to look around and pinpoint his exact location, but you wait for him to point with his chin. “They’ve been seeing each other. Mimosas and manicures, I heard.”

You find him across the room, several tables between you, just over the elevated candles in the middle of your table, talking with Nanami and some man you don’t recognize.

You fight the weak but sensible urge to look away when he suddenly turns to your table and lifts his glass in your direction, like he felt the shit talking from a distance.

The room is vast, but you recognize the feeling of his eyes looking straight at you. Your brother is too occupied cursing under his breath while he mockingly lifts his glass to notice you gulping.

“You think dad’s hitting that?”

You try not to gag. “You’re sick.”

“Cause someone will owe me a loooot of money if that’s the case.” he taunts. You both placed a bet on whether your father is bisexual or not years ago. “Look at him, standing there like he’s threatening to swipe all the fertile wives in the room. Freak.”

You snort. A bit of your goes down the wrong pipe, Suguru helpfully pats your back.

“You better hold on to yours then.”

“Nah, he’s locked in. Ain’t cha , babes?”

You roll your eyes, feeling Suguru shake his head with a lovesick smirk. Your brother replies with a wink, lazily dropping his weight on the chair next to you, like you need to be in the middle of all that.

You lean back, stretching your neck and stranding up. “Ok, you can back up a little. It’s embarrassing enough to be matching with you.”

Satoru stretches his arm over your now empty seat. They’ve been purposefully keeping a distance, him and Suguru, people assume it’s for appearances' sake, but you know them better than that. They’re playing some game tonight, and you’d rather pluck out your lashes one by one than learn the details.

“And I distinctly remember asking you to stop feeding into those fucked up theories online about me terrorizing you as a child, but you had to take those creepy family portraits with the heads cut off. We don’t always get what we want, sis.”

And don’t you know that. Tonight was stressing enough without 6’ something with a lip scar, ever so subtly following with his eyes as you make your way around the party. Not too obvious for an outsider to notice, but just enough to make the exposed hairs at the back of your neck stand up.

You’re a little too energized. Like too many shots of espresso and Ritalin after an allnighter.

It makes no sense to start feeling threatened by Toji Fushiguro tonight, when he’s in your territory, but you do.

But you weren’t raised under the same roof as Gojo Shinobu and Gojo Satoru to be so easily intimidated, so you mingle, let people stop you for quick, boring catch ups and questions about being excited about your brother and what-have-you-been-up -tos, even those whose faces or names you can’t recall.

You smile, entertain and even ask people about their whereabouts, until you’re out of social battery for the rest of the season.

“Took you long enough.” you say, making a point of not looking at him.

His voice comes closer than you expected or feel sane about. Smooth and dark, in through your left ear.

“Patience is a virtue, haven’t you heard?”

His presence is more unnerving than you geared up for, and just like the first time, a shiver cuts through you. Something urges you to move and take a step sideways, out of the magnetic pull around him.

You finally take him in. Tailored tuxedo, slightly tousled black hair that you know for a fact is unfairly soft, exuding confidence. Never in your life had you encountered someone as infuriating and intoxicating as him.

“So, are you my new stepdaddy?”

A slap to his face would’ve stunned him less. Hell, he might’ve enjoyed it. You don’t give him a chance. His pants have no business getting tighter from that fucking question. Toji buffers again.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He hums, hands in his pockets.

“Depends.”

You tilt your head.

“You into that kind of thing?”

You scoff, dismissive as always, but suspiciously purse your lips to one side before taking a sip of your drink. Perhaps gatekeeping a chuckle.

Head held high, nose up in the air. Toji takes your profile in. The light bouncing off the high points of your face, the deliberate, doll-like curl of your lashes, the soft slope of your neck and the dips and curves of your shoulders. Your dress painted a nice image in his head of your body from afar, so he refrains from going past your collarbones like the honorable man that he is.

“What? No backtalk? I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t expect to see you any time soon.”

“Like I said, patience is a virtue.”

You roll your eyes and laugh dismissively. “You don’t believe that.”

“Bold assumption.” he counters. “I wanted to see how long you’d last entertaining guests, but then your right eye started twitching and I suppose took some pity on you.”

“Aren’t you an empath.”

“Even to those who don’t deserve it.”

Your chin quivers, but you keep the smile to yourself with a quick sigh. Toji could look down at the way your chest rises and drops, but he’s not in a rush here.

“Why are you here?”

“Is that any way to speak to a guest? I’m sure Shinobu raised you better than that.”

Name dropping your father gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Why are you here?” you repeat, enunciating slowly, but the words you want to say are don't fuck with me right now.

But you’re too precious for him to deny himself the pleasure. Not when your eyebrows tremble like that.

“Your father was kind enough to invite me. It would’ve been rude to turn him down.”

“You’re not here to entertain him. He’s stepping down soon and you can’t stand him.”

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t respect him. Why else would I waste a perfectly nice friday night surrounded by a bunch of suck ups? Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

Your squint at him, like you don’t believe he has the guts to say it.

“Did you perhaps assume I’m here for… you?”

Toji wonders if your silence has anything to do with the white haired manchild looking your way for the second time.

“We do have something to settle. You owe me something, if I remember correctly.”

“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Nice try. An explanation, does that ring any bells?”

Your head snaps up to him, the wisps of hair hanging from the sides of your face flow with the movement. The tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow catch the light, if he couldn’t see your face this close he’d mistake that for sweat.

He’s reminded of how you looked at the deck in contrast to the sight of you right now. A sheer layer of sweat was covering your skin, your plump thighs spilling on the wood surface, he'd kept his hands in his phone and held on to his own sanity.

“What is there to explain? Nothing happened.”

Toji tilts his head. “Lying is a bad, bad thing,”

“We didn’t do anything, Fushiguro.” you insist, lowering your voice. Toji looks over your head, bored with your attempts at gaslighting. “If you–”

“You wanna dance?”

The nonchalant act drops, you unconsciously lean back and open your mouth like there’s not enough air in the room. Toji smiles at your hesitation, cold and challenging.

“It’s in your best interest.”

“How?”

“Because the old cunt that kept kissing your hand earlier is coming our way and I’m about to leave you alone with him” he lies and you don’t dare look over your shoulder to check, not wanting to risk making eye contact with the slimmy fucker.

It’s a bad idea. Being near Toji is a bad idea, dancing with him is the equivalent of putting on a vest bomb. Your father is somewhere in the room and your brother might act aloof but not a single interaction of his interest is going unnoticed.

Putting your hand in his is a bad, bad idea. The worst. But you suspect figuring out Toji Fushiguro’s intentions will take some compromise on your part, so you don’t hesitate when you grab his hand.

With his arm around you, he's reminded of a particularly striking dream he had about you days ago. The first thing he did when he woke up from it was open his app notes and write two words, perverse angel.

Now he knows it was actually deja vu; you close your eyes for a bit, the breathing image of reminiscing. This isn’t your first time in his arms.

The melody gets rather slow. You hold yourself with all the poise of a reluctant little heiress, defiant but serene as you look at him, arm resting over his.

While he’s growing quite fond of the sight of your neck exposed, he’d rather find the main pin and let your hair down. Let you get comfortable, not taut like you are in his hold.

“You look like a tall pint of guinness.”

Toji could do this all night. Just watch your expression drop, annoyance pinch at your temples.

One ankle betrays you, but he’s not about to let that happen. The arm around your waist keeps you steady, moving along with him. His grip is firm, but not overpowering.

“You’re an asshole.” You say like you just discovered it tonight.

He’s right. You know it and you hate that he described it so right. You’re dressed in a black, sleek and form fitting dress that goes down to your ankles and the top is made of an off-shoulder white band that wraps around your shoulders.

Toji laughs with that shark grin of his, his scar stretching.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He adds helpfully, hand coming up to straighten the white fabric around your left shoulder. The air turns colder with the absence of his arm, but it returns to the spot in no time. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, granted, but it’s a lovely dress. Perfect for a night at the pub, watching the game with the boys.”

“I think I’ll pass on the unsolicited fashion advice, thanks.”

“Come on. You can never go wrong with a red dress.” he counters, eyes dropping briefly. You wrinkle your nose, he takes offense. “What?”

“Not my style” you shrug.

“Now that’s just tragic.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to wear one to your funeral.”

The couples closest to you turn with different looks of controlled distaste. Toji laughs heartily, head thrown back and everything.

“I’ll hold you to that. I might just return just to see it with my own eyes.”

“Not sure doors open both ways in hell, but hey, more power to you.”

“So you wanna hear my theory?”

You sigh. “Nothing happened, Toji. I mean it.”

What a terrible liar you are.

“I think you had a little alcohol in you, were fresh off a fight with your boyfriend, and just couldn’t help yourself because you have a thing for problems.”

You nod sarcastically. “And of course, you’re the problem in question.”

“Well, yes.” he blinks. “And also, you don’t have half the self control you believe you have. So you freaked out and put me to sleep to stop yourself from doing something you thought you might regret.”

This is how it was. You had forgotten the rush, despite replaying time and time again your past conversations. Interacting with Toji Fushiguro is like playing five finger fillet, thrilling and grueling and high risk, but it’s a whole other thing with people around you. You can’t let up, all your senses need to be on guard.

“Aren’t you too old to be throwing a fit because I gave you more than you could handle?”

Toji’s eyes dig into yours, a hint of amusement and something else.

“Here’s a piece of advice: choose your words very, very carefully. They might come back to haunt you. ”

“It never happened. And it won’t.” You repeat with a cool tone. The pulse on your wrist drums against his own.

“I have to say, you’re a better actress than he is.” he mentions. “But denial does not suit you. We’re gonna have to do something about that or things will get very awkward real soon.”

“Actually I think we should focus on your rejection issues first.”

“I’m not a problem for you to solve, sweetheart.” he chuckles darkly, eyes knowing, never leaving yours.

Years of practicing the art of bullshitting in your household could not help you deny the fact that you're maddeningly, disturbingly attracted to him.

“What you see is what you get. And you could, if you stopped being a little coward.”

He makes you turn effortlessly, that’s when you see him. Hiroki. The words die on your lips, your stomach drops, all resolve wavers. He releases you and your arms hang limp on your sides.

He licks his scar and smirks sideways at you, eyes twinkling. You could push him off the roof of the building.

“You should fix your face, angel, ‘cause I won’t behave if he wants to pick a fight.”

You’ve always liked Nanami Kento. He’s one of your father’s closest, youngest and less... spineless advisors, the pathological victim of your brother's pestering, and always impeccably polite to you, sweet even.

But right now, when he’s introducing Toji Fushiguro and his friend whose name you didn't catch to Suguru and Hiroki, you’d love to hit him in the head with a hammer.

At least your brother is nowhere to be seen.

"Pleasure to meet you." Suguru says.

Hiroki has his arm around your waist. He's not looking at you. You know what the dimpling of his cheeks mean.

“We’ve met before actually, haven’t we?” Toji turns to him, brow burying into his face like he’s not too sure, shaking his finger in the air. “Correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t remember too well.”

Your heart is stuck in your neck, threatening to crawl out of your mouth. Suguru gives you an odd look.

“We have.” You don’t see the look on Hiroki’s face when he replies, but his tone is controlled.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

Shiu Kong says something, and Suguru responds another thing. It's all noise to you.

You grab a drink from a passing tray and the corner of Toji’s mouth tilts, his attention on Suguru’s conversation. You feel irrationally mad, like slapping him, but then he’d probably fix his jaw and look at you like you should've gone rougher and–

There’s something seriously wrong with you. Officially.

You grab Hiroki’s hand and pull him with you.

He’s confused, but follows you nonetheless. “Can you just wait for a–”

“We should ditch the party.” You tell him, but he doesn’t agree like he usually would and grabs your arm, stopping you at once, brown eyes searching yours.

“You’re not even gonna ask why I’m here?”

“My dad invited you?” you reply, confused by the offended look on his face.

“No. Why would he? You know how I feel about this kind of thing.”

Now you’re confused. You smell his breath and notice his flushed cheeks. “But you’re here.”

“Wow. Try to contain the excitement, why don’t you.” he scoffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fly across continents and interrupt whatever the hell that wa–”

He’s starting to raise his voice, drawing attention, usually composed demeanor nowhere to be seen. You catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“You’ve been drinking.”

His face drops. The volatile look in his eyes is not something you can deal with tonight.

You’re forever grateful for the woman announcing your father’s speech. Hiroki’s expression clears up, but he gives you a look that says you’ll resume the conversation later, soon, tonight.

Then he pulls you to his side and leads you closer to the podium.

Your father looks into the crowd with piercing blue eyes. You, like you have for the past few months, have a bad feeling. Like if you were to take a picture right now, it would later be displayed as the moment before hell broke loose.

“... And as many of you know, the time has come for me to step back and allow a new generation to lead us forward."

The crowd hangs on his every word. You scan the room for the 10th time, looking for a head full of white hair.

Hiroki notices your unease and looks down at you, rubbing your arm. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t see Satoru.”

Your father continues, voice unwavering.

"It is with great confidence and optimism that I announce my successor, a person who embodies the values and vision of our company."

You finally find Satoru at the back, he’s with Suguru and Nanami. Waving his arms around him, hair a mess, pissed.

"Please join me in welcoming our future CEO, Noritoshi Kamo."

The room bursts into applause, but before his words can fully register in your mind, a sudden, sharp crack echoes through. For a split second collective confusion takes over, and then it turns to full blown panic.

You watch your father duck under the podium. Your legs move on their own.

Gunshots.

People are running, crawling and diving for cover all around. Tables are overturned, glass shatters. It's all white noise.

"Get down!" someone shouts.

Something slams into you.

Toji picks you up from the ground. Exit located, going for it.

“My dad," you protest with wide eyes, hastily trying to look over your shoulder. Toji has half a mind to throw you over his shoulder.

“He’s fine.” he assures, hand covering your head, pushing it down.

Security sprung into action in no time at the first gunshot, formed a barrier around your father and hurried him down the stage. Toji saw it with his own eyes right before he caught you running like a tweaking baby reindeer, right before some piece of shit shoved you to the ground.

You keep protesting, resisting, trying to go in the opposite direction, so Toji has no choice but to lift you up and thrown you over his shoulder.

A colorful string of panicked and enraged expletives follow. You’re livid, fists slamming into his back without mercy. Toji pays no mind, pushing through the crowd, making his way to the emergency exit.

He doesn't put you down until you're both alone in the emptiness of some sterile corridor. And you're still rambling.

“Shut up for a second, will you?"

That does it. You're flabbergasted, opening your mouth again in full Karen fashion.

Toji doesn’t care for it. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” you reply furiously, fist tight on your sides. You catch your breath, step down from your heels and start to speed walk down the corridor. “I have to find my father– I need to– Satoru–”

“They’re safe.” Toji catches up to you in two or three long steps. “Gojo’s security doesn’t fuck around. I mean– yeah, they did fuck up letting a guy bring a gun inside the premises, but they were quick with it.”

Your nostrils flare. Toji hears voices at the corner and pushes you behind him. He sees a couple of guys in black in the reflection of a fire extinguisher cabinet. Dressed in black, wired ears, walking like they know they might lose their jobs tonight.

“Hey, I got the heiress here. She’s looking for her old man.”

They escort you both, eyes hopeful, looking at you like you're their ticket out of unemployment. Your father and his people are gathered in some conference room one floor above. The altercation can be heard from outside.

“It’s for the best. You're too out of it to see it now, but you will.”

The room is packed. Your father, his disciples, your brother and his boyfriend, a very uncomfortable looking couple of cops. A woman approaches you, asking you if you're ok, but your eyes and attention at stuck on your father and your brother dueling for the whole room to see.

Your brother stops his pacing and turns to face Shinobu.

“No, that's not it. I see it, I see you. You’re too prideful to let me clean up after you.”

Getting caught in a family brawl was not in Toji’s plans tonight, but he stays put, watching you approach them with confusion all over your face. They don’t seem to notice you.

Gojo Shinobu levels his son with warning eyes, finger pointed at him. “Watch your words, Satoru. You don’t know what you’re talking about. My decision is final.”

He turns around, beckons the woman who approached you to him, but your brother is not done.

“You know I can do it." he says, your father stops and turns to him with death in his eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line. "You know I can. You just can’t stand the thought of me succeeding where you fucking failed.”

The look on your face says it all, you don’t know what your brother is talking about, and that you’re in no headspace to ask either. Satoru's not just pushing the limits, he just sped past them.

The words hit your father square in the chest.

Things are about to get bloody.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled, entitled brat who thinks he deserves everything handed to him on a silver platter. Look at what you’ve made of your life, acting like everything is a fucking game. You think I’ll let someone like you lead what I spent my life building?”

You turn to him, mouth falling open. “Jesus christ, dad.”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

Your brother’s face contorts in rage. He -predictably and unpredictably at the same time- lunges forward, fist aimed at your father’s face.

The room springs into action. Your father's guard dogs, the cops, Nanami Kento, you beat them all to it, but it’s ultimately Toji who gets to him.

In another situation, Toji would've found a comfortable seat for himself, perhaps a drink, and watch the havoc unfold. Let the son champion the decade long cause of union workers, environmental hippies, human rights, consumer advocacy activists alike, and punch the lights out of his father's smug face.

Then he'd spare no details for Shiu over a nice dinner.

But he grabs Gojo Satoru's arm instead, stopping him mid swing.

Blue, crazy and uncanny eyes land on him.

As a general rule, he avoids getting involved in other people's affairs, especially when it comes to love spats or family drama. However, when he says,

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

He means it.

Your father chuckles dismissively.

Your brother watches as he walks away, chest heaving up and down.

“Toru?”

Surely those two syllables did not come from you. If denial did not suit you, this uncertainty is just disturbing. It’s not right.

“What was that?” The question comes from the depths of your throat, voice nothing like Toji has heard before.

“Not now.” your brother snaps, turning around and walking out. Geto Suguru on his side.

Toji’s phone starts ringing, he tries to shake off the unsettling image of you before walking out of the room to answer.

It's Shiu. He's waiting outside, watching the police drag the gunman into a car, and wondering where he is. Toji sighs, comes to terms with the fact that he's on a streak of sorts tonight, because once again, against his own code, he tells him Shiu to leave without him, not answering any questions about his whereabouts.

People have dispersed with your father gone from the scene. Toji walks back inside, pocketing his phone, and finds you by a corner of the room. Your boyfriend has found you again, fuck knows where the came from.

He's pulling his phone out, ready to call Shiu and tell him he's on his way down, but you're shaking your head, running your hand through your hair like you forgot it's pulled back.

Hiroki gets in front of you when you try to walk away. You put your hands between you, like the last thing you need is someone coming close. You must've just said something nasty, hit a tender spot, because he freezes where he stands.

Toji drops his arm.

Once again you try to walk around him, but this time Hiroki gets a hold of your arms.

“Why?” he asks. You’re looking at him like he grew a second head. “We talked about it all the time, we always said–”

Toji's wandered close enough to catch your reply.

“What do you mean why? Have you lost your mind? I can’t leave Satoru alone right now, Hiroki.”

“In case you didn’t notice he just fucking left you here.” he snaps at you.

You flinch. Recoil. Push against his hold.

“Let go. I’m sorry but I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“You can’t? Right. You can’t. Tell me something, do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve had to put up with–”

You snarl at him, baring your teeth, bare feet stomping on the carpeted floor. Hiroki doesn’t even sway with your attempts, or flinch at the near animalistic way you look at him.

“I fucking don’t. And I don’t want to know. I didn’t ask you to be here tonight.” you reply, tone vicious, jaw locked. “You don’t get to hold it against me.”

The next thing Hiroki says pours out of his mouth like it’s a known fact, or an acceptable thing to say to the woman you’re going to marry.

“They don’t give a shit about you. You know that.”

By now, you two have caught Kento Nanami's attention. He wraps up whatever he's discussing with a couple of men and approaches the scene.

Hiroki does not let up, it's easy to see that he will not. He fixes his grip like you'll turn to liquid and spill between his fingers if he gets distracted.

You wince.

Toji walks over with four or five committed strides until he's between you two. The abrupt interruption and breach of personal space startles Hiroki, gives you the chance to step back.

“I think that’s enough.”

“Well, this is just great.”

Hiroki chortles, looking away like he’s collecting his thoughts. Biting his lips in contemplation. Nodding to himself once or twice. Toji regards him coldly, lets him gather his thoughts, or the guts to attempt something idiotic like, who knows, get himself pummeled to the ground.

“You know, I keep seeing you everywhere lately, why is that?”

Toji shrugs, uninterested and unintimidated. Hiroki won't get his face cut even if he deserves it, and it's not that Toji's against the idea of being a vessel for some sort of long time coming retribution. In fact, he'd be doing it just for his own satisfaction.

But the night should end now. He’s gonna have a hard time forgetting how you looked earlier when your moron of a brother stormed past you and left you standing there, in the middle of a room full of people that did not care about you, heels hanging from your hand, shoulders sagging.

Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna give the boy something to pop a vein about.

“Why don’t you take a guess, hm?”

Something snaps behind Hiroki's eyes. Toji's front row this time, and he confirms everything he suspected about him.

And he makes his mind up.

Hiroki looks at you, lids heavy, ears red. “Are you fucking him?”

How predictable. Toji looks at you over his shoulder, and somehow, you understand. It's barely noticeable, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave.” you sound a lot more like yourself this time. Only tired. Really exhausted. Like your feet are about to give out under you. Toji's not blind to the way you’ve been putting all your weight on one foot.

Hiroki pauses, realization lands on him that you’re talking to him, and not Toji.

“Get on a plane, fly back to Spain, and stay there for as long as you have to.”

“This is fucking unbelievable.”

“I disagree. Have a safe flight.”

Hiroki stomps out, shoulders past unfazed Nanami Kento, who looks at him like he’s a speck of dust. He approaches you, asks you if you're ok.

You ask about your dad, he tells you he’s currently talking to the police and insists on getting you a car and someone to accompany you. Says you should rest.

“I can take her home.” Toji says. You peer at him like that's the last thing you were expecting to hear, and then you nod.

Nanami watches Toji carefully, studying him intently. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Keep me posted?”

His features soften just a bit, he touches your shoulder, promises he will.

He doesn’t keep his eyes off Toji until you two make it to the door. Toji might find the guy agreeable, stick up his ass and all.

#toji fanfiction #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut

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winchester-co · 30 days

Text

Dean initially hates that Sam's lost some of his bulk, but he learns to love it.

At first it's just unhealthy. Sam finding it hard to eat during depressive episodes, then overdoing it during exercises to make a point. Functioning, but not well. Hitting the books to try and be useful, losing all sense of self-care because he just doesn’t think he matters in the grand scheme of things. His baby brother not necessarily chasing death, but baring his neck in the face of it. Scares the shit out of him.

Getting settled into the bunker is a game changer. They've got a functioning kitchen; Sam likes to prepare his own meals. He's sleeping more, because they've got a proper bed. The world keeps ending, but at least they've got somewhere safe to hide while they figure it out. Dean realises it's easier now to make him laugh.

Dean stops being able to count Sam's ribs when he catches him after a shower. Sam's starting to fill out his clothes again. He's healthier, they're both healthier, in a 'we do manual work for a living' way instead of a 'death is at our front door and all we can do is keep running' kind of way.

They're getting older. They're not going to look like they did when they were in their 20s. And not looking like they're in their 20s means that they're still alive: that they've beaten the odds.

And if it means it's easier to get his arms around Sam at night? He's not complaining.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #wincest #weirdcest #sam and dean #samdean #the codependency brothers strike again #sam and dean living to be old men together is something that can be so person #we were robbed #spn brainrot #spn meta #spnfandom

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punks-never-die205 · 3 months

Note

Kid and Killer catching you touching yourself...

Oh.

😳

Ohhhhhhh

😈

Oh yeah, wait - I - just hang on. Oh man.

Up first Kid

Cw: manual masturbation, being watched, sex, rough sex, mating press, cream pie, mdni

You don’t hear the door open, legs wide, fingers teasing your clit, on display. You didn’t really mean to have your pussy facing the door, you’d been wiggling around a little trying to find the best position.

You didn’t hear the door, but you did hear the heavy boot. Freezing in place you look over at Kid in shock. He grins, continuing toward you and the bed, grabbing the desk chair on his way.

“Keep going, Mouse.” He says, setting the chair down and sitting on it backward, arms draped across the back of it. “Don’t stop now.”

“I, uh…” you can feel the blood rushing through you. It’s not like he hasn’t watched before, but this was different somehow.

Kid’s voice drops, the tone he usually reserved for sessions slipping from his lips. “Keep. Going.”

The chill down your spine is delicious and you nod before continuing. You keep your legs open, eyes closed and head turned aside. You can feel his gaze on you and it’s making your pleasure build faster.

He doesn’t say anything, listening to your soft moans and quiet, warm gasps as the pleasure grew. The rush flows up from your clit, washing through your body and making your muscles shiver in delightful release.

You stay on the bed, legs open, and look at him through hooded eyes.

“Functional, huh?” He muses and you nod. The two of you had talked about masturbation before and you had admitted that it was functionally useful, but it didn’t compare to what he did.

You’d teased him at the time for “ruining” it for you.

“Let’s see how functional.” He steps away from the chair, pulling his belt off and freeing his cock that had been straining from behind his pants.

He strokes it a few times as he puts his knees on the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you toward him.

“Tell me if it hurts.” He commands, lining himself up with your swollen and wet entrance. “You might be wet enough, that I don’t need to finger that pretty little cunt of yours to make this fit.”

He rubs the tip against your slit, coating it before pushing in carefully.

“Feeling you clench on my hand is fucking hot though, so it’s not like I’mma stop.” He assures you, watching your face carefully as he slowly works his way in deeper. He presses in barely half an inch before pulling back.

Then he presses in deeper.

He pulls back almost pulling out of you, before pushing in again.

Out, almost entirely, and back in.

Out. In.

The stretch is more intense, and he keeps pulling back just when you start to think it’s too much. Again and again and the long slow pace is driving you up the wall.

His hands are wrapped around your ankles, keeping your legs back, and your hands are over his as you whimper and gasp. The grin on Kid’s face turns you on more, and he’s delighting in how much louder you already are. How animated and shivery you get because of him.

His hips press against your thighs and he grinds into you, teasing your clit with his coarse pubes. You gasp and cry out, squirming uselessly under him, and he doesn’t stop.

He teases you like that for a long time, stopping every time you get close to cumming. The first time you thought he was going to start fucking you, but he just stilled, waiting for your breathing to slow before he went back to it.

The second time you whimpered when he stopped, and the third time you started begging. He made you hold your ankles as he leaned over you, pushing a little deeper before grinding against you.

The new angle hit you inside and out so much better than before that you practically screamed. He made you cum that way once. Twice.

You couldn’t hold onto your ankles anymore and he grabbed them again, nearly putting them by your ears before he started to thrust into you.

“Fuck you’re so cute like this,” his voice is heavy and full of heat, falling against your skin like gravel. You can’t say anything, he’s fucking the air out of your lungs with you folded in half like this. “Dripping everywhere and desperate, really does suit you best, Mouse.”

Your fingers rake bright red lines along his shoulders as you cum hard against his cock. A growled swear from Kid is the only warning before he empties his balls deep inside you.

#eustass kid #quin answers #side blog #anon asks #x reader #reader insert #mdni #more to come!

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obeymematches · 5 months

Note

My friend’s been starving for Simeon content ever since I introduced them to OM! (which was yesterday) so can we get some random Simeon HCs? Ty

he been on my mind lately-

🩵 Random Simeon HCs 🩵

Domestic stuff:

I just know he is the fastest at changing the bedsheets manually, without using any spell. He got used to this, living with Luke; being in a clean environment is high on his priority list. Moreover kids tend to pee in their bed sometimes, in that period you get real fast at changing sheets and doing the laundry.

However he does like a good spell to help with domestic stuff, like doing the dishes. Though... I don't think he uses these often, only when he is seriously tired.

He prefers tea with coffeine instead of coffee. Has a very elegant, impressive teapot and likes to try various types of tea; you are always welcome to join him! Tries to have a limit on coffeine though, his self control is extraordinary regarding things like this.

Although he is not the self-care advocate of the bunch he does like having time for himself; he does like to smell nice but not too much perfume; he does like dressing well. Bet he is the cleanest guy after Asmo.

He is very knowledgeable on a very board spectrum; he likes to learn about ideas, structures, functions. He also knows a lot about stuff he doesn't really care about but had to update his knowledge because of Luke. You can ask him anything basically, the man is a walking Wikipedia.

Though! In case you find a topic he is not much familiar with, he is not too proud to admit he has absolutely zero idea about the answer. It makes him so loveable ahhhhhhh

Can't learn to drive a car to save his life though.

Dating stuff:

Listen I just know he is not as punctual as he wishes he was. I mean 15-20 mins of running late is normal when you date him. He is always apologizing because of this, but he does his best to get there ASAP.

He is the kind of guy to text you WITHIN 3 hours after your first date, whether or not he enjoyed it; he is going to tell you why he doesn't think you are going to work out if he believes so and you can't change his mind if he didn't enjoy the time spent together. On the other hand if he did like you he is also going to let you know; he starts flirting even more, gets more bold but doesn't cross any boundary!

He could get so obsessed over you; talks nicely about you to everyone, thinks of topics he would like to discuss with you..... imagine him sitting at the window, daydreaming of you as he plans your next activity together, his mug letting off steam, his hand holding his head. He already had peace; it is dull without you though.

Also imagine a dim lit room, you laying under the bedcover, him joining you with an adorable smile and a book in his hand. 🥹 He is there to read next to you when all is calm and it's just you.

Another scenario to think about is going on roadtrips with him and Luke! You must be the driver though.

Alsooo I think he would appreciate funky gifts??? Like buy him that strange shaped mug! Get him socks with ducks on it!! There are those mittens that are shaped as crab "hands".... yeah he would have a good laugh, appreciate it and use them. 😌

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obeyme #obey me simeon #obey me side characters #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #obey me x y/n #obey me x mc #swd obey me #obey me!#omswd #om simeon #obey me hcs #obey me nightbringer

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nametakensff · 6 months

Text

Come Here (S/teddie)

Decided to go off of this idea here and cooked up 3.4k of S/teve and E/ddie fucking 💕

E/ddie decides to tease S/teve with some quick inducing one hot summer day

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, established relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, manually induced sneezing, mentions of allergy sneezing, mentions of handjobs, dry humping, blowjobs, masturbation, spray, a little tiny mention of mess, sneezing on someone's face, teasing, nose rubbing, nose blowing, some tiiiny sprinkles of foot fetish stuff (my bad), they are both very sweaty lol

CW: nothing especially? E/ddie is playing with S/teve but they're both completely into it, S/teve is very handsy

~~~~~~

NSFW, minors please DNI!

“Stevieee.”

Lying on Eddie’s bed in a spread-eagle position, Steve was pulled out of the depths of his semi-conscious afternoon doze by the insistent neediness of his boyfriend’s voice.

“Yeah?” He called out, rubbing his eyes groggily with the heels of his palms.

“C’mere.”

Steve sighed. Moving was the last thing he wanted to do. They were in peak summertime heat, and the Munson trailer had very little in the way of functional air conditioning. It was fine if he was permitted to lie around like a spoilt house cat, but Eddie was energetic today. Granted, he was always energetic – but this was a lot even for him, given the veritable furnace-like atmosphere they were sweltering in. He’d only been able to snag this little nap because Eddie had been so preoccupied with some fantasy novel or other, eyes flying over the words in the thick tome without pause. Not much interested in books and even less interested in watching somebody else read one, Steve had slunk away to sweat a man-shaped puddle onto Eddie’s sheets.

“Baaaby boy. I said come heeere.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open again, and he realised he had already started to dose off in those 10 seconds or so of sleepy contemplation. He knew Eddie wouldn’t stop, so with no small amount of effort he pulled himself to his feet and staggered in the direction of the living room.

He looked at Eddie through bleary eyes, an apathetic expression plastered to his face in sharp contrast with the beatific grin his boyfriend wore. They were both shirtless, dressed only in boxers. It was way too fucking hot for much more, and Eddie had only been persuaded to keep his underwear on after Steve insisted on it. He didn’t think Wayne would appreciate a great big ass-shaped sweat stain on his sofa, and Eddie had had to agree, if not reluctantly.

“What is it, Eds?” He mumbled, making his way over to sit on the couch next to the older man. Eddie promptly stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“Nope. No sitting for you.” Eddie smiled up at him.

Steve blinked, taking in the mischievous twinkle in those big brown eyes, and the electricity sparked by their mutual gaze woke him up the rest of the way faster than a shot of espresso. Oh. So it was like that. The boner he’d sustained in his sleep, though it had been flagging in the miserable heat, gave an interested little twitch. He smiled back as Eddie started to play absently with his chest hair, waiting to hear what he had in mind.

“How about you kneel for me, huh? Right here.”

Eddie gestured at the space on the floor between his spread legs. And sure. Steve could do that. He dropped to his knees, maintaining eye contact with his boyfriend as he did so. Eddie’s smile widened, all teeth and eyes crinkled at the corners, evidently very pleased with how easily Steve was willing to play along. He swung one arm over the back of the sofa; Steve watched the slight rippling of lean muscle as he moved.

“Great job, big boy.” Eddie praised him in a lilted, singsong like manner. Steve smirked.

“Thank you. I studied really hard for all my obedience classes.”

Eddie’s smile widened as he reached behind a couch cushion.

“Could have fooled me, Harrington. Always talking back, always sassing me.”

“Just following your example, I guess.” Steve shrugged, a little distracted from the verbal back-and-forth as he focused in on Eddie’s right hand – and more importantly, what he clutched between his forefinger and thumb. He opened his mouth to enquire, but Eddie was quick to interrupt him.

“Shhh, Steve.”

He didn’t offer any explanation, and Steve’s eyebrow raised in scepticism. It was only when Eddie began to move his right hand up to his face, and Steve recognised the small item in his grip, that he found himself genuinely wordless with anticipation. The small clothing tag had become a regular and happy edition to their sex life now that they had become comfortable enough to indulge in their mutual fetish. He had to admit there had been a little more reluctance on his part, but not for lack of desire; he often felt like his body was too tiny and mortal to contain the levels of excitement he experienced being around Eddie on a daily basis, let alone when he was sneezing for his – their – pleasure.

His sweaty cheeks were already flushed by the heat, but they darkened a little all the same. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his stomach full of butterflies. More importantly, his genitals were making themselves very well known, pitching a solid tent in his boxers in seconds. Eddie was looking at him through heavy lidded eyes with an almost predatory expression of hunger. Steve could relate; he loved when Eddie was equally as responsive and pliant for him. Still didn’t stop him from feeling just a little embarrassed at his own uncontrollable eagerness, though.

Eddie flashed him one last grin before slipping the little tag into his right nostril and beginning to tease. He was so sensitive, Steve thought with immense appreciation. The rim of the metalhead’s nostril twitched even before the tool was inserted, as if in lusty preparation for the tickle to come. As Eddie probed himself, both nostrils began to flare in earnest. He was a pro at this, and Steve knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the first sneeze would come trembling out of him. His allergies had been behaving today, likely because they had been sweltering inside with every window firmly shut. It didn’t mean they were completely under control, and they’d both ushered in the morning with gentle, rolling orgasms, courtesy of Eddie’s morning sneezes and both of their hands. By the cringing expression that was beginning to crumple his features as Steve looked up at him through unblinking eyes, his sinuses were as easily irritable as ever.

One final, shuddering inhale later and the metalhead was pitching forward with a ticklish little fit.

“Hh-HH! HDdt’TSsieww!! Ehdt’TChieww!! Hah’ESHH’ieww!! ‘TShhieww!! EhH’NGXtshh!!”

Steve couldn’t help it as he let out a closed-mouth moan, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Eddie had purposely leaned forward more than the natural propulsion of his fit, and so Steve had felt every droplet of the fine aerosol each sneeze pushed out of his boyfriend. He had tilted his head back ever so slightly, letting the sneezes mist his neck and chest. The cool kiss of spray felt even better than usual on his heated skin, and he shivered, breaking out all over in a pleasurable rush of goosebumps.

“Bless you,” He sighed. He wanted to reach out and grab for Eddie, but his boyfriend didn’t even so much as acknowledge that he had spoken to him, slipping the tool right back into his waiting nostril. Steve placed his restless hands on his own thighs, digging his fingernails into the muscular flesh just shy of breaking the skin.

Eddie tickled himself, gasping intermittently as Steve watched him in a dreamy haze, feeling like his bones had been replaced with jelly. He normally only felt this loose post-orgasm, but the combination of sweltering heat, his recent unconsciousness and the unexpectedness of this game left him loopy and soft.

Steve barely had to wait before the next round of sneezes was raining down upon him, the last few so unbearably tickly his boyfriend’s left leg jerked off the ground as they overpowered him.

“hh’NgXt’shieww! HAH’ENGXtch’tsieww!! IGSH’ieww!! Huh’IgKkShieww!! ESHhh’ieww! ‘DDZz’SHieww!!...Ahh, holy fuck, that felt good…”

Eddie sighed, looking about as wiped out as Steve felt. The younger man was happy to see that the metalhead was sporting an impressive erection, pressing up against his boxers and leaking a little through the fabric. His own cock jumped in response, and he swallowed down a sudden deluge of saliva as he drooled at the sight like a fucking dog.

“Fucking bless you, Eddie!” He moaned, fingers flexing as he continued to kneel in front of his sniffling boyfriend.

Eddie didn’t respond this time either, just rubbed at his tickly nose with the palm of his left hand, mashing it around roughly for a couple of moments. The wet clicking sounds the action produced made Steve throb again. He could feel the head of his cock dripping, now.

He jumped at the sudden feeling of Eddie’s heel pressing into his crotch, groaning in equal measures surprise and arousal. It was only for a fleeting moment, a cruel little nudge before Eddie placed his foot back on the ground, thighs spread even wider. Steve tried not to think too hard about how good the pressure had felt, about how much he would have liked to grip Eddie’s ankle and rut back against him. The older man laughed softly at the look of Steve’s wide-eyed incredulity, but then simply returned the tag to his nostril again, barely a pause as he worked on his next fit.

Steve wouldn’t take that shit sitting – or kneeling – down. He pressed forward, torso up against the couch cushions between Eddie’s legs, and gripped each pale thigh firmly before yanking Eddie slightly towards him. Eddie didn’t stop him; he continued to tease himself until his chest swelled with a definitive breath, forced out of him moments later with another attack of spraying, tickly sneezes.

“Hit’TSCH’hieww!! HdT’TScchieww!! EhD’TSchhiew!! ISHhh’ieww!! Hh-! Hah’ISCHHtt!!”

Steve’s eyes closed reflexively, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as those sneezes caught him squarely in the face. He sighed, shuddering slightly with adrenaline. This always felt so, so good. He was moments away from shamelessly fucking the couch where his cock pressed up against the worn cushion.

“Bless you, baby.”

Eddie sighed, a distinctly orgasmic and dramatic sigh, sinking back into the couch and luxuriating in the sensation of his own sneezes. Steve liked to sneeze, couldn’t really help the little fetish-fueled rush it gave him, but he wasn’t one to get off to the sensation itself. That Eddie did, admitted to him that sneezing alone, not even someone else’s, could make him cum – it just about made Steve’s head explode every time he thought about it.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

Steve peered up at his face, took in the way Eddie was watching him from under his dark eyelashes. Eddie was addressing him directly now, acknowledging his blessing. He reached for the metalhead’s cock, figuring if he still wasn’t allowed to touch, his boyfriend would be sure to let him know. And, yeah – immediately his searching hand was being redirected, placed right back on Eddie’s thigh. Steve bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed a low whine, feeling as though he was losing his mind just a little bit – even more so as Eddie reached up to tease his nostril again, barely skimming the rim before another set of irritated sneezes burst out of him.

“Hh’EHhTT’TCHieww!! IGSHhh’IEWw!! Hah’EScHh’IEww!!....IISCHhhhhh!”

That lingering, definitive sneeze was so incredibly desperate, so high pitched as it misted over Steve’s face that the resultant shiver of pleasure that rolled down his spine had his hips thrusting involuntarily against the couch. It had been a pretty wet sneeze, too – Steve reached out with a large hand to wipe away the little dribble of saliva that dampened Eddie’s bottom lip. The intimacy of it made both of them moan.

“God bless you. You’re so sneezy, honey. So hot.”

He was getting bolder, incrementally, with every time that they fucked, but Steve couldn’t help cringing just a little at the sound of those words leaving his mouth – even if the giddy rush of arousal they produced was intoxicating. He could handle the embarrassment, however, as long as his words continued to have the effect on Eddie they had evidently just done. His boyfriend almost whimpered, squirming in his seat, cock rock-hard and begging to be touched. Steve was dying. He wanted his hands on Eddie more than he’d ever wanted anyone else’s hands on him – and he always wanted hands on him.

“Mm, thank you. Tickles so much.”

Steve swore and reached for Eddie’s cock, groaning like a petulant toddler when he was once again denied with a quick slap to the wrist. His hands gripped into the flesh of his boyfriend’s thighs, flexing intermittently in restless irritation.

“Eddie,” Steve groaned, voice strained and gravelly.

Eddie said nothing, but as he made to slip the inducing tool right back into his nose, something in Steve snapped. He yanked Eddie forward with a hand behind his knee, causing the older man to yelp in surprise, before manoeuvring the captured leg between his thighs and pressing his straining cock against the older man’s shin. It wasn’t an ideal body part to hump – a soft thigh, an ass, a crotch were all infinitely preferable. Even the sole of Eddie’s foot, the arch of it, pressing up against his cock…but this would have to do. He was pushing his luck as it was.

He started to buck his hips, wishing he was fucking his boyfriend’s ass, imagining the tight clench of muscles around him. Gripping the sweaty skin behind Eddie’s knee was making the angle a little easier, and he found a rhythm faster than he’d expected to.

“Fucking hell, Stevie!” Eddie giggled, pressing his leg up, hard, squashing Steve’s cock and balls between the limb and his own body. Steve gasped – it felt awful and wonderful all at once, and then the pressure was gone and he was pushing himself forward, chasing the contact as if possessed.

“So sensitive.”

Steve huffed at him.

“Shut up. This all your fault, Munson.” He stared up at Eddie. “Look at what you fucking do to me.”

The look that Eddie gave him as he took in the sight of him, the nakedness of his desperation, was so loaded with emotion – burning desire, fondness, awe – that Steve almost swooned with the resultant rush of blood to his already swollen cock.

“Yeah. All my fault...” Eddie muttered, sounding breathless and ruined. Steve wished their chests were pushed together so he could feel the feverish beating of Eddie’s heart, the rapid in and outs of his laboured breathing.

When Eddie raised the tool back up to his nostril, Steve nearly came on the spot. He managed to hold back, gritting his teeth and choking back a strangled ‘fuckkk!’ He wanted to time it just right, bust a nut inside his boxers right as Eddie was showering him with spray. It was going to be an intense orgasm, judging by the way his entire body was beginning to heat up, so, so hot, sweat prickling on his skin as his universe narrowed down to the throbbing in his cock and the sight of his boyfriend’s twitchy pink nostrils.

Eddie’s face crumpled, tongue pressing against his bottom lip as the sneezes built, tickling himself in earnest. His chest jumped with violent hitching breaths, a single tear of irritation beginning to roll down the side of his face. It was so painfully erotic Steve couldn’t catch his breath – the oncoming orgasm leaving him stupid and operating on animalistic impulse alone. He felt his balls drawing up in preparation, felt the coiling pressure in his belly tightening, ready to explode in a euphoric release.

Eddie gasped – a huge, desperate intake of air that sounded almost pained as he pressed the clothing tag as deep into his nostril as he could. He held it there, frozen for an intoxicating moment, the cresting tickle as monumental as Steve’s approaching orgasm. When he did sneeze, they barrelled out of him, an intense rush of both air and sound, overpowering Steve’s senses and ushering his orgasm in so abruptly he yelled with it.

“HUH-!! HHIIISSHHH’IEww!! HahDT’TScHieww!! ENGXT’TSchieww!! IGSSHh!! Hh! HuH’ISSSH’Ieww!! EhH’NGXT’Tschieww!! DDZ’Zshieww-! Heh!! Hahdt’TSSCH’IEWww!!”

Steve came throughout, twitching helplessly, his face a twisted rictus of ecstasy. The sweet, throbbing pleasure of it pulsed through him, cock spitting cum into his underwear, soaked and sticking to the skin of his boyfriend’s leg. He finished cumming in time to tip forward and press his head against Eddie’s thigh, mouth still frozen in an ‘o’ of pleasure, as Eddie sneezed one last time over the expanse of his back. He groaned as the aerosol rained gently across his spine, thoroughly sneezed on and contented in a way only his fetish could make him.

“Ohh fuckkk…” He muttered after a moment, drooling a little onto the soft, pale skin pressed up against his face. Eddie laughed breathily.

“You’re welcome.” He sniffled, the sound of it ominously thick.

Steve gingerly raised his head, feeling almost drunk in the oppressive heat of the room and the closeness of their bodies. Eddie had covered his nose and mouth with a hand, and Steve knew those last few sneezes had been productive.

“Do you need a tissue, baby? Made a mess?”

Eddie nodded, eyes smiling over the protective cradle of his hand.

“Sure.” Another thick sniffle that had Steve’s cock twitching almost painfully with a pitiful, post-orgasm spasm. “But I think you made a bigger one.”

Steve blushed, sighing and pulling himself up on shaky legs. God, that had felt good. He’d practically painted the inside of his underwear, Eddie was right about that. He smiled a goofy, sated smile at Eddie before making his way over to the bedroom. He considered his messy state for a moment, then simply shrugged before removing his underwear and wiping his cock on the clean parts of the fabric. He sighed in over sensitised pleasure; he was still hard and it felt great to stroke himself. He indulged for a few moments longer before flinging his underwear onto the pile of dirty laundry on the floor and returning to the living room, entirely naked and box of tissues in hand.

Eddie was fumbling his left hand over his crotch, pawing lazily at his straining erection as his right hand remained covering his face. Steve’s cock gave an appreciative twitch at the sight of it. He knew in that moment that he wanted his boyfriend to finish in his mouth. He proffered the box to Eddie, waiting for the older man to reach up and take it before he returned to a kneeling position between his legs. As Eddie pulled back his hand, Steve caught sight of the glistening mess underneath for just a moment, and then the metalhead was scrubbing himself clean and indulging in a long, crackling blow. It ended with an awkwardly loud honk that had the pair of them locking eyes and giggling like stupid kids.

When he was done, Eddie simply let himself melt back into the couch.

“That was fun.” He drawled, eyes closed and head tilted back. Steve’s hand crawled up the inside of his thigh. “Did you like that?”

Steve snorted.

“Did I like that? You drained me dry, dude. That felt so fucking good.”

“Yay.” Eddie offered, the corners of his mouth turning up with a smug little smile.

Steve began to pull Eddie’s underwear down, and the older man cooperated by lifting his ass off the couch.

“Not going to slap my hand away this time?” Steve half-heartedly joked, pupils blown wide at the sight of Eddie’s leaking, solid cock. He was salivating in moments, leaning forward and inhaling the scent of him deeply. The press of sweaty pubic hair against his face as he nestled his nose up against the base of his boyfriend’s cock was familiar and intoxicating. Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation, and Steve knew his arousal was fueled partially by the promise of a blowjob, but even more so out of the suggestible proximity of his pointed nose against his genitals.

“Go to town, honey. I’m not stopping you.”

Steve smiled, kissed his way up the length of Eddie’s cock before pressing his tongue into the slit of his urethra. Eddie uttered a garbled, broken moan, hips bucking uncontrollably and cock head leaking fluid in response.

“You know,” Steve started after licking his palm and wrapping it around Eddie’s sweaty shaft. “Normal people just ask for blowjobs when they want one without the pretence of sneezing all over their boyfriend.” He took the head of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, licking it a couple of times like a melting popsicle before sucking on it, hard.

“Ohh, Stevie…..my way is so much more – ahh! More fun-!” Eddie choked out, fingers reaching out to wrap themselves in Steve’s floppy hair.

Steve couldn’t disagree in the least, replaying the sights and sounds of his boyfriend’s sneezing in his mind as he sucked him down like he was best damn thing he’d ever tasted.

#so much for keeping this around 2k lol #i triiiied!! please take this offering whilst I drag out my longer fics OTL #s/tranger t/hings #nametakenfic #sneeze fic #sneeze fucker #snz fucker #snz kink #sneeze kink #snz fet #snzblr

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kedreeva · 2 years

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Running with the "Steve helps Eddie study for finals" into "Steve quickly discovers that strip-flashcards is not an effective way to get right answers from Eddie" and right into "changing the rules so Eddie has to grab a sharpie and write the right answers down somewhere that he'll remember" and then "I'll remember what part of Steve's skin I wrote this on"

(my inbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous prompts)

god I remember this discussion lol let's see if I can do it well

------

Steve hasn't done a lot of studying in his life. He didn't need to study to cruise through high school with a solid C average, and he had never planned on needing anything higher than that. He aced a few courses just because they didn't require anything from him, so his GPA was always just a little higher.

But he'd met Nancy partway through, most of the way through if he's being honest, and she had taken notes and made cards and highlighted textbooks. She had played little memory games and made little songs about the things she needed to remember. He tried harder, around her, and even had done a little better.

Which is why when Eddie asks for his help, when he needs to pass two more classes in order to make it out, Steve is all too happy to show him.

Except... Eddie isn't Nancy.

His notes are a mess, completely illegible to anyone that isn't Eddie. He doesn't pay attention to the notecards, and Steve finds him asleep over the textbooks almost every time. He can read an entire Dungeons and Dragons manual cover to cover and parrot back everything inside of it, but he cannot get 2 paragraphs into his history book. Songs almost work, except for the fact that Eddie doesn't know the meaning of singing in his head.

But... Eddie isn't Nancy.

When Steve had suggested Nancy remove articles of clothing for wrong answers, she had balked. She had told him no, and she had meant it.

When Steve suggests Eddie remove articles of clothing for wrong answers, Eddie ends up naked in as many notecards as he has articles of clothing, and the only studying that gets done that night is human anatomy. It only goes slightly better the other way around; he manages to get Steve stripped almost as quickly, and the study session ends.

Steve is at a loss.

Steve is at a loss until he sees Eddie doodling a tattoo idea around his own ankle with a permanent marker.

"Hey," he says. Eddie doesn't have ears like a cat, but the way he doesn't look up, the way his attention shifts with just the slightest twitch of his head, reminds Steve of a cat twitching one ear in acknowledgement. "You have that algebra test monday, right?"

Eddie hums confirmation, and then stops drawing and looks at Steve with a warming smile. "You trying to suggest some flash cards again?"

"Something like that," Steve agrees, and holds out his hand. "Can I see that marker?"

Eddie joins him on the bed and passes him the marker without question. Steve uncaps it, tests it against his skin. It's cold, but not unpleasant, and he doesn't have work the next few days while the store finishes renovations. It could work.

He wriggles out of his shirt, and Eddie's eyes light up in anticipation, but Steve holds out a hand to stop him, marker grasped upright in it. Eddie takes it back with a confused look.

"You have to remember formulas, right?"

Eddie groans. "I've been had!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You haven't been had. You like leaving marks on me, right?"

"Yeah, with my teeth, Steve," Eddie tells him.

Steve shrugs and sprawls back on Eddie's pillows, arms behind his head. "I don't care how you hold the pen," he says with a shit-eating grin. "But I have a feeling you'll remember the formulas a little better if you're picturing where you've written them on me."

Eddie's breath goes soft, his eyes blinking slowly, and Steve smiles fondly because he knows what Eddie looks like when he loses function for a few seconds. Then Eddie is diving for his math textbook, and a moment later Steve finds himself with a lap full of eager boyfriend.

He scribes his homework onto Steve's skin in ink first and lips second, whispering each one. Steve echoes them, and maybe he actually learns something as well because he knows where Eddie will kiss next by the numbers and letters he recites. He fills in Steve's chest and rolls him over to scrawl all over the lean muscles of his back, down past his ass, onto his thighs.

"Cannot believe you're really going to give me a hard-on for math," he whispers into the soft hollow of Steve's knee, a second before he bites Steve for laughing.

He aces the test on Monday.

#asks #stranger things #steddie #my writing #stranger things fic #askbox prompts

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coltprofeshseavers · 3 months

Text

Here’s a small one shot I wrote as I was on a drive in the rain listening to Charli xcx while thinking about Colt Seavers in The Fall Guy. Listen to the song Everything is Romantic

No warnings - just pure fluff.

Everything is Romantic

Bad tattoos on leather-tanned skin

Jesus Christ on a plastic sign

Fall in love again and again

Winding roads, doing manual drive

Bad tattoos on leather-tanned skin

Jesus Christ on a plastic sign, mm

Early nights in white sheets with lace curtains

Capri in the distance

Colt and Jody are finally on the beach vacation they spoke about on a buzzing walkie talkie around two years ago. A holiday that Colt had dreamt about, drinking spicy margaritas on a beach in their swimming costumes as she called it, laying on the soft sand for hours with no stunts to perform, no cameras to operate. It was finally a reality and Colt couldn’t get enough of it.

This wasn’t planned but Colt surprised Jody and insisted that the only way he would recover is on a beach in Capri, sipping margaritas and chilling down to Taylor Swift, with Jody in his arms this time.

So here they are, in a quaint little hotel room on the Italian coastline. Jody is reading a book in the balcony from where she can see the blues of the water. Colt is getting his much-deserved rest after all the drama that unfolded.

She’s engrossed in her book when she hears his sleepy morning voice calling her, “Jods, where’d you go?”

He’s a vision — lying tangled in the pristine white sheets — the faint sun from the French style windows making his tanned skin glow afresh. She pulls the curtains as she smiles and walks to the bed, “Hi” she whispers as bends down to ruffle his fading blonde hair, softer to touch than they look.

He’s in a haze but can’t help the grin that catches his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners at her touch. “I’ve missed you” he says.

“I’ve just been out reading for 30 minutes Colt, I was there the entire night even when you were snoring in my ear.”

“That’s way too long Jods, you know I gotta hold you or my brain stops functioning“ he smirks.

“Well we can’t have that can we now?” she animatedly says, as she climbs into the bed next to him. Her head on his chest, his arm around her waist, just the way it was meant to be.

Colt falls into slumber again as Jody runs her hands through his hair, golden in the sunlight now peeking from the white lace curtains.

In a place that can make you change

Fall in love again and again

Colt drives through the coastal roads of Capri, Jody in the passenger seat laughing about something he just said and also years ago when they met, when they fell in love. Jody realises falling in love with Colt wasn’t something that happened in a particular moment, it was every minute and day that she spent with him. She learns that falling in love with Colt is a bit like breathing, it keeps on happening and it is what keeps her alive really. Everything with Colt is romantic.

For Colt, Jody’s laugh is the best song he has ever heard. As he shifts the gears on the unfamiliar manual drive, vintage rental car, he realises he would do anything to hear her laughter, to have her sit by his side like this, at peace. No hospitals, no accidents, no injuries, no Tom and no Gail. He wants to be with her, he doesn’t quite see the point in his life if there’s no Jody to come home to. He doesn’t quite care about the stunts anymore if Jody isn’t behind the camera cheering him on. After years of his career taking priority in his life, he finally feels like he’s ready to settle down with Jody. These few days in Capri have given him a glimpse of what life would be like: slow mornings in bed, how Jody would wake up first and make him coffee, she would also make him try her Yorkshire tea some times, bickering over breakfast and day drinking on beach. He knows the rest of his life won’t be like a vacation, but with Jody, it would be pretty damn close. He remembers the movie where the romantic leads get stuck in a time loop and have to live the same day over and over again. He realises how close his life would be to that, every day, coming home to Jody and falling in love with her all over again.

Jody breaks his train of thought when she says, “wow it’s just like in the movies right? This view?” looking out of the car window at the serene views of the ocean.

Colt only looks at her when he replies, “even better than the movies really.”

——————

#colt seavers #colt seavers x jody moreno #the fall guy #the fall guy movie #ryan gosling #emily blunt #charli xcx #charli xcx brat #Colt seavers fluff #colt seavers fanfiction #colt and jody #ryan gosling fanfiction

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pyraffin-drgo · 2 months

Text

My ideas for Inside Out 3!

You know they're gonna milk this cash cow

IDEA 1/3(4?)

Maybe Riley is in the place of the team leader now like the one she looked up to in the 2nd, and having to deal with potential new recruits that are now in the place she used to be in.

One of them is better (while being younger) than her so Envy and Anger has a lot to do! A relatable internal struggle to play out.

Riley overcoming this would be an act of maturing emotionally. Maybe there's also learning the responsibility of being/behaving like someone young ones look up to (since she doesn't have siblings OH GOD WHAT IF THEY GO THE EASY WAY AND JUST ADD A NEW BABY TO THE MIX BOSS BABY STYLE I SWEAR TO GOD-

Ignoring that.

There's also the possibility of her having to uphold her (now) long distance friendships which was kind of glanced over in the first movie. Imagine balancing the two separate friend groups. One you have to manually schedule hangout times outside of school with, the other just happens naturally from being classmates/teammates.

How ARE her old childhood friends doing? They kinda just drift apart because they split so young and long distance ain't something 9-11 kids really do? Ngl forgot her age

IDEA 2

A larger timeskip. She's now worrying about going into high-school, as all the middleschool teachers say it will be 10x harder, no-nonsense, no leniency, college level expectations and basiclaly adulthood. (As I remember them expressing to my class :/) And kids around her talk about horror stories their older siblings tell them about freshmen hunt or whatever fake hazing humors people spread.

The general vibe the world puts on going into high-school is awful and a lot to deal with emotionally. But when she gets there, she realises it's way chiller than middle school. But they DO start hounding her about her future and picking out a college already, as if a 9th grader could make a good choice to hold on to forever, when she's doesn't even know how it works yet. I hated feeling this pressure when my biggest previous concern was my Minecraft diamonds being stolen in my single player world.

As for plot, other than suffering from expecting to be hazed by kids bigger than you until 2nd semester where it finally clicks that no one cares, maybe this one's plot is more focused on the emotions' adventure. Idk what that would be sorry-

But I know the outcome will be! It will be Riley learning to make room for ALL her emotions- meaning the new guys get their own mf beds now. No more sleeping on chairs. She LITERALLY makes room for them, learning to compartmentalize them and give them their own proper space equally. This is also part of the headquarters expansion finally being done by the puberty construction crew, Riley to the point growth spurts slow down so a lot of the work is done. I haven't gotten taller since 9th grade RIP

This can be paired with the jealousy of a new recruit route!

IDEA 3

Graduating high-school???? I really don't expect them to do this big of a skip, but it's also a very emotionally, mentally wild time. Prepping for college and the like. More friendship and family upkeep, learning to live on your own in a dorm, maturing as a person and into a functional adult. The possibilities for such a big skip are endless!

IDEA 4

The one everyone has already guessed/wants/expects. A crush is introduced! Shenanigans ensue. Maybe pair this with the Entering High-school idea for a double whammy. Add the new recruit story for a TRIPLE whammy.

BONUS

I really hope they don't give her a new sibling like cmon the baby route is too easy. For some reason babies are really marketable to kids and, while becoming an older sibling is a lot to deal with emotionally, I'd think Riley's too old to have too much of a problem with it..? Like, her family island is already smaller and she's distant on it. A new sibling would be a lot more impactful if she was still attached to her parents and the baby feels like a rift between them and their care for her. But as a preteen she'd already want more space to herself. Her biggest concern is her friend group.

If they go Boss Baby on this shit I swear-

Cursed idea:

D i v o r c e

#Inside Out #inside out 2 #io2 #inside out fandom #inside out 3 #inside out 2 spoilers #text post

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strangegutz · 5 months

Text

Hey what’s up, it’s just about midnight, here’s some information on CompanDroids and Eddie under the cut.

HEADS UP! Some mature/NSFW subject matter

Broad scope:

-CompanDroids were manufactured by Ramirez Robotics 83 years ago.

-They were created to be companions and caretakers, making them strong, soft, reliable, and people pleasers.

-There is a model for each letter of the alphabet, 13 male models and 13 females, alternating. For example, Eddie is a model E, his female counterpart would be the model F. Each pair “matches”

-Each model is based on a different celebrity, from actors, to models, to TV show hosts. For example, Eddie’s face-sake was a Mexican heartthrob actor, Navarro Riviera, and model F was a Mexican Miss Universe contestant.

-There were different cosmetic changes available for a handful of models in the form of hair colors or styles, particularly for those based on actors, styled after their various roles.

-ComDro’s were available in “Standard” and “Deluxe,” Deluxe packages allowed for more functionality, like eating, drinking, smoking, and for a few select models, sex.

-The contracts for these celebrities were murky, and many didn’t realize the full scope of how the androids would function or be used.

-Ramirez Robotics went under 20 years after the release of the CompanDroids (63 years before current)

-CompanDroids are extremely rare, as they were already very expensive, and now vintage.

-CompanDroids, as they are now, are more or less integrated into society as independent people, and mostly seen as an unusual novelty, though the greater public tends to only remember more salacious details about their functionality.

-They remain one of the most high tech inventions of all time.

Looking in:

-ComDro’s have their power bank located at the top of their spine. They run on electricity, and need to charge themselves via a port located on the back of their neck. Eddie has had himself outfitted with a nuclear battery, and has spares.

-They can get drunk or high, internal sensors detect the chemical composition of various substances and adjust function accordingly.

-They have a simulated heartbeat in the form of a faint vibration in the chest.

-A diagnostic panel is located in the left forearm, which has a screen, small keyboard, a few ports, and their serial number.

-The visible seam lines on their bodies are cosmetic, there are many more seams for access that are flush and hard to see.

-Standard models can upgrade to Deluxe models with a kit.

-Certain “involuntary” bodily functions, like becoming intoxicated, sweating, blushing, or arousal, can be manually controlled, or turned off all together by the android themself.

Eddie himself:

-Eddie was a pre-order, specifically picked to look like Navarro Riviera’s character, Sheriff DeLeon, in a romantic drama western.

-Eddie was originally a standard CompanDroid, but worked for and paid for his own upgrade kit as a free bot.

-Eddie’s serial number is E-013, he named himself after how his number would have read as a deluxe edition, ED-013

-He painted his eyes black the night he was “let go,” but didn’t swap to LED light eyes until later

-CompanDroids have feeling in their internal mechanics, Eddie finds the sensation pleasurable and erotic, though is very selective about who can touch his internals in any context.

-To avoid any uncomfortable situations, he toggles his “arousal” routines off during repairs or maintenance, but prefers to feel all sensations naturally otherwise.

-Being an old computer, Eddie is a bit “off” in the software, he is twitchy and violent, but is loyal and can be a great caregiver and people pleaser to his friends.

-Eddie’s CPU being overloaded will cause his voice to hitch and stutter like a computer’s audio would, as well as his eye LEDs flickering slightly. This would happen in an extreme stress situation, downloading large files of information, but most often when he climaxes in bed.

-Eddie has a very skewed sense of age, as he doesn’t age at all. He tends to always think of people having the same age and capabilities as when he met them, like continuing to see Zeki as a naive 23 year old.

I did not include every single one of my thoughts here but this is good enough for now I think! And if you have any explicit questions take them over to @strangeorganz !

#heartbreak gulch #eddie ramirez #eddie black eyes #strangetext

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my-attempt · 5 months

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I've got a new psychiatrist, who gave me some solid advice that I figure someone else could use as well, so here goes:

1. It doesn't matter what time you go to bed, as long as you do so consistently and make sure you get enough to sustain you. If that means you sleep at 2AM every night, so be it.

2. You can have little power naps throughout the day, 2 or 3 of them a day is actually alright as long as you do it right. So don't set an alarm, because it will wake you up at the wrong time in your sleep cycle. You want to wake up right before you would have gone into deep sleep for an effective power nap. Instead of an alarm, sit or lay down and hold something in your hand that will make a noise if it drops on the floor (keys, a pill bottle, you name it). Right before you fall into deep sleep, your muscles will relax, and you will drop the thing, waking you up with the noise. That way it's a kind of perfectly calibrated manual alarm. Just make sure you actually get up afterwards without dozing off again.

3. try to go on a walk every day (even just a small one). It's best to go on this walk alone and without music/a podcast/etc to distract you. The physical excersize combined with a little moment to let your mind wander freely can help improve cognitive functions, like concentration and memory.

#crowdsourced therapy #therapy tips #sleep tips #adhd #actually adhd #power naps #effective power naps #depression #adhd tips #depression tips

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lorehead · 1 year

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Hello! I hope you’re having a good day ^^ I was hoping to hear some headcanons on how you think Gojo, Megumi and Tsumiki function as a family unit? Gojo was literally like a teen dad to two kids — 🥀

:O yessss I get brainworms from these three, thank you for the first request!!

SLIGHT SPOILER WARNINGS FOR TOJI FUSHIGURO, Anime only’s beware. And [monkey covering eyes emoji] this is all set before Tsumiki's coma

Ok, before we get into everything I want to take a moment to think about what Tsumiki was going through this whole time.

Girl got a step dad and step brother, a baby Megumi, who she wasn’t related to by blood. Her step dad is constantly disappearing for long periods of time. His new wife, Tsumiki’s mom, is someone we don’t know much about in canon. What we do know is that both she and Toji “disappeared” a year before Gojo took them in.

Tsumiki is described to be kind, but she was most definitely wary at first. She spends a year raising her little brother, probably stressing about their finances and having to figure out how to pick up the slack as an elementary student, and suddenly her younger brother appears with a strange man (teen!) who’s offering to adopt them.

Tsumiki’s kindness is not naivety, she’s looking out for her little brother and Gojo is VERY suspicious looking.

Since Toji wasn’t the definition of stable, she probably has some issues with feeling secure in her living arrangement

Onto the actual family dynamic and HCs!! Mostly Tsumiki-centric towards the end because she deserves the world

Gojo is trying to give Megumi a childhood and treats him very sillily, while Megumi is trying in his own subtle way to look after Tsumiki, and Tsumiki is still trying to figure out who the fuck the strange young grandpa is in their house and how to look after her brother.

I imagine the two kids had a bit of food insecurity after the year alone, so Gojo had to figure out how to prove to them that they were safe and he wasn’t leaving. This was difficult, considering his schedule of missions and getting his teaching license

The schedule of that first year was a mess, with making sure that the siblings had their needs met and that Gojo wasn’t traumatizing them even more. Yaga probably gifted him parenting manuals on more than a few occasions. Gojo always made a show of destroying them a few weeks later, but not after ‘referencing’ them. He can be prideful, but his old teacher still gives advice and reminisces about his daughter through the situation

Gojo struggled, quietly, when he didn’t know what the hell he was doing as a dad. (un)luckily for him, Tsumiki and Megumi didn’t know what to do with a dad either. Their relationship leans more towards weird uncle or older brother on some days, but it works out best that way. While Gojo is their legal guardian and dad, he isn’t trying to exert control over them. This is immensely relieving to the two kids, who had gotten used to trying to be responsible. Now, they could stay independent but have someone to fall back on (once the two weren’t as wary of him, that is). Having a neglectful parent doesn't allow for you to trust adults so easily

Tsumiki worries a lot about Megumi, even though he doesn’t accept her care, and tries to do a ton of little things to show her care. Packed lunches, little notes, making sure he’s asleep before she goes to bed- these are a few of the things she did in their year alone and when Gojo moved in with them.

Megumi takes it all for granted at times, never showing her the same confessions of his care, but every crudely drawn animal and “Have a good day!” note is saved in an empty shoebox in his closet. Tsumiki doesn't know about it, but she still writes them for him up until she starts high school and has to focus on studying

One of the first things Tsumiki did once Gojo proved he not only was going to stay, but cared, was make him a basic lunch like hers and Megumi’s. There was no note, but he showed it off to Shoko at the school and bragged to Utahime (“This really proves how not only am I the strongest sorcerer but the best teacher as well! To have received a gift before you-” “Why are you calling me for this?!?”)

Definitely buys multiples of whatever the kids said they liked. Gojo wants to prove to them that they’re secure and is fumbling around with how to care for them. (“Hey Tsumiki-chan! I remember you said you liked strawberries-” “What am I going to do with ten packages?!?!”)

Gojo’s very much the type to show up to school events and be far too excited- festivals, any sports or theater performances the Fushiguros might be a part of, he’s there front and center with snacks and a glittery sign. He says it’s to embarrass them when Megumi yells at him, but the reality is that the kids are happy to spot his white hair in the crowd. Showing up isn’t something their parents often did, and Gojo himself probably had a peculiar upbringing. This is his way of giving them what they never had and being part of something he didn’t have growing up

Megumi is easy to make fun of, but Tsumiki rolls with every attempt to make her embarrassed. She finds everything sweet- Gojo could buy her the most horrendous looking sweater and she’d be happy he was thinking of her (once she became less wary, that is)

Unbothered queen. Tsumiki can be a little prankster though, after she feels like she’s not the one in charge. Bedazzling phone cases, rearranging furniture, and other harmless things she can do to make the others surprised and confused. Has definitely covered someone’s room in post-its, she deserves a little mischief as a treat.

Megumi puts on airs of hating Gojo and brushing off Tsumiki, but he cares in his own ways. Every action someone takes should be reciprocated, after all. When Gojo goes out and buys groceries, Megumi sets aside dinner for him if he doesn’t eat with them. While Tsumiki stays out late with friends, Megumi stays awake in his room until she comes back. And if he hears any of their classmates saying bad things, well….

His sister doesn’t like that he fights, but he never instigates. He’s just checking them when they run their mouths too much.

But of course, when she leans in to give him a side hug his arms stay by his side.

They receive all their money from the Tokyo School, ✨politics✨, but Tsumiki felt bad and got a job when she entered High School. It was her attempt to gain back a bit of autonomy and control of their situation, though Gojo and Megumi both tried to talk her out of it. Sometimes they swing by just to see her. Megumi, who comes by at the end of her shifts if it’s late to walk (lead) her home, and Gojo, who uses her work as an excuse to get junk food and shitty sweets.

Tsumiki sometimes takes the stuff that’s about to be thrown out home for Gojo, who looks at her as if she gave him gold.

She's his one tie back into the world Jujutsu Sorcerer's are meant to protect. A non-sorcerer, who can't even see curses, and that makes them both a bit protective. Megumi has probably left one of his spiritual dogs with her if he felt there was something in their area, and Tsumiki would be blind to the big dog laying his head on her lap.

While Gojo ruffles Megumi’s sea urchin hair, he helps tie up Tsumiki’s. He figured out how to braid it when she was in middle school and still buys cute hair clips as souvenirs.

Gojo has embarrassing photos of both of them, usually taken when they were napping or unaware, which he likes to show on a few occasions. As revenge, the two siblings got a horrible photo of him framed for his birthday.

A picture of Gojo wearing a horrific animal onesie, standing in the kitchen at night and watching the microwave, with his body half turned towards whoever was taking the picture. Body blurred and eyes glowing, the photo is in a frame that has stickers and rhinestones all over it. It’s framed in their entrance hall, with a picture of Tsumiki asleep in a face mask and another shot of Megumi getting sprayed with a hose by Gojo.

They all cringe at their shots but don’t move them.

Every parent-teacher meeting that they’ve had has gone horribly. At first, Tsumiki would try and attend for Megumi. If a teacher refused to allow her then they had to deal with Gojo, who would either act like a 12 year old if the teacher was an ass or play nice if he deemed them nice. In the end, the schools decided Tsumiki was the only normal one of their unit.

Gojo, at her meetings, would feel a bit odd. After all, she wouldn't ever be part of their world of curses and sorcery. Still, he encouraged her studies and was very supportive in her decision to pursue social sciences in university

Chores are divided by who can do what. Gojo's infrequent schedule means he can't be relied on to cook every meal, Tsumiki's studies and work had her missing many dinners, and Megumi would often be doing his own thing. Gojo and Tsumiki both agreed to do weekly meals together, as well as a chaotic shared breakfast every morning since they departed at the same times. Gojo would cook breakfast, usually something traditional that he grew up with, while Tsumiki made lunches. Megumi would do all the dishes, without prompting.

Overall, they care about each other with varying degrees of comfort in showing it. Gojo tries to supply every material thing they need, Megumi tries to protect them when he can, and Tsumiki just wants them to both know someone care.

Gojo's own upbringing meant he had to learn about himself before learning to take care of the two siblings. Tsumiki had issues with fully trusting adults to care about her after her adolescence, which spawned an interest for psychology/sociology and a need to amek sure her brother could always trust her. She and Gojo see eachother more on equal footing, while Megumi is squarely in 'little sibling' territory.

Megumi, with his dad's semi-frequent flings and disappearing acts, is more comfortable with Gojo's teasing than Tsumiki's kindness. He can bark and bite but doesn't quite know how to deal with her sincerity.

In case you couldn't tell, I have feelings about Tsumiki's character. Sorry for the long post! If you want more specifically Gojo Teen Dad HCs I can do those :)

#writing #headcanons #hcs #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu tsumiki #fushiguro tsumiki #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

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