#and run up and hug them every time they see them

[the-librarby]

Single dad Simon and Teacher reader II

Simon is the girl dad. He doesn’t make a fuss about it when his daughter wants to paint his nails, he’ll just zone out and watch tv while she does it — silently thankful that she’s just sitting down and not running around the house.

She wants to try out that new eyeshadow he let her buy on him? Sure, whatever you want bub, he’s sitting his ass down and letting her do whatever she wants.

He draws the line about wearing it in public though, a hard sacrifice since his daughter works so hard to make him look like something out of a glitter-fied horror movie.

Damn glitter never washes all the way off though, it’s around his eyes and cheeks for weeks after. Coworkers and parents alike can see it when he goes to work or picks her up from school.

The only one with the balls to comment on it though is his daughter’s teacher.

“Birthday party last weekend?” You question.

He tilts his head as if he misheard, “Sorry?” He asks, “No, her birthday isn’t for another couple months,”

You frown curiously but probe further, “Dress up party then?”

His daughter gasps and looks up at him, “We’re having a dress up party? When?”

He looks down at her and shakes his head before looking back at you, completely lost on your line of questioning, “No,” he starts, “No dress up party, sorry, what are you talking about?”

You laugh, quite embarrassed now at your double wrong guess, “Sorry,” you apologise, gesturing to your own eyes and cheeks, “You’ve just got—glitter?” You question, “On your face, I’m just curious is all.”

Oh. That’s mortifying. Simon instinctively reaches for his face to rub off what he already has assumed is indestructible glitter, destined to be glued to his face forever. Before he has the chance to explain himself, his daughter speaks on his behalf.

“I gave dad a makeover,” she announces, utterly proud and laughing loudly at how ridiculous it all seems. You look shocked at first but then join in on her laughter.

“Oh!” You draw out, explanation suddenly making sense, “Did he look pretty?”

She scrunches her nose, “No,” she says bluntly. Simon wishes the concrete would crack underneath him and swallow him whole, he shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

“Ouch,” you grimace, looking over at him, “Tough critic,”

“I’m never enough for her,” he grunts, completely serious.

His daughter laughs and turns around to hug him, she looks up at him with those big half moon eyes from the massive grin on her face, “I can do better this time! I’ll make you look prettier—like a princess!”

Simon mourns the idea of more glitter being put on his face, he’s already plotting ways to hide it get rid of that damn makeup set.

You laugh and crouch down in a mock stage whisper into her ear, “Make sure you get photos next time okay? Maybe we can share them with the class,”

“No fuc—” he cuts himself off at your knowing eyebrow raise and exhales deeply, “No photos, and no more glitter, this stuff is a pain to get off,”

You smile and concede, standing back up to your full height, “Ah well,” you sigh, “Tried my best,”

“I can make you a drawing.” his daughter suggests eagerly.

You nod happily at the compromise and agree to receive a drawing once she returns after the weekend. Simon would hate you for it, but the task kept his daughter occupied all weekend. She really set her mind to the task, got out all her best pencils, made sure they were sharpened, and used her best colouring techniques to really capture her father’s looks.

You couldn’t help but make a big deal of it on Monday when she handed it to you with that big satisfied grin on her face. She explained every detail and idea which made you very proud to hear how much effort she put in.

And when you asked Simon if you had helped with her drawing after the bell he kindly asked if you could burn it and never speak of it again.

The drawing is secretly kept folded in your desk drawer, only to look at it when you need a laugh.

[chimckenns]

Honey had been stressed and busy with work for the past month. More often than not Guy saw them almost to the point of collapsing as they walked in the door, and Guy would have to pick them up and lay them on the couch for a moment’s rest before they could muster up enough energy to shower and eat.

So he hesitated when he asked them to come to his graduation. To ask them to make time despite their hectic schedule… Guy couldn’t help but hesitate. It felt selfish. It’s just a simple graduation ceremony that only lasted a few hours. He walks across a stage and takes a plaque. That’s it. It’s not really worth asking them to take the day off and run the risk of their work piling up even more. He knows that. Besides, he’s already technically graduated as of a few months ago, this ceremony is but a formality.

He slipped the note on the table in front of them.

“I know you’re busy and if you have work you don’t have to come. It’s long overdue anyway.” He laughed.

Honey sat up and held the note in their hands. It took them a few seconds to focus their eyes to read the print, but once they registered the information they smiled and opened their mouth-

But before they could reply, Guy went to the kitchen, starting up a rant about anything and everything.

He felt…guilty. His Honey had been working and he couldn’t bring himself to drag them away. Yet a part of him really wanted them there. They’re the only family he really has, and certainly the one he wants to actually keep. But they’ve been working and taking care of most of the bills - there’s only so much a part time pizza job can do. And he feels terrible every time he sees Honey exhausted from their full time job.

Whenever Honey brought up the graduation, Guy would divert the topic to something else. He didn’t want Honey to feel like they owe him something if they were busy. And he couldn’t bring himself to listen to their inevitable rejection of his invitation - yes, a part of him still wants them to go. A big part.

In the days leading up to the ceremony at it seemed like Honey got busier and busier with work making them stay for overtime almost every day now. They got up early too, whispering a “good morning” and sneaking a kiss to Guy’s sleepy lids before leaving the apartment before the sun was even up.

Guy felt lonely.

And then immediately cringed at his selfishness.

Honey was working their ass off and he’s here complaining about them not giving him attention. Stupid.

He tried his best to help them whenever he could - making dinner and leaving breakfast wrapped up and ready in the fridge. He left notes in their fridge to wish them a good morning, and sent texts checking up on them frequently. He saved a meme collection that he’d send them too, knowing it’ll make them smile.

Eventually the date of Guy’s graduation comes around. Honey had left for work as per usual, leaving him to get ready and head to campus alone. A single tear ran down his cheek as he fixed his tie and looked in the mirror.

He missed them.

He just wants to get this day over and done with.

…

He walked out the door. And froze.

Standing in front of him was Honey, a giant bouquet of flowers in one hand and a teddy bear with a graduation cap and a pizza on its head in their other hand. They stood, beaming at him with that smile he missed so much.

“I had to run to pick these up, sorry for leaving early.” They grinned, holding the presents towards him. “Congratulations on graduating, baby!”

Guy wasted no time and ran towards them, hugging them and burying his face in their neck. He sniffled, unable to control the relieved tears from escaping. Honey patted his back, full of understanding like always.

“You felt bad for asking me to attend, didn’t you.”

Guy nodded against their shoulder.

“You dummy. I’ll never miss this for the world. Even if it meant cramming work for a few days.”

Guy loosened his arms, and let Honey wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“I’m so proud of you.”

[maddamoiselle]

The Weight of Wanting You

Pairing: Caleb x NonMC!Reader Synopsis: You fell for each other in pixels and whispers—never realizing you had already crashed into each other every day in real life.

Tags: Ennemies to lovers, friends to lovers, university AU, slow burn( I hope) Author's nonsense : Here is the next chapter. I won't lie, i really enjoy it even if it was difficult to write everything in that chapter. I hope you will enjoy. it. Words: 6769 <- Previous Chapter

Chapter III: Weightless, For a Moment

“ What do you think, doctor? What can you tell me about these?”

Zayne was staring at your pills, moving it between his gloved fingers. His eyes were cold as usual, not showing any information that would make you feel better or worse. His impassible face never betrays any thoughts.

”What are they for? I see no name on it.”

”Yeah. My dad gives them to me. Says they help with focus and stabilising my Evol. But… I don’t know.”

You could see it already— the shift in his posture, the fickler in his eyes. He was reading between the lines.

”You think he is lying?”

You paused. There was no judgment in his voice, just curiosity. You didn’t want to say it out loud, but since Caleb had said that your father was working with Ever…. 

Why were you trusting his words more than your own father’s?

”I don’t know Zayne…”

Zayne stared at you before going behind his desk. His finger flew on his keyboard, watching his computer’s screen seriously. 

“Then leave this with me until tonight. I’ll run a full analysis at the lab.”

You smiled at your best friend before hugging him, your arms wrapping around his shoulder as he kept his eyes on his computer. He tapped your arms twice with a slight smile before you back away.

You took your bag, getting ready to ride back to Skyheavan. Why did Zayne's office have to be in Linkon? It would be easier to meet with him if he was closer to SkyHavan..

After finally being back on campus, you put your earbuds in your ears and went for a walk.  You checked on your phone if you had any notification from discord but the last message you had gotten from your friend was that he was sick.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (5:23): im sick 

Grav1ty.D3n1ed  (5:23) : can you believe that ?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (5:23): i couldn't finish my jog because i almost faint

WindQueen.exe (6:12): sorry I just woke up :( i didn't see your message

WindQueen.exe (6:12): no you need anything?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (7:00): holding your hand tonight? :(

When you had received this message this morning, you had chuckled. But it was already past noon and you still haven't received any message since.

Was he feeling that bad?

Maybe you could ask him where his sister was, and maybe you could bring him something to eat..? Or maybe—

“ There she is ! Quickly, Caleb!”

You turned your head toward the voice that shouted your name. You couldn't help but frown at the view of Caleb and his girlfriend. She was waving at you with a big smile, rushing toward you while Caleb was staring at you.

He didn’t seem to feel good…He looked pale. Jaws tensed. There was a faint sheen on his forehead, like he was sweating despite the wind.

But who cared?

“We were looking for you! I wanted to invite you for dinner at our place.”

Huh?

”Huh?”

You took off one of your earbuds. Did you hear correctly?

Your gaze drifted to Caleb. He was staring at you, then looked away. He wasn’t saying anything. Didn’t argue. But something about the way he was holding himself screamed: that wasn’t my idea.

You couldn’t help but smirk. 

Time for revenge.

If Caleb thought you wouldn’t get revenge for his words from yesterday and that he went through your stuff? He was greatly mistaken.

”I would love to!”

Caleb’s brow twitched. Just for a second but you caught it. The look he gave you made you smile brighter.

”R-really? I’ll send you the address, it’s in Linkon! We will use ou— my grandma’s house!”

“Linkon? No worries, I know my way there.” You smirked, letting his girlfriend add your number in her phone. You glanced at Caleb, giving him your most innocent smile.

He didn’t say a word. 

His eyes narrowed slightly. Like he was trying to figure out what kind of game you were playing. You winked at him before taking back your phone from his girlfriend.

”Then, I’ll see you! You can come around 4pm!”

4pm? Wasn’t it too early for dinner?

 You nodded at her while she was trying to send you a message, making sure she noted your number correctly. Caleb leaned toward your ear, his lips stretching in his usual polite smile while his girlfriend was yapping to the two of you, her eyes on her phone.

“Didn’t take your pills today? You’re more of a pain in the ass than usual.”

You beamed at him before bringing your hand to his forehead. He wanted to play? Let’s play then.

“Awn, Caleb, are you okay? You look a bit sick…”

You didn’t expect to feel him burning against your palm. Not just a little warm. Fever-hot.

Your eyes widened while he took a step back, quicker than you expected. He was looking at you like he was daring you to say anything. You glanced at his girlfriend before nodding at him.

He did not want his pipsqueak to worry… That was cute in a way.

“You’re seriously ill,” you said quietly. “And you’re just pretending you’re not?”

He shrugged.

“You’re seriously annoying. And you’re not pretending at all.”

But the edge was softer than before. A little… off-balance.

And you knew he felt it too — that split second when your fingers touched his skin and his walls almost dropped.

Just for a breath.

“Then, should we go?”

You didn’t know how it happened, but Caleb’s girlfriend tugged you with them asking if you were okay with coming with them to do some groceries shopping. You wanted to refuse but as soon as you spotted Caleb’s expression, you accepted with a huge smile.

Then your body tensed.

Fuck, you were supposed to meet with your discord’s friend tonight! You checked your phone and couldn’t help being even more worried as you still haven’t received any message from him.

The wind has picked up again. You were walking slowly, half-listening to his girlfriend chatting beside you. Caleb was a few steps behind, as usual — quiet, unreadable.

But your fingers were already in your pocket, wrapped around your phone.

You opened Discord like a nervous tic.

Still no reply from Grav1ty.D3n1ed.

That last message—

"Grav1ty.D3n1ed (7:00): holding your hand tonight? :(?"

It had been hours.

You hesitated. Then type:

You hit send and tried not to overthink it.

 WindQueen.exe (12:59): still alive?

WindQueen.exe (12:59): should i start drafting your digital memorial post?

You almost pocketed the phone again when the typing bubble appeared.

Your chest fluttered — ridiculous, but real.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. You were so relieved he had answered so quickly but it also meant he wasn’t resting properly.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:00): barely alive. 3% battery and 1% human

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:00): but your message just boosted me to 2%

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:00): congrats. you’re medicinal

 WindQueen.exe (13:01):  wow. my therapist would be so proud

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:01): seriously tho

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:01): it’s dumb how much that helped

A pause. Then:

 WindQueen.exe (13:02):  yeah well

WindQueen.exe (13:02): i’d kinda rather you didn’t die

WindQueen.exe (13:02): even if you are insufferable

You bite your lip. The smile couldn’t go away. How could his words make you feel so at ease when you were currently with Caleb and his girlfriend going to the shop to prepare dinner.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:02): i’ll stay alive

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:02): if only to keep being insufferable to you

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:02): deal?

Weren’t you supposed to be the guest? Why were you here already?

You slid the phone back into your pocket, heart lighter.

 WindQueen.exe (13:03): deal.

WindQueen.exe (13:03) but i’m raising the price soon.

WindQueen.exe (13:03) emotional labor ain’t cheap

For just a second, everything feels less heavy.

You were still smiling when you slid your phone into your coat pocket, the wind brushing lightly over your face like it’s caught your mood.

You turned, instinctively, your gaze flicking behind you—

And froze.

Caleb was still a few steps back.

Head slightly bowed. Shoulders more relaxed than usual.

He was looking down at his phone.

And he was smiling.

Not the smirk he wore when he was  being smug. Not the sarcastic grin he threw you like a knife.

A real smile.

Small. Quiet. Private.

The kind you didn’t think he was capable of.

Your heart skipped a bit. Just a little.

Because whoever he was texting… must have been someone truly special. You knew Caleb was loved, from his friend to anyone on campus. But you couldn’t help but think he was living for others' expectations. That was why his smile always seemed… fake? But right now…

You’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. Not even his girlfriend.

Then he noticed you looking.

The smile vanished in a blink. His posture sharpened. His walls snapped back into place.

 “What?” He muttered.

 “Nothing,” you lied, turning away too fast. “Just surprised your face doesn’t crack when you smile.”

He didn’t answer.

But you didn’t miss the way his fingers tighten around his phone before he slipped it into his pocket — like he was protecting something precious.

Your head turned toward his girlfriend who had a fond smile on her face. You looked at her hands and noticed she had her phone between her fingers.

Maybe they were texting each other.

That explained everything. Mystery solved.

His girlfriend looped her arm through yours the second you stepped into the store.

“We need snacks, something sweet, and something spicy,” she announced. “That way, dinner reflects all our personalities.”

You glanced behind you.

Caleb was trailing a few steps behind, dragging the wheeled cart like it personally offended him.

“What does that make him?” you asked, nodding toward Caleb.

She grinned. “The spice. Obviously.”

“Please,” you muttered. “He’s the bitter aftertaste.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow as he passed you.

“And you’re what, air-popped popcorn? All hiss, no bite?”

“At least I don’t ruin every dish I’m in.”

“At least you admit you belong in the microwave.”

You glared. He smirked. His girlfriend, oblivious or pretending to be, hummed as she dragged you down the candy aisle.

“You guys have such a dynamic,” she beamed, “It’s like watching a live drama. Except the leads would rather kill each other than kiss.”

You and Caleb spoke at the same time:

You cringed while Caleb messed with his girlfriend’s hair while she was laughing. What kind of girlfriend jokes about her boyfriend being in a relationship with another girl..?

“Exactly.”

“God, no.”

You trailed behind her as she scanned for snacks. But then, you felt your phone buzz again. Your fingers twitched for it. You wanted to check if he replied again.

Then you glanced over.

Caleb’s leaning against the freezer section, trying not to look like he's shivering, his phone in his hand. You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you still burning up, or is that just your personality?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Worried about me, wind girl?”

“Nope. Just checking if I need to buy ice for your face.”

He gave you a lazy once-over and muttered:

“I’m just sick of you, nothing to worry about.”

Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.

His pipsqueak bounced off with a dramatic gasp about “the perfect brand of noodles” and vanished around the corner, leaving you and Caleb alone in the aisle.

You were glaring at him over a bag of rice crackers. He was pretending to compare two brands of instant soup like it’s a life-or-death decision.

“You know that one has fake protein, right?” you said, pointing at the one in his hand.

“So do your insults, but you still serve them.”

Some years in jail might be cosy. Or after killing him you could maybe go in the 109Zone, start a new life–

You were mid-eye roll, about to roast him over his tragic soup choices, when you both heard it:

Creak. Creak…

You turned at the same time.

The cart was rolling.

Then it picked up speed — those cursed little plastic wheels clicking faster and faster as it turned the corner.

“Wait—”

“You let go!” you accused.

“You were standing closer to it!”

Neither of you thought— You just ran.

Full sprint.

Down the aisle, around the corner, nearly colliding with a stack of discount marshmallows.

“Left! Go left!” you yelled.

“I know how to chase a cart, thanks!”

“Do you? You look like a dying giraffe!”

“I hate you.”

The cart was now flying down the sloped aisle, heading straight toward a precarious wall of fruit juice boxes.

“If it crashes, it’s your fault!”

“We are literally chasing this together!”

In a blur of limbs and questionable decision-making, you both reached it at the same time.

You slammed into his side, lost your footing, and stumbled forward. Caleb was already crouched low from the momentum, and as you hit him—

Caleb lunges for the cart handle, a second before you did.

He got one hand on it — yanked it sideways to slow it down.

You dived too, going for the side to stop the cart from tipping.

You fell on top of him, arms instinctively braced on either side of his chest.

The cart wobbled... but didn’t fall.

Neither did you.

Instead, you both hit the floor in a tangle, your legs bent awkwardly, hands still gripping the cart from opposite sides.

You were half-kneeling, one leg over Caleb’s lap, your palms flat on the floor to keep from collapsing all the way. He was partially sitting, elbows behind him, one knee up, his free hand still holding the cart upright.

Your faces were way too close — like inches apart. You could count each other’s freckles. You could feel the heat of a blush.

You were still half-on top of him, arms braced, his hand still gripping the cart handle like it wronged him personally.

Panting. Sweaty. A little stunned.

For a second, you just blinked at each other.

Your noses were way too close.

“…Well,” you muttered breathlessly. “Teamwork.”

“You elbowed me in the ribs.”

“And saved your life. You’re welcome.”

You both scrambled up, pretending nothing happened, brushing off imaginary dust. You looked at the cart, making sure everything was still inside while Caleb was rubbing his knees.

You glanced at him—

And then you lost it.

The laugh tears out of you — loud, full, unstoppable. The kind that made you bend forward and slapped your knee. You tried to stop, but it just kept coming.

Caleb stared at you like you’ve finally snapped.

“...Are you broken?” he asked, blinking.

You gasped through laughter, barely able to breathe.

“We—we chased it! Like idiots!”

“Because it was moving!”

“We have evol!”

That was when it hit him.

His face scrunched. His mouth twitched.

Then he started laughing too — lower, rougher, shaking his head as he leaned against the cart.

“We could’ve stopped it in two seconds.”

“I can literally move air. You control gravity!”

“Why did we run like civilians?!”

You were both wheezing now, practically leaning on each other from how hard you’re laughing. You could see Caleb’s cheeks getting redder and you wondered if he was truly laughing at the situation or if his fever was getting the best of him.

“Oh my god, we’re so dumb,” you managed to say, wiping your eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, still laughing.

You were still laughing, both of you breathless, when a wicked little grin curled onto your face. You straightened up, adjusted your hair dramatically, and said in the most innocent voice possible:

“This was fun. Can’t wait to tell your girlfriend how you heroically almost died saving canned soup.”

Caleb froze.

“Don’t.”

Your grin widened. You took a step back.

“Oh no. I’m definitely telling her.”

“I swear on–.”

“I’m going to open with: ‘He screamed when it wobbled.’”

You ran.

You bolted down the aisle like you’re chasing victory itself, giggling, heart pounding.

Then — the air shifted.

Suddenly, your feet felt heavy. Not stuck, just... slowed.

Your steps dragged for a second before you glanced back over your shoulder—

Caleb’s hand was raised. His Evol was active, subtle, but definitely there. He would not use his evol to stop a moving cart, but of course he would use it against you.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

He walked toward you, unbothered.

“You started it.”

You laughed again, stumbling forward with exaggerated effort.

“Abusing gravity to protect your pride? That’s low, even for you.”

“You threatened to tattle. That’s war.”

The moment he got close enough to reach, you ducked behind the cart, still laughing, using it like a shield.

“I’ll tell her you cried for my help.”

“I will float you.”

“You wish.”

Caleb stared at you with a mocking smile while you sneakily took an item from the aisle behind you. He was stalking toward you, slow, calm, with that infuriatingly smug face like he already won.

“Come on,” he said smoothly. “Take the L. Just admit I’m faster than you at reacting.”

You grab a pack of rice crackers and toss it in his direction. He catches it midair without flinching.

“You’re not faster,” you huff. “You’re just cheating.”

“It’s not cheating if it’s strategy.”

“You pulled me back using gravity.”

“You threw snacks at me.”

“That was self-defense.”

You squinted at him. He was smirking. And you were still crouched like you’re guarding treasure.

And that’s when it happens.

You both just... laughed.

Not mockingly. Not sarcastically.

Just—honestly.

You were still sitting on the floor, and he’s got his hands in his pockets, watching you with something softer in his eyes now. Something unsure.

“You’re kind of fun when you’re not acting like a brick wall,” you said, breathless.

He shrugged, chuckling.

“You’re kind of tolerable when you’re not trying to….”

A beat of silence.

Your eyes meet.

You were smiling shyly. He wasn’t looking at you with those cold eyes he always seemed to wear when you were nearby. And for once—neither of you looked away.

“...Are we seriously having a good time right now?” you asked, almost whispering.

“I’m not ready to admit that,” he answered quietly.

You stood up again, smiling to yourself. You weren’t ready to admit it either. It was better to be an enemy than… whatever that was.

After five more minutes, his girlfriend came back. Of course, you tried to tell him about how Caleb kneeled in front of you, thanking you for saving the cart but he had already his hand on your mouth, making sure you couldn’t tell anymore lies.

You could see his girlfriend beaming at the two of you. She pushed Caleb and you to the register where Caleb paid for the groceries, making his girlfriend pout. He gave her a soft smile, rustled her hair before holding the bags.

They truly seemed to love each other.

You were staring at the couple who was deciding if it wouldn't be better to eat at Caleb’s place. Caleb didn’t want the frozen food to heat with the sun but his girlfriend really wanted to go to Linkon. Your eyes were on Caleb and you couldn’t help but notice that he was sweating more than a few minutes ago.

His fever.

You finally said to his girlfriend that it would be better for you to stay in Skyhavan and that you would come to her house another day. She sighed but didn’t say anything else. In the end, the three of you took a cab to Caleb’s apartment. 

You weren’t expecting his place to feel so... normal.

Clean, quiet, lived-in — a soft scent of citrus and something warm already coming from the kitchen. You watch from the bar counter, arms resting lazily over the surface, as Caleb stood at the stove, sleeves pushed up, brow furrowed like sautéing onions was a life-or-death mission.

“Never thought you’d be the type to cook,” you teased lightly.

He didn’t even look up.

“Did you think I survived on sheer rage?”

“Instant noodles and … I don’t know, Apple juice?.”

He snorted

“Close.”

His girlfriend appeared beside you with a drink in hand and a dreamy little sigh.

“He’s always like this,” she says. “All serious when he’s focused. It’s kind of hot, right?”

You gave her a sideways smile and sipped your water to avoid saying something like, unfortunately, yes.

“He burns everything when he’s distracted though,” She added with a wink. What was she trying to do?

You glanced back at him.

He’s got a little smudge of sauce on his jaw. His face is slightly pink from the heat, or his fever, hair messier than usual. And for once… he wasn’t trying to glare a hole through you. He was just existing. Focused. Calm.

And it’s weirdly—

Endearing.

“You gonna stand there judging or be useful?” he muttered without turning around.

“I’m excellent at moral support.”

“Great. Morally support the chopping board.”

He slid a knife across the counter to you without looking.

You blinked.

“Giving me a knife? Can I use it on you?”

“ Is that your kink?”

“Wha–”

“Quickly, cut the vegetables,” he ordered you.

So, here you were; chopping vegetables like a somewhat-functioning human, stealing glances when you thought he wouldn't notice.

Caleb stood  just beside you, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms tense and smooth as he stirred the pan. His movements were precise, efficient — and annoyingly, really nice to look at.

You watched the subtle flex of muscle when he tilted the skillet, the way his veins show faintly as he grips the handle with practiced ease.

You blinked, realizing you’ve been staring. You quickly look back down at the cutting board before he—

“You’re gonna slice your fingers off if you keep looking at me like that.”

You froze.

“I wasn’t—”

“Sure.”

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t gloat.

Just glanced at you from the corner of his eye, calm and unreadable.

You rolled your eyes.

“You’re not that interesting.”

“You stared at my arms for a solid ten seconds.”

“I was judging your lack of seasoning technique.”

“Right. And blushing because?”

You were not blushing. Probably. Maybe a little.

“It’s warm here.”

“Sure.”

You threw a carrot slice at him but he caught it without looking and tossed it into the pan. You hated how smooth it was. You hated that Caleb was good at almost everything… even sick.

“Show-off.”

“Flustered.”

“Keep talking and I’m adding hot sauce to everything.”

“Joke’s on you. I like it spicy.”

You hated that your stomach flipped. What was that?

You chopped faster.

What the fuck was happening? Were you affection-starved? Since when were you feeling soft for Caleb? Remember? He thought of you as … someone dangerous. He was mostly being nice because his girlfriend must have asked him to. You felt your body relaxed. 

Yeah, that was the reason.

The food was done.

Somehow, you haven’t set anything on fire or launched anything into the ceiling, which feels like a miracle in itself.

Caleb reached into the cabinet for plates. You’re beside him, arms crossed loosely, trying to pretend your heart isn’t racing from the way he said “spicy” earlier like it was a challenge.

He slid the plates onto the counter. You reached to grab one—

And so does he.

Your fingers brushed.

It was barely a touch. Just skin against skin, knuckles against palm. But neither of you pulled away. Not right away.

Your hand still. His did too. Warm and solid against yours.

The hum of the stovetop. The clink of his girlfriend’s mug in the other room. But all you heard was your pulse in your ears.

You glanced up. 

Caleb was already looking at you. Not smirking. Not mocking. Just... looking. Like he noticed something too. Like maybe this — whatever this was — was scaring him a little bit, the same way it was scaring you.

“You gonna move or make me carry the whole plate with your hand on it?” he says, voice low.

You blinked.

Snorted softly.

“Tempting. But I don’t want to be gravity-slammed into your fridge.”

You both pulled your hands back at the same time.

He cleared his throat.

You grabbed the plate and turned to grab silverware — heart in your throat, fingers tingling.

It meant nothing. Nothing. He was being nice for his girlfriend, and he was mostly making sure you weren't a threat.

You tell yourself that.

But you were still smiling.

You stepped into the hallway for a second, phone already in your hand before you realize you’re reaching for comfort. Or distraction. Or him.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed.

You opened Discord. Stared at the blinking cursor.

Then you type:

 WindQueen.exe (19:54):  help

You hesitated. Then sent. You needed to find your safe comfort zone with him. Maybe he would help you understand what was going on in your head… or heart?

A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:55): oh no

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:55): do i need to call for backup

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:55): my wind queen down??

WindQueen.exe (19:56): i’m in enemy territory. WindQueen.exe (19:56):  if i die, tell my story

WindQueen.exe (19:56): tell them i fell victim to forearms and homemade pasta

You smiled down at the screen.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:57): noted.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:57): gravestone will read:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:57): “she never stood a chance”

The irony hit you like a quiet wave.

You were texting the one person who made your heart feel safe… While standing just feet away from the one person who made it race.

 WindQueen.exe (19;59) : okay real question

WindQueen.exe (19;59) : what’s the difference between lust and a crush?

 Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;00): damn jumping straight into philosophy huh

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;00): is this a test

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;00): do i need to submit a 3-page essay?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;01): ah. the “do i want to kiss you or punch you or both” dilemma

 WindQueen.exe (20;00): nope. i’m just confused

WindQueen.exe (20;00):  because like... how do you know if you like someone

WindQueen.exe (20;00):  or if you just think they’re hot 😭

WindQueen.exe (20;01): EXACTLY

WindQueen.exe (20;01): i don’t trust my brain

WindQueen.exe (20;01): or my face. or my hands. or my taste in people

WindQueen.exe (20;03): horrible… What if it’s both?

 Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20:02): okay okay

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20:02); lust is mostly about wanting someone physically

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20:02); a crush is when they breathe wrong and your brain short-circuits anyway

WindQueen.exe (20:04): great. love that for me.  i’m gonna die surrounded by stupid emotions and nice shoulders

 Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;03): if you’re both mentally and physically down bad, congrats

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;03): you might be doomed 💀

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;04): ...whose shoulders 😐

WindQueen.exe (20;04): 👀 you jealous?

You couldn’t help but bite your lips, were you too straightforward? But you were both flirting right now right? You so wanted him to… desire you. Were you greedy?

WindQueen.exe (20;05):  you always are

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05): depends

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05):  am i still your favorite?

WindQueen.exe (20;05): im blushing too hard right now, stop making me pathetic

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05): then yeah

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05): definitely jealous

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;06): good

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;06): because i’m not planning on losing you to some random guy

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;06): even if he does make good pasta

He was jealous. Like... really jealous. And not hiding it.

Your stomach flipped. Your toes curled in your socks. Your cheeks were so hot you almost wondered if Caleb had given you his fever.

You were now sitting on the cool floor in the hallway, knees drawn up, back against the wall. The light was soft here — just enough to make shadows curled at the edges of your legs.

Your phone sat warm in your palm, Grav1ty.D3n1ed’s last message still lingering on the screen:

“Good. Because I’m not planning on losing you.”

Your breath caught.

There was no name. No face. Just words.

But he always knew exactly how to say them.

You glanced around, pulse tapping beneath your skin like a drumbeat. Caleb was still in the kitchen, you hoped, you didn’t hear any noise from the kitchen for a while now. His girlfriend was still humming in the living room down the hall.

You raised your phone.

No face. Never your face.

Just a glimpse of your shoulder, the curve of your neck, your fingers lifted into the frame to form a crooked, soft half-heart again.

The shadows did most of the work. Your shirt slipped just slightly to the side. A little breeze from your Evol lifted a strand of your hair into the shot — a whisper of who you are without giving anything away.

You snapped the photo.

Then, you typed slowly.

You hit send.

 WindQueen.exe (20;07): tell me,

WindQueen.exe (20;07): if i drive you crazy like this

WindQueen.exe (20;07): is it lust?

 WindQueen.exe (20;07): or am i just a crush you haven’t solved yet?

…

Why did you do that? Just because a man was jealous over you didn’t mean you could just.. What if he thought you were desperate? What if he was just friendly flirting like you have been doing since you knew each other? What if–

Your head snapped up when you heard dishes crashing in the kitchen. What was Caleb doing? Did his fever make him fall? You should go and check.

You looked at your phone and froze.

You punch the air with your fist, pressing your forehead against the wall, giggling to yourself. You were basically jumping while trying to keep quiet. How could he make you feel so good at yourself? 

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): it’s both fuck its both

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): you’re a crush that won’t leave my head

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): and a touch i have felt only once  but already miss

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): and if you keep doing this, i will lose sleep tonight

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): remember im sick i almost faint at your picture, dont do this to me

You turned around and almost shot out in fear when Caleb ran past you. He didn't even look at you, his face was so red and yet his eyes seemed… hungry. He opened a door– you guessed it was his bedroom– before slamming the door shut. 

You went to his girlfriend, asking if everything was okay but she just smiled brightly at you. She asked you to sit as the dinner was ready. You both put the silverware on the table and waited for Caleb. After ten minutes, his girlfriend went upstairs to check on him white you took your phone from your pocket with an excited smile.

He had sent you a picture.

You opened the image, breath caught somewhere between curiosity and something you wouldn’t name. The photo loaded slowly, like it knew it was about to knock the air out of your lungs.

His hand was there, fingers curled into a half-heart — just like yours.

But what drew your eyes was what’s around it.

He was clearly shirtless.

The edge of his bare chest was just visible in the shot — cut off carefully, but not by accident. You could see the lines of his collarbone, the faint slope of muscle leading down from his neck, just a shadow of where skin curved into his shoulder.

His forearm was resting across his bare stomach, where the light hit soft against the defined outline of his abs — nothing graphic, but enough to make your heart tripped.

There was a towel slung low at his hip, like he’d just dried his hands. It clung to the frame like it wasn’t meant to be there, like the photo was taken fast — impulsively.

But the half-heart was steady.

His message came seconds later.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;15); fair’s fair

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;15); now you’ve got a piece of me too ;)

The air felt warmer than it did before.

You stared.

Eyes wide.

Mouth parted.

You didn’t notice when Caleb and his girlfriend joined you on the table. Caleb was still red and he kept checking on his phone. His girlfriend asked him to stop so he could join the conversation but you were also too busy staring at the picture.

The dinner ended pretty quickly, you managed to let go of your phone and have a nice discussion with the two of them. You didn’t want to stay too long, you still had stuff to do–

Your eyes fell on your phone when you heard its ringing.

Zayne.

 You excused yourself, taking your phone while going on the balcony. You answered before the second buzz.

“Zayne?”

He didn't waste time.

“You were right to be suspicious.”

Your pulse spiked.

 “What do you mean?”

You heard him shuffle through something — papers? Digital reports?

 “They’re not supplements. They’re not even legal. These pills mess with cognitive-emotional pathways. They suppress fight-or-flight, long-term emotional memory, even empathy in certain thresholds.”

You leaned against the wall, wind stirring around your ankles. You weren’t even sure you were understanding everything he was saying.

“You’re saying they were trying to make me—what—less emotional?”

 “Less human,” Zayne said quietly.

You felt your breath catch. Less human…?

 “How did you test it so fast?”

Zayne hesitated. Then:

 “Because it wasn’t the first time they were used.”

Silence.

You gripped the phone tighter.

 “...What?”

 “The same compound came up in another report. Another patient. Same structure. Same imprint mark. But that subject didn’t make it past phase three.”

Your stomach dropped.

 “Phase three of what?”

He didn't answer.

But you already knew.

You’ve heard your father say it before. In passing. In clinical tones you never paid attention to.

And now, it felt like the ground under you wasn't real.

You whispered a thank you to Zayne, you lowered the phone slowly, hand trembling, the wind curling tighter around your legs like it wanted to wrap you up and carry you far away. You could still hear your best friend’s voice trying to call for you but you couldn’t even understand his words.

You stared at the sky like it might hold an answer.

That’s when you felt it — a shift in the air. A pull behind you. Not the wind.

Gravity.

Your spine stiffened.

 “You heard that, didn’t you?” you whispered, not turning.

There was a pause.

Then Caleb’s voice — low, unreadable:

 “Every word.”

You turned. Slowly. He was standing a few feet away, hood down now, dark hair messy from fever-slick sweat, but his eyes…

His eyes were clear.

Not angry. Not smug.

Just… sharp. Watching.

You shook your head, something cold curling in your chest.

 “So what now? You think I’m just another project Ever messed with? That I’m broken?”

He stepped closer. Not enough to scare you. Just enough that the night air buzzed between you.

“No,” he whispered. “Now I think you didn’t know.”

You froze.

“I thought you were like him,” Caleb murmured. “I thought you knew what he was doing to you. I thought you were on their side… that's why I was mad when you hurted her in your first year.”

Your throat tightened. You didn’t know what to say. That was why Caleb hated you since day one. He thought you were just a tool that could be used… that you hurted his girlfriend because Ever asked you to?

Then he added, quieter:

“But watching you shake like that just now? That wasn’t fake.”

You looked away, blinking hard. You were so lost, like you were inside a storm where you couldn't find solid ground. Slowly, your body slid to the ground until you were sitting against the wall, staring at the night sky.

 “What am I supposed to do, Caleb?”

You felt sick. Cold.

You didn't realize you were trembling until something warm wrapped gently around your wrist.

You flinched, startled.

It was Caleb.

He didn’t say anything at first.

He just crouched down in front of you where you’ve sat against the wall, head buried in your arms. His hand stayed there — not grabbing, not forcing — just anchoring you back to this moment.

“You didn’t choose this,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him. His voice didn’t sound like it usually does — not sharp, not sarcastic. Just steady. Heavy with something he was holding back.

“They fed you lies. They used you. That’s not on you.”

You tried to laugh, but it died in your throat.

“I took them willingly, Caleb. I… I trusted him.”

You didn’t need to say who. He knew..

He didn’t flinch, but you could see in his eyes. He was looking at you like he knew your pain. Like he already lived this kind of suffering you were going through.

“And I hated you for it,” he said, softly but without shame. “I thought you were one of them. I thought you knew. But you didn’t.”

He shifted, kneeling now in front of where you sat.

“You’re not weak for believing in the people you loved.”

His hand moved gently — his gravity tampering down around you like a safety net. You felt the subtle weight of the world settle, not to crush, but to hold you still. Like he was saying:

You’re not floating away. I won’t let you.

Your breathing evens out. Slowly.

You whispered, broken:

“I don’t know who I am anymore… I don’t know who I am without them.”

He met your eyes, gaze steady.

“Then we’ll find out together.”

You looked at him, his face blurry because of the tear in your eyes. You gave him a soft smile before his eyes fell to your phone. You realized Zayne was still there. Caleb frowned before gently taking your phone from your hands, watching if you made any moves that showed you didn't want it.

He put your phone on speaker.

“Zayne..?”

“Caleb? Why are you here? Is she okay?”

You stared at the scene. Caleb was talking with your best friend, Zayne, like they were childhood friends. You couldn’t help but chuckled when Caleb blushed a bit at Zayne’s remark about how he comforted you.

“And you’re still bad at pretending you don’t care,” Zayne replied in his stern voice.

“Wait. Are you two... friends?”

“Absolutely not.” they both said at the same time.

“Zayne, Caleb and I are childhood friends."

You turned around and noticed Caleb’s girlfriend smiling softly at you. You quickly wiped your tears but she offered you tissues with a smile full of understanding.

“ Well, it has been a while since we saw Zayne, because of his work but…” She said, blushing a bit and playing with her hair.

You were so lost, what was happening right now?

You felt her lips against your ears as she whispered to you.

“I’m sorry, I kind of spied on you and Caleb. I’m sorry about what you learned but…I truly want us to be friends.”

You turned your face toward her with a sorry smile. She was truly adorable, looking at you with big hopeful eyes.

“Being friends with your boyfriend’s enemy isn't for the faint of heart.”

“Oh, Caleb isn’t my boyfriend.”

Okay, what the fuck was happening? Too much information, not enough emotional capacity to understand all of this.

You stared at her with big eyes, your mouth wide open.

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” She giggled, blushing a bit. “He just needed a girlfriend to be left alone. I volunteered. And now he has to cook dinner for me each time we see each other." She looked at you before blushing even more and whispered in your ears. “I am in love with someone else…”

You followed her gaze that fell on your phone. Zayne’s voice was still coming out of the device.

Oh my—

“Well, now that we are all friends! Should we make a plan to take down Ever?”

---

Taglist: @xyzbeloved @deepspace-fishie @floofycookie @silmeria-lafleur @pagesfalling @noxus123 @sylusgirlie7 @anuncalledbridge @napforalifetime @starlitkitten @floofycookie

[glxssy-the-first]

c00lkidd🍭+ kid!reader oneshot

Requested by Anon, reader goes by they/them

THIS IS STRICTLY PLATONIC.

TW: None!

May be OOC

Being put into this dimension was bad enough for anyone unfortunate, but a literal child??? Now that was just plain cruel. Because now a kid was experiencing death over and over and over.

Despite this, [Name] was able to learn how to survive in this hell. Since they were a child, they had more energy and could hide easier, But they couldn't run as fast as the other survivors unless they drank a bloxy cola.

This also caused a lot of survivors to be more protective over them, since they were still young. So it's a win win for them!

But now, another win was coming.

It was when there seemed to be a normal round, with the killer being c00lkidd. The round seemed to be going as normal, until [Name] and c00lkidd crossed paths

At first, he didn't chase them like he always would, But was definitely excited to see that there was someone around the same age as him. And then it devolved into chatting through the entire round, giving survivors a break and to just do whatever until the round ended and everyone got teleported back to their respective lobbys

From that point on, if name was in the round with c00lkidd, they would be sent to go interact with him so that the survivors could get a break every now and then. If [Name] wasn't in the round, it would just go on as the usual round.

𝄞✦⟢𓂃⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍬ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓂃⟢✦𝄞

[Name] found themselves back in another round, this one taking place in the ‘Underground war’ map. A place with two sides and an entire section below the ground.

They didn't waste their time standing around, not going to any generators because they were told not to mess with those because people were afraid [Name] would get hurt trying to fix them.

Peeking around the corner of the wall, they tried to listen or see if the killer was nearby or there was another survivor there. It was interrupted when [Name] was suddenly tackle-hugged to the ground.

"EEP!" They yelped in surprise before gathering their bearings and seeing the excited face of c00lkidd above them, seemingly the culprit of why they were on the ground right now.

"[Name]! You're here!" He would say before sitting up, allowing them to do the same. Now they both sat on the grass in the map. "So happy to see you!"

"Same here!" They would brighten up and smile "Glad to see you here."

"I was gonna go play, but then I saw you. While tag is fun, I like talking to you better." He mentioned, which made [Name] happy hearing he really liked being their friend- even if it meant meeting each other only through rounds.

That's when they remembered something. "Oh! Hey, I got something." They took off their mini backpack and zipped it open, c00lkidd looking curious as to what it could be, and then name pulled out a pillow pet! Specifically a penguin one. c00lkidd gasped

"Woah, you have one? That's so cool! What's his name?" He would ask and inch closer, observing the penguin pillow in [Name]'s hands. "I named it pudding." They responded and slung the backpack back onto their shoulders.

"Cool name!" He gave it a poke. "I wish I had one.." He was slightly jealous, but wasn't about to fight them for it. "But it is just a pillow, right?"

[Name] looked back down at the penguin pillow pet, before looking back up at c00lkidd, and then handing him the pillow. "You know what? How about we share it? you keep it for tonight and you give it back when we have our next round together. Besides, It's just a pillow, right?"

A wide grin stretched across c00lkidd's face, and he hugged [Name] tightly. "Oh, thank you! I'll take good care of pudding, promise!" He vowed before pulling back.

"Alright, try not to rip it." [Name] would say before they realized the round would end soon. "Crap, I have to return to the lobby soon, sorry."

"Aw..." c00lkidd frowned. "Don't be sad! Besides, we'll see each other again eventually." They reassured him before standing up, with him following after.

"See you soon, bye!" They gave a farewell just as the timer ended, and they were back in the lobby again.

𝄞✦⟢𓂃⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍬ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓂃⟢✦𝄞

[camficdiner]

☕️ Cams fic diner — order 095

hi girl, so I don’t know why Tumblr didn’t make me answer directly to your order, but this is what I came up with

🍒 thank you: to the girlies who know quiet love still burns. private posts. facetime moans. jerseys in bed. this one’s yours.

💬 “You’re my good luck charm.”

✨ description & prompts:

character: Quinn Hughes

prompt: he keeps something of yours in his locker for good luck — you finally find out

type: mixed fluff + smut

wc ~1.7k

✨🧁🍒🛼

The press didn’t know everything. But they knew enough.

They knew Quinn Hughes was seeing someone older — and long-distance. They knew she wasn’t from Vancouver. That she wasn’t a model or influencer or actress. Just that she was… confident. Smart. Private. They didn’t have her name, but they had blurry shots outside Rogers Arena, one glimpse of her in a hotel hallway, and all the breadcrumbs they needed to start writing their own headlines.

Still, Quinn never confirmed anything. Not directly.

The relationship was private. But it wasn’t a secret.

And the truth sat quietly in his locker, tucked beneath his spare gloves: a tiny satin hair ribbon. Lavender. Still smelled like her perfume. Still knotted with the same loop she’d used when they kissed goodbye in Toronto, fingers in his hair, whispering: “Play like I’m watching.”

He hadn’t stopped touching it since.

But lately… it wasn’t working. Not really. Not the way it used to.

He’d been off. Not terrible — just off. A little late on his line changes, a little quiet on the ice, a little slower behind the net. The Canucks weren’t losing every game, but Quinn was clearly in his head. And no amount of film review or skating drills seemed to help.

So she booked a flight.

Didn’t tell him. Didn’t wait.

She just showed up.

—

The first sign was the story. Her story.

Posted to close friends only. Just a blurry view of Rogers Arena from her lower bowl seat, coffee in hand, captioned: “Guess where 🥶☕️”

He saw it on the team bus after morning skate. His heart dropped into his stomach. Then flipped.

By the time he stepped into the hallway tunnel, she was there — waiting, grinning, oversized blazer and long legs too cold for the arena, and eyes too warm for Vancouver weather. He didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled her into a hug that lasted too long and whispered, “You came.”

“I couldn’t let your luck run out, could I?”

She kissed his cheek. He felt the sting in his eyes and looked away, embarrassed.

“I missed you,” he mumbled.

“Then show me.”

—

That night, he was on the road again. Calgary. Cold hotel room. Late FaceTime.

She was back at his place — curled up in the hoodie she’d stolen that first night, wearing nothing underneath but her socks.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he muttered.

“No,” she smiled slowly. “I’m trying to remind you who you belong to.”

The camera dipped lower. Just enough to show the curve of her thighs, the flash of lace, the place where her hand disappeared between them.

Quinn sat back on the hotel bed, jaw tight. “Fuck.”

“You remember what I sound like when I come?” she whispered. “You remember how I say your name?”

He nearly dropped his phone.

“Let me hear you,” she said.

He obeyed.

Hand low. Voice ragged. Her name over and over — like a promise. Like prayer.

And when he finished, breathless and pink-cheeked, she blew him a kiss through the screen and whispered: “Now win tomorrow. Or I’m flying back and taking the ribbon back myself.”

—

The Canucks won 4–1.

Quinn got two assists. Played like fire.

The press had questions after the game, but Quinn just smiled once — quietly, smugly — and walked off.

The next morning, she posted again.

Not a blurry seat. Not an emoji.

A photo.

She’s curled in his lap, her legs draped over his thighs, hoodie sleeves swallowing her hands. Quinn’s face is tucked in her neck, one hand wrapped around her bare thigh, the other on her stomach — protective, possessive.

No caption.

Just: “cozy and chaotic, but us”

It didn’t need context. It didn’t need a tag.

It said everything.

⸻

When Quinn walked back into his apartment, the first thing he saw was her in his kitchen — bare legs, hair messy, wearing only his jersey.

He dropped his bag at the door.

“You really posted that,” he murmured.

She turned to face him, one brow raised. “Did you hate it?”

He shook his head. Crossed the floor in three slow strides.

“No,” he whispered. “I loved it. I just didn’t know you were ready.”

Her expression softened. “I didn’t either. But I am now.”

He kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in months. Like he wasn’t leaving her side again. Like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

The counter was cold against her back. His hands weren’t.

His mouth moved to her neck, then her collarbone, then lower — until she gasped, arching into him, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” he muttered against her skin, voice breaking, hands lifting her onto the countertop. “You know that? You’re my good luck charm.”

“Quinn—” she moaned, breathless, as he pushed her jersey higher.

“I couldn’t win without you,” he said, lining himself up. “I don’t want to try.”

He fucked her slow at first. Reverent. Careful. But it didn’t last — not when she pulled him deeper, nails raking down his back, whispering his name like she owned it.

“Let them talk,” she said. “Let them guess. I’m yours.”

His rhythm stuttered. Then deepened.

“I don’t want them to guess anymore,” he growled. “I want them to know. I want them to fucking know.”

He came with her name in his mouth, her body clutched close, her thighs trembling around his waist.

Afterward, she lay curled on the couch, wrapped in his hoodie, warm under his blanket, cheeks pink and eyes soft.

Quinn sat beside her, carding fingers through her hair, watching her settle.

“You can stay,” he said quietly. “As long as you want. For good.”

She smiled.

“I already was.”

[a-writer]

Invisible String - Part 7

Not a preview but the whole part!!! Sorry it’s a long one hehe. Hope you enjoy feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!!!!<3

Azriel x reader

Warnings: smut, injuries, toxic relationship, a little fluffy

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Madja’s office is always welcoming, almost like a second home. The old woman has always treated you like a daughter, more than a pupil, and your relationship has turned into something that goes way beyond potions and healing spells. You are helping her with some concoctions made of different plants and herbs, and although this kind of simple healing is not your favorite, you needed to do anything to get out of the House of Wind.

Luckily for you, Rhysand sent Azriel away on a scouting mission right after that night with him. Now it has been three days, and you know he is going to be back today. In order to get your mind straight, you came here, with Madja, where your mind kept quiet and your hands did all the work. So, here you are, mixing aloe with some calendula and a little bit of lavender oil.

“How’s your stay at the House of Wind?” Madja doesn’t take her eyes off the book she’s currently studying.

“Good.” You keep mixing, also not looking at her.

“Cassian told me you were eager to get off the House today.”

“Cassian is a busybody.” You look up at her, and she’s smiling. “I had been at the House for days, I just wanted a change of scenery.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but her silence makes you feel uncomfortable, as if you need to explain yourself, so you decide to change topics. “Have you found something on a spell that could break Koschei’s curse?”

“Not yet.” Her expression changes, becoming more serious. “But I don’t think what it needs is a spell. His curse is like a braid, full of little tendrils woven together.”

“So, it needs to be undone… Every healer would be able to do that.”

“No, not every healer. It needs to be someone quite powerful, who is able to endure the raw power of his ancient curse. Someone like you, my dear (Y/N).”

Goosebumps erupt on your skin, the mix before you long forgotten. “Why me?”

“Only the gods may know. I never discovered who your parents were, I only know that you appeared at my doorstep one day, full of light, of raw power, and I just knew there was something special about you.”

You don’t remember anything about this, you relied on what Madja had told you: that one day you had appeared outside her door, no older than a teenager, and showed her your abilities. She had taken you in, showed you everything that you know, and asked Rhysand to also trust you to work with them. And the rest is history.

Madja gets up from her chair, and you can see how old she has become these past years. She hugs your shoulders lovingly, stroking your hair. “I’ve always told you that the Mother had great things for you in store.”

“I’m not so sure about that…”

Madja furrows her brows at your words, and as if reading your mind, she hugs you a little bit tighter, her words squeezing something deep inside your chest. “Magic works in mysterious ways, you know that better than anyone else. Sometimes, what should be obvious, takes time… Magic needs to sort itself out, just like us.”

You look at her, and the words are on the tip of your tongue. What about a mating bond? Is it possible that it will take time to sort itself out, too? Your mouth opens, but before anything can come out, a strong knock at the door interrupts you. Madja walks to the door and Cassian stands there as she opens it.

“Cassian, hello.” The old woman smiles warmly at him, but he looks around the room frantically until he spots you. The look in his eyes makes your stomach twist.

“What happened?”

“It’s Az.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else as you approach him and both of you jump into the skies and to the River House.

———————————————

Cassian lands right on the entrance, and he barely has time to put you down before you’re jumping from his arms and running inside the house. Something tugs at your heart, as if in guiding you to Azriel. Your feet take you straight to the living room, and when you’re close you can smell blood.

As you open the door, you freeze and take the scene in. Feyre has her arms crossed, a grim expression on her face, Rhys is right by the couch, face as serious as his mate, and Azriel is sprawled on the sofa, his forehead caked with fresh blood coming from what seems like a big cut on his scalp. He is grasping at his side, his hand bloody from a gash there, too. For a second, you stay still, your heart pumping rapidly.

“I said I’m fine, Rhys.” His words are clipped, and he tries to stand, but a withering look from Rhysand keeps him from moving.

“What happened?” Your feet finally take you forward, and Azriel closes his eyes at hearing your voice.

“He encountered some Autumn Court soldiers.” Feyre says as you kneel next to Azriel, who is still not looking at you. “Right outside their borders, they ambushed him.”

“And they did this?” Your voice is quiet. You look over his wings and see two holes. Ash arrows, probably.

“They were looking for a fight.” Rhys’ words are clipped. “Now they have an excuse to counterattack. Azriel you’re not going on any more missions. At least for the time being.”

“Rhys I said I’m fine, this is nothing.”

“You’ve lost too much blood.” You put your hand over his head, light coming out, and he hisses.

Rhysand raises a single eyebrow at him, and Azriel clamps his mouth shut. Once you’re done with his head, Cassian helps you get Azriel’s jacket and shirt off. You concentrate on the deep cut across his hip, and not on his tanned skin and the ripped muscles beneath. Your fingers dance over the gash, skin slowly threading back together, and Azriel’s labored breathing fans over your face. You look up, his face too pale due to the loss of blood.

“He’s fainting.” You try to breathe deeply, telling your heart that he’s fine and that fainting is quite normal in these situations, you’ve seen it a million times. But your heart beats fast, too fast, as if not understanding that Azriel is not in danger. “I’m going to winnow him to a room.”

You look up at Rhys, who nods, and you winnow both you and Azriel to one of the bedrooms in the River House. You both land on the bed, and you finish quickly with the wound on his hips, putting your hands back on his head. As your magic washes over him, you see color popping out on his face once more, and his eyes flutter open, going straight to you.

You make a glass of water and some chocolate truffles appear, forcing Azriel to drink and eat. He does without protesting, the corners of his mouth quirking up at your instructions. Once he’s finished with the water and chocolates, you look over his wings.

“I’m going to let you rest and then I’ll heal the wings.”

“I’m fine, let’s do it now.” You eye him suspiciously, but agree. The earlier you get this over with, the earlier he is going to be able to rest.

“Okay, sit straighter.” Azriel slowly does as you tell him, sitting on the middle of the bed and against the headboard, his wings slumped on both his sides.

On your knees next to him, you raise a little, trying to get a good look of the small but painful hole in his right wing. Azriel’s warm hands grab your hips, and although he steadies you, you feel as if your whole body has turned to jelly.

Your hands work quickly, taking out the venom and stitching the wing back together, a small scar appearing. You breathe deeply and turn your body to work on the left wing. The wound is bigger, as if in trying to take off the arrow, he had torn the leathery skin.

You straighten your arm, one hand leaning on the headboard to avoid falling, and as your fingers start moving, Azriel squeezes your hips. You stop, looking down at him, scared that you’re hurting him. But he is looking at you, his hazel eyes glassy, his mouth slightly parted. He squeezes again, and you know what he is asking.

You and Azriel have always been able to do this, knowing what the other needs with just a simple look. You swallow loudly, but nod your head once at him. He lifts you just enough for you to move your leg across his lap, and he lowers you once you’ve settled, his hands not leaving your hips. Straddling him, you come face to face with Azriel, a small smile on his lips. Not sexual, but content. A trembling sigh leaves your lips, and you straighten your hand once more.

As you start to wove his wing back together, Azriel hisses, his fingers hardening on your hips. You stop, looking at his face.

“Am I hurting you?” Your voice is raspy and you cough.

“No, no.” He grits through his teeth. “Just sensitive.”

“Oh.” You widen your eyes. “Sorry, I’ll go slower.”

Azriel just nods at you, his eyes closed. You’re aware of wing play, you used to do it with Azriel all the time when you were together. Your cheeks redden at the thought, but you keep going, this time slower, although this wing is taking longer. Azriel keeps his eyes closed, a furrow on his face, his bottom lip between his teeth. He hisses more than once, or tightens his grip on you, and you stop for a few seconds, letting him recompose himself.

But the air feels hot and heavy, a bead of sweat travelling down the strong column of Azriel’s neck, and suddenly you want to lick it. Before you can give in to your impulses, your fingers meet skin, and you realize there’s no rip anymore.

“I’m done.” You look at his face, as he slowly opens his eyes to look at you.

“Thank you.” His voice is low.

You stare at each other, neither one of you making a move.

“You scared me today.” It comes out as a whisper, but Azriel’s eyes soften at the words.

“I’m sorry.” His thumbs caress your skin over the fabric of your dress.

You reach for him, tucking a strand of hair away from his brow, and your hand travels down his face, cupping his cheek. Without thinking, you lean into him, kissing the corner of his lips. You retrieve a little, looking at his eyes, so full of love your heart constricts at the sight. But before the emotions can come pouring down, you kiss him. Slowly, deeply, lovingly. Azriel kisses you back immediately, his tongue working with yours. There’s no rush, only longing. Your other hand comes to his cheek, holding his face as if he’s some precious thing, and Azriel grabs your waist, pushing you against him, your chests flushed together.

You separate, breathing loudly, Azriel’s pupils so dilated there’s no hazel in them. You feel pressure in your chest, as if your body is asking for more, more, more. As if you will never know a time when your whole soul doesn’t crave the male in front of you. Azriel kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth relentlessly, his hands traveling down to grab your ass. You quickly separate from him.

“You should rest.” You pant at him.

“I need you.” He whispers, almost pleading. “Please.”

Something breaks and builds again in your chest, as if your whole soul is changing, morphing. You kiss his mouth softly, your lips travelling to his sculpted cheekbones, down to his jaw, until you tenderly bite his earlobe and he moans deeply.

“Let me ride you.”

You look back at him, and Azriel’s eyes are so wide you can see the white in them. He nods once, and something stirs deep in your chest at seeing him completely at your mercy. With a flick of your fingers, you’re both naked and cleaned up, and the smell of your arousal mixes with his, a musky but sweet scent that makes your head spin.

You pump his hard cock a couple of times, Azriel breathing hard at the movement, his hands squeezing your ass eagerly. You’re already soaking wet, ready for him, so you rise on your knees and guide yourself over him. Looking at his hazel eyes, you impale yourself on his dick, a groan escaping both of your mouths. His length stretches you to the point of being deliciously painful, and you stop for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of him being completely sheathed in you.

Azriel’s fingers travel up your back, goosebumps erupting on your skin, until his arms envelop you, hugging you, your bodies completely flushed. His face on the nape of your neck, he kisses your shoulder as you start moving, hugging his neck for leverage. It starts slow, Azriel peppering you with kisses across your skin, jaw, and collarbone.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers and you look down at him.

His pupils are dilated, his mouth parted, and he’s looking at you with so much love in his eyes, you feel your own line up with tears. Something cracks open in your chest, as if this is the moment of truth, as if something big is about to happen. Emotion clogs your throat, so you kiss him and accelerate your pace.

He moans into your mouth, the sex turning faster and wilder. You break the kiss, grinding on him, as his arms are still around you, holding you. You tentatively graze your fingers across the top of one of his wings, and Azriel sucks in a breath, his arms tightening on you. You move slower, as your hands explore more and more of his wings, curse words coming out of his mouth, and you lean down to lick at his neck. Azriel’s hand shoots up to grab your wrist, and he looks at you.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Good.” You give him a small smile, and start moving faster, sharper, looking for your pleasure.

Your hand keeps stroking the leathery skin of his wings, touching where you know it will make him see stars. The fucking turns more erratic as you shamelessly grind on him, and you feel your pleasure building. Azriel hugs you tighter again, bringing your body to his, and as you reach your climax, he roars and spills inside of you. At the same time, as one soul, one body. You lay there, his arms holding you, his dick still inside of you, your head on his shoulder.

You stay like this, both of you panting, and as Azriel’s fingers draw circles across your back, you close your eyes. It does really feel like home whenever you’re with him. One of his hands travels to your head to stroke your hair lovingly, and this seems so different from these past years.

Since you and Azriel broke up, it has always been about fucking roughly, about taking the edge off. Teasing and biting and quick fucks, leaving each other without really saying goodbye afterwards. But this somehow seems different. And you want to say it’s because Azriel is injured, and he’s the one who is normally in charge, but, somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s about that. As if today it was more than a hook up, as if you both needed to reassure that the other was still there.

Azriel’s hands stop after a while, and you hear his breathing go slower, deeper. As you slowly look up at his face, you see he’s asleep. Slowly, you get up, missing the warmth of his body the moment you separate from him. Before you can crawl off the bed, his hand grabs your wrist, tugging you back into him silently.

You obey, a small smile on your lips as you lay next to him, his arm across your shoulders, yours hugging his waist. A force tugs at your heart, as if your body needed to be even closer to him. You try to ignore it, resting your head on his chest.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only the sound of his steady heart like a lullaby and the recurrent thought that there will be no going back from this.

[callme-naomi]

My Love's Waiting - For Me!

AU where Geto didn't defect, Haibara is alive, and the five is a happy group of friends.

Like every year, the four of them had decided to throw Nanami a party for his birthday - it was always fun seeing his reaction, which was more like 'I expected this but still I'm surprised'.

However this year, they decided to sneak in his house and throw it, because of one special guest arrival. You.

It had been nearly one year since the revelation that Kento Nanami had a girlfriend, but their relationship was a long-distance one, given your studies abroad. Since then, they had bugged him over it, asking when is Mrs. Nanami-to-be coming over, and he'd deflect the question, having not known the answer himself.

He always put up the show that he understood your job, and the reason you can't come, he wants you to be happy and not rushed, and he'd still love you.

If he was honest with himself, he missed you. terribly. he wished for at least one day when he could hear your laugh, not buffering over the shitty internet of the office building, or touch the strands of hair that you always tucked back behind your ear.

So he had finally learned to wait patiently, and all the while loving you.

Having gotten a few holidays coinciding with his birthday, you reached out to his best friend - Yu Haibara, the friend who had introduced you two to each other - and let him in on the plan to surprise him. Soon, you agreed to adding the seniors in on it too.

Just as you boarded the plane taking you to Tokyo, you smiled to yourself. My love, I'm coming home.

****

Finally, a day without overtime. Turning the lock in-

"SURPRISE, NANAMIN!"

Barely keeping himself from jumping, Nanami opened the door he was so sure he had locked earlier before peeking in to see Gojo, Geto, Shoko and Haibara waiting for him with party poppers and his batchmate barely managing to hold on to the cake with Gojo's enthusiasm.

"You didn't have to do all this," the sorcerer explained, thinking about how they still managed to make time despite their schedules.

"It isn't every day your favorite kouhai's birthday is here!" Gojo threw an arm around him, and for the first time in a year, he didn't shrug it off. "Let's make it count!"

"Fine by me," he sighed, helping in serving and arranging the plates, thinking about the fact that he wanted to call you right now, "but don't end up counting the expenses for house repairs."

Nanami Kento was a man whose life revolved around details, but today he had failed to even notice the continuous glances by the other participants towards his door.

It was some time after 9 when the bell rang. A few seconds later, Shoko leaned back a little. "I think you should go see that, Nanami-kun."

"I...will." He was slightly surprised, because on his birthdays they wouldn't even let him leave the room for anything, running around to let 'the birthday boy relax'. And he wasn't surprised much when the other three men agreed with her, all of them sporting smiles.

*****

Having rung the bell, you tightened your jacket around you, hands shaking uncontrollably, not from the cold, but from the excitement of finally meeting him again after an entire year.

You took deep breaths to relax yourself. And it all went down when your heartbeat spiked up upon hearing the sounds of footsteps.

You really hoped he wouldn't ask who's there, and luck was with you because he didn't. Slowly, the knob turned, and every second felt like an eternity. When the door opened, there he stood, still in his dress shirt and slacks, his eyes impossibly wide and mouth slightly open.

You spread out your arms, trying not to tremble. "Surprise?"

He didn't need telling twice when he pulled you into his embrace, his grip tightening as if still unable to believe you're here, and with him, and you tightly hugged him back, before he dragged you inside and swung the both of you around.

"Happy birthday, my love," you wished him, once he put you down, a grin plastered on his face as if he still was in a daze, and then you pulled out your gift from your jacket. "I brought this! I hope you like it..."

"If its from you, of course I'll love it," he took the gift from you, a pristine black box with a white ribbon around it. Unwinding it, he opened the box to find-

A silver watch. A gleaming TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 16. The very one he'd been saving up to buy for himself. He looked up to you.

"Why..."

All words were lost when you drew close to silence him with a kiss.

"In every eternity, every lifetime, I'll always love you," you murmured against his touch. "No matter what distance comes between us."

****

Hearing your delighted squeals, - and what sounded like Nanami laughing - the four still in the room smiled.

"Good for him," Gojo broke the silence, "who would've known though? Nanami-kun's weakness would be a girl."

Not just any girl, Shoko thought to herself, his girl.

****

Five years after your marriage, he still wears that watch everywhere he goes. Proudly. Even though you tried to convince him to get a new one, he'd always refuse.

And before you could say anything else, when you'd see him smile fondly at the watch and then the one who gave it to him, you think maybe it's better if he kept this first vow of forever love.

Hello!! This is my entry for day 3, the BIG DAY - HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY MY LOVE, MY ONE AND ONLY 7/3 KENTO NANAMI!

[pankowcrumbs]

Can I ask for Joseph Quinn x reader where they had their first real argument. They always spend their late afternoon hugging so after few hours y/n approaches Joseph who's lying on sofa. He ignores her as she sits (she has visible signs of crying on her face but he's still annoyed). Y/N tries to hug him as she lies down but he shifts away from her. Y/N looks at him with pain in her eyes, asks if he wants her to leave him. He, without thinking, says he does. She leaves. Some time passes and he decides to check if she's ok. He goes upstairs and sees y/n on floor, next to baggage bag, she's crying so much she didn't notice him until he hugs her from behind and asks what she's doing. He's shocked. She says she's leaving as he asked her to do. Her ex did the same. He ensures her he didn't mean her leaving all together but to leave him so he can calm down, he says he loves her so much he didn't want to say any more hurtful things. At first she doesn't believe him, until she sees he's been also crying. She asks if he's ok and he says he didn't mean any of the things he said to her, and when he saw her he felt like everything is over. She says she won't leave until he'd want her to.

Do you want me to leave you? X Joseph Quinn

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

The flat felt heavy. Thicker than usual. Like the air had soaked in every word we’d thrown earlier, and now it refused to let them go.

We’d never argued like that before.

Not seriously. Not like this.

Not with raised voices and trembling hands and things we couldn’t take back.

I sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours, staring at nothing, fingers absently tracing the seam of my jumper. My throat still ached from crying. My chest felt raw. There was that hollow ache in my ribs that made every breath feel like a betrayal.

It was late afternoon.

Normally, this would be our time. Our quiet little ritual. We’d curl up together on the sofa, legs tangled, arms locked around each other, faces buried in the comfort of skin and scent. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we’d nap. Mostly, we’d just… exist. Together.

But now Joseph was downstairs.

Alone.

And I was up here, cheeks sticky, nose sore, heart thudding like it was trying to run away from me.

I didn’t want to go down. But I didn’t want to not go down either. I needed to try. To fix it. Or at least… to not leave things the way they were.

So I stood.

My legs felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to me anymore. I padded softly down the stairs, the sound of my bare feet against the wooden floor much louder than it had any right to be.

He was lying on the sofa, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t look at me when I entered. Didn’t move.

I sat on the edge near him, gently. Carefully. Like if I shifted too hard the whole house might crack.

I knew my face was still red. I hadn’t even looked in the mirror. I could feel the evidence of tears swollen eyes, dried skin, the residual shake in my chest.

“Joseph…” I said quietly.

Nothing.

I lay down slowly beside him, reaching out. My hand brushed his jumper, my head gently leaning into the space beneath his jaw like I always did.

But he shifted away.

My heart dropped.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at me.

And for the first time since we’d met, I felt completely unwanted by the person who had once made me feel like home.

I turned my face to him, forcing myself to speak past the lump in my throat.

“Do you want me to leave you?”

He just said, cold and quick, “Yeah. I do.”

Something in me cracked.

He didn’t look at me as I sat up.

Didn’t stop me as I stood.

Didn’t say a word as I walked up the stairs, one slow, broken step at a time.

The bag was already half-packed before I even realised I was moving.

My body took over pulling open drawers, grabbing whatever was nearest, not thinking, just moving. I was trembling too hard to fold anything properly. Socks spilled out of the sides. One of my cardigans was stuffed beneath my knee as I crouched beside the bag.

I didn’t know what I was doing.

I just knew I couldn’t breathe down there. Not after what he said.

Not after what he didn’t say.

I slid down the wardrobe, letting myself sink to the floor beside the open suitcase. My hands shook in my lap. My hair clung to my face.

And then I broke.

Fully, finally, loudly.

The kind of crying that steals your breath. That rips through your chest like a scream you’re too afraid to make. My shoulders shook. My throat burned.

He didn’t want me.

He said so.

Just like him.

Just like my ex.

I don’t know how long I cried. I don’t remember hearing the footsteps. But I felt the warmth of him before I heard the voice.

His arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me against him like he was trying to mould us back into one being.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

I froze.

“Y/N…” he murmured the nickname only he ever used. “What are you doing?”

“You told me to leave,” I choked, barely able to get the words out. “So I am.”

He pulled back just enough to turn me in his arms. His eyes were wide now. Wild. Wet.

“You’re leaving leaving?”

I nodded.

He stared at me like the world had tilted beneath his feet.

“I meant...I meant give me space,” he said, voice breaking. “I meant leave the room. Let me cool down. Not this.”

I blinked at him, confused, lost in the fog of everything.

“But you said”

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his hands trembling as they cupped my face. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

His forehead pressed to mine, and for the first time, I realised he was crying too.

Real tears. Quiet ones. But real.

I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Are you... are you okay?”

He gave a broken laugh. “No. God, no. I’ve been a mess since the second you walked up those stairs. I kept replaying what I said. That I told you to leave. That I didn’t stop you. And all I could think was this is it. That I’ve ruined it. That you’re gone. Like really gone.”

My lip trembled. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“I want you more than anything,” he said, eyes locked to mine. “I love you. I love you so much it terrifies me. And I was so scared I was going to say more things I couldn’t take back that I pushed you away before I could.”

I stared at him. Still frozen. Still not quite believing.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Not unless you ask me to.”

He shook his head furiously. “I’ll never ask you to.”

We stayed there on the floor, wrapped in each other, crying in the middle of open drawers and a half-packed bag. It wasn’t fixed. It still hurt. But in that moment, neither of us let go.

And that was something.

[vviolets444rroses]

— firefighter!rafe and one very proud kindergartner !!

based off of this request <3

“i’m sorry babygirl— stuck at the station today,” rafe sighs, cassie perched on the counter while rafe ties her laces. you watch from the doorway as you sip your water.

a small nod. a mumbled, “okay.”

“you remember uncle buck? you met him at the fire station cookout a while ago. i told him you’d be there, and he’s excited to see you.” he grins down at her, hoping to lift the mood. she gives a small, reluctant smile back.

he kisses you both before heading out the door, boots heavy on the steps. she watches from the steps of the porch, backpack on, chin resting in her hands as he drives away.

you knew the truth, though. rafe was gonna be there with buck. still, it broke your heart seeing cassie so bummed. you sat beside her, fixing her pigtails and bangs.

“he really wanted to come, sweetheart.” “i know… it’s okay. daddy’s out saving people.”

later in the day at the pre-k…

you showed up with snacks and juice boxes in hand. you wave at cassie from across the cafeteria and then go to mingle with the other parents.

a doctor and nurse showed the kids how to wash their hands. a dentist demonstrated brushing on a giant model. a police officer and his k-9 dog gave a quick demo of their search and rescue work.

you glanced at cassie every so often— she seemed to be enjoying herself. but you would also catch her staring at the door, hoping it was her dad walking through next.

after the police officer had walked off with his k-9, the cafeteria doors opened.

buck walked in first, waving at the kids with one hand and holding tank’s leash in the other. cassie immediately sat up straighter when she saw the big chocolate lab trotting beside him, in his own little uniform too.

all the kids cheered as the pair walked into view. cassie clapped but her eyes were already drifting behind him.

rafe stepped in a moment later, full uniform, helmet under one arm, light smile but even bigger when he spots his daughter among the group.

cassie was already on her feet, running straight into his arms as he crouched down. he hardly had any time to put down his helmet before he wrapped her into a big hug. “daddy!”

“you said you weren’t coming!” she giggles, holding her dad’s face in her tiny hands.

he shakes his head, “momma and i thought you’d like the surprise. did we get ya?” she nods with a cheek-to-cheek grin and hugged rafe once more before returning to her spot.

you watch from the back of the cafeteria as rafe and buck introduced themselves and tank the dog to the kids. there was no way anyone could wipe the smile off your face right now.

rafe sets his helmet down, gives tank a quick scratch on the head, and steps to the front of the crowd.

“who here knows what to do if your clothes catch on fire?” he looks around, but fast as ever, cassie shoots her hand up in the air.

“stop, drop, and roll!” cassie shout out loud. “that’s right,” he grins. “my girl’s got it.”

buck rolls out a mat and all the kids take turns practicing the fire safety technique. they talk about what tank does for the fire station and show them their gear.

when he wraps up, the class claps loudly and that was the end of the community helpers day. the kids all scramble out, but cassie is already in her dad’s arms, rambling about every bit. as if it didn’t just happen.

“hold on! i made daddy something. momma, where’s my backpack?” she asks with excitement. you hand her the backpack and rafe puts her down to let her search for whatever she made him.

she pulls out a drawing- stick figure rafe in his firefighter uniform, a big red fire truck beside him, and a lopsided tank in gear too. she even drew herself too, her tiny hand holding rafe’s. and a giant heart in the corner of it all.

he crouches down to her height, cheesing big. “this is perfect, babygirl,” he kisses her cheek. “i’m putting this in my locker first thing when i get back to the station.”

cassie turns to you, “do you like it, momma?” you smile, leaning in to look. “i think you made daddy look extra cool.”

“because he is,” she says simply.

rafe picks her up, letting her hang on his hip. his helmet under one arm and the drawing in his free hand. he glances over at you.

“we did good, baby.” he mutters.

you press a quick kiss to cassie’s cheek then one to his jaw, “we always do.”

—

—

a/n: this was so cutesy to make- thank youu for the request!! can you guys tell i am insane and have a type in firefighters... i've literally only written for them. i have other types but like i wouldn't know how to write them LOLOL :3 but please like/reblog if you want more, thank you my loves!

[ejthenobody]

A Random Rambly Thought About Deltarune.

...More specifically: Kris Dreemurr.

Spoilers for Chapters 3 and 4 if you haven't had a chance to play it or watch it yet.

Soooo, I'm not exactly 100% sure what the general community consensus is about what Kris's deal might be, as I don't tend to follow Deltarune theory stuff much anymore (fell out of it sometime after chapter Chapter 2's release), but I still wanna slam down this thought I had after watching a pretty good video titled "Ralsei, Asriel, and The Diegetic Escapism of Deltarune" by one "karanttu" on Youtube.

The video mostly focuses on dissecting Ralsei's character thus far and all of his unique oddities. But, in doing so, it also shines a light on multiple other characters, and one of those characters is- of course, the seeming protagonist and our favorite cage-raging-against-its-own -inhabitant, Kris.

One thing that I found rather odd that the creator said, was the thought that Kris no longer persues or has any interest in any of their hobbies anymore, and is trying to keep themselves distanced from their adventures in the Dark World. Sort of in the same way that one may keep themselves from ever truly growing invested in a piece of fiction.

Now, it's not like I *can't* see where that comes from. Kris is, not only a child in a broken home, but also a child who probably recognizes the fact that their primary parent doesn't seem to care as much as they should about them, nevermind the whole possession thing they're going through with The Soul/the player. Also don't forget the stuff they're doing in the background with The Knight/whoever it is they're working for/with. Kris Dreemurr has EVERY reason to be a fucked up kid and believe themselves to be so messed up that they must keep their distance from a world and people that may bring out the worst of them if they got too invested.

HOWEVER... I think Kris, at the end of the day... Is still a kid. A very messed up one, yes, but still a kid. And I believe that the plot of Deltarune- outside of Dark World shenanigans- will be a relatively simple one at the end of the day.

My personal take on Kris is that they very much are interested and deeply invested in what happens in the literally fictional places that they and Susie visit. Originally, they might not have been, but now? After befriending Susie, after learning more about Ralsei, after seeing new sides of Noelle and Berdley, and after meeting everyone they've met so far and having done everything they've done so far, both through their own willpower and under the soul's influence? The kid can't stop themselves from caring, no matter how much The Soul controls their actions.

Just, look at every single time Kris has saved Susie's life, not even knowing that getting seriously hurt in the Dark World can have real, Light World effects on you if you spared Berdley and Queen. They still chose by themselves to dive in and protect her with everything they've got, several times now. Look at a hug we command them to give, versus the hug Kris gives Ralsei at the end of the 3rd Sanctuary. Look at them giving us the option to goof off with Lancer and help with the tornado attack. Look at how, in Chapter 3 if you play the game backstage to completion, they look back at us when we kill a fake Susie and fake Ralsei, and how they later back up in fear of the pixel Kris when it leaves the game and takes a swing at them. Someone who was "trying to keep their distance" and wasn't invested, and clearly has as much free will as Kris has, would not put up with us making them do some of this crap and would not consider DOING most of this crap. And yet, they still give us the options; they still have some inclination to give certain things a shot; they still act as if the events happening to them and their friends are fully real and are worth taking seriously, even outside of the Dark World.

Hell, that last point is especially true in a Weird Route run, because they take the time to do as much damage control as physically possible, trying desperately to fix everything The Soul fucked up; from getting a comatose Berdley to the hospital, to taking the Thorn Ring away from Noelle and trying to convince her to not talk about her "dream" with ANYONE, including themselves!

As for their hobbies, I feel the need to point towards the fact that Kris will bite their hand to silence themselves if you try to make them tell Susie that they'll never play piano again. By extension, lemme also point to the facts that:

A. One of the first things Kris does at the Holiday house when the soul is tossed to the side, after taking a phone call from The Knight or whoever, is playing the piano by themselves and doing so beautifully.

B. The fact that, when told and encouraged by Susie to play, they masterfully play a song they've never seen before entirely on their own.

While yes, Kris has clearly fallen out of their hobbies to some very notable extent, I believe it's less because escapism doesn't help and more because well...I mean, it's hard to pursue hobbies when you're wrangling with all of the crap they're going through, and that was possibly before being possessed.

Yet, even now Kris still seems to want to pursue at least playing piano. Out of everything they used to do, playing the piano is the one thing that they seem to hold onto the most, and maybe there's a deeper reason to that. Something related to the Holidays and Dess, maybe. But either way, it's something they clearly enjoy doing and would probably do more of if they weren't seemingly some mix of afraid to show off/too busy to do so.

So, bottom line: I think Kris Dreemurr is a teenager, struggling with hard times and...Frankly bizarre happenings no kid should have to go through. At their core, they're a good kid, going through rough times. I think the only person who cares more about everything going on with Dark Worlds is Susie. And that's an extremely high bar to clear, so even being the second highest bar still puts you somewhere within the stratosphere.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

i was gonna play through the random map quests so i can end act 1 in my second rook's plaything but what if i just replay all of act 3 with my main rook again instead

[humanpersonface]

I know that some British people take umbrage at Americans calling the Great British Bake Off relaxing, but it's just because GBBO is such a different kind of stressful from American baking shows.

American baking shows will be called something like "Cupcake Knife Fight", there's horror movie lighting everywhere and dramatic stings every 5 seconds. All of the contestants are shit talking each other and fist fighting over the one single deep fryer provided by production. It will show the judges all whispering to each other at their super villain table overlooking the whole kitchen, and one will be like, "Oh my god. Everyone look at Brenda right now. She's straight tanking it." And it will cut to Brenda, who is running around covered in flour and crying and also bleeding for some reason. Then you get a clip from an interview with one of the contestants, and they're like, "I really need to win this. Without this award money, I'm gonna need to close my restaurant, sell my dad, and live out of my car. AGAIN." Then the giant digital doomsday clock overhead lets out a horrid klaxon, the judges tell half of them that their cupcakes taste disgusting, and one of them gets eliminated and sent to walk down the dramatically-lit shame hallway never to be seen again.

Meanwhile GBBO is in a lovely, brightly colored tent, there are delightful and friendly hosts/jesters there to keep everyone entertained, and all of the B Roll is of like... a bumblebee going into a flower, or a lamb running in a field. And yes, there will be moments where someone will mess up their timing or something, and they'll be looking at their bake through the oven door like, "oh gosh I don't think this will rise in time!" Then they stand up to find Paul Hollywood directly behind them ominously. His creepy whitewalker eyes will glow white, and he'll say something like "the 12th of June. 2035. Drowning." And his eyes will go back to normal and he'll walk away. Then the baker gives a playful grimace to the camera and says "that didnt sound great, did it?". Cut to a sweet looking older woman sipping tea on a stool and she says "oo I do hope that Prue enjoys the taste of my sugary, sticky baps!". Then, at the end, someone gets a gold star for doing good, and the loser of the episode gets in the middle of a giant group hug. You see all of them at the end of the series at a giant carnival with their families and the post credits informs you that all of the contestants have become a Partridge Family-style traveling band and stayed friends forever.

[tonycries]

Type Dangerous - R.S.

Synopsis. Five times Ryomen Sukuna’s “wingmanning” family is the biggest cóckbIock in existence, and the one time he finally gets what he wants - you, his nephew’s hot preschool teacher.

Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, 5 + 1 things, Itadori family shenanigans, unckuna, he has the BIGGEST crush on you, making him blush, face-ríding, síxty-nine, Sukuna with tattoos, PÚSSYDRÚNK Sukuna, he goes feraI, p sIapping, p talking, he’s BIG, chokíng, tummy buIges, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, creampíes, through pantíes, cúmplay, slight bréeding, getting together, nosy families, lowkey crackfic, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.6k

A/N. HEHE TOLD Y’ALL I’D WRITE IT…

“This is my uncle, he just got out of jail.”

“Hell yeah.” Not the most courteous introduction to Yuji’s wide-eyed lil’ friends - but if Jin had bugged n’ blackmailed him into picking the brat up from preschool today then he was going to make sure it never happens again.

And as Yuji starts swinging from Sukuna’s broad, beefy biceps, he grins at his miniature crowd. “He also has tattoos and likes to drink.”

“Hell yeah- don’t forget about the cars, twerp.” Sukuna’s nodding, breezing past the horrified faces of parents that tugged their children at least seven feet away. Seriously, how long was this teacher going to take? He could see your back hunched by another corner of the classroom, hugging a sniffly student goodbye.

“Oh yeah- and he likes driving fast and slashing tires.”

You straighten, probably hearing every word - not that he cared, Sukuna couldn’t imagine who’d want to be around this all day. “Hell ye- oh.”

Until you turned his way.

And Ryomen Sukuna feels his heart drop- right along with the muscular right arm that was stuck out for Yuji to climb all over like a handlebar. And with it, his nephew. 

Who seems quite disgruntled at his sudden meeting with the soft, padded floor of the preschool classroom, standing on his own two feet for the first time since Sukuna had arrived here. He furrows his light brows, “Hey- wha’s the big- oh! Teacher!”

Seems like it runs in the family, Sukuna muses - because all it takes is one glimpse of you starting to head their way before Yuji lights up as brightly as the Sun itself. And to Sukuna, whose nephew was a perpetual Christmas tree, it almost made him wish he wore his usual shades.

At least that would’ve hid the way his crimson eyes sweep up n’ down your figure, languidly. Breath stuttered, mouth partly agape. 

Sukuna’s utterly forgetting himself before he’s called out by one of Yuji’s friends- a squeaky, orange-haired girl no older than five. “Ewwww- why are you red?”

“Shut it, bob-cut.”

“So—” Perfect timing, you sidle up to the bustling little group right as Sukuna spits out the tail end of his sentence. A brow of yours raised, bob-cut? 

And oh- you’re even more perfect up close. Is it really too late for him to enroll in preschool? He didn’t see any age restrictions around, and he could count till ten, surely. Genuinely considering, he’s gulping at the way your pretty eyes narrow. “Jin’s not here today? Yuji, do you know this man?”

The boy in question bounces with excitement, “Of course! This is Sukuna, my uncle who just got out of jail and drives fast cars.”

“Ah- ahah.” Said Sukuna chuckles gingerly, eyes flitting between his beaming nephew and your blank expression. Finally settling on the kid, “Yuji! What have I told you about uh- the benefits of um- safe driving and caring for our fellow civilians on the road?”

And there was Sukuna’s first mistake - asking a question, because surely that was a sign for Yuji to nod solemnly. “That it’s for lame pussies who- mmpf!”

“Ah…” You blink.

The damage was already done- but Sukuna’s clapping a meaty palm over Yuji’s mouth already. Oh, he was smashing this kid’s iPad when they’re home. A thin line of nervous sweat beads down his temple as he stares up at you, “K-kids these days, right, ma’am?”

Yuji frowns, “But you do call them lame pussies who-”

“Yuji!”

“Right right, miss.” The lively girl from before - Kugisaki, he thinks her name was - latches onto your swaying skirts. “And he also likes to drink.”

“And slash tires.”

“Tuna mayo.” 

The crowd mercifully quietens down for a split-second. “…”

Until a grumpy black-haired boy peeks through his bangs at that last line, as if translating. “He says he also sets fires.”

Sukuna never said that - but he doesn’t get a single chance to say so. Too busy staring at the constant knit of your brows, the way your gaze was darting from the children to Sukuna like a tennis match, trying to bite back a smile. “I-is that so?”

“And he has a lotta tattoos.” Yuji pries off his uncle’s muffling palm, back to climbing him like his very own jungle gym. As if to prove his point, he pokes the bulging band of black ink that encircles Sukuna’s bicep. “See?”

And if he was any less devastated about making himself look like an absolute fool in front of his nephew’s pretty preschool teacher, then maybe he’d have noticed that look in your eyes. 

Maybe.

Maybe he’d have seen the slight glint in them as you followed Yuji’s pudgy, directing finger - from the wide tattoos at his biceps, to his wrist, to the circles peeking through Sukuna’s off-white undershirt. So tight that it was like the pale color was nearly painted onto him- if Itadori Jin was the sweet, soft single dad that was always early for pick-up, then Sukuna was just rugged. 

From the dishevelled state of his twinning rosy hair, to the studded piercing on his left earlobe, to the naturally-honed muscles that made him look hulking.

And it almost seemed like you were…checking him out? But surely that was a figment of Sukuna’s imagination, right? Right?

You’re nodding as Yuji looks to you impatiently for approval, “Why, you’re quite right, Yuji.” The corners of your glossed lips curl upwards as you turn to Sukuna - and he feels electricity pang down his body. “Uncles these days, huh?”

Ah, he was gone for. 

It was almost a comical sight, you’re thinking - such a large, towering man well over six feet, speechlessly gawking at you. Leaned forwards, ears red; barely even registering the way his nephew grabs onto the tufts of his coral pink hair like a horse- whispering for the rest of his friends to join in.

Kugisaki makes two treks grabbing onto his sides before she’s looking up and crinkling her nose, “Ew. You’re red again, Mr. Felon.”

“He’s not Mr. Felon, he’s Mr. Tire-slasher.”

Yuji shakes his head, “No, he’s Mr. Mugshot.” Seated upon Sukuna’s broad shoulders, the boy adjusts his body to stick a hand inside his backpack and search. “Would you like to see the mugshot, miss-”

“Okay, time for us to get home.” 

Firmly, Sukuna tries to shoo away the army of toddlers trying to climb him as gently as possible - only four glares, now that’s a record. Nephew still on his back, bag now wrestled into his hand and well away from where Yuji could procure any printouts of his (admittedly flattering) mugshot. 

He’s feeling his heartbeat pick up just a lil’ as he darts his eyes back to you, “I-it was just probation, by the way. Happened to slash some uh- tires…” 

“And also drive fast!” Yuji pipes up happily.

“…That too.” Grouchy face wincing at the amused smile on your face- goddammit he’s never going to be able to show his face here ever again. Sukuna simpers out a wave, making sure to flex his chiseled biceps at you ever-so-slightly - if he couldn’t keep reputation, at least he could make you stare. “See you ‘round, teach.”

“See you around, Mr. Mugshot.”

Fuck. 

.

.

.

“I thought I said I’m not doing shit for the brat’s school again.” 

Jin patiently gestures for him to hush with the swearing in front of the gaggle of children, humming as he keeps handing out sugar cookies - half-off for dealing with Sukuna’s shoddy customer service. “Well, technically, we’re not in the preschool. We’re in the park.”

His younger brother seethes, flicking the ribbons of his pretty pink apron (Jin’s doing, of course.) “Having a damn bake sale-”

“Shush, Ryo. There are children around.”

“Exactly my point!” Was Sukuna the crazy one? He must be the crazy one. And he’s running a grumpy hand through his unruly pink locks- before remembering that one of those damn kids running around this bake sale had called him cotton-candy head and now he’s both irritated and unable to self-soothe.

It’d been Jin’s idea to drag him to the preschool bake sale, held at the nearby children’s park- something about raising money for a talent show.

Honestly, fuck talent shows. It didn’t even take two minutes surrounded by all the fanfare for him to have half the mind to eat those sweet treats himself and just leave-

“Oh hey, you’re Mr. Mugshot.” A little boy wearing a panda mask, one he’s never even seen before, points up at him and giggles as Sukuna glares. Did that nickname really spread?

He’s bending over their frilly pink stall with a damn good word or two about-

“Oh! Jin, thank you for coming.” Before he’s hearing the sound of the pearly gates of heaven, and an angel to accompany right along with it. You. Who’d silently meandered up to their cookie stand with an expression of both delight and concern. Your gorgeous mouth pursing as you stop to think, “And…Sukuna, right? Thank you, too, the children really appreciate the work you’re putting in.”

You remembered his name. He has to hold back a squeal. 

“A-ah, yeah- yeah! Of course, of course.” He’s swiftly leaning over the stall, arms crossed so that you can fully take in the way they streeetch his tight sleeveless turtleneck. 

In the faint distance - honestly, it feels like miles away - he’s hearing the panda-mask boy unsubtly whisper something to his father about how ‘Mr. Mugshot has turned red.’ 

Not! Obviously not- smooth. Ryomen Sukuna is supposed to be smooth, and he’s desperately attacking his features into something that resembles suave nonchalance. “I’m a…real philanthropic type of guy, y’know?” Cocking his head with a smug grin, “So, you come ‘round here often?”

You’re smirking, your giggle sounding like his favorite song. “Well, it is my preschool class.”

Ah, shit. His eyes widen just a fraction, right. 

Scoffing, “Tch, uh, yeah. I knew that.”

So many days spent mentally praying that yet another one of Jin’s work meetings went over time again - just so that Sukuna would have an excuse to see your pretty face. And that’s the first thing he says?

Suddenly, he’s too aware of the ogling toddlers, of the snug pink apron that he was currently donning - and the way your eyes seem to stray down to the gaudy bow settled between his pecs.

At this point, it seems even his brother takes pity on him. Adjusting his glasses with a soft chuckle, “It seems Ryo here had the greatest time at pick-up last week, he only had good things to say about you, ma’am.”

You blink in slight surprise, eyes taking in Sukuna’s large, fidgeting figure. “I’m quite flattered.”

Yes! Sukuna’s pleading eyes snap to the interested twinkle in your eyes, and then to the other man- yes, keep going!

“Of course, Yuji did tell me he was upset he didn’t get to show you his printed mugshot of him. It was all that he could-”

Fuck no! 

Catching the other’s urgent eyes, Jin sputters- “B-but- but, it was just a little vandalism, of course. Just a little ah…a little driving and- eek!” Cutting himself off promptly as soon as Sukuna steps down on Jin’s foot, syllables stumbling, looking ‘round anywhere for any distraction. “Why don’t you- ah! Why don’t you give our lovely teacher here a cookie, Sukuna. Free of charge.” 

You’re waving your hands, oh-so-sweetly, “I could never, please let me pay-”

“Nah, a pretty girl like you? I should give you more, ma.” He could give you a totally different type of cookie but this might just not be the place to say those words out loud- ah, he’s still got it. 

Sukuna’s thumbing out the biggest baked treat between a fluffy tissue and handing it over to you- ready to feel the sweet, sweet graze of your fingertips, if he was lucky.

But oh- it seems like the gates of heaven really have just opened up to him, because instead of taking it from his hands, you’re leaning down and taking a bite. Straight from where he held it. Humming as the candied taste floods your mouth, the soft pushness of your lips taps against the edge of his thumb.

And he wonders how they’d feel on his lips, instead. 

“Ah, sorry.” You’re taking a peek at him through your lashes and maybe he doesn’t still have it because Sukuna feels his breath hitch. “It just looked so good, and my hands are a little…”

And it’s only then that he’s noticing just how many boxes upon bags of things you’d bought from nearly every stall here. Happy to support your students - oh, you really were an angel. 

“Oh, let me.” Ever the gentleman, Jin hastens to move around a few bags so that you’re more comfortable. All while Sukuna can only hold out the cookie and freeze. Slack-jawed. 

Completely ridiculous. 

He doesn’t move a single millimeter, not even when you’re now able to easily grasp the baked good from him. Expectantly waiting, palm raised - while he only ogles you. 

“I uh- let me just-” And it takes Itadori Jin both hands to pry the crumbling cookie from Sukuna’s hands, sighing before wrapping up about two more in apology and handing them over to you. “We do hope you like them, ma’am.”

“Mhm—” Rubbing over the crumbs at the edge of your lower lip with one hand, you look dead-set on Sukuna as you murmur. “It was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

Sukuna might not have been the chef - baker, whatever you said goes - it was Jin, but he can’t help but feel on top of the world as if he was. Waiting just until you’re out of sight, walking through the sunny Spring park up to the next parent-manned stand, to pump his fist with a low ‘hell yeah!’

“Ryo, you haven’t been this smitten since- well, ever.”

“Daddy, Mr. Mugshot is really weird.”

Sukuna whirls at a few staring parents- “The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

.

.

.

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

Arguing with a thirteen-year-old wasn’t very high on Sukuna’s bucket list, and yet, it seemed to happen on a nearly daily basis. He would blame middle school for being the root of Choso’s attitude, but he suspects the new emo look has something to do with it, too.

And maybe the fact that the older man was accompanying one of his weekly visits to Yuji’s preschool playground. Cutting off just the last of Friday’s classes just so that he could walk down the street to see his little brother. Despite seeing him at home every day, but still. 

That’s also what Sukuna himself was here for- of course. Why else would he-

“Ah ah- Kugisaki, what have I told you about using the toy construction hammer for things other than construction? We don’t hit, m’kay?”

Sighing, the way that Sukuna’s towering frame leans against the playground’s cherry blossom tree for support draws such disgust from Choso. Dark eyes flickering between his blushing uncle, and you - in the middle of the sand pit, trying to wrangle a class of toddlers. “You’re pathetic.”

“Shut it, scrawny.”

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

Sukuna’s life flashes before his very eyes, and strangely it’s mainly made up of every moment where he’s embarrassed himself in front of you. Looking away with a huff, “It’s…complicated.”

The other snickers, “Well, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated because she’s coming up to us right now.”

Oh, fuck.

Now, he might have had the sense to ‘accidentally’ bump into his oldest nephew just as he was on his route to meet Yuji (Sukuna had memorized his schedule, sauntering by this very block for an hour until he’d run into Choso) - but he didn’t have enough wit for this.

Conversations? With both parties and a classroom of preschoolers participating? 

He was just about ready to race right out of here and leave Choso to the wolves-

“Cho! You’re here as always.” You’re smiling as you waltz up to them, a neat line of toddlers following you as they would a mother duck. Hitting him with your scent of flowers n’ the sunniest of days, “And I see you’ve brought along a guest with you- how are you, Sukuna?”

“F-fine.” F-fine? With a stutter? Sukuna simply bristles at the smirk his nephew shoots his way, already feeling the tips of his pierced ears start to scald bright hot. 

“Bubba!”

Saved by the bell-like shriek of Yuji, enough to make Choso take a few steps over and hug his toddling brother so tight that the former squeals. Checking him over for scratches, dust, stickers- you name it. 

You’re catching the raise of Sukuna’s brows and chuckle, “He is always quite the attentive older brother. You should join us more often, I’m sure Yuji would enjoy having his favorite uncle around.”

Mouth dry, “I’m- I’m his only uncle.”

Yet, your grin still stands - a slight knowing curve in them that makes his brain fuzzy, and his lips just a bit too loose. Did he say he liked drinking again? What a fucking lie, you got him more buzzed than a shot of straight vodka pumping through his nerves. 

And he’s finding himself reaching over to brush a stray petal of cherry-pink from your crown. Blurting out before he can stop himself, “Hey…so what’s your ty- I mean, are you seeing any-”

“She’s mine!” Cuts off an annoying, grating voice - one that understood what you evidently didn’t, with the few syllables that Sukuna had been able to croak out.

And he’s looking over your shoulder to find himself being stared down (stared up at?) by a boisterous, buzz-cut boy slightly older than Yuji. Protectively standing behind you as he glared daggers, “When I’m old like you, she shall be my bride, Mr. Mugshot.”

Huh.

You’re droning out in your nicest tone, wagging your finger. “Now now, Todo Aoi, what have I told you about not proposing to your teachers?”

“To not.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Proposing.” Stifling a sigh, you realise that it would be yet another chat with Todo’s guardian about the boy’s harmless little puppy crush. 

But before you can direct the conversation back towards anything else, he’s stabbing an accusing index up at Sukuna’s looming frame. “Miss teacher here-” Not quite your name, but close enough. “-and my sweet idol Takada-chan are the only ones I shall marry. You can’t have either!”

“Who the hell…” Sukuna furrows his brows- what was this boy talking about? “Listen, kid, I-”

“Pffft–!” He could recognize that burst of muffled laughter anywhere, and at least Choso was having a grand ol’ time- whispering to Yuji, “Don’t you think this is like those late-night dramas dad pretends not to watch?”

No! Sukuna’s internally groaning. 

“Oh- oh yeah!” An over-hearing Kugisaki bounces at the mention of dramas, “My mommy watches those. Times like this the two guys will fight over the pretty girl.”

Todo puffs up his chest, “Then fight me, old man- I demand a duel!”

“I’m not even thirty?”

“That’s old.” Choso nods.

“You’re thirteen.”

“I’m five!” Yuji jumps up, and immediately his older brother’s pulling his phone out to snap a few hundred photographs at the cuteness. 

Todo stomps, “Fight me, fossil–”

And his young nephew - that traitor - is the next one to shrill with glee at the altercation, clapping his hands once Todo charges forward with a damn war cry to pummel Sukuna’s abs with hits about as fierce as cotton. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

At the slight raise of your brows at the chaos, Sukuna rushes to explain, “Please excuse my nephew’s behaviour, ma’am, I don’t know where he got it from-”

Choso deadpans, “But you’re the one that taught us that the best talk is to talk with your fists because-” The two brothers turn to each other in unison, as if preaching the truth and nothing but the truth. “-we’re no weakass bi-”

“Their father.” Sukuna grits out- okay, maybe that kid’s punches were getting a little more painful. Or maybe it was just the way you were cocking your head at him that made his stomach churn, “Surely.” 

“Defend the honor of your woman, geriatric–!”

Seemingly snapping out of the little reverie of taking in whatever the fuck this was, you clap your hands in that teacherly way to demand silence. “Alright alright, break it up. You wouldn’t want me to take down any of your star points, would you, Aoi?” Tugging away the boy from Sukuna, you grimace up at him. “I’m so sorry about all of- well- this.”

Waving off- remember, Sukuna, nonchalance. Nonchalance. “Don’t worry about it, mama.”

“Y’know how they apologize to each other in the dramas?” Kugisaki speaks up, and honestly, this girl really did speak up at the most inopportune times. She glows at all the attention on her, “They kiss.”

And she was a genius.

An absolute genius, bob-cut!

Yuji - ever his lil’ ally - starts pumping his fist with whoots- “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Starting up a slight chant within your group, you turn to him in question.

“I uh…” Sukuna starts, tilting his body down ever-so-slightly, until you could could nearly every thread on his dark hoodie. The way his slashing tattoos framing his jaw ripple as he gulps, “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, ma- that’s assuming you wanted to do something, and what I meant was-”

It was one second. A singular, heavenly second that your lips graze the right side of Sukuna’s cheek as he rambled - fluttering away right before his skin started to scorch with a blush.

Quite frankly, fuck nonchalance. 

“Ewww, he’s red again. What’s wrong with him?”

“Were you this red when you were setting fires, Mr. Mugshot?”

“He looked nothing like this in his mugshot- wanna see?”

“Salmon.”

Ears tinting a shade that matches his hair, voicebox void of any coherent words, Sukuna barely even functions until he’s hearing the sharp ka-chick! of a camera shutter. Whirling his head ‘round to find Choso with his phone pointed at him, catching him in all his flustered glory. “I’ll send it to the family groupchat.” He turns to you. “And to you on the preschool groupchat.”

Imagine Sukuna’s surprise when he finds you nodding, “Mhm, oh, and I should really be getting the kids back now, it’s almost time for the bell.” Making the kids waddle into a neat line once more, you wave. “Thank you for the visit- do come again, it was quite…interesting.”

And they stare - Choso at Yuji, Sukuna at you - as you and your classroom disappear back within the preschool walls. “No phone for you for two weeks.”

“No hot teacher’s number for you forever.”

Only after a second- “Hey- hey kid. Show me that number again? I’ll make it one week.”

.

.

.

Sukuna had almost, mercifully, forgotten about that damn talent show. 

The bake sale? Gaping at you for nearly five full minutes straight? Never happened. 

And he’d almost convinced himself of that- until the time came for him to be seated right on the very front row of the cozy preschool auditorium. Taking up nearly three chairs as he squeezes himself into the humble seat, arms crossed and scowling. 

“You know…” Jin claps as Yuji and Kugisaki fight to clamber onto stage first, with a reluctant Fushiguro in tow. About to showcase whatever it is that they’d been practising with doves and sticks all week. From the corner of his mouth, “When we had the kiddos over, Megs told me something very interesting the other day.”

“Hm.” Sukuna’s grunts noncommittally when Yuji pulls out a comically large fairy wand - ah, a magic show.

“Something about you duelling with a kid for the hand of a certain someone.”

Letting out a strangled groan, his eyes immediately find you - as they always seemed to do. Stuck on the way you were kneeled by the front of the stage, motivating each little performer tonight. “Y-ya don’t say…”

Jin beams, “You know, you should really ask her out, Ryo- oh! Do you need our help? I can tell you this, the Itadori family makes great wingmen.”

“Ya don’t say.”

Tattletale, Sukuna’s grousing. And just as Fushiguro Megumi finds himself being stuffed into a box - to be sawed in half as all good magicians did, apparently - the older man slowly, menacingly pulls out his prized camcorder. 

Just in time for Fushiguro to glance over and have his face pale at the blinking, recording lens. 

“After all, Megumi did say you were blushing like a- what was it- ‘maiden in love’ that day. How cute.” 

“Ya don’t say.” Sukuna zooms in, right on the black-haired boy’s ashen face once the saw raises high in the air to magically cut him in half. And to make things even worse, he starts pointing at his camera, mouthing through a grin, ‘Oh yes.’ At Fushiguro’s slight shake of his head. ‘You are dead.’

But, alas, it was too good to be true.

And instead of having the little snitch be the casualty in one of Yuji’s magic tricks, the talent show goes shockingly smoothly. Hell, Wasuke slept through only about half of it, which was as much of a compliment as one could get. 

All because of your efforts, surely - and when the entire thing ends with (surprise, surprise) every little brat getting awarded a winning prize, Sukuna finds himself not half-annoyed that he’d actually sat through all of it.

Well, right up until about when it was time for the exhausted preschoolers to be taken home by their families. 

And Yuji comes bounding up to the four with a squealing—“Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps–! Mr. Mug-”

“Another word out of you and I’m throwing your iPad out the window.” Sukuna grumbles, heart leaping to his throat when he’s spotting your chuckling figure follow up behind his nephew, as if Jin’s elbowing wasn’t a sign enough.

Yuji frowns, “Aw, but I already told everyone here.”

Damn gremlin- but before he can get another word in, you’re already greeting his brother and father with a smile. “It’s so great to see you again, Mr. Itadori- I hope that blood pressure you were telling me about is better now.”

“Ah, ya know- I won’t be dying any time soon.” Wasuke barks out a hoarse noise of laughter, before beadily eyeing Sukuna. “This one, however…”

Your gorgeous face drops in worry, and he doesn’t know whether to whine at his father for letting you make that expression, or giggle because you cared about him. Fuck. “Oh no- everything alright, Sukuna?”

But Wasuke answers for him, “No. Not at all, quite the incurable disease, my dear.”

He watches on in matching confusion with Yuji as Jin lights up beside him, “Ah- ah! Right right, that-” Soothing his face into something pitiful as he turns to you, “That ah- thing that only heh- one person can solve.”

About as subtle as a sledgehammer. 

And just as efficient in bagging the woman of one’s dreams.

Because you only furrow your brows in confusion, “I’m…sorry? What?”

Sukuna’s older brother’s smile tightens in desperation, nervously laughing. “You- you know…that thing?” And you tilt your head, eyes darting between the four as if trying to work out the punchline. “The thing like- the heart condition? No- not something serious but like…the butterflies?” Now looking to Sukuna for help - as if the other man wouldn’t just let him rot in the very grave he’d dug for himself. 

Then at Choso, who’d been quietly attempting to disappear into the wall plaster. Trying not to laugh as he dotes on Yuji, “The doki-doki.”

Jin snaps his fingers, “Yes! Like the doki-doki? The-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- he wants to fu-”

“That’s enough for tonight, pa.” It really does run in the family - because in a split-second, Sukuna has his palm clapped over Itadori Wasuke’s mouth. Smile painfully plastic, “Did you take your meds today, dear father? I don’t believe you took your meds today.”

He plunges his sprightly father into Jin’s arms, “Say, Jin, why don’t you get dad his meds.” Making note of the way that you - still thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly off your shift helping each student get to their guardian - were toyin’ with the cute decorations of your car keys. 

Letting his mouth work before his brain could regret anything- “And why don’t I walk you to your car, ma?”

“I- what.” You’re somewhat shocked at being addressed so directly, and at the kindly incline of Sukuna’s head. “Don’t you have a heart condition? I wouldn’t want to exert you, Sukuna.”

Wasuke grunts, “Exert him in another- mmpf-” Hastily shushed by Choso’s palm, more for his sanity’s sake than his uncle’s.

These damn- he narrows a glare down at an unabashedly-eavesdropping Jin and Wasuke. “No. No, don’t worry about it, they were just joking. Ha. Ha.” 

Well…it was quite dark outside the building, even with the surrounding streetlights. And your vehicle might just be a little ways away but it never hurt to be extra safe, did it? Especially when his stature was so intimidating anyways?

And so, you nod. 

And he walks with you.

More like floats beside you on cloud nine, actually. Sukuna’s sure you two made quite a sight in the corridor, if the way passing parents whispered to each other signalled anything - him, with his ears flared red, unable to even look at you directly as you two were alone. You, as perfect as ever.

“Ah- so-”

“What did you-”

You’re both speaking at the same time once you’re out of the school building, laughing into the nearly-empty night air that forms clouds out of your puffs of laughter. The few minutes of a walk to the parking lot seemed like eternity - and Sukuna would have gladly let it be. 

“You speak.” You’re urging.

“No you.”

“You-”

“I refuse.”

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you never noticed the way he always seemed to nudge his head ever-so-closely to you whenever you spoke. As if he was hanging onto your every word. “What did you think about the talent show?”

“Brilliant. All because of you, of course- got so much blackmail to use in ten years.” He cackles.

Though, that’s stopped short very soon the nanosecond you’re nudging him playfully. Heat touching heat. And he shivers, “Hit me if this is strange.” Letting the tense air clog his throat, at least, that’s his excuse for it. “But do you remember that thing I meant to ask you that one time at the playground…”

“Yes—?”

“Are you-” Sukuna’s husky baritone cracks and he twists his face into a wince, “D-do you happen to be seeing anyone?”

You blink, and there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like you’re holding back such a smile. How he wished to see it right now. Musing into the silent night air, only thrumming with your footsteps towards the car, “Nope.”

“O-oh.” And if this was any other time, then he’d be embarrassed about how obviously relieved he sounds. How you surely must have picked up on it.

Faking nonchalance, he’s stuffing his hand into the baggy cloth of his ripped jeans, “Cool.” And it was a damn good thing you didn’t have x-ray vision like all the heroes in all those weekend cartoons Yuji watched - because then you’d have seen the way his painted nails dig in so deeply into his palms in pure excitement. Nearly hard enough to draw blood. “Very cool.”

“Very cool.” You’re echoing, now stood by the driver’s seat of your car - just waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

Waiting as he opens his mouth- “What’s your ty-”

“Yuji- Yuji noooo- don’t interrupt your uncle’s k-drama moment- oh, dammit.” Itadori Jin, who’d been chasing after an adventure-hungry Yuji, balks at the way you were both so close. Snatching up his struggling toddler, “Forget about me! We- we never here- go back to doing whatever you were doing!”

And somehow, you lurch apart as if you’d just been shocked. Only now realizing just how warm the temperature of his proximity was, fighting to keep your professional façade in front of your spying audience. 

“I bid you goodnight, Jin- Yuji.” Gesturing out a wave, you’re getting into your ride so quickly that Sukuna thinks he must’ve been dreaming you up. “And you, Sukuna.”

Nevermind- not a dream. 

Definitely not a dream. Because even in his sweetest hallucinations he wouldn’t have been able to make you say his name like that. Almost a purr. Almost batting your lashes.

Almost ripping out his heart from his very chest as you then speed down the road.

“That’s the best ya could’ve done, sonny? Even after I taught you everything to know about wooing a woman?” How very much like Wasuke to manifest from nearly thin air, from somewhere out of the shadows of the building. 

“Not that.” 

“Especially that.”

The older man only waves off Jin’s bemoaning concern about ‘ruining the moment- they had a doki-doki moment!’ “Choso’s in the car, can’t believe I lost a bet to a middle-schooler. Dammit.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen, “You…bet on me?”

“Whaddaya think, sonny?” 

Jin smiles, “Guilty.”

“Gwuilty!” 

“No- no, Yuji, not guilty.”

Wasuke paces away, shaking his head. “Thought I raised you better- keh! Thought I’d get grandchildren from you, too. Tch, now I owe a middle-schooler fifty yen, oh, woe is me.”

It takes a second for Sukuna to register the words, “Wait- only fifty yen?”

“Yeah, that’s just about my belief in you, kid.”

.

.

.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! 

“Oi- oi, Jin. Go get the door.”

“I’m cooking dinner–! Cho, could you get the door?”

“I’m in the middle of homework- ask uncle.”

Sukuna grumbles, why the hell was he the one to always answer that damn door? Honestly, Yuji could buck up and get some experience yelling at sleazy salesmen sometimes. Sprawled out across the TV room couch, he stares at his nephew playing with a toy bow and arrows set on the floor, “Yuji, could you get the-”

“I can hear you, Ryo.”

Dammit- there was a reason why Itadori Jin was the older brother. 

And there was also a reason why Ryomen Sukuna had a reputation in this quaint neighborhood for being a boor - not that that was much of a brag. But at least it explained why he was stomping up to the oak front door, damn near ripping it off its hinges with a growl- “We’re not buying any- oh.”

‘Oh’ was right.

Because standing right there on his porch was a damn sight for sore eyes - you. 

You, with your mouth parted and your brows slightly raised as you looked from the messy bangs of his locks to the oversized sweater he was wearing. You, who doesn’t even flinch about the fact that he’d just answered the door yelling. You, donned in a pretty lil’ skirt that makes him gulp- 

“You okay, Sukuna?”

“No. So how are you doin’ on this fine day, ma? ”

“Oh!” A happy call of your name makes you turn - even though Sukuna just stares, shell-shocked. Jin shoves him bodily out of the way, opening the door wider, “Please- come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

Looking down at the slight stain of something at the hem of his sweatpants, the other man frowns. It’s not like that was news he’d ever forget - so why the hell was he looking like that? “We have?”

“Yes?” Jin’s showing you the way in- only for you to be dragged in by an overeager Yuji anyways. And as the two of you disappear down the halls, he’s turning to his taller brother in genuine confusion. “Did Cho not tell you that we were having Yuji’s teacher over for dinner tonight?”

At Sukuna’s sputtering, Jin wastes no time grasping a nearby broomstick and thumping the wooden end up against the ceiling. “Kamo Choso–!”

And out comes a muffled reply, “I told grandpa to tell him!”

“Haaah? I told Yuji to.”

It sinks in. The fact that you were here, all prettily dolled-up and at their family home - and you’d happened to see him in nothing but a stained, ratty sweatshirt and pants torn down the side of his thigh to show off one tattoo. 

Jin grimaces, “Um…we can still wingman our way through this?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Murder does not, in fact, come before dinner; as all good manners dictate. And Sukuna decides that revenge can wait after he’s totally, completely, utterly made you swoon.

“S-so-” Only after a quick change into his best tightly-fitted turtleneck and his silver chains did he dare to show his face ‘round you again. Spritzing enough cologne to almost overpower Jin’s omurice, he tries to smize from where he was sitting right opposite you on the kotatsu. “Nice place, huh?” 

The shot of extra, extra strong sake that Wasuke slides over is a consolation as much as a ‘you’re not in a restaurant, you fool!’ He finishes the cup in one go.

“You do have a very beautiful home.” You’re nodding over at a proud Jin. 

“And the- food- how is the food?” Another cup- what moral support, father. 

“Mmm- amazing, I usually never have the time to cook much for myself with the kids n’ all.”

Which Jin takes as the cue for him to butt in on the conversation, helping it flow as smoothly as an enclosing dam would to a river. “You like kids, huh?” Kicking Sukuna underneath the kotatsu, he rattles the plates. “Our Ryo here also…tolerates children.”

“Really?” You’re teasing, “I couldn’t tell.”

“Why I love kids, yeah.” Sukuna tuts as he lifts his hand to pat the crown of Choso’s head- who only swerves out of the way, food finished n’ leaving the room to join his brother playing. Hiccuping, you were so pretty sat in front of him like this- too pretty, that the vision of you was starting to get blurry. 

And another cup.

He’s jostled by the tap of Jin’s hand on his arms- “And he’s actually quite sweet in his own way once you get to know him. I’m sure dad agrees-” Ignoring Wasuke’s ‘I don’t’. “-that he’d make such a responsible-”

“U-unless you don’t like kids.” Still stuck on that - still. Sukuna downs it and then shakily pours himself another. “In that case, I don’t like kids either. Yeah, can’t stand them.”

And another. 

Jin and Wasuke share a glance between themselves when the hulking man leans over the kotatsu towards you with what sounded suspiciously like a whine. “Would you want kids with me?”

And- 

“Sukuna-”

“W-well—time for Ryo to be put to bed, I think.” Jin hastily stands up, struggling to hoist his oversized younger brother from his seat. Failing, evidently, as in that time he’s managing to gulp down another two or three sake cups. “Dad- a little- help?”

Wasuke only shakes his head gravely at you, “You should know he was switched at birth.”

“We’re nearly identical twins–”

“Twins? What-” Sukuna babbles, “Does she want twins?”

Glassy eyes blinking n’ squinting furiously down at you as if trying to figure out whether you were real. Before ultimately giving up, it seems.

Because he’s stumbling a few unsteady steps forwards, pulled by Jin, before dropping to his knees and toppling his head over your lap, just by the gap of the kotatsu edge and your stomach. He’s nuzzling his face right against your tummy, “Mmm— maybe triplets. Would be the cutest fuckin’ things if they looked anything like hck! her.”

You giggle and he gasps- as if the epiphany had just struck him. “Quadruplets?”

Starin’ down at him, at the rosy blush painting his ears, you’re muttering. “You wish.”

“Dammit- even this hck! illusion of her is fine as fuck. Shit. I wonder if her type is…” 

Trailing off, he looks to his older brother for assistance- who helpfully supplies, “Sad and drunk?”

Wasuke’s contribution- “Zero game- as the kids say?”

“Dangerous?” You pretend to think, assessing over the mountainous heap of a man. “Actually- only pretends to be but is really a softie inside?”

“Yes! That- wonder if he type is dangerous…pretend dangerous. I’d give her all the kids she’d ever want- all big…n’ glowing…” It was almost like the setting of the sun, and just as quietly that Sukuna’s dipping past the edge of consciousness. “And…mine…if she wants. Oh, only if she wants- I’ve gotta- hck!” He turns up slightly to you, “-gotta woo her first, you see? Gotta date her…marry…but- but most of all…” Words slowing, heartbeat still racing whenever he looked at you. “I…just want to love you, pretty girl.”

And with that, he was out like a flickered light. 

With only Wasuke, Jin, and Choso with his camera snooping through the doorway as witnesses for when you’re snaking a hand down to the phone bulging in Sukuna’s pocket. Quickly entering a few coordinates and a date. 

And a heart emoji.

.

.

.

“Oh- oh, shit, mama.” Sukuna’s tongue lays over the sheeny insides of your thighs, throat muddled with groans and the cloying taste of your slick gluing to his rovering mouth.

Honestly, fuck whatever tips his family had made him memorize before coming over for his lil’ ‘talk’ at your cozy apartment, as promised. Because the two of you had barely made out two or three words before Sukuna found himself sprawled on his back on your bed. 

Your knees framing his face, your clothed cunt right near his mouth.

Right near where he’s dotting your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your entire body tremble. Whimpering over your shoulder, “D-didn’t think you’d be such a tease, Kuna.”

“Because this isn’t real.” He’s breathing out, as if he’s just so sure of that fact. As if he can glide his ringed index down the dampened slit of your folds and drool- because this feels like a dream n’ he was going to savor every moment. “Fuck, there’s no way this is-”

And just at that very moment, he’s craning his head up further between your pretty, pretty legs. Greedy tastebuds darted out just so he can catch the treacly splat! of your leaking slit.

Dampening his tongue n’ drooling all down the edge of his tattooed chin, “Do you even know how many times I’ve imagined this exact moment?”

“Mmm- no-” You’re wrenching out a heady puff of air- spread on your front in the meanest sixty-nine. You gulp down your parched throat as you’re taking in the wet, bulging outline of Sukuna’s erection through his boxers. “But I can guess.”

He was just so big, aching- 

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just rock-hard. He was hard enough that he’s sure his round, bawling tip was damn near ready to fall off, twitching oh-so-painfully in his pants as he’s snapping back your soaked panties with a wet thwack!

Just a glimpse of the wet haven you were hiding and he’s groaning throatily, “Guess-” He hisses, close enough that the straight end of his nose slides down your puffy pussylips. Nudging your panties to the side and sniiiiiffing you, “You’ll never be able to guess how badly I want you, pretty girl.”

Never.

Never would you have even been able to register that within mere split-seconds, he’d have one beefy arm looping around your hips to make you sit on top of his mouth.

Slamming the edge of your cunt against his chin, plopping your full weight down until he’s nose-deep between your quivering legs. “Fuck-” Letting the first gush of your saccharine juices flood his throat, lips against lips. “Fuck fuck fuck- what was I even…saying?”

“W-wait–” Your breath hitches, spine arching into such a perfect curvature. You claw onto his meaty thighs in an attempt to regain balance, “You won’t be able to breathe like this, Sukuna-”

“You think I fucking care?”

It’s spat - spat - out right against the swollen nub of your clit. Hazed crimson irises rolling to the veeeery deep, dark depths of his skull at the first long gliiiide of Sukuna’s tongue from top to bottom of your pussy. 

Cheeks hollowed the very moment he’s pushin’ himself even closer, “You think I ngh- can care about anything else?” The very moment he’s tugging you back down - with the full force of his upper strength, hard enough that your heated aches with raw, primal bruises. “Be a good girl n’ put that hah- pussy on my face. Fucking- sit-”

“I don’t- fuuuuck—” Fingers twitching, it’s all you can do to fumble with the drawstrings of his wettened boxers. 

Thighs shaking at every flicker of his slimy tongue swirlin’ and stirrin’ every inch of your outer pussy. Your head muddles with the realization that Sukuna’s tongue was just so long that he could lap at your glisten hole n’ still have enough length left over to snag on your clit. “You’re not going to be the only hah- one-”

Whimpering, you find your eyes blurring up each time the ridged texture of his tastebuds glissade between your folds. Curlin’ in just past the elastic circle of your entrance-

And you’re gasping - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the lecherous intrusion or because of the way you’re pushing down Sukuna’s snug underwear to free his massive cock.

Reddened, swollen.

He’s bulging all solid and girthy that it makes your hole clench ‘round his flexible tongue. The cutest ruby-red at the top of his shaft, forming a gradient all the way down to his tight, heavy balls. Mentally, you’re counting about nine- fuck, maybe even ten damn inches that hit the end of your chin as he springs up. 

And from where you’re straddling him, you can make out what looked like a matching thick, black band of ink around his bulky hilt. 

Letting the polished pink crown of his cockhead smear out a generous dollop of pre, you’re teasing your tongue out just enough to taste the salted caramel taste. 

“You’re so…” Sinking him past your spit-slicked lips, his swabbing mushroom tip is just so big that your jaw aches just by looking at him. Just by fitting him inside, right until his drivelling slit- “-s-sho big, Sukuna.”

“Fuck- fuck-” He’s spitting into your cunt and you find yourself flinching, hard enough that his pearly white canines nip at your thighs and you cry out.

And he’s only holding you back - not letting you shift your restless hips even a single centimeter as he’s eating you out like a man dying of thirst. Dry tastebuds lavishing himself with wads of slick, Sukuna’s stuffing your tight hole with the entirety of his tongue. “You’re m-making me drool.”

You swear you’re feeling the thin line of his wet spittle stain the front of your cunt, whimpering around his bulbous cockhead. “Made ya stutter, too, Sukuna.”

“Ohhhh- talkin’ smart, are we?” Snickering, he lets off a loud spank against the front of your pussy - one that makes your bones reverberate, and your mind numb. Pushin’ back to ride the circling girth of his tongue, to ride him. “Why don’tcha put that mouth into use elsewhere?”

Elsewhere - his cock was so hot and throbbing between your swollen lips. Just the slightest slip n’ slide makes it feel like he’s pulsing all the way at the back of your throat. 

Creamin’ out a spray of syrupy precum that slides down your tongue, “So big- too big.” And yet- it was just so cute how you’re suckling him like your favorite lolly, eyes criss-crossing when you’re trying to take more. He couldn’t even bottom out. “Mmm– dunno if it’ll even all fit.”

“Well…” 

The way he’s drawling out in a smoky tone makes you ponder that this won’t be ending well for you. And Sukuna’s dark chuckle hits your cunt in a murky gust, “You’re takin’ it in from here—” Just at that sultry second, he’s crowning the snug circle of your hole with two fingers. 

Making you break out with a shrill waiiil as he sinks in the thick, calloused curves of his fingerpads. Letting such thick digits stretch you out fully, make your head spin. “So shut it n’ take this looong fucking cock, ma.”

All that it takes for him to plunge a few more throbbing inches past your maw, oh-so-big that you’re drooling down the sides of your mouth already.

Striking the edge of your throat and making you choke on his sheer size, your nose wrinkles as you’re tickled by the curly tendrils of his pinkish hair. “This enough or you want three, pretty girl-”

“I-”

Letting out such a cloying squelch that spurts from your pussy once he’s teasin’ your entrance, “Not you, mama. She wants three.”

Moaning away wildly after each pump of his fingers- Sukuna doesn’t even have to try to dip into each nook n’ orifice. Slamming to fingers down to each knobbly knuckle with a resounding slam- “See? See?” 

So cockdrunk on the feeling of his velvety tongue that you’re only partly registering the way his vocals are higher. Unsteady. 

The way you’re clamping your dewy walls in a cute, squelching smooch ‘round his digits makes his voice fucking crack. “J-just take it a bit- fuck- deeper.” Mindless little half-thrusts up into your heated mouth like he can’t even control it- “You can swallow it up like a reeeeal good girl, can’t you?”

“Mmm—” Purposefully letting off your pretty sounds all over his fleshy girth, “Yes- yes yes yes- more.”

“More?”

“More.”

As if he wouldn’t fucking ruin you if he could. 

“You want more?”

“Y-yes- oh.”

Only to be gifted with such a rude slap of his doughy palm, “Not you.” And he’s waiting for the soppy squelches leaking out from your cunt, the way you’re talking to him from your swollen lips just to continue. 

Squelch after squelch.

Your pleas only spur him to tug at the sweet, softened ring of your cunt, latching his lips over the flexing muscle. “If you say so—” Crooning, you can feel the cold hiss of his metallic rings upon the insides of your thighs. Sukuna’s biceps shifting as he starts to tug them off–

“A-actually-” You’re popping off of the strawberry-pink curve of his cocktip with a plop! a few glittery strings of pre and spit still connecting you lewdly to it. “…Keep them on?”

“Oh. Ohoho- you naughty lil’ thing.” He’s swatting over the slope of your dripping wet pussy n’ giving your clit a good pinch with his ringed fingers. “You like it like this- like- this-?”

He’s spitting out each word into your cunt, thrusting the barrelling tips of his fingerpads to graze just below your pulsating g-spot. “All those mouthy lectures?” In vulgar tandem strokes with the thwack! of his heavy, curvaceous balls slapping your chin. “And you wanna take it like- this- mama? Ohhh, it just makes me wanna…”

Trailing off, Sukuna’s body is just bulky - oh-so-tall that he can bend and reach down to cup your throat with his one free hand. 

Digging five of his fingertips into the side of your throat as he’s holding your neck and squeezing- feeling the cylindrical outline of his cock bulging your poor mouth. Up n’ down, up n’ down- he’s feeling for the precise moments his plump cockhead lodges at the back of your throat. 

“Who’d have known the cute lil’ teacher would be such a slut f’me. Cat got yer tongue, girl, orrrr—s’it just my dick?” Humming over your clit, he’s adding a fourth finger that swabs at the texture of your gummy walls. 

“F-fuck off- ngh-”

“Wha’s that? Try- try and say my name?” Squeezing. Only feeling your ripped, pathetic vibrations. “Can f-feel myself over here.”

With four neatly pushing fingers. 

Pulling back with a sluuurp–! Slowly, just so that you whimper that the knobs of his joints, just so that he can thump right on the target of your g-spot and make you cry out in cute bliss. “So s’only fair that I’m over here, pretty girl.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Words bubble out and slur out of your maw, in unison with such sloshing spurts of saliva. 

You’re drooling everywhere - from both pairs of lips. Your mouth over Sukuna’s hard, vein-covered erection, glazing his puffy lines of veins with sap. And your pussy slide-slide-sliiiiding down the gaping area of his mouth, wide open and eagerly lapping up each sloppy drag of your hips.

Faster.  

And now that Sukuna had actually found your most favorite spot, he couldn’t fucking stop.

Not when each whack at that same exact spot makes you splash your sweetened slick all down his throat, not when you were clenching your walls and cryin’ out at the frigid brush of his thick rings.

Again and again, he’s probin’ his crowned fingertips to push against the insides of your pussy, “Don’t think m’gonna last ngh-”

 “Yeah-” And that’s not to say his tongue was letting you off easy, either- simply aching with the feverish state of his movements. But it hurt Sukuna more any moment he wasn’t snogging your glossy cunt, n’ so he’s slapping your clit with a wet one-two. Spank after spank to make your hips jerk back and forth, “Whaddaya want? To cum? S’that it?”

Blubbering over the taste of his slick, sensitive slit, “Yes- yes, please- m’so fucking close.”

“Not. You.” Each word ended with two swats on your simmering pussy, you’re webbing his chin all down with syrupy sap. 

Moving off from your throat with a final squeeze, a bicep tightening ‘round your hips to squeeze you in place. “Not you- but you, pretty girl.” Slickly gliding back and forth all over your pried-open cunt, all over the quivering rim of your hole. Everywhere and anywhere. “Why don’tcha talk louder?”

And it’s not just you riding his tongue dry - it’s Sukuna bucking animalistically upwards, too. Pressing the ridges of his washboard abs up against your front, you’re just fountaining out so much sappy slick that it’s running down to the large mouth that he had tattooed across his stomach. As if both his ravenous mouths were gulping up each of your slick puddles. 

Crooning at the oversaturated squelch that spills out of you- he’s nodding like he’s never heard a sweeter sentence. Nudging his knuckles to bump against your g-spot, “If you say so—”

You don’t get to find out what he’s hearing - but you’re registering the gist soon enough.

Because by then Sukuna has his ringed index swiping your g-spot, coldly massaging that bundle of nerves. Hard. Sloppy. At the very same second he’s settling the fringes of his canines on your perky clit and streeeetching-

“O-oh my god I’m—” Keening out a whimper, your high runs you over like a rollercoaster. And you’re rocking your boneless body to and fro just as much, thumping your thighs into Sukuna’s sharp jawline. 

“Yes-” Clenching around his motions so hard that he has to fight to unstick his digits from the sides of your bubblegum walls, still fucking you through your lecherous high. “Oh, hell yeah, been so good for you, mama- why don’tcha reward me? Use me- hck- use me.”

As if you weren’t thrusting your cunt back into his face in a frenzy already, he’s using the arm holding onto your waist to keep you repeatedly moving. 

Tired-out. Fingers tugging into each crevice of your velvety walls. Cheeks aching and hollow where he’s putting such force on your throbbing clit to suck- “Ride my- mmmf-” Talking with his mouth full, “Ride my fuckin’ face raw- wanted to taste y’cumming on my tongue for so long.”

With your spine arched, you’re pulling off of the bulged tip of his cock just as he’s spewing out a slimy ribbon of ivory white. Just a single drivel of cum- just from the way you’re cumming. 

“God- god fucking dammit.” Sukuna spits, right into your cunt. And he barely even takes his eyes off of your slobbering pussy to snake a free hand down and plug his geysering orifice with his thumb.

Stopping himself promptly from cumming if it isn’t anywhere near your pussy.

But that didn’t mean he was letting you get away.

Oh, no- he’s still pulling you back with inclines of his head like a man addicted. Thoroughly drunk on the heady globs of slick that travelled between your legs, pushing and pushing himself upwards to glue his glossed lips all over your cunt.

You can feel yourself squealing with each lap of his scratchy tongue- the primal overstimulation too much that great droplets of tears take over your eyes. 

“O-oh– fuck- m’so sensitive, Sukuna.” You’re arching your back away- “I don’t know if I- oh!” Only to get pulled back down. Toes curling when this only spurs him to dive himself even deeper, flopping out the flexible end of his tongue to try n’ flit past your squeezing hole. 

Drawling, “Remember those fuckin’ sugar cookies? You taste- hah- even fucking better.”

Sniffling, your spine zings with a few more zaps of electricity as he’s starting to caress your sweetened g-spot once more. 

And the only thing you can do is try and pathetically pry his firmly-planted palm from his lengthy shaft, trying for the life of you to just get another taste-

“Oh. Oh.” Sukuna gasps from behind, pink brows raising. “I see what you’re doing, pretty girl. H-heh…hungry for more, are you?”

He didn’t need any further answer - because the way you’re cutely clenching to glaze his scouring digits tells him more than enough.

And before you know it, you’re finding yourself pulled off of his long, aching cock like some glorified ragdoll. Sukuna was just so large - in every sense of the word - that he could manhandle you with only one arm. 

Clinging onto the side of your waist as he’s sitting up, he makes you straddle the twitchy length of his cock. And now that you were seated upon his lap- oh, could you admire him.

Ryomen Sukuna was a fucking masterpiece. 

From the bands of tattoos circling his biceps, his wrists, straight down to the plush of his sculptured thighs. “Like what you see?” He tilts his head cockily down at you, slouching sexily back on your wooden headboard to let you take in all of his tensed core. 

Glistening pecs all temptingly large, abs ripped. 

“M’gonna get those pretty haaah- fucking initials of yours tatted.” He’s tapping the prominent side of his left v-line with a polished finger, “Right here.”

Climbing further upon his lap, you rest your ass cheeks back against his swaying cock, bobbing so hard n’ proud between your sheeny thighs. Pouting, “Only if you fuck me, Kuna— ngh-”

“Kuna? Tch- you see that lil’ tattoo here, mama?” He sounded as if he was shattering, and he’s leaning back so that you can take a goood, long look at the circular tattoo on his base. Nuzzled by the tufts of his pinkish happy trail, and his tender underside - but it was still there.

Like a target. And Sukuna’s thinking the exact same thing, “You’re gonna take it riiiight- till- here-” Lodging the swollen end of his shaft to plug your hole, it’s such a tiiight fit as he starts bullying inside. “Until- hah-” Feeling a hand down your tummy, your womb. “-here.”

He was going to fit himself until your pretty pussy won’t be able to forget him.

And it takes only seconds for you to be clawing onto his tattooed deltoids for dear life, feeling the inner parts of your thighs slip n’ slide down his own with perspiration. You scramble with the stringy, slightly-torn fabric of your panties still on- “Kuna- Su–Kuna, this-”

“Nah, let it stay.” Snickering, he claws onto the top of your scalp. “You have much…heh- bigger ngh- problems ta worry about, pretty girl.”

Bigger - his prolonged shaft was simply ravaging your walls. Plumply ballooned-up enough that his veiny layer rubs your sweetest spots without even meaning to, and you’re just seeing stars with every inch deeper his mazing cock spears through. “Fuck- fuck, it really is big-”

“Mhm– and you’re going- to take- it all.” Times like this he’s wishing he had just about four fucking hands. Because one’s pushing down, down, down on the lolling top of your head, the other’s pushin’ your trembling thighs apart just so you could straddle his meaty hips. “All hah- say my name. Say my name while you take it-”

And he always did love the way you said his name.

The way you’re letting free a few bubbly spurts of saliva as you’re babbling away–”Sukuna- Su-” Throat clogging up with so many sobs of utter bliss, “Kuna—”

“Again with the ‘Kuna’- s’not my name, silly girl.” Even though each sound of that slurring nickname makes him twitch against your deepest insides. 

But you can’t even hear him properly, eardrums distantly popped until the only thing you can feel is the thump! of your heartbeat between your legs. And the way that his reddened, slick-glazed tip was thrashing your tight insides, “Kuna- ngh, please, Kuna. Wan’ it a-all hck! Inside.”

The swabbing girth of his cock was so fat that he has you stupid with just his size, biceps bulging as he’s pressurizing down on your head. “God-” And you can only blink pathetically once he’s bringing up his free hand to your blurry line of sight. Hissing, “Bite down-” Lips smirking as you plant a kittenish bite, he fucks up into you once to make your force increase. “Bite down harder and take it.”

He wasn’t wasting any time - he didn’t have the fucking patience.

He barely even had the sanity to tease you and edge you for hours on end like he’d always wanted to. Instead fucking up into you like a damn animal- he’s swatting your cunt with the edge of his throbbing cock. Spitting through clenched teeth, “O-oh, if yer gonna ask for all of it then m’not playin’ around, ma.”

You sink your teeth in and nearly scream into the flesh of his forearm, gnawing down right at his tattoo. “Mmmpf- big- nghh–” Unable to fucking take it, the only thing you can do is arch your hips deeper and let his pummeling rams spike your poor insides.

Hitting the very back of your cervix with a wet thwack! that makes your eyes damn near bulge out of your head.

He…bottomed-out. 

“Lemme check now…” Taking a single peek at the way his hilt was all covered up by your bloated folds until he couldn’t see that tattoo anymore. “S’all in.”

And the towering man wasn’t celebrating once he did - he was pumping all his fleshy inches into you like he’d gone feral. 

Eyes dazed and hooded, mouth frothing with a line of silver drool - Sukuna grunts after each singular gliiiide of his watery orifice drawing down the bottom of your pussy. Sloppy. “F-fucking hell, never felt like this- what the…”

“Are you okay- oh god nghh–”

“M’fuckin’ more than okay.” Spitting out crassly, Sukuna swerves his hips off of the rickety bedsprings to drag his cock harder down your cunt. And it just felt so delicious to have his swollen veins stir up your walls, “S’just— who let you feel this good?”

Your honeyed cunt has made him way too pussydrunk that now he’s tattling out everything from his melty mind. And you can only whine– “Heh-” One hand grazing his scorched ear, “You’re blushing, Kuna- better not be ngh- tapping out on me.”

“Tapping out?” Punctuated by a hard spank against the door to your womb - exactly where he said he would be - and then a harder one against your mapped-out g-spot. “Me? Me tappin’ out?”

Blinking through the splotchy whites sparking in your vision, “Y-yeah- fuck!”

SPANK!

Oh-so-hard, he’s swatting your pussy with enough stinging force that it makes glittering drops of slick splash across his slamming palm. “You n’ this smartass pussy are gonna see.” He’s gritting through dangerously grinning teeth, “There’s a fuckin’ reason I’m Ryomen fucking Sukuna.”

Because he’s rude - and he fucks even ruder.

Pounding away upwards into you like he doesn’t care if he’s bruising great purple bruises at the bottom of your cervix. The mattress creaks in fervent protest after each gyration of his hips, “P-please-” The only thing you’re mewling out like a broken record, “I-it just feels so…”

Trailing off, your movements are sluggish as your hand starts to slither down between your rutting legs. Yearning to just touch your neglected clit-

SPANK!

“Oi- and who’d ya think you are to touch- hngh- my pretty girl?” He’s grinning, manhandling you in an instant. Before your candied brain can catch up, Sukuna has both your arms pinned behind your back, chin hitting his cushy pecs. “I’ll touch her when I feel like it-”

Such a fucking tease, at the constant timing of his slimy mushroom tip spearing your cunt like a headlight- Sukuna lifts off one of his hands downwards.

Replacing your own with his roughened fingers, he pinches your poor clit—“Sh-shit m’so sensitive there- keep going, Kuna–”

And at this point you weren’t just drooling you were sheening the entirety of his smooth pectorals with a shiny polish. Letting it smear down the side of your cheek as you drunkenly lean on them like pillows, “Chehhh-” He’s spitting out, staring down at the glistening glaze dripping down to his bumpy abs. “Tha’s supposed to stay inside, pretty girl.” 

“I-inside?” Dazedly, the only thing you can think of were your rummaging insides, the way that Sukuna was fucking you like he hated you.

But it was the complete opposite. And he’s draggin’ on your clit, giggling to himself like he’s in love as he watches you huff n’ puff. “God you love it like this- c’mon, ngh- teach, milk this fucking cock- why don’t ya?”

“I-I am-”

SPANK! 

“Harder, mama, make me feel it.”

With a right spank to emphasize his sentence, he’s jostling his hips upwards so you’re left throwing your head back at the full, stretching impact. Unable to even handle the slightly spring recoil that comes with striking your cervix, he’s bouncing you on his pelvis. 

“S’this what you thought about every- hah- time you saw me?” Taking hold of your neck for a brief moment, he’s spitting doooown your throat. “Wantin’ me to fuck this- ngh- pussy raw?”

And the locked restraint on your neck helps bend you into the perfect geometrical curvature to stare up at him as he collapses forwards. Hot breath wafting your features, you whimper- “Y-yes.”

“Not you.”

“Kuna.”

“I’ve been dreamin’ of this for aaages now-” His clammy forehead crinkles as he’s scratching down your clit with the rough texture of his happy trail. Leaving it all stinging n’ raw to make sure the impact is extra sensual as Sukuna rubs over a slooow ‘K’ right on top. 

Rutting into your poor cunt so hard that the skin surrounding his v-line was all reddened- and he can’t help but take one look and moan. “M’getting that tattooed.” Watching as his mean, curvaceous cock molded your walls constantly to him. “Oh- trust when I say-”

And then a ‘U’

“Fuh-fuuuuck, please-” It almost feels like you’re begging for your damn life by now, lungs ripping with moans every time he’s thumping up. You ride your hips in a sexy figure-eight and feel the way Sukuna’s thumb trembles on your clit. 

A wobbly ‘N’

And you already knew what was headed next- oh, you were already prepared. 

But what you weren’t ready for was the completely vicious way that he’s accelerating his papping hips, so fast that the dark tattoo nuzzling your entrance was almost a blur. Thump after thump- 

You’re falling over until that symbolic inking of a widely-opened maw on his stomach licks up your core. Body twitching with white hot flashes of something electric running through your veins, “F-fuck- fuck, s’not gonna last-”

“S’that soooo—?” Sukuna asks down at your pussy to confirm, and only after a few ‘uh-huh’’s does he bore into your stupidly heart-shaped eyes. Tongue lolling straight out for him to lap up into his own mouth, “She says you’re close-”

A firm ‘A’

Another SPANK!

“-and I say you’re cumming already.”

“Wh-what…”

He’s ending off with a perfect heart shape rolled over your clit. What’s that spell- he’s asking mentally. 

Only for you to mewl wantonly as if you’d just heard. “Kuna- Sukuna- Yes- yes m’cumming m’cumming—” 

It’s like you’re enveloped in a tidal wave - you didn’t know where your orgasm started and where it ended. Just that Sukuna’s moans break into something octaves higher as he fucks you through your bliss.

You claw down the expanse of his flexing back with each burst of pre splattering your gooey insides. Toes curled, eyes all teary. “I-it’s so- hck! Feels too good…”

Turning you into absolute mush every time he pumps his thorough inches into you- and the mean fingers on your nub just tug n’ tug.

And it’s only after a few more of your shrilling whines that you’re still feeling the hot entrance of his shaft plummeting through, your walls squeezing ‘round his flared tip. “I want you to cum, too, Sukuna.”

“F-fuck.” He lets out, softly.

Cupping his attractive face, if you thought you were gone then you weren’t ready for the way that Sukuna looked. Cheeks burning hot and red, mouth parted with overspilling drool, brows furrowed into such an expression that it almost makes you feel shy.

Repeating those very same words, you start sloppily swervin’ your hips straight to his. “Cum inside m- ngh, please?”

All this time and his cute lil’ teacher was still minding her p’s and q’s. 

So, of course, when you’re asking him that nicely- it’s the least he could do to listen. To let out a final, vulgar stroke that has him spilling over the edge.

In great, piling heaps of ivory cum that puddles at the bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that your ears ring with the lecherous sluuurp–! as your cunt walls suck up every last steaming drop. 

You can feel it trailing down the insides of your thighs like a waterfall and keen, “Just like that, f-fuck…” Almost like you’re hypnotized, you drag one of his much-larger hands to palm the outside of your tummy. “Can feel it all the way here.”

“O-oh my god…” He’s groaning, eyes drifting off to the back of his head as soon as you’re meeting his tempo. Slamming down to rob his aching balls, milking him all dry - you were overspilling and it still wasn’t enough. “Y’really are a dream.” 

And there’s something about the way he’s sluggishly brushing away a stray bead of perspiration from your temple. Something about that lazy, half-lidded look in his eyes, the complete n’ utter reverence in his tone as he asks- “So…s’your type ‘dangerous’, mama?”

Almost…shy.

Oh, it hits you. He’s pussydrunk.

You’d made big, bad Ryomen Sukuna completely and utterly pussydrunk.

To the point where his studded ears flare a deep crimson once you giggle, “Mmm- pretend dangerous, Kuna.” His eyes shine. You think back to that night at the Itadori household, “And I also remember something about quadruplets?” 

It’s then that Sukuna whimpers. 

Not even pulling out. Not even considering such an impossible feat for even a split-second before he rolls your weakened body over.

Hovering over you now, it’s so easy for his beefy arms to tug your legs over his shoulders. Still shaking. Still suffering from the aftermath of your orgasm as he’s holding them tight and bending down, down, dooooown.

Straight into a mating press. 

Oh, your breath catches.

“Before I pound you until you can’t haaah- walk, mama-” Uncharacteristically, Sukuna gulps as he shifts his crimson eyes away from you. “-m’I giving you quadruplets that’ll have my last name?”

Now that was a round-about way to ask someone out- and he knows it, too. 

But it only makes you shuffle up onto your elbows on the now-ruined sheets, sticking to you like glue. You place a lingering peck on Sukuna’s wobbly, overstimulated lips, “Mm- I love you, too, Kuna.”

Oh, how he loves you. He almost cums right then and there. 

Fuck.

He does. 

.

.

.

“You.”

“You.” Yuji narrows his eyes down at the sight of Ryomen Sukuna towering over the busy preschool pick-up. Trying to look over his broad shoulders for any sign of his father, “Huh? But dadda said he was coming to pick me up today?”

Sukuna gingerly scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, well…listen, twerp- I mean, kid. There’s something I need to-”

Only to be cut off by a dramatic gasp—“Oh no- Did dadda go to jail just like you-”

“No,”

“Did he drive fast-”

“No.”

“Did he drink-”

“No-”

“Did he slash tires-”

“Maybe once?”

And fuck- he really didn’t understand tiny children, because explain to him why the pink-haired boy starts bawling in his arms. Pitiful enough to draw the glares of parents wrenching their own children away from the perpetrator, loud enough to draw the sweet concern of you.

Walking from your station saying goodbye to one other student, “Yuji what- oh!” You’re pressing your lips together to contain your smile as you happen to see who was throwing Yuji on his shoulders to soothe him. Bouncing him lightly until he smiled- and you did, too. “I didn’t expect you so early today, Kuna.”

“Yeah, well.” He’s using Yuji’s palms to cover the pinkish ends of his blushing ears, “Decided I wanted to see ya off from work today.”

Now past grief and straight into utter nosiness- “Wait- what do you mean ‘see off’.” He gasps, “Is she going to ja-”

“Brat-”

“What your uncle means to say, Yuji-” Playfully pinching his chubby cheeks, you try to ignore the gawking stares of every other one of your remaining students as you promptly turn to face Sukuna. Giving him a sweet, sweet peck on his. “-is that you’ll be seeing a lot more of me around.”

Another gasp - well, multiple.

One from Itadori Yuji, who gapes, open-mouthed between you and his uncle - as if wondering how he ever managed to bag you, and wait does that mean you’re his auntie now?

About twenty from your crowd of students, right along with a few whispers. 

“Hey, isn’t that weird Mr. Mugshot?”

“So that’s why Mr. Mugshot was always red- eugh! In my momma’s dramas they don’t get together, they just die.”

Fushiguro frowns, “I would rather die than watch him like this. Gross.”

“Caviar.”

Walking up from the group, Fushiguro tugs on your skirt. Innocently - but Sukuna could feel the evil intent. He just knew that boy was a villain. “Inumaki asks whether you mind that he sets fires, miss.”

What the fuck is with the fires-

And then finally - three distinct, unfortunately familiar gasps that make Sukuna dread turning around. Struggling against it, even as his nephew tugs on his locks of pink hair with a delighted squeal- “Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps-”

You smile, watching Choso take flustered pictures of his uncle. “How the hell did you even win her over? All of these are going in the blackmail folder. Maybe your wedding presentation too.”

Sukuna bites back a shy blush- turning it into a scowl, “Maybe…”

“Well, I’ll be.” Wasuke nods his head in approval, “All thanks to the ah- ‘wingmanning’ as the kids say. I’ll be expecting at least three grandchildren in the future, sonny. And when I say ‘future’ I mean in nine months-”

“Dad! It’s too early for that.” Jin, ever-the-voice-of-reason, gives you a breezy handshake. “Congratulations- by the way.” And it’s all soft. It’s all sweet- that is, until you’re trying to pull your hand back and he only tightens his grip. Smile still tightly in place, “I will be the kids’ godfather, by the way.”

Settling an arm around you now, You and Sukuna don’t know whether to laugh or stand in shocked silence as Jin finally sets you free - but you don’t have to make the choice.

Because the annoying, grating voice of Todo Aoi breaks through—“Noooooo– my bride!” 

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[constellationguy]

Lies the Genshin Men say

*little explicit here and there*

Explicit sections: Childe, Dottore-ish, Kaeya, Baizhu

The Harbingers

Pierro: He says he prefers to see you in his colors, mainly blues and black. Truthfully he adores you in red. He can’t keep his hands off you when you wear red. He also buys you anything that’s red, dresses, shoes, lipstick, flowers, all because the color reminds him of you. For events he prefers you to wear jewelry with darling bright sapphires but your jewelry case is filled with too many rubies to count.

Il Capitano: He says he prefers his hair straight and unrestrained. The truth is he will fall asleep if you play with or style his long back hair. Capitano feels the most loved when you are braiding his hair or giving him a scalp massage. When he misses you he braids his hair but he starts at the nape of his neck because his big fingers can’t braid from the top of his head like you do.

Pantalone: He claims he doesn’t care what perfume you wear. This statement is partly true. During galas and social functions he tells you to wear sents that are known to be pricey but not oppressive, expensive and understated he says. However at home he loves your natural sent, with out shame he will set you on his lap and tuck his face into your neck and take a deep breath, it seems like a sigh but he really is smelling you.

Childe: He tells you he loves everything about you equally, but it’s clear that he adores your boobs the most. Ajax loves to hug you from behind and squeeze or caress your chest while hugging you and will whine and beg to let him if you deny him. He loves to burry his head in your chest after a long day. When you don’t wear a bra you can persuade him to do pretty much anything.

Scaramouche: He tells you that he doesn’t care if you learn Japanese or not. In reality his knees will buckle if you call him “anata”, after you two got married. When you speak with him in Japanese he is so much more animated and emotional. His heart swells with pride when you two speak Japanese in domestic settings. Sing to him in Japanese and he will cry and or fall asleep.

Dottore: He claims to be dominant, which he is, most of the time. He will boss anyone around and make them conform to his will, but he will burn the world for you if you wanted. You tell him to jump and he will ask how high. He will also be extra pliant if you tug on his hair a bit.

Mondstadt

Albedo: He tells you he doesn’t mind not having a “domestic” relationship. In truth he loves seeing you play with Klee. He loves when you cook for him. He loves coming home to you, if he could freeze time to stay in those homey moments he would.

Diluc: He tells everyone that he doesn’t play any instraments. However at home he will play the sweetest melodies for you on the piano. His playing is for your ears only. The only other people he will play for is your future children.

Kaeya: He promises you that he will never hurt you. However, he will bite, scratch, and suck on your skin all day every day if you let him. He adores leaving possessive marks on you as well as giving you painful pleasure, the best kind of pleasure in his book.

Venti: He claims to be chill and not possessive at all. But he will stare and scowl at people being flirty with you. He will place his hands possessively on your waist when anyone gets too close to you. He would keep you locked up at home if he could, he just could never share you with anyone.

Liyue

Baizhu: Baizhu claims to dislike your bossiness, but in fact in almost any scenario it kinda turns him on. He loves when you use him for your own pleasure. He loves when you tell him what to do to make you happy or to get you off.

Xiao: He tells you that he doesn’t want anymore people in his life. However, he truly wants a few kids of his own running about, helping him make breakfast for you every morning. The thing he wants most is a family with you.

Zhongli: Not exactly a lie but Zhongli doesn’t like you eating non home cooked food. Any food that isn’t made by someone he trusts, he won’t let you eat. However whenever you’re feeling down or kind of out of it he will order food and bring it home to make you smile.

Inazuma

Goro: He tells everyone who asks that he hates his ears and tail touched, everyone is too rough with them. On the other hand, you’re so gentile with him, when you play with his hair that he can’t help but enjoy when you gently pet his ears.

Kazuha: He will tell you that the world is inspiration. He tells you his poems stem from the sights he sees and emotions he feels as he travels. But in truth Kazuha has not written one poem without you on his mind, you have been his muse and inspiration since you met.

Ayato: He says he doesn’t mind what you wear. But he can’t help but feel happy when you wear the expensive silk sets he bought you. Silk just fits you for some reason. To him silk complements your soft skin perfectly, the smooth reflective fabric just radiants and amplifies your beauty.

Heizo: Whenever he is tired he will go on and on about how he “isn’t sleepy” or how he’s “just gonna rest his eyes.” This man is stubborn when it comes to going to bed. He just wants to spend more time with you. You might have to make him tea and scratch his back while he lays on you to get him to fall asleep without a fuss.

Thoma: He claims to be neither here or there on who cooks meals. In actuality in his brain he cries and begs for your cooking. It could be any cuisine and he will be happy. He just loves your cooking and your adoration especially after a long day of taking care of others.

Itto: Itto tells anyone and everyone that he’s married to you. He just loves you so much and fantasizes about your wedding to much sometimes he forgets you’re not actually married yet.

Sumeru

Alhaitham: He tells you that you can sleep by yourself. In reality you and him both know you can’t sleep without each other. If you’re angry with him and you sleep on the couch you two will end up making up in the night when he comes to pick you up and take you back to your shared bed.

Cyno: He claims to not get jealous often but truthfully he craves your attention and gets jealous when he doesn’t get it. He knows how his friends don’t favor his humor so he gets a little insecure when you laugh at their jokes sometimes. Just know he will be clingy behind closed doors to make up for being jealous of his own friends.

Kaveh: Everyday he tells you that he won’t overwork himself, he will take breaks today. He doesn’t, no matter how determined he is he will not take a break until you make him. On days when he’s stuck in his head you have to visit him while he’s at work or at home so he can come back down to earth here and there.

Tighnari: He will complain anyone who will listen about how he hates going into Sumeru city for one thing or another. However he will be giddy when he goes onto Sumeru City to visit you. While he doesn’t like the city, it isn’t so bad when you’re with him.

Fontaine

Lyney: He claims to love all the ways you touch him. However he does have a favorite, he loves when you scratch and massage his back. When you work through his back with your skilled hands he is a happy groaning mess. After a massage he will be like a napping pile of jello. Cuddles with a now loose muscled Lyney are so heart warming.

Neuvillette: He hates the taste of coffee, that’s a plain fact. However, he can’t help but enjoy the taste of coffee if it’s from your lips. The quick good morning kiss you give him as you sip on your coffee makes his head dizzy instead of disgusted like he normally is at the taste of coffee.

Wriothesley: He claims he doesn’t mind you going out alone or without him. Truthfully you are never actually without his surveillance. He has a tracker on your phone and he sends one of his coworkers to make sure you are always safe.

[frogmisc]

LEAVING AFTER AN ARUGMENT. . . you leave for an unrelated reason after an argument and he panics lads & f! reader

( I. ) first time writing for these guys kinda nervous eeeeeek ALSO what nicknames are we calling the boys? like is it baby, honey, or what cuz sometimes i wanna write dialogue for reader when she calls him and it's not his actual name if that makes any sense? lol

( II. ) send any lads reqs if you want ! i can't guarantee i'll get to them, but i'll try :)

. . .

it seemed like all you did was argue lately. tensions were high as both your schedules clashed, leaving no time for any meaningful connection. he was busy with work, irritated beyond belief as his colleagues continued to piss him off; you were drowning in missions, sorely overdue for some time off. everything you did annoyed him, and everything he did annoyed you.

you came out the shower, clad in your pajamas. you applied some lip balm while your eyes drifted to where he sat in the living room. despite your own exhaustion, you could tell he was stressed and wanted to offer some comfort. but after just one question of are you okay—

"for the last time, don't worry about it." he snapped, his jaw clenching as he attempted to retain control on his emotions.

your eyes narrowed at his tone, swallowing the hurt stuck in your throat as you carefully chose your next words. "i only want to help you—"

"well, you're not. in fact, you're making things worse."

your mouth opened... then closed. you stepped back, shaking your head at the audacity, emotionally clocking out of the conversation.

"right." you muttered, grabbing your phone and keys before snatching your coat off the rack impatiently.

he was so consumed in his own problems and how he would fix them that he hadn't noticed the uneasy silence that followed. he looked up, his discerning gaze scanning his surroundings. he caught the slam of the front door, blood draining from his face. he'd done it now.

🍎 CALEB

"...pips?" he asked the empty room, his voice quiet as if hoping to attract wildlife. the couch creaked as he stood slowly, his heart racing erratically in his chest. "hello?"

when he was met with no response, he ran over to the door. his throat constricted when he didn’t see your shoes next to his. shit. he shouldn't have said that. he groaned and ran his hands over his face. he really shouldn't have said that.

"makin' things worse? really, caleb?" he mumbled to himself in disbelief.

though his hand flew to the door handle, he hesitated to turn it. his thumb tapped on the handle anxiously. stupid, stupid, stupid. every fiber of his being ached to run after you, scoop you up into his arms, and take you back home where you belonged.

a part of him was scared—what if he ran after you and you finally told him to go away for good? he wouldn't do that in a million years, of course, but... he didn't want you to hate him, whatever the reason was. especially if it was his own doing. he couldn't live without you, and the empty house he stood in was a painful reminder.

he thought back to all the times he's brushed you off for work recently, leaving you in his flat with a placating kiss to your cheek. he didn't expect the fleet to demand so much of his attention, and now both of you were suffering for it.

caleb cursed under his breath and shoved his feet into his shoes, ripping the door open and sprinting down the street. he called your name, spinning around on the road to cover his bases, searching for any rustle, scent, or noise that would lead him to you.

"caleb, what are you doing?" you sighed from behind him.

he straightened up and turned, his hopes refusing to sink even after seeing the glare on your face. you just looked so cute in your pajamas and puffy jacket. he frowned, a new wave of guilt washing over him.

"get out of the road, please? and put on a shirt if you're outside—" your lecture was cut short as caleb hugged you tight, worming his warm hands under the wings of your coat and clothes "...what is up with you?" you asked softly, returning the embrace.

he squeezed you tight, savoring the feeling of your skin under his fingers. "i thought you left."

"i mean, i did. i just forgot my headphones in my car—"

"you scared me," he whispered into your neck.

an unbelieving laugh bubbled out of you, put off by his strong reaction. "what—did you think i left left?"

"yes." he whined, standing back and tilting your head up to face him. "you don't ever make things worse, princess. i don't know why i said that—"

"caleb."

"no, you're the only good thing i have left and i—" he choked up, his eyelids squeezing shut. "you don't deserve that. i love you, you know that right? i love you."

"i love you, too." you gripped his wrist, bringing him back down. "our lives aren't easy, and i don't expect you to be perfect all the time. we're both going to get to stressed and maybe annoyed with each other, but... i don't want us to grow apart because of it."

"no, never." he gripped your face with both hands, holding you firmly as if he were trying to communicate his pledge into your skull. "i'll never lash out like that again, pips, i promise. i know you were just trying to help—i'm so sorry." he peppered kisses all over your face until you wriggled out of his arms.

you extended your pinky, an expectant look on your face. he smiled gratefully and hooked his pinky with yours, allowing you to string him along back to bed and into your arms, where he belonged.

SYLUS

he checked the cameras surrounding his home, watching you storm down the pathway to your car. his heart thumped when the car door slammed shut, and he turned off the camera feed to save his thoughts from running wild.

he rose calmly from his chair, abandoning his drink and phone as he paced. ...he shouldn't have snapped at you. your look of hurt and betrayal was seared into his mind. the echo of you persisted even as he closed his eyes. i only want to help.

sylus debated enlisting the help of luke and kieran to keep an eye on you. he didn't want to pressure you to return home if you were upset with him, but he also wanted to be the one to comfort you... for a slight of his own doing... hm. what a paradoxical feeling.

his work required much of his time and effort, as did yours. of course the N109 zone had to act up when you finally found the time to spend the night. his stomach twisted with disappointment. what kind of man was he to put work over the most precious treasure of his life?

sylus gritted his teeth, grabbing his robe and tying it on before racing out the door. his motorcycle buzzed to life as he approached. mounting it with ease, he pulled up the map on his phone to check—

"where are you going at this hour?" you cast him a sideways look, judgement written all over your features.

...perhaps he should have checked the garage cameras before rushing outside with the intent of chasing your car down.

for once, his expression did not reflect his usual collected demeanor. "i... i thought you had left."

you held up your headphones. "forgot these in the car."

"i see." sylus cleared his throat, turning off his bike's engine. he swallowed thicky, choosing his words carefully as he had failed to do earlier. "i didn't mean what i said, kitten. making things worse is something you are not capable of."

you waved him off, turning to retire to bed. he frowned, hopping off his motorcycle and catching your hand, halting your withdrawal.

"i'm tired, sylus." you sighed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

of me? he thought in a panic, his throat suddenly bone-dry. sylus always had something to say, but in this moment, nothing he came up with seemed right. "what i said was in error. i never want to hurt you, so for tonight, i deeply apologize."

"sy..." you quirked an amused smile up, and his brows furrowed in confusion. "i am really tired. and i imagine you are, too. we're both high-strung, and you're not going to be perfect all the time."

"you deserve nothing less," he argued with a firm shake of his head. his hands rested on your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"you demonstrate that to me everyday, but i don't expect that of you all the time. you're human." your hand lifted to hold his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin after he leaned into your touch. "but when we fall short, i don't want us to take it out on each other."

his hand covered yours, pressing a kiss to your palm regretfully. "...i know, sweetie. i'm sorry. i love you, and seeing you walk out today reminded me that you mean the world to me. i would sooner abandon my work than push you away."

"i love you, too." you smiled and he brought you closer to his chest, hugging you as though he were afraid you would disappear.

when the night breeze made you shiver, he lifted you in his arms and tumbled into bed with you, his work long forgotten the moment your soft giggles hit his ears.

RAFAYEL

rafayel didn't look up from his blank canvas after realizing you left, but painting was the last thing on his mind. his knee bobbed uncontrollably, his brush wagging between his fingers nervously.

why did he say that? he always had to have the last word, even when he didn't mean anything that left his mouth. he might as well have said get out, i don't need you, when the truth was the polar opposite.

he heard your car engine rumble to life and fear seized his chest. you weren't—you weren't leaving were you?

rafayel knew his attitude was a lot to deal with sometimes. getting snippy when you were both upset was a recipe for disaster, and he often envied your patience in those instances. he always wondered when you would finally get fed up with him though he never believed it would happen.

until it did, today.

you were one of the few that loved him as he was and he was not letting you go because he let his exhaustion screw everything up.

he let his tools clatter to the floor as he sprung to his feet, speeding to the driveway. he spotted your car and practically ran into it, slamming his hands against the driver's window.

huh? rafayel peered inside but the driver's seat was empty. weird, he swore he heard you scream...

the backseat window rolled down, your annoyed head popping out soon after. "what are you doing?! you scared me!"

he scooted over to the back window sheepishly, his confusion apparent on his face. "what, uh... what are you doing?" he coughed to cover up his quivering voice, resting his arms on the door.

you bent over, searching under the seats. "i'm looking for my headphones. i'm pretty sure they rolled under here somewhere..."

his eyes darted to the front, seeing the dashboard lit and ready to go. "you turned the car on, so i thought..."

"i needed the lights. my phone wasn't enough." you explained hurriedly, then paused. you sat up and stared at him. "...you thought what?"

"i thought you left." he mumbled. rafayel's fingers rapped along the roof of your vehicle that it could've passed as rain. after a moment, he gave into his need to be close to you, opening the door and slipping into the backseat.

"you know i didn't mean it, right?" he began.

you glanced at him, shrugging. "i don't know. did you?"

"i didn't." he said indignantly, but his tone softened when he remembered his goal: apologize, not defend. "i would never mean something like that, cutie. i say stupid things when i'm backed into a corner. that's no excuse, though."

"yeah." you concede, sitting beside him. the soft melodies from the radio made the dip in the conversation less uncomfortable. "you really thought i was going to leave?"

he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "i thought you finally got tired of me."

"raf..." you frowned, your hand reaching to his. "we'll get tired of each other from time to time. it comes with being life partners—there's good days and bad days. doesn't mean we love each other any less."

you pulled his head into your shoulder and he didn't waste any time curling into you, clinging to you like his life depended on it. you could feel his racing heartbeat against your skin, but with every deep breath of your scent, it calmed down. little by little. his hair brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled impossibly closer.

"i know. but as your life partner, i should be making you happier. i'm sorry for losing sight of my top priority." he pressed an apologetic kiss to the crook of your neck. "i love you more than anything."

you smiled, stroking his fluffy hair. "i love you, too."

thomas found you two cuddled up in the backseat together the next morning.

ZAYNE

regret flooded him immediately. he let his head drop into his hands in disappointment, but his shame found him even as he closed his eyes. he didn't give himself time to wallow in self-pity—he got up, grabbed his jacket, and flew out the door after you.

he called your name just as he sees a flash of your pajamas turning around the corner into the garage. keys. he vaguely remembered the jingle of keys—did you intend to leave?

he burst into the garage after you, his breath short as he locked eyes with you over the hood of your car.

you raised an eyebrow but didn't stop moving. you were about to open the door when he grasped your arm, turning your body to face him. his grip fell from your biceps to your hands, lacing your fingers together pleadingly. you looked up in confusion—

"forgive me. i did not mean to snap. you were only trying to help, i know that—"

"zayne—"

"please, allow me to finish. i will never force you to do anything you do not wish to, but i promise i will never let my stress cloud my judgement in a way that makes you suffer. please don't go. i will—"

"zayne," your lips curved into a smile and zayne's brain had to buffer. "i'm not leaving."

he blinked, his eyes darting between you and your car. "but..."

you nodded to the center compartment through the window. "i left my headphones inside."

"oh."

your smile only grew as he released your hands, stepping back to allow you to open the door and retrieve your headphones. you pocketed your stuff and hooked arms with him, a gesture that weighed guilty upon his shoulders. he didn't deserve your affection after he lashed out at you, at least not so easily.

"i accept your apology." you hummed, leaning your head against his arm as he walked you back inside. "i wasn't mad, just... annoyed. we're both stressed out, and stuff like this will happen when we're both in bad moods. let's try not to make a habit of it."

"of course." he whispered. then, even quieter, "i don't deserve you."

you pursed your lips. "i don't like it when you talk down on yourself."

"i know," zayne murmured. "though it's hard not to when you... you make things so easy."

you smiled up at him. "loving you is easy."

his eyes communicated his gratitude, but the way he stopped in his tracks to embrace you said much more. i love you.

XAVIER

shit. xavier frowned, leaning back and peering through the window. he caught you walking down the street, dialing someone on your phone. when you spun around, he quickly let the curtains fall back into place. he didn't know what to do.

he was an idiot, that much he knew. xavier often got short when he was sleepy, but even more so when sleepy and stressed. he never meant to lash out at you, and normally he wouldn't, but... you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. with the sorry state he was in, the next person that talked to him was going to be unfairly assailed.

his palms grew clammy as he caught your voice muffled through the glass. you sounded upset. he peeked outside again, watching you vent. he winced and sunk back into the couch, his mind racing—what does he do? what does he say?

next, he heard a car pulling up to the house. his heart dropped in panic—he whipped around, watching someone park right where you stood. you opened the door...

oh, no. xavier scrambled off the couch, running past his coat and shoes out the door. he called your name as he sprinted down the sidewalk.

"what're you doing, xav?" you gave him a look before you entered the car, keeping a foot on the pavement to stabilize yourself as you climbed inside.

"wait—!" xavier came to an abrupt stop behind you, ready to pull you out if he needed to.

"yeah, that's my boyfriend." you laughed softly to tara. your friend ducked her head to catch a glimpse of him through the open door and waved in greeting.

huh?

"he looks like he's seen a ghost." tara mirrored your odd look from earlier.

xavier shifted behind you.

"he's been out of it all week, you know... working pretty hard." you rifled for something in the backseat, exclaiming happily once you recovered your headphones. "thanks for coming all this way, i appreciate it. have fun on your vacation."

"of course, no problem. think about having one yourself, hm?" tara smiled, honking her car in farewell as she disappeared down the street.

"i—i thought—" xavier took deep breaths to calm himself. "i'm so sorry."

"you thought what?" you asked, stuffing your headphones in your pockets.

"that you were going to leave." he admitted, blue eyes filled with panic and worry. "i'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve it. you never deserve anything like that, it won't happen again."

you flattened your hand against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. "it's okay, xav—"

"it's not." xavier's eyes hardened, guilt welling up inside him. why were you being so forgiving?

"i trust you won't do it again. even you seem surprised by your outburst. this isn't you, and both of us know that." you continued calmly. "sometimes the stress gets to us. i get it."

he bowed his head, covering your hand with his own and squeezing it every so often to soothe his nerves. "you could never make things worse. i love you, so much."

you smiled. "i love you, too. let's sleep in? i'll call in if you will."

"yes, please." he groaned with relief, nodding. he intertwined your fingers, swinging your hands between you as you walked back home.

──── love, honey.

[kitteninabunker]

tennis!player reader is coach!toji’s favorite.

he lives for that tight little tennis skirt, catching the way it lifts whenever you run to hit the ball across the net to the other player, the soft cling of the sweat-damp fabric hugging your ass. and if we’re being honest? he doesn’t give a damn about the matches or what the other players are doing. he doesn’t care about who’s winning, the man won’t even keep track of his own team’s score. he’s only there to ogle at the sweet bounce of your tits while you play, shamelessly spreading his legs to palm his cock through his pants like some juvenile pervert as you dart across the court.

he’s been coaching for years, working with the regular surplus of mediocre athletes. but girls like you? fresh, soft, and stupidly sweet? they make his job fun again. he stares at you whenever skip over to him after practice, face flushed, hair damp, oversized tennis bag swinging on your shoulder like you didn’t just spend an hour being his personal wet dream. “did i do good today, coach?”

it’s always a bit refreshing to see a new, sexy girl like you on the team, anyways.

“you did real good out there, y/n.” he’d congratulate, and you—being clueless, oblivious and so damn cute—just gave him a polite smile and chirped out a “thank you!” not having the slightest idea about what you’re doing to him.

you would’ve never guessed it, how many times he’s stroked his fat cock with your sweaty panties wrapped around it, huffing and muttering your name in the dark of the locker room after he stole them from your bag. you don’t know how long he’s been imaging warm cunt milking him, your voice all breathy and wrecked as you bounce on his dick like you need it.

all of those dirty stares, all the times he fucked his fist thinking about your dumb little face—now it’s real. you’re finally in his lap, moaning and drooling as his thick length splits you open.

“make me cum, and no practice for a week, that sound good?” toji groans, his voice steady and dominant as ever while you struggle to even think straight, every slow, tingling stretch of his cock inside of you, every time his fat tip hits your cervix makes your brain short circuit. “mhm—yes—fuck, toji!” you whimper, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you keep bouncing. the sound of your plush ass smacking against his hips fills the room, wet and filthy.

"this tight pussy's gonna make 'er old man bust like a fuckin’ loser without shame, hm?" he teases, voice dripping with mockery as he slaps your ass, making you whine as it leaves a stinging red handprint. you sharply suck in a breath of air, clutching at his knees as you keep rolling your hips. every bounce forces his thick cock even deeper, his tip knocking at your cervix like it’s trying to break through. toji’s large, calloused and move to hold your hips, squeezing the fat as your plush skin spills between the gaps of his fingers. he drags you down harder, using you like a toy and your hips grind messily against him as his cock bullies your guts. “d-don’t cum inside!” you plead, even as your pussy clamps down around him, wet and twitching, clinging like it wants him to breed you. “don’t—“

toji just laughs, low, breathless, mean.

“yeah? sayin’ that while this greedy cunt’s suckin’ me in like it wants every drop?” he grits out, watching your body tremble as he grips his hips tighter. “dumb lil thing doesn’t even know what it wants, huh?”

you shake your head weakly, but you can’t answer, not with the way he’s fucking up into you now, the way his fat cock is bruising your insides, hitting that spot that makes you clench and cry out and fall apart all over again.

"shit, you’re really tryin’ to squeeze it outta me, aren’t you?” he growls, sweat beading along his brow. “gonna fill this pretty college pussy up, baby. gonna stuff you full.”

“toji—fuck—please, please don’t—” your words break off into a pathetic little sob, voice pitchy, desperate.

“aww, listen to you,” he coos mockingly, slapping your ass. “too dumb to think, too cockdrunk to stop me. you were beggin’ to get bred the second you climbed into my lap, weren’t you?”

your eyes roll back as he fucks up into you, rough and relentless, the slap of your soaked cunt against his thighs echoing filthy through the empty locker room.

“bet you’d look real pretty knocked up,” he pants, voice rough, right in your ear. “tummy all round with my kid, still wearin’ that tiny little skirt like a fuckin’ slut. showin’ off who you belong to.”

you’re twitching in his lap, body convulsing as another orgasm slams through you—and that’s all it takes.

“fuck, baby—here it comes—” he grits, slamming up hard, cock buried to the hilt as he cums inside you, thick and hot and endless. you can feel it paint your insides, leaking out around his cock in slow, lazy drips.

he stays there for a moment, buried deep, pulsing, and panting, before you slowly raise your hips, letting his limp cock slowly pull out with a wet, messy squelch. and then he grabs your ass, spreading you wide so he can watch. he reaches down, stroking his slick cock lazily as he watches his cum drip down your thighs “look at that,” he groans, thumbing your swollen folds open. “fuckin’ leaking all over me. i filled you so deep it’s spillin’ out.”

you whimper, twitching from overstimulation, and he just smirks.

“what a good little cumdump. ‘m gonna have to fuck it back in, yeah? make sure it sticks. can’t have my pretty toy wastin’ a single drop.”

“don’t worry, baby. coach’ll take real good care of you. just keep showin’ up in that cute lil’ skirt, lettin’ me breed this dumb pussy every time you ‘earn a break.’ fuck practice, you’re better off gettin’ knocked up for me.”