#anyway I thought you should know. there’s some light out there

[ohithankyou]

now i’m thinking about the bucktommy breakup again and i want to try and outline what essentially happened with my own interjections and thoughts in between

miceli’s anniversary date:

so they’re at their anniversary dinner and it’s all going well until the girl comes over and asks buck to take a picture of her and her friends. buck gets flustered, she flirts with him and asks for his number, he says no but fails to tell her why he doesn’t want her number (a whole boyfriend of six months sitting right there).

now, as an audience member, you’re made to think that this may cause an issue between them because tommy would be in the right to be upset by this. not that buck finds this woman attractive or whatever, but that he was unable to claim tommy/say that he was celebrating his 6-months w his boyfriend.

but, tommy’s shown to be quite understanding and this situation isn’t at all positioned as something that bothers him maybe beyond a few seconds and they don’t broach on the matter for much longer before moving onto what is meant to be the main “problem” (the abby of to all).

buck asks tommy about his history with women (which seemed to have been the goal of the prior scene, to lead into a conversation about being with women) and this is where we get the shocking (stupid) revelation that tommy and abby were engaged for two years.

so immediately, the audience focus is shifted from the situation with the girl and buck and how tommy felt, to tommy and abby and how this makes buck feel about his relationship with tommy. as a viewer, the situation with buck and the girl is now out of your mind because tommy was not really been upset by it but clearly, the abby revelation has caught buck off guard and not in a great way.

so now, it seems the driving hurdle in their relationship is their abby connection. except, tommy is not aware of this connection and therefore is not aware that it is even is a hurdle (which yeah i guess it’s bc we’re in buck’s pov but some insight into tommy’s state of mind would be nice considering he does the breaking-up). and while buck is spiraling, tommy’s just in the dark about it all.

buck’s talk with maddie and josh:

then we’re at the josh/maddie/buck scene where we hear that the abby of it all, particularly how tommy treated abby, is really bothering buck. then josh comes in with his speech and gives buck insight and a different, more understanding perspective, for buck to approach the situation with and it works. josh then asks buck a series of questions regarding tommy and it’s all very positive. so as an audience member, you see this as buck overcoming the hurdle and all seems well, even better than well, and he just has to tell tommy. it really seems like their relationship is headed towards a next positive big step at this point.

loft talk:

then we’re at buck’s loft because buck and tommy have a date planned so again, we’re made to believe everything’s going well, especially from tommy’s perspective. he’s so happy and light and free. but before they go the movies, buck wants to talk to him and be honest about something, which gets tommy a little nervous.

anyway, now for the reveal. buck tells tommy about their abby connection and maybe for a second we’re made to think this might be an issue for tommy but beyond it being a little weird, it’s not an issue and they laugh about it more or less. so, the abby of it all is resolved but then buck asks tommy to move on with him and bam. this is where everything changes.

we see that tommy is afraid. we see that he doesn’t think he can be loved and that he doesn’t believe he could be buck’s last because he’s his first. we see that he believes this is all very new for buck, he should explore, etc. but we don’t hear why. we don’t get that from tommy. he’s made to say such a matter of fact statement without stating any reasons so we don’t know where this comes from. (and i’m not saying that it doesn’t make sense for him to be afraid, or to not open up immediately, i think that’s actually a really great thread to unravel, but it’s something we can’t ground/was not grounded anywhere.)

was it because of the moment at miceli’s? was it because of the magnitude of moving in? was it because they hadn’t said ily but buck was already asking him to move in? was it because of something in tommy’s past? was it tommy’s own general insecurities? or all of the above? there are so many potential reasons and explanations but it’s really dependent on us digging and making sense of things and building those connections that aren’t very clearly identified by the writing.

but you know, it’s fine. because the narrative feels very open. it doesn’t feel like the door is shut and you believe they’re going to reconcile. they’re going to talk out their feelings, tommy’s going to clarify where everything came from, buck is going let tommy in on how he got to the moving-in stage, and they’re going to be fine (but then certain interviews come out and it’s like no actually this is meant to be the end). and then you’re just a confused as hell audience member and the whole story feels unbelievably clunky and disjointed even more than before.

overall, to me, it feels like they were so hyper focused with trying to get the abby connection in there for shock value and funny drama that they forgot to make sure that the narrative threads that led to the eventual breakup actually tied together in some way within the show itself. i also think the abby connection was entirely unnecessary and had no real bearing on the relationship or the breakup. it was too contrived and just for the shock and drama value.

and i said this before, and i know we’re in buck’s pov but since tommy was the one to do the breaking up, getting some insight into what was happening in his head to any degree either before or during the breakup would’ve been great.

anyway, this still only makes sense to me as a third act breakup. not to say that’s what they have planned for sure but to me that’s what makes sense.

[mistysconcilium]

⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ co-stars…. madison montgomery x reader

1st of advent

an interview with your co-star, madison, brings back some memories you’ve had with her

ఇ - wc: 2.2k. fluff. slight angst. english is not my first language

note - ahh i’m pretty proud of this one!! i’m sorry if madison is ooc (this is my first madison fic) and if the story isn’t “connected”. this is my longest fic ever and i tried to make it connected but maybe i failed lol. anyways i hope you enjoy!! <3

You sit in a director’s chair with your legs crossed and hands in your lap, your fingers are fidgeting with the rings you’re wearing. Countless lights point in your direction making you unable to see the whole crew of staff behind them. To your right, your co-star, Madison Montgomery is sitting having her makeup touched up by a makeup artist.

“Okay, well are we ready?” asks a black haired woman named Linda who's sitting slightly diagonally across from you. You look over to Madison to see if she’s ready but see that she's already looking in your direction.

“Wait!” She calls out while she reaches into her purse to fetch something. When she finally finds what she’s looking for, a sheer pink lipgloss, she reaches over to you and begins to put the lipgloss on your lips. You lock eyes with Madison and your eyes fall to her lips but quickly look away as you feel your throat getting tighter and a lump forming in your stomach.

”There… Now we’re ready!”

“Okay well then let’s start the interview!” Linda replies. Immediately as the cameras start rolling you straighten your back and put on a slight smile to try hide your nervous demeanour.

“We’re rolling!” You hear someone behind the lights say.

“Welcome to this interview! I’m so excited to be meeting you guys and discussing your new movie!” Linda, the interviewer, says almost too excitedly.

“We’re so glad to be here!” Madison replies excitedly. Before you met her you would’ve assumed that she was faking it, that she hated it and would’ve wanted to be anywhere but here. But after getting to know her during the several months of shooting your movie, you know she means it. A lot of assumptions you previously held of her were gone after meeting and getting to know her.

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

It’s 20 minutes past 8 in the morning, the table read was supposed to start at 8 but you can't start since one of the leads isn’t here. Of course Madison Montgomery is late, you have never met her but it’s not hard to understand that she would be late, she probably cares for no one but herself. You’re not excited at all to be working with her.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late,” the door opens, revealing a soaking wet Madison Montgomery, “the weather was crazy, my car got stuck and I had to walk part of the way”

She sits down next to you and pulls out her movie script which is totally destroyed. Almost all of the pages are wet and the ink from the words are bleeding making the writing unintelligible.

“Oh shit” you hear her say quietly

“Uhm, we can share, if you want”

“Oh, thanks!” she turns and looks at you for the first time, “wait I recognize you. You’re in that one movie”

“Uh yeah”

“That movie was so boring, no offense. I mean your parts made it kinda watchable.”

“Thanks?”

You assume she was trying to compliment you? But you honestly can’t tell since she just insulted a movie you were in. Well, you can’t blame her, the movie was pretty shit, you only took it for the money and because you couldn’t get any other roles. But still, she didn’t have to insult the movie. But she did say you made it watchable so maybe she was being nice? In her own weird Madison Montgomery way.

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

“Your characters grow really close during the movie and you guys probably did the same during the filming, so I thought it would be fun for you to take a friendship test!” Linda pulls out a whiteboard and pen for each of you and hands them over.

“Okay that sounds fun!” Madison smiles.

“Wait I’m lowkey scared” you chuckle.

“Yeah you should be,” she replies with a smirk, “I’m so gonna win.”

“Don’t worry it won’t be too hard! I will just ask a question about one of you, the one who the question is about writes the right answer on their whiteboard and the other person writes down their guess on their whiteboard. If you’re correct you get one point!” Linda starts explaining the rules.

“First question is about Madison so you have to answer,” she looks at you and you just nod, ”what is Madison’s favorite color?”

Madison quickly writes down the correct answer and puts the whiteboard down in her lap so you won’t be able to see what she has written. Since the question is easy you write down your answer almost as fast as her.

“Alright are you done?” You and Madison both just nod in reply. “Okay turn your whiteboards in three, two one!”

You and Madison turn your whiteboards at the same revealing the same word written; black. It isn’t hard to come to the conclusion that her favorite color is black, it’s basically all she wears and wants to wear.

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

“What, why can’t I get that dress?” Madison groans.

“Because it’s my character's dress.” You are about to shoot a party scene which means that you’re wearing a short black dress. Madison, however, is wearing a bright yellow dress.

“Augh, why do you always get the good clothes?” She says ‘good’ but you know she actually means black since the clothes she gets are also pretty good, just not black.

“Because black clothes are my character’s style not yours” you let out a small chuckle.

“I should’ve auditioned for your role instead.”

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

Linda announces that you have one point since you got the question correct.

“Okay, whatever, that wasn’t even hard” Madison interjects, sounding annoyed but you know she’s just faking it for laughs.

“Maybe you should get a favorite color that’s harder to guess” Madison just rolls her eyes at that but you know that this too is in a playful manner.

“Now Madison it’s your turn to guess!” Linda asks the same question as last time but asks for your favorite color instead of Madison’s.

You quickly write down your favorite color on your whiteboard and turn to Madison expecting to see her trying to figure out the answer, but to your surprise she has already written down her guess.

“What, you’re already done?” You look at Madison with a puzzled look.

“Yeah it was easy,” she shrugs.

“Okay, turn your whiteboards in three, two, one!”

When the interviewer says ‘one’ both you and Madison turn your whiteboards to the camera. You look over to see what Madison has written, which is; your favorite color. You both have written the same answer. You smile at the fact that she knows your favorite color which maybe you shouldn’t since it’s a really basic thing to know. It’s not that big of a deal but it still warms your heart in a bittersweet kind of way.

After Linda announces that you both have one point each and some more chit-chats between you three, she moves onto the next question.

“Now it’s time for you to try to answer again!” She says your name and looks at you. “What is Madison’s favorite dessert or pastry or baked goods? Whatever you want to call it”

The question is harder this time. Guessing that her favorite color is black was easy since her whole wardrobe is filled with black clothes, but finding out her favorite baked goods? A lot harder. You obviously take longer to write down your guess this time but in the end you write it down; brownies. You have seen Madison eat them a handful of times and she seems to really enjoy them so it seems to be a logical answer.

But you were wrong. Apparently her favorite is macarons.

“What? No? I don’t think I have ever seen you eat a macaron! But I’ve seen you eat brownies sooo many times”

“I only eat macarons on special occasions, that’s what makes them so special,” she giggles.

“Whatever, that was a hard question”

“Now time for you Madison to answer the same question!” the interviewer announces.

You quickly jolt down your answer and Madison writes down her guess almost as quickly as you, which makes you feel bad. It took way longer for you to write down your guess about her and you were incorrect. A part of you wants her guess to be incorrect, so you don’t feel so bad about getting your answer wrong.

But another part of you wants her to get the correct answer. You want her to win this ‘friendship test’. If she wins that means she knows more about you than you know about her. It would prove that you’re not this pathetic puppy following her around that she just puts up with. If she wins, that proves she cares more about you than you care about her! Even if that’s not really the case.

When you turn your whiteboards it reveals the same word; cupcakes. You’re surprised since you haven’t eaten that many cupcakes in front of Madison.

“What, how do you know?”

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

“Okay so I brought some cupcakes from my favorite bakery and some pink lemonade,” you say as you place the items on the red checkered picnic blanket, “when are the others coming?”

“Oh I didn’t invite the others, it’s just you and me” Madison shrugs. When she had said that she was planning on having a picnic to celebrate the filming of the movie being done you just assumed that most of the cast would also be there.

“Oh,” you can feel your cheeks getting warmer so you break eye contact with her and look around your surroundings instead. The place Madison chose is really private, no one else is in sight. The picnic blanket is placed underneath a willow tree to protect you from the strong heat from the sun.

Since you assumed that a lot of people would be joining you, you only brought two things, Madison however had brought a lot more. The picnic blanket was filled with brownies, macarons, cookies, and even champagne and some flowers. It almost seems like a date? But no that can’t be it, right?

You two had kissed before for a scene in the movie, but that didn’t mean anything since you only did it because it was in the script. Well, Madison had actually kissed you way longer than what was written in the script. It was only supposed to be a quick kiss but she almost started making out with you. When the director asked why she did that she just said she ‘felt it fit the scene and characters better’.

“It’s a date, silly” Madison’s soft voice grabs your attention back to her.

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

“Now onto some more personal stuff,” the interviewer lets out a slight chuckle as if you were gossiping during a slumber party and not doing a promotional interview for a movie. “Fans have seen you doing some possibly romantic activities, are you dating someone?” To your surprise the question is directed towards you, not Madison, even though she’s the more famous one.

“Oh uhm I don’t-” your heart sinks. You didn’t expect that question. Why did she have to specifically ask that question? You’re sure that you could’ve answered any other question she could’ve asked but not this one. Especially since she’s sitting next to you. The romantic things you’ve done with her would have anyone assume you were dating but she refuses to admit it.

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

“Hey, Madison!” You hear an unfamiliar voice call out when you and Madison are shopping one day. Normally you would just assume that it was one of her fans but the fact that Madison hugged her proved otherwise. She must have noticed your confusion so she quickly introduces you.

“This is Zoe,” She says as she points to the other girl, “and this is.. uhm, my co-star”.

As soon as she introduces you as her co-star your heart sinks. Is that all you are to her? A co-star? She didn’t even introduce you as her friend! Zoe clearly sees the change in your demeanor and quickly excuses herself.

“Co-star?” You shrug.

“Yeah that’s what we are?”

“Are you kidding me? We have literally gone on dates, Madison!”

“Oh my god chill, you’re not only a co-star but that was just the easiest way to introduce you to her.”

“Why? Because you take her on dates too? Have you also taken Zoe out on picnic dates?” your voice is way louder than it probably should be in public.

“What no-”

“You know what, I can't do this right now. See you at the interview tomorrow, as co-stars,” you want your words to have a certain fire to them but you’re sure you just sound pathetic instead. Quickly, you turn away from Madison and walk away before she can say anything else.

- ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ -

“Looks like we’re out of time!” Linda announces snapping you back to reality. It’s time for you and Madison to head out. You walk out of the interview way more confused than when you walked in. You think Madison says something to you as you head out of the building but you’re not sure, you just want to get home.

love, elisabet

🏷️: @purple-cinematic @angel-decoy @lisboncy @fear-is-truth @violetsghosts @dearlizzies @loveofcherry @n0tonlin3 | join my taglist

dividers: @/cannibalim @/saradika-graphics

[insert-something-funy-here]

PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

CHAT, IT'S DONE!!! CHAPTER 3 IS HERE!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIO!!! YOUR PRESENT??? THE BIG SAD!!!! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA!!!!!!

ANYWAY, chat I think this chapter genuinely has some of my best writing so uh, praying this gets popular lol- CLICK ON THE IMAGES FOR BETTER QUALITY 🙏

AND WITH THAT, ENJOY!!! >:D!!!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

"I did what was right."

"You did what benefited you and only you."

Could the warden have been right?

Medkit sits there, staring at Biograft as he recovers from overheating and attempts at saving battery for the rest of the trip. The two are on their way to the Church of the True Eye, Medkit has to report back about what happened no matter what. However, the pair are currently resting at Sword's. Biograft lays in Sword's hammock, "sleeping," though he can't actually recharge without Subspace’s crystal.

I can't do anything.

I can't do anything but watch as his newly grooved existence runs along the iron rails laid before him by my own. There’s no lever, no other track, and I could close my eyes, but watching is the least I owe him. From the rifled frozen heart of the mountains to the ineludible sand of the desert he now erringly rushes forward. He’s smart; but there’s intelligence which lies with woe or that which lies with insanity. In some souls are the wings of the swords who hegemonize this world which allows them to dive into the darkest gorges, soar out of them again and again, and become impervious to the wills of many. Such that even if they were to fly forever in those georges, they’re in the mountains, making even their lowest swoop higher than that of any plain bird’s soar. He’s just now growing, with so much potential and light. Do I have it in me to watch if he falls the same as I?

Biograft’s awakening quickly stole Medkit’s attention from his thoughts. “I am no longer overheating and believe I have deleted a sufficient amount of data, my remaining battery should now last a week."

“The church isn’t that far, which should leave us most of that time to figure out a battery for you,” he’s cut off by Sword entering the room.

“Hey Med, how’s Bio- Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He stepped forward and rested his arm on Medkit’s shoulder. He wasn’t all that sure about hosting a murderous robot, but Medkit’s adamance, and offering to charge him less from then on, ment this was important. Medkit didn’t give many details of what happened, but he did mention this Biograft being sentient and that the two just escaped from Subspace.

He met Sword with silence. He’s never felt before, how would he even be able to describe it? He has the vocabulary, but words are too subjective and feelings don’t always follow their denotation. It’s too complex. That’s without the added burden of asking if it’s even real. All experiences of life are different, but is his even valid? He can’t even articulate how he’s doing in this present moment. This is a train of thought best saved for later. He won’t lie, but he doesn’t know the truth. He simply says, “That is an overwhelming question,” and leaves it there.

“I should’ve thought about that, hah! Sorry, let me ask something different then, hmm,” Biograft wanted to interrupt and say the apology was unnecessary, but Sword spoke before he got the chance. “Still think my techniques are outdated?”

Biograft stares at him for a moment before speaking, “Incredibly so.” He pauses, “However, there is merit to it, age often brings either value or irrelevance. I believe you’re making a good attempt at having it be the first option of the two.” His words surprise Sword, but it seems to convince him that this Biograft is different from the ones he’s fought before.

Sword smiles at Biograft, it confuses him, but at least Sword seems pleased with his response. Medkit speaks up, “We should get going.”

“Leaving already? Dang! You sure you two are good to leave?” He knows they have to leave for the cult eventually, but he wouldn’t mind their company for a bit longer.

“As ready as we can be.”

“So not at all?”

“Correct.”

As Medkit had predicted, it did not take them long to arrive at the church. The two are greeted by Scythe, “Aw there ya are ‘Kit! Why if I didn't know any better I woulda thought you were tryna run,” she steps forward, looking Biograft up and down, “I see you brought a new toy with ya.”

“I can explain.” Biograft notices a new hesitancy in Medkit’s voice.

“Well of course ya are! Let’s go find some place else to talk.” There’s been some sort of underlying threat lacing itself in her words, but Biograft can’t grasp what. Medkit, however, knows it all too well. Scythe begins to walk and motions for the pair to follow behind. Medkit’s hands tense, something makes Biografts shake.

The two stick close as they follow Scythe, eventually making it to an office like room with a large round table. She motions for them to sit at one end while she walks to the other. “Now then! Explain before I disassemble yer lil friend here.” The way her tone didn’t match her words reminded Biograft of Subspace, but this felt different. This felt different. He should be used to violence aimed his way, being in phights, having been part of Blackrock’s security force, being close to his creator, but this wasn’t the same. There are stakes, this existence is now the only one he has, there’s no coming back now if he’s killed. He won’t claim to be alive, but he will fight for this life with every part of himself.

Medkit knew she would probably rip Biograft apart regardless, “This Biograft, he’s sentient, we got away from Subspace-”

“Hold your horses there Doc, ain’t we supposed to be keepin’ ya safe from that scientist?”

“That is the deal we have but-”

“Now how exactly are we gonna keep ya safe from him if yer actively bringin’ his lil experiments ‘round the place, mm?

“He’s different!”

“Ya say that but all I see here is a security risk.”

Biograft stood up, “I can prove it.” he pauses for a moment to rephrase his words, “let me prove myself.” Medkit looks at him, clearly shocked, wanting to stop him.

Surprise managed to slip through Scythe’s expression. Oh, this was gonna be fun, “Well, well, well~ it can speak fer itself. Hmmm, you know what, yeah, I’ll give ya one shot,” she walks to the door and holds it open, “Come along now~” Medkit goes to follow behind Biograft, but Scythe raises her hand and shoots him a look, “You’re stayin’ here, Broker will be here to talk to ya in a bit. You can give him yer full report.” Medkit goes to say something, but flinches back, a pain shooting through his eye as Scythe’s glass one temporarily gains a teal tint. He sits back down and crosses his arms, refusing to look at her.

Her smirk grows as she turns to Biograft, “Now then, shall we?

Scythe led him to one one of the canyons near the church, as the two walked she asked, “I assume yer lookin to stay here? With him?”

“Yes.” For the first time since all of this had started, he could answer without hesitation. Staying by Medkit’s side, he wasn’t sure what made him seek such a thing so desperately, but he knew he had to do whatever it took.

“And how exactly ya think this’ll work hm?” Scythe stopped and turned to look at him.

Confused, he asked, “In what regard?”

“Well I need some,” She paused, “Reassurance. I could put in a good word for you to the Father, but how do we know this ain’t a long con for you and yer creator?” She began to step closer, “Or that yer any different from the tons of you I’ve dismantled before?” Standing face to face, inches apart, “How do we know yer a good fit for the family?”

“I’ve abandoned all of my connection to Blackrock-”

She puts her hand up to cut him off, “I don’t mean for you to tell me," She yanks him forward, "I want you to show me.”

The two exchange blows for a while. After, Scythe takes a seat on a nearby cliff edge and motions for him to sit next to her, “A’ight, that’s good enough, I get the point yer different, but I still got some things I wanna ask.” He sits next to her, “Why did you leave?”

He immediately goes to excuse his actions, “I had to-”

“No. Listen kid, I’ve fought…” she vaguely gestures at him, “you, before. I know you do insane amounts of calculatin’ and figurin’ out the ‘most optimal actions’ to take for yer directives n all that. So out of every choice you coulda made in that moment, what made leavin’ the best?” She observed him, even if he wasn’t a demon, there’s something in him. Something that can be used.

He froze. He didn’t know? No, he did know, he just didn’t want to admit it. He could’ve just gotten Medkit out of there and returned to Blackrock. He could have returned to Subspace’s side and just held him back until Medkit got away. He didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to be here, but something inside him needed him to. Needed Medkit. Medkit’s absence hurt him, and now he had a chance to be by his side again. This is one shot at it. Biograft gave up every part of his previous identity for this. It won’t be like what it was before Medkit left, far from it, but that didn’t matter. Whether he was sentient, or not, didn’t matter. Medkit would be here, and that’s all he needed. “He did.”

Scythe smiles, seeming more than pleased with his answer. “Say, you need a battery right? Er, well, some way of chagrin? I hear ‘Kits crystal aint work for you, I might have somethin’ that will.”

He looks at her surprised, “Really?”

She nods, “It comes with conditions of course, but you’ll join the family, I’ll vouch for ya, and you’ll get to work alongside our dear medic. You gotta … earn the power you’ll be using from the father, but I think you’ll make a fine vessel for it.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a glass eye, “Here, it’s even the one ‘Kit was s’ppossed to have! His eye was sewn shut before he joined, which is why he’s allowed to have an eyepatch.”

He takes the glass eye, “I assume you’ll want me to change my display?”

She nods, “You’ll be required to yeah, I know you don’t have proper eyes, so something to show only one ‘ll work fine,” she thinks for a moment, “Maybe you change one to a flower!”

The three meet again in the workshop. It was nowhere near what he used to have in Blackrock, but it was functional, and Subspace was nowhere to be seen. Medkit steps up to Biograft, putting his hands on his shoulders, before giving him a tight embrace. Biograft was quick to reciprocate. Medkit whispered to him, “You’re still a weapon in everyone else's eyes, just in someone else's hands now, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

The two pull apart and Biograft lays on the rooms center workbench, "I didn't leave for freedom, I left for you."

[mrpenguinpants]

I'm gonna wife you up!

— You propose (sort-of?) to your boyfriend (wife?)

— Kaji Ren, Suo Hayato, Togame Jo + Yamato Endo

[Masterlist]

This was meant to be more serious, but then I tripped and fell into a vat of sugar syrup. I'd hate to be in the same room. The dichotomy of my fics is wild.

Kaji Ren

Realistically, if you dissected the situation under a microscope, it wasn’t your fault. When you and Kaji first started dating, his habit of keeping his headphones on had driven you insane. The heavy metal blaring past the ear cushions was louder than your voice, no matter how important the thing you were trying to say. It almost ended things between you until you learned why those headphones mattered to him. They weren’t just for music; they were his shield, a barrier between him and a world that often overwhelmed him. In return, plus a thorough scolding from Hiragi, he's stopped playing his music at full volume. Only loud enough to block the outside noise but not your voice. It was a compromise, one that spoke more about his effort to meet you halfway than words ever could. But sometimes... sometimes, he gets lost in his distractions. His thumb drifts to his phone, inching the volume dial higher and higher until it drowns everything out. The world, your voice, you. You know he doesn’t do it on purpose. He’s not ignoring you, not intentionally. But still, you feel the tiniest bit petty about it. After all, you’re right there, talking to him. What’s so captivating about music or scrolling through nonsense that it takes precedence over you?

"Did you know that people used whale carcasses to fuel lanterns? So there wasn't a lack of light in the dark alleyways of London. The light was made from whale grease. They literally made lights to light up the world from whale corpses. Isn't that disgusting?"

So, in your petty spite, you've decided to spitball the weirdest and most disgusting things until he pays attention to you. Unsurprisingly, Kaji doesn’t even flinch. His head remains tilted, chin propped on his hand as his gaze drifts lazily out the window. His other hand scrolls aimlessly, the music in his headphones a distant hum. You narrow your eyes at him, leaning against the desk with exaggerated boredom. For a moment, you consider escalating to some gruesome medieval torture facts. That ought to do the trick. But instead, you settle for staring at him, waiting for him to slip up, to show even the tiniest hint that he’s paying attention.

“I’m talking to you, asswipe,” you grit out through clenched teeth. “Pay attention to me before I grab your phone and toss it out the window.”

Still nothing.

His head nods faintly to the beat of whatever is playing in his headphones. The absence of a reaction feels deliberate like he's testing your patience on purpose. You narrow your eyes, leaning forward to sneak a closer look at his phone. But your short stature betrays you, leaving you with only the dark reflection of your face staring back from the glossy screen. The thought of not knowing what’s capturing his attention drives you mad, your curiosity clawing at you like an itch you can’t scratch. Huffing in defeat, you slump back into your chair with a dramatic flourish, arms crossing tightly over your chest. Your gaze fixes on the ceiling tiles above, your lips forming a pout as your mind races. If he won’t listen to you, maybe you should start plotting how to make him.

"You know when I first met you, I thought your bowl haircut was su-per lame," you hum blandly into the air, your tone light but teasing. It's not like he'll hear you anyway. Kaji, ever the picture of detachment, is still immersed in his music, occasionally nodding his head to the beat as though agreeing with it more than he ever does with you, "Oh, and your fashion sense? Shitty. Hoodies every day? Really? Don’t you get hot in summer? Geez, you’re like a walking furnace. What are you hiding under there, a whole other climate zone?"

He doesn’t react, of course. Not to the jabs, not to the edge of fondness creeping into your voice. You let out another heavy, exaggerated sigh and lean forward, crossing your arms on Kaji's desk. Your head comes to rest on them, and you tilt slightly to peer up at him through your lashes, "But...they are pretty cozy. Fall is coming soon, you'll let me borrow one, yeah? Hehe, say nothing if it's okay."

Nothing. Bingo.

"Do you know that your voice is really deep? It's actually very distracting. You like my voice too, right? So much that you can only stand to listen to it a few times a day, or you'll combust into a thousand hearts. I get it—I would too. Say nothing if you agree," You nod into your arms, a small but smug smile tugging at your lips, even though you know you’re talking to a brick wall, or rather a wall-wearing headphone. Turning over onto your other side, your cheek still smushed against your forearm, you find yourself facing the blackboard. It’s covered in the messy chicken scratches the teacher calls math notes.

"The only thing I like about you," you say, voice quieter now. Your gaze drifts to his reflection in the window, "is that you're a good listener. Well, not really—since, you know, you're wearing those stupid headphones—but you do remember the important things. The things that matter, even if I’ve only said them once. So, do me a favor and be a good listener right now, okay?"

Your eyes drift across the chalkboard, lingering on today’s date written in light blue chalk. You bite back a smile, your voice turning into a whisper, more to yourself than to Kaji. "In two... no, maybe three years, I’m going to propose to you."

You pause for a moment, letting the weight of the words settle in, your eyes still fixed on the chalkboard as if it might offer some answer. Then, with a slight smirk, you continue, “And if you ignore me, I’ll make you wear the dress at our wedding. I’ll even call you my wife.”

Your gaze flicks back to Kaji, but he’s still lost in his music, oblivious to your declaration. “That’s fine, right? Say nothing if you promise.”

The silence that follows feels strangely comfortable as if your words have filled the space between you in ways his headphones never could. Your gaze lingers on him for a beat longer before drifting back to the blackboard. You remain still, staring at the chalk marks and messy equations, lost in thought.

Minutes tick by, and the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Students begin filing into classrooms, the hallway filling with the bustling noise of chatter and hurried footsteps. You let out a quiet sigh, already saddened that your brief time with Kaji has come to an end. With a faint wave, you step out of his classroom, glancing back one last time. Kaji remains as he is, headphones firmly in place, his world closed off.

In the sudden stillness of the room, Kaji's fingers drift up to slide his headphones down. His eyes lift to the blackboard, locking onto the date scrawled in light blue chalk. His expression morphs into something distant, a thousand-yard stare settling over him. For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, he rises from his desk and approaches the blackboard, the faint sound of his chair scraping against the floor breaking the quiet. His hands tremble as they hover over the numbers, hesitating, before finally tracing them with the tip of a finger. His heart pounds in his chest, his thoughts swirling in chaotic spirals. A faint smile begins to tug at the corners of his lips, fragile and uncertain, but genuine. Yet before it can fully take shape, the sharp ringing of the late lunch bell jolts him. Kaji flinches, the sound snapping him out of his reverie. His budding smile falters, slipping away like a fleeting dream. He takes one last glance at the blackboard, his hand curling into a fist at his side, before turning away. His steps are slow and heavy as he trudges back to his desk. Lowering himself into the chair, he buries his head in his arms, shoulders tense. Moments later, he flicks his headphones back on, pulling them snugly over his ears as if to block out the world—and perhaps himself. His ears burn red beneath the headphones, betraying the thoughts still racing through his mind.

Suo Hayato

"How are you so pretty? Did you make a contract with that ancient spirit that lives in your eye? It's not fair," you whine, shaking Suo's head from side to side with exaggerated dramatics. The tassels attached to his earrings sway in rhythm with your movements as your fingers lightly pinch his cheeks. Suo can only chuckle, his soft laughter filling the space as he lets you do as you please, your fingers molding his face like soft clay. Your words are familiar but unusually persistent today. This isn’t the first time you’ve complimented him, far from it, but there’s a different energy in your voice now, an almost childlike fascination that has Suo amused. Usually, you’ll beam at him, toss out a casual "You're so pretty," and then return to your usual antics. But this time? This time, you’re relentless, rattling off your admiration like you’ve secretly prepared a monologue. Suo wonders briefly if you’ve been spending too much time with Nieri, perhaps picking up some of their overly theatrical tendencies. As you continue your tirade about his "unworldly" beauty, Suo raises his hands to your wrists, gently holding them to stop your playful assault on his cheeks. His touch is warm, his grip soft yet firm, and his gaze meets yours with quiet affection.

"Alright, alright," he says with a small smile, the corners of his lips quirking upward. "If you keep this up, my cheeks are going to be permanently pink."

But even as he tries to deflect, Suo finds it hard to hide the warmth that spreads in his chest. Your unfiltered admiration catches him off guard every time, no matter how often you shower him with it. He thinks, perhaps, this is why he lets you tease him so freely. Your sincerity is disarming in the best way. He shakes his head, still holding your wrists, "You're too fixated on my appearance today. What's going on with you...?"

You pout at his response, his grip on your wrists preventing any further assault on his cheeks. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, you lean into his hand, your head tilting slightly as you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes. It’s your best attempt at looking pitiful, the kind of look that usually gets him to cave.

"Suo’s just so pretty," you whine again, dragging out the words as if the weight of his beauty is a personal burden. Your lips curve into a slight pout as you attempt to weaponize your puppy-dog stare. "It’s not fair. And you even dare to act like you don’t know how beautiful you are! It’s a crime against humanity."

His laughter spills out, soft and melodic, as he shakes his head at your antics. "A crime against humanity? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

"No!" you insist, sitting up straighter and pulling slightly against his hold, though his grip remains firm but kind. "It’s absolutely criminal, Suo. If you’re not careful, someone might file a lawsuit against you for being too pretty."

Suo chuckles again, your attempt at acting pitiful not lost on him as he shakes his head. He's well aware of how much you enjoy complimenting him and being extra about things. But you're really laying it on extra thick today, he thinks. It's amusing, though, and he's not about to tell you to stop. He loves how shameless you are, how you'll gush to him about anything and everything with no hesitation. It’s one of the things that makes you so unique in his eyes. Your words, unfiltered and sincere, always manage to get under his skin in the best way. He can't help but feel a little flutter of endearment at your words, his heartwarming every time you show him affection so freely. He keeps holding your wrists as he looks down at you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"You really think I'm that pretty, huh?" Suo asks again, just to see how you're going to respond. He knows the answer, but he wants to see just how far you'll go to show your affection. There’s a teasing lilt in his voice, a playful challenge he knows you'll meet head-on. He gently lets go of one of your wrists, bringing his hand up to stroke your chin. He gazes at you expectantly, enjoying the way you're looking at him, completely at ease in his presence. There's a silly squiggle of a smile on your lips, a happy hum leaving them as you lean into his touch, and tiny crow's feet under your eyes from the smile that never seems to leave when you're near him. You nod vigorously, bouncing on your toes as you start to sway from side to side, your energy infectious.

"Yup! The prettiest wife in all of Makochi."

Ah. Suo's smile freezes for a second at the term that you use, his expression faltering for the first time. He stares at you, his mind processing the word that just slipped out of your mouth. It's obvious you didn't mean to say that. He can tell from how you immediately fall back loudly on your heels. At how you go absolutely rigid in his hand and how hot your face is growing. That squiggle of happiness morphs into one of embarrassment as your eyes are wide with abject horror.

You look like you're about to cry.

For a few moments, the both of you remain still, Suo's hand gently holding your jaw. Suo's surprise at your words mirrored in the widening of his eyes. Then a smile, so large it almost splits his face in two, spreads across his face, stretching from ear to ear. He can't believe you just called him a wife. He can't help but let out an abrupt laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something softer as he looks down at you, a grin still spread over his face. A mischievous gleam enters his eyes, his gaze focused solely on every subtle change in your expression.

"Did you just call me your wife?" Suo says, his voice a little strangled as he tries to hold back a guffaw. He can't believe you actually said that. He can't help but find it unbelievably cute that you just slipped up and blurted out something so endearing at such a random time. His hand is still holding your jaw, keeping you trapped in this moment with him. A mortified squeak gets stuck in your throat, and you try, desperately to form a defense. But at the same time, his reaction only makes the flush on your cheeks grow hotter. Your face is burning up from his question, and you can hardly look him straight on as your mouth opens and closes, unable to find the words to answer him. Suo can only chuckle lowly at your flustered attempt at a response. He can tell you're embarrassed and flustered by your own words, and it's completely adorable. You can feel your stomach twisting itself into knots, your heart beating loudly against your chest. You can only nod slowly, unable to find any will to verbally speak.

"Don't be mean Hayato..." you whine, and he thinks if he pushes any further, you will actually cry. He can see the water welling up in your eyes. As much as he wanted to embarrass you further, he drew the line at making you cry. Suo quickly relents and releases your face, bringing his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just teasing, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he pacifies, he can still see your bottom lip stuck out in a childish pout, your face flushed with scarlet pink. He stands up from his seat so he's finally at a comfortable level with you, he reaches out to pull you by the lapels of your sweater closer to him. Soft kisses are pressed until those tiny crow feet that only appear when you smile come back to life. What kind of wife would he be if he made his spouse upset?

Togame Jo

Look. You get it. Togame is hot. Super hot. He's tall, big, and has the prettiest emerald eyes you've ever seen in your life. Did you spend the majority of your time on Earth just staring into those eyes? Maybe. But that's beside the point. The point is, that you know how attractive your boyfriend is, and that’s always going to attract unwanted attention. He can't exactly change how he looks, and you would never want that for something this petty, but you can be mad about it, right?! It's frustrating, honestly. You try to focus on your own things, but the way people always seem to gravitate toward him, especially when you're around, is hard to ignore. It's not like they're trying to hide it. You catch the lingering glances, the whispers that stop the moment you step into the room. And while you know Togame would never do anything to entertain their attention, it still doesn't make the jealousy feel any less real. You hate how much it bothers you, especially when you know he’s yours. But still, the way other people look at him, the way they smile at him... it’s like they want him for themselves, and it makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let anyone else near him. Maybe it’s irrational, but when he’s so damn perfect, what else can you do but get a little possessive?

"Hey..." Togame attempts to soothe your huffing and puffing as you glare at your villain origin story. You have no idea who she is, how she even got here, but you're ready to murder her when this night is over. She's been making eyes at Togame the entire night, despite his arm being around your waist. Togame, being the lovable socially awkward dork that he is, doesn’t even notice it. He just thinks she might need something from him but is too scared to ask. He gets it—he's rather intimidating from a stranger's perspective. But you can see the difference. You can see the slightly higher pitch in her voice, the way it sounds softer and almost flirtatious. You can see how she doesn't even bother to look in your direction as if you didn’t exist. It’s like she’s convinced you’re some sort of invisible background character in her game of trying to capture Togame’s attention. Your grip tightens on his arm, the possessiveness bubbling up in you, but you try to keep your cool.

You feel your chest tighten with an odd mixture of anger and embarrassment. You know you should let it go, that you're being irrational, but you can't seem to control the simmering jealousy. The worst part is, you feel so bad for feeling like this. You know it's not Togame's fault, and you really, really don’t want to push your frustration onto him. You feel so childish letting this random girl make you so mad when you could be spending time with your boyfriend and his friends in ignorant bliss. You know Togame would never cheat on you; you even have permission to beat him bloody from Choji if he ever does. You need to keep reminding yourself that he won’t. You’re not mad at Togame—no, he’s perfect, and you’re lucky to have him—but there's something about this girl, the way she’s so casually blatant about her attention, that makes your blood boil. You take another deep breath, mentally reminding yourself that you’re better than this, that you trust him completely. You really do. Yet, as her laugh rings in your ears, it feels like all the self-control you’ve been clinging to is starting to slip away. She’s just so annoying, and you don’t know how Togame doesn't notice.

"Baby…"

Your face is slowly turned around to meet those vibrant emerald eyes you constantly fawn over. Togame is giving you a lopsided grin, the tiniest notch in his brow to show he's concerned about your silent demeanor, his index and thumb squishing your cheeks lightly. "You okay?"

His voice is gentle, soft, like he's trying to coax you out of whatever has been bothering you. God. You love this man. You can feel your heart stamping on the ground in frustration from cuteness aggression. He's just so sweet! It’s hard to explain why you feel this way, even harder to admit it to him. Still, his comforting presence is enough to ease your racing thoughts, even if just for a moment. Togame watches you carefully, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, a silent question in his gaze. He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve your irrational jealousy and frustrations. Yet here you are, looking up at him with a mixture of affection and a sinking feeling in your stomach.

"No, absolutely not," you grumble, lips pursed as you frown at him. "I've never been worse."

He lightly chuckles. You take your earlier compliment back; this man is not sweet. If he were, he wouldn't be laughing at your internal struggle of contemplating if life in prison is worth first-degree manslaughter. It isn’t, because then you'd never see Togame again. Unless you don’t get caught. The thought lingers for a moment before you shake your head. Ridiculous. You can’t seriously be considering something so insane. Still, it doesn’t stop you from glaring at him for making light of your torment. He’s completely oblivious to the war raging inside your mind. Meanwhile, his laughter continues, making your heart thump erratically in your chest despite your frustration. You can’t even be mad at him for long. How could you, when his smile is enough to melt every ounce of irritation away?

"Why is that? You tired? We can go home if ya want," Togame squishes your cheeks again before letting go and settling his arm over your shoulder. Because you're spiteful to the core, you look over your shoulder to see if that girl is watching. She is. You hold back the urge to smirk at her with all your teeth. You’re maturing, you’ll tell yourself. You return your attention back to Togame, who, in your moment of glaring at the girl, has already ordered you a water. He pushes the cup toward you, nodding towards it.

"Drink what you can and we can go," he says easily. As if it’s no big deal. You have to bite your lip, yet a muffled whine escapes between the seams. You stare at the cup in your hands, the condensation gathering on the outside, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the warmth in your chest. He’s so willing to prioritize you, even when you know he was looking forward to this night. It’s small, but it means everything. You take a sip, the cool water refreshing you, and feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. There’s something about his thoughtfulness, the way he effortlessly puts you first, that makes you feel like the luckiest person alive. You glance up at him, your heart fluttering just a little. You’re going to marry this man. Right now, actually.

"What's your ring size? I need to know immediately," you grumble, kicking his foot lightly. Togame only laughs heartily at your heartfelt proposal. He leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as you fume into your cup of water. His arm around your shoulder curls, pushing you against his side, as his hand caresses your cheek, gently pulling it up so your lips quirk into a lopsided smile. He leans in, almost until his nose touches yours, and those emerald eyes are all you can see. His gaze softens, that familiar warmth filling his eyes. The teasing glint is gone now, replaced with a sincerity that makes your heart skip. You’re still a bit frustrated, but when he looks at you like that, all your irritation melts away. Togame’s presence feels grounding, his affection so steady and constant. You exhale through your nose, trying to suppress the smile that threatens to break free, but it’s impossible. With a soft chuckle, you let the tension fall from your shoulders.

"Yeah? You sure you wanna do that?" he says smoothly, but you can see the slight pink on his cheeks and ears. His eyes bounce around the room, and you're sure if you held his hand, it would be clammy. You set your glass of water down to free your hands, cupping his cheeks gently. Leaning in, you press a quick peck to his lips, which makes him let out a quiet hum, a soft smile tugging at his features.

"Yeah, gonna wife you up. That way when people see a big shiny rock on your finger, they leave you alone," you hiss, your foot kicking your chair leg in your frustration. Togame laughs again, loud and so, so pretty. His laughter fills the space between you like a soft melody, and despite the chaos around you, you feel a little lighter. In hindsight, maybe you could have made this a bit more romantic. Sitting in one of Shishitoren's bars, surrounded by people wasted or halfway into developing liver cancer, fueled by your petty and spiteful feelings toward a girl whose name you don't even know—you essentially proposed to your boyfriend. You wonder if that qualifies as the most unconventional proposal ever, but it doesn’t really matter.

"Come on, let's go," Togame stands up abruptly, escaping your hold as he pushes his chair back. His arm is still around your shoulder, so you're forced to follow him, stumbling unsteadily as you cling to his orange and white jacket.

"Wha- Wait. Where are we going? Your friends are still—" You're cut off by a kiss, this time long and deep. The world around you blurs, and just like that, you've completely forgotten what you were supposed to do. Friends? Who? You both probably came alone. The taste of him lingers on your lips as you break away, your mind momentarily scrambled. His hands rest gently on your waist, guiding you toward the door. It feels as if the entire bar has melted away, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble of silence. You can't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

"They'll be fine, I'll just see them tomorrow anyway. Come on, we have more important things to do," he laughs lightly, but you can clearly see those pink cheeks turning darker. Screw the five necessities of human life, you’re going to spend everything on this ring.

You slide next to him, pressing your sides together. "Okay. Let's go before the store closes."

Togame chuckles again, shy and so cute, like he can't quite believe you're about to go to a store to pick out rings like you're in Vegas. You take his hand and pull him through the crowd, towards the door. On the way, you pass by the same girl. She's frowning at you, scoffing and looking away. You can't wait to wave your man’s hand, shiny ring glinting in the light.

As you walk out into the cool night air, there's a rush of excitement in your chest, and Togame’s hand feels just a little bit warmer in yours. He glances over at you, his lips pulling into a soft smile, the pink still creeping up his neck.

"You really sure about this?" he asks quietly, though his eyes sparkle with something else—anticipation, maybe.

You nod firmly, squeezing his hand. "Absolutely."

Tonight, it's just the two of you, and it feels like the world outside doesn't even exist.

Endo Yamato

Today is quiet. Almost peaceful, like those mornings when you wake up before your alarm can ring. You can just lay there and bask in the warmth of your blankets. Listen to the sounds coming through the window. The distant hum of life outside, the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. Everything feels in perfect balance. The world isn’t rushing. It’s as if time itself is slowing down to let you fully exist in this moment. For once, there's no pressure to be anywhere, do anything, or think about what comes next. It’s just you, the quiet, and the world unfolding gently around you. Even take a moment to remember how to breathe. One deep breath in, feeling your lungs expand, then exhale. Serenity.

"I should divorce you and take half your assets."

The HB pencil that's been gnawed on pauses under Endo's teeth. The wood creaks as he eases his jaw on the poor object, the sunken imprints of his molars bending it out of shape, as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You're sprawled on your stomach across his couch, fingers idly tapping away at something bright on your phone screen, looking as if nothing is amiss. For a second, Endo thinks he might have been hallucinating, but he hasn’t reached that level of crazy yet. No, he knows perfectly well that he didn’t imagine that. Especially not that specific sentence. Slowly, he lowers his pencil, letting it clatter against the desk along with his other supplies. The chair creaks as he swivels around to face you. You don’t even glance up from your phone as he watches, an eyebrow twitching in confusion. It’s almost like you said it casually like you were commenting on the weather or talking about dinner plans. But he knows you well enough to recognize the underlying challenge in your words.

"We're not married," he says instead, his voice level. It almost sounds as if he’s been expecting this, because realistically, what is he supposed to say to that? You take your attention off your phone, looking at him with a frown. There's irritation clouding your eyes, and your lips are downturned into an annoyed grimace like he's the bad guy. It's all kind of cute to him. He watches as your gaze narrows at him, waiting for a response, and a sigh escapes your lips, more dramatic than necessary. You cross your arms, looking like you've just been told that the sky is green and not blue. Your frustration is palpable, and it makes him smile—just a little. He tries to hide it, but it's clear you've seen it.

"So," you gesture with your hand in the air as if you're talking to a child, "Marry me so I can divorce you and take half your assets."

For a moment, he's frozen, processing the words you just said. His brain stumbles over the absurdity of it all, the sudden shift in your tone from casual to strict. Then, when his mind eventually catches up, he can't help the laughter that bubbles up his chest. It's not just a small chuckle or snort—no, the sound that comes out is loud enough to echo in the silence of the room. It starts as a hearty laugh, the kind that shakes his shoulders, and you can't help but watch him with a mix of confusion. The sound of his laughter fills the space between you, his eyes bright as he shakes his head, clearly delighted by the turn of events. He leans back, his hand pressing against his forehead as he lets out another round of laughter, wiping away a tear.

You're shitting me," Endo replies, the amusement in his voice clear as day. He stands up from his chair and walks over to the couch you're lying on. He stands beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, still laughing quietly to himself. You only crane your neck up higher, still wearing that miffed yet pouty expression on your face. Endo can’t help but admire the mix of frustration and cuteness. He wants to reach out and pinch your cheeks, but he knows you'll actually try to bite his fingers, which only makes him more entertained. Feisty little stray he's got on his hands. Endo takes a moment to savor the sight of you. Your scrunched-up face, the way your arms are crossed as you try to stay mad at him. Something is endearing about how easily he can make you annoyed, and it never fails to amuse him. After a few seconds of standing there and enjoying your reaction, he decides to act on the urge to mess with you. With a grin still tugging at the corners of his lips, he walks around to the other side of the couch and plops down behind you. Before you can fully process what he's doing, he grabs your hips and pulls you backward into his lap, settling you against him.

"Endo!" you complain, trying to wiggle away, but he laughs again, deep and full of amusement. He buries his face into your shoulder, still shaking from the laughter that won’t stop, his chest vibrating against your back. The warmth of him spreads against your skin, and even as you remain frustrated, there’s a quiet smile that starts tugging at your own lips.

"You're so damn cute," he mumbles, his nose brushing against the side of your shoulder as he nuzzles into your shirt. Judging by the size, it’s probably one of his shirts you've stolen from his closet. You don’t need a ring to start taking all his stuff anyway. His arms wrap around your stomach, holding you in place. Then, in that teasing tone of his, he adds, "You know prenups exist, right? For gold-digging scums like you. A clingy, annoying little gold digger."

You bring your elbow back, nailing him in the stomach with a swift jab, but it hardly phases him. After all, he's seen you put enough force into a punch to break someone's nose. He winces slightly, but the grin never leaves his face. You try to stay annoyed, but the comfort of being in his arms, his warmth against your back, begins to soothe you. Even as you relax in his hold, slumping back until your head rests against his sternum, there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He tightens his arms around you, pulling you even further back into him, as his face drifts down toward the crook of your neck. The movement is so natural, so comforting, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. For all his teasing, there’s something soft in the way he holds you that makes everything else fade away.

"Don't call me that," you huff, attention returning to your phone screen. You were playing a game this entire time, and his teasing was just enough to distract you from your focus. He’s unsure of which, or both, words you're referring to, but at this point, you've already exited the conversation entirely. Instead, he chuckles quietly again into your shoulder as he pulls you back so you're fully sitting on his lap. His warmth envelops you, and his arms settle around your waist, keeping you close. He buries his face back into your neck, but his hands remain on your hips, gently drawing lazy circles on the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

"What? Cute? Gold-digger?" he teases, his voice light and playful, "You'd make a better trophy wife than a model, pretty."

He lets his mind wander to those possibilities, as uncomfortable as they are. He knows he's got a pretty screwed-up relationship with love and admiration. From the few romantic relationships he's had in life, he's only ever been met with betrayal and disappointment. Not even to the discredit of his partners; he's always been a bad judge of character. But now, with you, something feels different. He can at least admit to his own feelings, even if they're complicated. And he's slowly beginning to grow addicted to the way you make him feel. The way your eyes twitch in irritation when he teases you, the soft, light fluttering sound you make when you giggle as he stomps on someone's face, and even the way you try to hide that lovely smile behind your hands when he returns bruised and battered. All of it, everything about you, has him practically swooning over you. Endo can't help but think that this relationship is toxic in the most addictive way, but oddly, that doesn’t scare him. He likes it. It feels real, it feels raw, and maybe for the first time, he's willing to embrace it—dark sides and all. The question lingers in his mind, though: Do you feel the same way? Will you tolerate him long enough, until death do his part?

"Idiot, stop acting like you're not my wife already," you scoff, and that, that makes Endo pause. His brain has completely skidded to a halt because what the hell? That’s just unfair. That’s just super unfair.

You continue scrolling on your phone, but the way you lean your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck, doesn’t go unnoticed. That small gesture sends a shudder down his spine. He can feel the pulse in his throat as his heart rate picks up, and before he knows it, he’s nuzzling his nose beneath your ear, taking in the warmth of your skin. His lips find the sensitive spot just under your jaw, nipping lightly, knowing full well that it’ll make you squirm. His hands, without permission, sneak under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing over the soft surface of your waist and stomach. But your hand stamps down his advances, swatting at his fingers like a cat. He grins, relenting with a laugh, but he doesn't mind. There’s a kind of contentment in being near you like this, the two of you wrapped up in the present moment, the intimacy in your shared space enough to drown out any noise. The warmth of your body radiates against him, and he can feel it seeping into his skin. The soft rhythm of your fingerpads tapping away at your phone screen, absorbed in your game, is almost hypnotic. For a moment, everything else fades away, the noise of the world outside, the stress of the day, leaving just you and him, together in a small bubble of calm. One deep breath in, feeling the air fill his lungs, then exhale. Serenity.

[dimsilver]

🌼

[yuwuta]

If megumi asked uzhsjdhshd omg I totally see it tbh him wanting you, but I don't think megumi would ever ask yuuji to share you, in any type of way at all. (not trying to push my own hc here!!) I feel like yuuji himself would be the one asking megumi. Yuuji knows that he's yours just as much as he knows you're his. And he loves you too much, a lot, it's purest type of love he has ever felt for anyone. And megumi is his best friend, he loves him just as much, right? Yes, not the same love between you and him ofc but yes. And I have no idea what they were doing but yuuji's just says, kind of out of the blue, that he'd let megumi fuck you. The reason being exactly cause he knows you're his, and you're just so so good that he needs to have someone to talk to (about you and always so respectfully) and who better that his best friend?

you’re opening the pandora’s box that is itfs + reader…. god….. 

okok i agree. if you’re dating yuuji, megumi would never ask, yuuji would be the one to bring all three of you together. definitely because he loves you and you’re his, and he loves megumi too, so it just makes sense that his two favorite people also get to have each other—but also, yuuji can tell megumi likes you, and he can tell you think megumi is attractive and since yuuji’s so nice, what kinder thing to do than to set you two up so he can watch (: he definitely enjoys being the mediator, also enjoys the somewhat awkward air between you and megumi, how yeah, maybe it’s a little taboo that the two of you are about to make out while you’re boyfriend watches, but yuuji likes that too… also he likes knowing that you both like him. like how lucky is he that his best friend and his girlfriend adore him so much :(( you two together makes so much sense in his head, because he talks to megumi about you, and he talks to you about megumi, and now, he can just pour all his love for both of you out at the same time

but also…. i’d like to think that yuuji’s maybe not so nice when it’s the other way around—when he and megumi get together first, and you’re megumi’s best friend. he’s not mean, but he does like to tease... how naughty of megumi to ask out yuuji knowing he’s still got a crush on you, and god does yuuji like to tease him about it :/ jerks him off and taunts about how he knows megumi’s dirty little secret—that he’s in love with his best friend and fantasizes not just about having you, but about watching his own boyfriend fuck you too… 

yuuji knows megumi would take his feelings for you to the grave if he could (he’d have done the same with his feelings for yuuji if yuuji wasn’t the one to ask him out), but where’s the fun in that! you and megumi are sooo cute together after all, so yuuji doesn’t mind trying to get you two to confess to each other too. uses his proximity to megumi to get closer to you, takes advantage of his bubbly disposition to be physically affectionate with you, uses megumi’s feelings to his advantage to tease, to wink, to smirk whenever you and yuuji hug a little longer, when he texts megumi that he’s meeting up with you for lunch, when he gives you his jacket and doesn’t ask for it back… there’s so much fun in watching megumi blush and whine and get off at the thought of his best friend and his boyfriend together. and the thing is, yuuji genuinely does like you, too, he sees what megumi sees in you, and he thinks megumi is crazy to have not asked you out before, but he supposes everything happens for a reason, because now, this way, yuuji gets to be there and watch it all happen under his guidance. there’s something about the power, about being the bridge between you two even though you and megumi have known each other for much longer, about being in control of a dynamic that could have, but wouldn’t exist without him…

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 14

"Diva's Lament (Whatever Happened to My Part)" from Monty Python's Spamalot

[fabdante]

WIP Meme

I was tagged by @ro-blaze!! (thank you for tagging me!!). After finally wrapping up The Grunge Band AU tm I'm completely free to work on other things, the dilemma now being I have too many things I am working on asdfghjk

The most pressing of things though is probably getting at least one of the next parts of Circumnavigators of Celestial Bodies done before the end of Zutara month so I picked a little chunk I really like from one of those (I call this one 'The Sparring One'):

But, as she assumes her starting stance across from Zuko, she see’s the middle of his chest and falters. Because that’s not how his chest used to be and she knows it. She stands limp and sees lightning and doesn’t even really hear him say her name. And Katara, feebly, asks, “does it still hurt?” Because it looks like it hurts. She’s worried that it hurts. The way the flesh is knotted with fresh scar tissue, pink and healing still. It’s been months, sure, but the scar hasn’t really had all the time to acclimate like the old one has. It’s different to, how the skin’s twisted across itself. The colors it makes. She supposes that all has to do with the fact it’s not from a traditional burn, it’s from lightning. The middle, she supposes, is more like burns she’s seen. Like the scar on his face. Or the scars on plenty of Earth Kingdom people she’s seem. Her hands, even. Scars like her friends mother back home, who’d just gotten a little too ambitious cooking by the fire and they’d all swarmed her immediately to keep the damage as light as possible but still there was damage. That sort of burn. But it splinters out from there, like roots digging into the earth. All these little lines, jutting across his skin. Rivers and streams diverging from a lake. It’s strange. She’s never seen a burn like that. She’d never treated lightning before either. That, to, she still thinks about. How he still sparked with it, how it felt to piece together his insides while it tried to get out. An animal stuck in a trap, really, unable to gnaw off its own foot. She wonders sometimes if it’s still stuck in him. Wiggling around like a fish all tied up in a net. When she looks at him, though, it occurs to her that he maybe doesn’t think about this that often. Or maybe, he does and he just…didn’t think she did.

I'm tagging @thevampireauthoress and @robinainthood ! (only if u guys want tho)

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[drchucktingle]

THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY

just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.

(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)

i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.

the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.

i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.

PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE

a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)

ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.

months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’

turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes

at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)

as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.

fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.

when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM

SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:

CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:

well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.

PART TWO: RESCINDED

a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask

right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.

of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered

there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA

first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.

second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.

in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.

TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.

i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.

but here we are.

PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?

this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:

when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.

it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?

i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not

my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.

at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense

PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES

it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say

BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?

is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.

if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.

and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?

(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)

i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.

you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.

if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.

so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.

THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.

as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING

AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?

let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.

when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.

if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?

or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.

PART FIVE: GENDERED

this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.

if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned

PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY

there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?

i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'

putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.

i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY

another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions

PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL

i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.

i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)

which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.

if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME

KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck

UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:

true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo

to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love

please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it

MOST RECENT UPDATE:

here is more

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[ffsg0jo]

same universe as this post. you don't have to read it beforehand, but it helps 🤭

even when yuuji's much older and has his own room, he's still woken up by sukuna's old man noises™ in the bathroom at 7am.

the poor, almost adult just wants to sleep in for a little longer and rest his weary bones, but sukuna's snorting and coughing and hacking his life out in the bathroom down the hall.

yuuji doesn't know how you do it, to be honest. between the snoring and old man-isms, the way he seems to have a permanent frown on his face. you've been by his uncle's side for as long as he can remember, acting as a mother figure to yuuji. always patient and caring, standing your ground against sukuna who can be bull-headed sometimes (a lot of times), and ultimately doing everything you can for the little family they've created.

he truthfully doesn't remember life without you, and quite frankly, he doesn't want to remember. ever since he was a toddler, you were his sun, yuuji your sunflower, absorbing your warmth and love.

you stayed by their side throughout everything; the ups, the downs, the twisty turvies. never once have you tried to replace his biological mum or even referred to yourself as his mother. but yuuji sees the way your eyes shine with pride and joy when looking at him.

he can see it in your face now as he walks into the kitchen, yawning. you notice him immediately while plating up everyone’s breakfast and attempting to escape sukuna's embrace, who's clinging onto your back like the leech he is.

“dammit woman, just let me hold you,” he growls, tightening him arms around you and kissing up and down your neck.

“sukuna,” you gasp, “not in front of yuuji!”

the giant of a man slowly lifts his face up from your neck and turns to side-eye yuuji. he lets go of you and sighs, grabbing the plates you’ve prepared, setting them on the table.  

“mornin’ brat, sleep well?” he asks yuuji.

“not with all your snoring, he didn’t.” yuuji laughs at your response.

“i don’t snore woman.”

you and yuuji share a look, completely in disbelief at the man’s denial. he’s woken himself up with how loud he is, many, many times. neither of you can believe he has the audacity to stand there and lie with a straight face.

you both scoff and yuuji sits down at the table, in no mood to deal with his uncle’s nonsense this early in the morning. you move towards yuuji planting a soft kiss on his cheek and ruffling his hair.

“sorry he woke you up yuuji,” you say warmly, kissing him once more.

“if anything i should be apologising to you, you’re the one that has to put up with him for the rest of your life,” the boy responds, looking up at you solemnly, genuinely sorry for you.

“i can hear ya both,” sukuna rumbles, mouth full of egg. “anyways, finish eating and make sure you’re ready by 10”

yuuji turns to you in confusion, and sees your face light up, practically buzzing with excitement.  

“where we going?” yuuji asks

you wrap your arms around him tighter and press his cheek onto yours. he basks in your affection and leans impossibly closer towards you.

“it’s a surprise,” you giggle.

yuuji’s face twists in confusion as he stares at the shiny, brand-new motorbike in front of him. it was beautiful, and he’s always dreamed of having that exact model, but he was confused at to why they were there at the dealership. is this some cruel joke? he looks at you though, and shakes the thought out of his head. you would never do that to him.

“you like it, yuuji,” you ask, a broad smile on your face, eyes shining with glee.

 “s’ beautiful,” he nods in response.

his uncle pats his back and lifts his hand up, his own tattooed hand pressing something sharp and chunky into his palm. yuuji looks down and sees… keys?

“she’s all yours,” sukuna smirks, revelling in the disbelief on yuuji’s face. he seems to be frozen for a good 20 seconds, just processing what he’s heard. you and your husband share a smile. it suddenly hits yuuji that the motobike is all his, and his face splits into the widest grin.

“i love you both so much” he whispers, tearing up and throwing himself into sukuna’s arms and an arm around your neck.

the man steadies himself as you both tumble into him, heart suddenly panging at how big his nephew has gotten. it seemed like only yesterday when he was barely up to his shins, and now he was eye level?

sukuna hides his teary smile in yuuji’s hair, tightening one arm around you and softly rubbing his nephews back with his hand.

“yeah yeah, love ya too brat.”

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[synvil]

can’t swim // rafe cameron

a / n : rafe cameron thoughts. btw this was actually an anonymous ask i sent to a writer, i don’t know if she’ll write it but im sure if she does, it’ll turn out amazing. @rafeysbunny i’m 🧋 anon, hehe.

fun fact, i cannot swim.

synopsis : in which, rafe overhears that you can’t swim and during a party out on the docks, some of the kooks push you into the ocean to loosen you up.

warnings : reader can’t swim. kelce being an ass, peer pressure, etc.

“are you serious, [Name]?”

The raised tone of her voice causes you to shush her as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and purse your lips faintly. “Not so loud, sare..” You let out a small breath and frown, leaning back against the headboard of her bed.

Sarah nods in understanding, lowering her tone as she sighs softly and crosses her legs on the bed in front of you. “That’s crazy- i mean, everyone here in Outer Banks are either surfers or decent swimmers.”

“Except me..” You trail off, shutting your eyes as you bring your hands up to your face. “It’s pretty humiliating, you know.. Seeing everyone in their swimsuits and able to swim in the ocean or go surfing, without the fear of drowning.”

“Wow, no wonder you wouldn’t ever go into the pool or go swimming with us during the boat parties on the dock..”

Unbeknownst to you two, Sarah’s door was open and a passing Rafe Cameron was on his way downstairs when he overhears your conversation.

“It’s not like I haven’t tried, but each time, I feel my body sinking and it terrifies me. Plus, y’know, with the whole nearly drowning as a kid trauma and shit.” you force a laugh while Sarah shares a bittersweet smile.

“It’s alright, stay by me tonight and I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thanks, Sarah, I appreciate it.. and you can’t tell anyone either, okay, especially not Rafe.” You warn pleadingly and she chuckles and nods. “wait, why specifically him?”

You feel your cheeks warm at her question as you turn away. “Your brother just seems like the type to make fun of me for it, and besides, it’s just embarrassing to have a guy i think is hot, to know that about me.”

Sarah scrunches her nose and shudders. “I think your crush on my brother is more embarrassing than you being unable to swim.” she teases and you playfully push her away from you as she breaks into a laugh.

Rafe peeks into the room and thinks for a moment as his eyes examine and take in your form. He has already known long ago of your developed crush on him, and to say he has a mutual infatuation with you may be an understatement.

Every time you come over, Rafe finds every excuse to be in the house, sometimes even in the same room, just to get a look at you.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you feel shy, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, everything entices him, intrigues him. You were just so perfect.

Rafe quickly pulls away when he hears movement and leans against the wall beside the doorframe for a moment.

Despite being a little surprised at the newfound information, it brought a little smile to his face. You can’t swim? How cute.

“Come on, we should get ready for Topper’s party tonight.” Sarah says and you sigh softly, but get up anyways with her as she heads over to her closet. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

Rafe lingers for a second longer as he imagines what you’ll be wearing before taking his leave downstairs.

It’s around ten at night when the two of you arrive at the docks, the night sky surrounding the area with only the lights of Topper’s large boat illuminating the place.

“I don’t know, maybe i shouldn’t be here..” You go to turn around but Sarah stops you, pulling you to her side. “Come on, it’ll be okay, i promise. Besides, you look super cute, so flaunt it, okay?” She winks and you huff a breath before following after her.

The closer you get, the louder the partygoers become and the music blasting is enough to stimulate the senses.

Once you get on board, Sarah is engulfed by her friends, while you remain on the sideline with a weak smile and awkwardly hugging your arms. Despite being a kook, you weren’t among the popular ones but that wasn’t enough to get you on their bad side at least.

You rub your arms, the thin fabric of your cardigan doing nothing but add to Sarah’s fashion sense of your outfit tonight. In her baby blue, cropped cardigan, a matching spaghetti strapped solid colored tank and dark washed, high waisted denim shorts.

You help yourself to the bar, grabbing a red solo cup and letting the bartender fill the plastic cup with some beer before bringing it to your lips, hoping it would do some good to alleviate some anxiety, while you keep an eye on Sarah from nearby, who’s talking with her friends.

The scene brings a smile to your lips when you recall her saying she would keep an eye on you earlier in the day but you were happy to see her enjoy herself.

However, you didn’t get to enjoy much time alone as Topper and his friends make his way over to you.

“Hey, [Name]. All alone again?” Kelce smirks and you merely offer a small smile in return. “Not much of a party kinda girl.. but it’s nice.” you mention the last part to Topper who dismisses you, understanding you meant no offense.

“Where’s Sarah?” Topper asks, looking around the area and you gesture over a little ways nearby.

“She’s talking with some friends.” You reply, tapping my fingers against my cup as you shift your footing, feeling the anxiety come back, causing you to take another sip of your drink.

You let your eyes wander around the group, briefly catching Rafe’s, who let his eyes trail up and down your form for a moment, taking in your appearance. The way the baby blue color popped against your skin, the way your hair was styled for tonight’s party. Even the way you shyly held your cup to your chest, fingers still tapping against the sides.

Feeling your cheeks warm from Rafe’s intense gaze, you turn away and look back to Kelce.

Kelce and some of the other guys step closer and you give a small smile to them. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Come on, [Name]. We notice you always come to these parties but you don’t do anything,” Kelce mentions and you force a chuckle. “I’m an observer.” but some of the other guys don’t take that answer. “All we’re saying is, you should loosen up a little. Come on, some of the girls are taking dives off the tail, you should join.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you wave off the idea. “No, i think im good tonight, im actually pretty tired..” You say and Kelce scoffs lightly as his hand goes down to grab your wrist. “Don’t be a buzzkill, [Name], the water will wake you right up.”

“Kelce, i’m not really in the mood to-“ Rafe places a hand on Kelce’s shoulder, stopping him. “Let go, dude, let’s just leave her alone.” But Kelce doesn’t listen as he drags you along to where the other girls are, and the commotion causes all the partygoers to look over, Sarah looking your way.

Your eyes meet Rafe’s and he notices a look of fear and anxiety in them as Kelce brings you over and you try to pull away, the other guys surrounding you all, cheering Kelce and You.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, loosen up, girly.”

“Kelce, I really don’t—“ Despite your futile attempts, Kelce just takes the cup from your hands while Sarah pushes her way through the crowd. “Hey, Kelce, leave her alone!”

Rafe purses his lips and pulls Kelce away. “Hey, seriously, that’s enough.” He warns, pushing Kelce back, who just furrows his brows and scoffs. “What the hell? Why are you getting in the way, man?”

Sarah manages to get to your side, standing over you protectively. But the other girls now get in the way.

“Come on, Sarah, let [Name] do it.”

“it’s not scary.”

You shake your head again, as the girls pull Sarah away, leaving you alone with the kook surrounding you.

Rafe is pushing Kelce away, who’s confused and pushing Rafe back in retaliation. Meanwhile this leaves the other Kooks to act freely and the guys seem to share the same idea and go over to your body.

“Hey, hold on—“

But it’s too late, as the guys pick you up with ease and toss you overboard, a wave of laughter and cheers erupting from them.

“[Name]!” Sarah shouts from the girls hold and Rafe widens his eyes as he whirls around at the sound of your scream and a splash from the impact.

“Shit-“ Rafe curses as he roughly shoves Kelce into Topper as he rips off his shirt before taking a leap off the deck and into the water with you.

You flail, panic surging into you as you begin to hyperventilate. “S-Sa-Sarah—!”

“What the hell?!” Kelce scoffs with furrowed brows while Sarah feels tears brimming her eyes. “[Name] can’t swim!” she cries out as she rips away from the girls and shoves two of the guys out of her way before leaning over the railing. “[Name]!”

Topper’s, Kelce’s and the other kooks’ eyes widen in shock at the revelation. “What?”

They all rush over the rail to peer into the ocean as Rafe is diving under to find you.

Rafe manages to find your sinking body, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you up to the surface, your body already unconscious due to the lack of air and your panic flailing.

“[Name], [Name], are you okay?” He gasps as he reaches the surface and uses a hand to caress your cheek while the other props you up under your back. “No, no, come on, [Name], wake up.”

Sarah rushes around down the boat and on the boardwalk and leans down. “Rafe, Rafe! Come on, bring her over here!”

Rafe clenches his jaw when you still don’t respond and swims his way over towards Sarah as quickly as he can, panting before lifting your body up, Sarah doing her best to help you onto the wooden docks, laying you flat on your back.

“[Name], please! please wake up!” Sarah cries as she jostles you, Rafe climbing onto the dock next to her and looking down at you. She begins doing chest compressions, tears streaming down her cheeks faster. By this time, everyone on the boat is out on the boardwalk surrounding you body on the ground.

Rafe stands up straight, his clothes soaking and dripping but he doesn’t pay it any mind as he tries to catch his breath, staring down at his sister trying to wake you.

He contemplated for just a minuscule of a second, about beating the shit out of Kelce, but he prioritized your wellbeing first.

“Rafe- she’s not waking up.”

Sarah inhales sharply, trying not to think the worst and her older brother kneels down, pinching your nose closed before bringing his lips down to yours.

The kooks are whispering amongst each other, surprised by Rafe’s sudden leadership actions.

Rafe pulls away, continuing Sarah’s chest compressions before going back to pressing his lips against yours, providing CPR.

Please, not like this. wake up, wake up for me, [Name].

Suddenly a choked noise erupts from your lips as you turn to your side and spew out bits of water. Your throat becomes sore as you cough roughly.

Sarah immediately breaks into a smile, a gasp of relief coming from her and Rafe pulls back, a sigh coming from him. “H-Hey, take it easy, you’re alright..”

You look around, feeling dizzy and nauseous as you spit up the last of the water you nearly drowned in, as Sarah pulls you to her chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “[Name], i’m so glad you’re okay!”

Meanwhile, Rafe stands upright, looking up at the sky, trying to relax his rapidly beating heart, as he takes slow steps to turn around.

“H-Hey, look, I didn’t know-“

Kelce, already knowing what was coming, raises his hands in defense as he backs up.

However, Rafe doesn’t hesitate his fist swinging into Kelce’s cheek, succeeding in knocking him down. “You son of a bitch!”

Rafe clenches his jaw tight as he looks to the other kooks. “Party is fucking over, get the fuck away!”

Topper tries to talk some sense into Rafe but Rafe shoves him. “You hear me? I said get away! go fucking home, now!”

Everyone is stunned into silence as they share looks, before quickly scrambling away and off the dock, not wanting to argue with the Kook King.

Sarah sniffles as she pulls away and looks up at Rafe, who kneels down and tucks an arm under your legs and the other under your back, before lifting you up carefully, bridal style.

“R-Rafe?…” Your hoarse voice calls out, hands pressed to his firm chest but Rafe hushes you. “Shh.. it’s alright, just get some rest.. you’ll be fine.”

Sarah watches her brother carry you towards his truck, wiping her tears as she follows after them, exhaling gently.

Tears brim your eyes as your chest swells with warmth, despite your freezing body.

You stare up at Rafe weakly, feeling your chest grow weak as your eyes flutter close and you press your head into his chest more. “Thank you.. Rafe.. You saved me..”

Rafe’s hold on you tightens, securing you in his arms.

“..I’m so glad you’re okay… i’m so sorry..”

a/n: welp, this could’ve been sooo much better but i rushed this at work hehe. outerbanks is playing on the tv at work so i thought id get a little smth out :3 this is sooo bad though 😭

not proofread or edited. i’ll go back and edit some other time.

synvil™️.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who gets so flustered by you before you start dating. Even just the little things, like you bringing him coffee of breakfast on your way in to work has him thinking about you. He didn't even have to ask.

"You really didn't need to bring me anything. Tell me how much I owe you and I'll add it to your next check."

He stops you with the slight raising of his hand before you even have the chance to protest.

"I mean it. I have more than enough money to spare."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who almost feels perverted when he asks you out for coffee before work. But the way your eyes light up aa you nod makes him forget all about it and instead focus on just how interesting your personality is.

"There's uh... There's this café I stop at in the mornings before I come in to work. You should stop by some time. My treat."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who gets hounded by the press as soon as they find out about your relationship. But as much as they call him 'old' and 'creepy,' you know that they don't understand. Besides, there isn't that much of an age gap between the two of you, anyway.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you realize just how shitty other guys had treated you in the past. He was utterly shocked when you tried to pull out your wallet to oay on your first official date.

"You seriously think I'm letting you pay?" He asked after his initial moment of shock. "Darling-" he take one of your hands in his across the dinner table and presses a feather-light kiss to it. "You never have to pay when you're with me."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is slowly gaining a dadbod, and it's the sexiest thing you've ever seen. Of course, he's still in peak physical condition, but his age is slowly catching up to him as he reaches his mid-fifties: the sparsely scattered greys in his hair and stubble are just further proof of that.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who hasn't lost his game in the bedroom and makes you feel things other men couldn't even imagine. He just keeps pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and hasn't even thought about relieving himself.

"Just one more on my fingers, beautiful girl..." He whispers as his thumb rubs worshiping, languid circles onto your clit. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who takes things so much slower than he did in his younger years. He didn't just fuck or have sex, he made love to you, and god, did he do it well.

"I love you." He whispers for what feels like the hundredth time with his face buried into your neck and shoulder, eyes screwed shut in utter ecstasy. His thrusts are slow and rhythmatic, lacking the frenzied rush many of his past lovers experienced in turn for the utter adoration and care he felt for you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who loves you with everything he is and will do anything in his power to keep the darker parts of his life hidden away, even if it means lying to you.

-----------------------------

Masterlist