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cumironi · 8 days ago

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I’VE GOT YOU, BABY jjk men

feat. gojo geto nanami toji sukuna shiu higuruma

sum. they thought it would be a normal night. playful bickering, eat dinner together, maybe makeout session while you two are giggling like a lovesick fool. but heart cancer? stage 3? yeah, not on their bingo cards.

warning. non-sorcerer jjk men! 23 you & 31 them, established relationships, heart cancer, death mentioned, bit angst to comfort, fluff, and not very heart warming.

GOJO SATORU

he was supposed to be in meeting.

supposed to be.

but instead he was dramatically sprawled on the couch in your apartment, shirt half-buttoned, socks mismatched, one leg hanging off the edge like he was modeling for an early 2000s teen magazine. blue eyes flicked up from your coffee table, where your textbooks were open and your laptop screen glowed with your thesis draft. he had the attention span of a goldfish, and you were used to it by now. what you weren’t used to was the man pausing mid-ramble about how coffee shops should have loyalty programs that give hugs instead of free drinks, the moment you slid the envelope across the table toward him.

“what’s this? did you finally write me a love letter?” he grinned, picking it up and waving it. “wait—let me guess, you’ve confessed your undying love for my devastatingly good looks and impeccable fashion sense. i knew the mismatched socks would win you over.”

you smirked, resting your chin in your hand. “close,” you said. “just my medical results. fun lil update from my body.”

he blinked. the paper unfolded in his hands, and for once, he was quiet. his eyes moved faster than usual. you could feel the shift in the air. from playful to something dense. cold. heavy.

he read the words again.

“stage 3, heart cancer… twenty-four percent chance to live…”

“i know, right? guess my cells just got bored of behaving,” you laughed. it was too loud. too sudden. too wrong. “could be 24% chance or survival. maybe 50%. depending on how charming i am in the oncology department.”

you force a shaky laugh. “guess i must’ve loved you too much. my heart couldn’t take it.”

for a beat, there’s nothing. nothing.

it’s a joke. a bad one. a last-ditch attempt to soften the punch. your eyes betray you anyway — tears sparkle at the corners like broken glass, and the tremble in your fingers doesn’t go unnoticed.

“shut up,” he whispered. not in his usual joking way. his voice cracked at the edge, like he’d bitten into something sour and was trying not to spit it out.

you shrugged, crossing your legs like you were just talking about the weather. “i’m still hot though, right? at least if i kick the bucket, i’m going down with great cheekbones.”

“no. nope. return to sender. i don’t accept this bullshit,” he murmurs, voice cracking through the sarcasm. “you don’t get to pull the tragic heroine card on me. that’s my thing.”

you try to laugh. “so dramatic…”

“i’m the drama. not you. you’re the soft, pretty, sunshine type who cries during dog movies and hogs the bed. you’re not allowed to die. i won’t allow it. i’ll— i’ll—”

“you’ll what, kiss it better?” you tease.

“why the fuck would you joke about this?” his voice rose. panic behind the volume. the paper in his hand crumpled a little.

“because if i don’t, i’ll start crying,” you replied, softer now. looking at him with tired eyes. “and i really, really don’t wanna cry in front of you. you’d never let me live it down.”

“you idiot,” he breathed out, standing up so fast the coffee table shook. his hands were trembling. he paced once. twice. then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you like gravity had yanked him down.

“you’re not going to die,” he said. like a promise. like a threat to the universe. “i’ll fight death himself. with my sunglasses. and sarcasm. and maybe a bazooka.”

you blinked. “you don’t know that.”

he grabbed your hands, clutching them so tightly you could feel how cold his were. “you think you can drop something like this on me and then just—laugh about it? you think that’s fair? i love you, you dumbass.”

you looked down at him. this ridiculous, beautiful man kneeling like you’d just proposed marriage instead of dropped a medical bombshell.

you sniff, smile crookedly. “i love you too.”

he grins, forehead pressed to yours. “good. you’ll fit right in with the chaos i’ve got planned for your recovery. step one: we replace your heart with mine. step two: we break into a hospital and demand glitter IVs. step three: we live. got it? we’re gonna fight this. i don’t care if i have to bribe, blackmail, or bend space-time — you’re staying with me. you’re not allowed to leave.”

you choke out a laugh against his shoulder. “that’s a pretty bold threat to make to the universe.”

“you think i won’t square up with the universe?” he pulls back, eyes shining with something wild and terrified and real. “i’ll fight fate with one hand and spoon-feed you pudding with the other.”

you look at him, tears falling freely now, and he smiles — a little broken, a little soft.

“besides,” he adds, voice trembling as he kisses the corner of your mouth, “you still owe me like, twenty dates. and my hoodies back.”

he stared at you.

you smiled. a little cracked. a little crooked. “worth it.”

“i swear to god,” he growled, burying his face in your lap. “if you die, i’m haunting your ghost just to yell at you.”

you ran your fingers through his hair. soft. familiar. he was shaking. he didn’t want you to see. “you’re not going to die,” he whispered again, like if he repeated it enough times, it would rewrite your diagnosis.

“but if i do,” you said gently, voice steady for both of you, “please keep wearing mismatched socks for me. preferably ugly ones. the uglier, the better.”

he lifted his head and kissed your knuckles. then your palm. then your wrist. like he could map your pulse, hold onto it, anchor it. i’m gonna annoy every doctor on this planet if that’s what it takes,” he muttered. “i’m gonna sit in every waiting room and argue with every nurse and—”

“you’re already annoying,” you smiled, brushing tears off his cheek. “just keep being you, toru. okay?”

he choked out a laugh. a real one. raw and messy and breaking. “yeah,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “okay. but just so you know—if you think i’m gonna let you go without a fight, you’re really underestimating how stubborn i am.”

and you believed him.

because it was satoru gojo.

and he was chaos and comfort and love in human form.

GETO SUGURU

you didn’t expect him to come over tonight.

he had been buried in work lately—endless stacks of logistics and community events and trying to solve the world’s problems like he didn’t already carry the weight of it on his shoulders. so when he texted you “omw. bring that pouty face I like,” you assumed he was just being his usual flirty self. nothing serious.

you didn’t expect to be sitting on your bedroom floor in an oversized hoodie with a manila envelope on your lap, legs tucked beneath you, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you heard the familiar knock-knock-knock. two beats, then one. his rhythm.

he walked in with a drink carrier balanced in one hand and a bouquet of flowers that looked like they were arranged by a man who walked into the shop and said “whatever she’ll like, just make it look expensive.” his eyes lit up the second they saw you, and he gave you that half-lidded smile that made it look like he knew every secret about you.

“what’s with the envelope, babe?” he asked as he kicked his shoes off and slid beside you on the floor. “you trying to sue me for being too good-looking? because guilty as charged.”

you snorted. “nah, i’d win that case against gojo way faster.”

“mm, true.” he nudged your knee with his. “what is it then?”

you clear your throat and drop the letter dramatically on the floor next to him like it’s a bomb. “got a broken heart. me. officially. medically. romantically tragic.”

geto raises a brow, gaze drifting from the letter to you. “did i forget an anniversary again? that sounds serious.”

giving him a lazy smile. “worse. i’m in a love triangle with death and a statistics chart.”

you handed it over. said nothing after.

he cocked an eyebrow but took it. slid the letter out like he was opening one of your essays. started reading.

his smile dropped.

his breath caught.

and for once—suguru geto didn’t say anything.

he finished the page. eyes moving over the last line again. and again. his fingers curled around the edge of the letter so tightly it crinkled.

you felt like vomiting.

“stage 3, heart cancer,” you said lightly. like it was the weather. like you’d just found out the vending machine was out of your favorite chips. “only twenty-five percent chance of making it. which is still, like, a quarter! that’s one out of four. i’ve played worse odds at those arcade claw machines. like flipping a coin with feelings.”

“don’t—” his voice was hoarse. “don’t joke about this.”

“why not?” you forced a grin. “i thought you liked my dark humor.”

he turned to you so fast, your smile faltered.

“i do,” he said, barely a whisper. “but not when it’s hiding how scared you are.”

and that was the worst part. the way he saw through you. you looked away. bit your tongue. tried to force another joke but your throat closed up and it never made it out. “you should be crying,” he said softly. “you should be screaming. you should be throwing things or cursing god or making me carry you everywhere like a princess.”

“yeah well,” you mumbled. “you’ve always liked me better when i’m quiet.”

“don’t say that.” his hand cupped your cheek, turning your face toward him. “don’t ever say that.”

you blinked. his thumb wiped away something you didn’t realize had fallen.

“baby—”

“i’m going to be here for all of it,” he said firmly. his voice steady, even if his hands trembled. “chemo. surgeries. crying fits. mood swings. i’ll buy you every stupid snack craving you have, i’ll hold your hair back if you puke, i’ll even let satoru come over if you’re bored enough to tolerate him.”

“wow,” you said, voice thick. “must really love me if you’re willing to suffer through that.”

he laughed, but it cracked halfway through. he leaned in and kissed your forehead. your nose. your cheeks. slow. deliberate. like he was memorizing your face before the world dared to change it.

“you’re the love of my life,” he murmured against your skin. “and i don’t care what percentage the doctors give. you’re not leaving me.”

you tried to joke again. to keep it light. but when he pulled you into his arms and held you like you were made of glass and might disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough—

you broke.

and he just let you.

silent. steady. his hand rubbing circles into your back. his voice a whisper. “i’ve got you, baby. every step. every breath. we’re fighting this. together.”

NANAMI KENTO

he was never one for surprises.

nanami lived his life in clean lines and structured time—an adult in every sense of the word. the kind of man who folded his clothes before bed, who ironed your uniforms when you were too tired, who always had a clock running in his head. you were chaos in comparison. soft blankets thrown over chairs, tea mugs with lipstick smudges left by your bedside, textbooks covered in doodles. yet somehow, you and him had always fit together like an odd, unlikely pair.

tonight, he showed up exactly at 7:00 p.m.

punctual, like always.

“i brought you dinner,” he said, holding up two paper bags. “i made sure it’s from that place you like with the spicy tofu you claim doesn’t make you cry but always does.”

you smiled, opening the door wider for him. “ah, you remembered. see? you do love me.”

he gave you a flat look, setting the bags on your kitchen counter. “i tell you every day. if you need evidence beyond that, i can start writing it down in your planner.”

“ooh, planner declarations of love? sounds sexy.”

he gave a soft, almost-smile. you could tell he’d had a long day. the way he rolled his sleeves up, undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and sighed like he was finally somewhere safe. you wanted so badly to keep it peaceful. to let him enjoy one evening without—

but the envelope sat on the kitchen table. taunting you.

“ken,” you said softly, “before we eat… can you read something?”

his brow furrowed. “is this another one of your thesis drafts? i told you i am not proofreading any more literary analyses about how tragic men are secretly hot—”

“it’s not,” you said, quieter this time.

he walked over. saw the envelope. took it wordlessly.

you watched him read. nanami read carefully—line by line. never skimmed. never rushed. so it took longer. you could hear the second his breath changed. shallow. barely audible. then it stopped altogether.

he didn’t speak. didn’t ask questions. he simply folded the letter back up and set it down with precision. like it was something sacred. dangerous.

“why didn’t you call me when you got this?” he asked, voice low. serious. his control was razor sharp, but you could hear the grief pressing against his throat.

“i… didn’t want you to leave work in the middle of a meeting,” you muttered. “and i didn’t wanna cry about it either. figured i’d tell you in person. like a grown-up.”

“stage 3, heart cancer is not something you break like a casual news update,” he snapped—then immediately closed his eyes, sighing. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“it’s okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. “i figured you’d be mad.”

“i’m not mad,” he said, walking around the table toward you. “i’m terrified.”

“it’s still there,” you whispered. “it’s just… fuzzy now. like a dream i can’t quite remember when i wake up.”

you looked up at him. that composed, unshakable man. and for the first time in a long time, nanami looked lost. “you’re young,” he said, almost to himself. “you’re in college. you have plans. you talk about the future like it’s something guaranteed.”

“you really mean that?” your voice cracked.

his jaw clenched. he pulled you into his chest, his hands pressing against your back, like he could physically hold you together. you could feel how hard he was trying not to fall apart. “then i’ll remember it for you,” he said quietly. “your future. your dreams. if you forget them… i’ll carry them until you can take them back.”

“of course,” he said, resting his chin on your head. “you’re the love of my life. i didn’t choose you for convenience. i chose you because i wanted every part of your life—good and bad. if this is what we’re facing now… then we face it. together.”

you buried your face in his chest, inhaling that familiar scent of bergamot and black tea. the comfort of his heartbeat. the way he was always so steady, even when the world wasn’t.

“but just so we’re clear,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you, “you’re not going to die. not anytime soon. not before i make you my wife.”

you blinked. “wait—what?”

“i’m not proposing,” he said flatly. “not while you’re crying. but you should know… that’s where this was always headed.”

your tears doubled. “ken—”

“shh,” he kissed your temple. “we’ll talk about it after dinner. and after you stop pretending tofu doesn’t make you sob like a child.”

you laughed. you couldn’t help it.

and for the first time since getting the diagnosis, you let yourself feel safe.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji was already lounging on your couch when you got home.

shirt half unbuttoned, legs spread like he owned the place—which, okay, he kind of did at this point, considering how often he crashed here. one arm slung over the back of the couch, the other nursing a can of beer he probably picked up on the way over. he didn’t look up when you walked in, just tilted his head slightly and smirked like he could smell the anxiety radiating off you.

“you look like shit,” he said casually, eyes still on the muted TV.

“thanks, baby,” you replied, dropping your bag by the door. “your romantic side is really showing today.”

“you want romance, go read a damn poem.” he finally looked at you. eyes narrowing. “you okay?”

you shrugged and walked into the kitchen, not answering. you knew that tone in his voice. low. suspicious. the kind he only used when he felt something off and didn’t like it one bit.

you took your time. poured a glass of water. leaned against the counter. stared at the envelope in your hand like it might explode if you set it down.

“toji,” you called.

“hm?”

“can you come here?”

he groaned dramatically but stood, beer in hand, and sauntered into the kitchen. he leaned against the counter across from you, expression unreadable. he scanned your face like he was piecing something together.

you handed him the envelope without a word.

he took it. read it.

you watched every flicker of emotion pass through his face. confusion. stillness. a furrowed brow. the tightening of his jaw. and then—rage. not loud. not messy. quiet. slow-burning. the kind that sat in his chest like a bomb with no timer.

he didn’t say anything at first.

just set the envelope down and looked at you. dead in the eye.

“how long have you known?”

“just a few days.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” his voice was low. flat.

you sighed. “i didn’t want to see your face like this.”

“like what?”

“like the world ended.”

he stepped closer. his voice dropped even lower.

“you think i give a fuck about the world?” he said slowly. “i care about you. you think you can just carry this shit alone and joke your way through it? you think that’s cute?”

“i didn’t want you to panic,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze. “i didn’t want to cry. or make it real. if i said it out loud—”

“then i’ll say it for you,” he interrupted. “you have heart cancer. stage 3. twenty-four percent odds. and guess what?”

you finally looked at him.

“we’re beating the shit outta those odds.”

you blinked. “what?”

he crossed the distance between you and pulled you into him. his grip wasn’t gentle—it was grounding. like he needed to feel your heartbeat against his chest to believe you were still here.

“you’re not dying on me,” he said, voice rough. “you hear me? i’ve lost enough people. you’re not going to be one of them. i’ll chain you to the damn bed if i have to. feed you. fight the doctors. i don’t care.”

“toji—”

“nah, shut up. you’re not allowed to talk until you admit i’m right and that i’m hotter than your oncologist.”

you choked out a laugh. “okay. you’re right. you’re hotter than any man with a medical license.”

“damn straight,” he muttered, lips brushing your forehead. “we’re getting through this. and i don’t care if you lose your hair or your strength or your mind a little bit along the way. you’ll still be mine. all of you.”

you didn’t say anything. didn’t need to. you just stood there with his arms around you, the only place that felt like home when everything else felt like hell.

he kissed the side of your head and sighed. “fuck. now i gotta start acting like a responsible adult.”

“guess you better start taking your vitamins, old man.”

“if i die before you, i’m haunting your ass. every time you try to pee, i’ll slam a cabinet door.”

you burst out laughing. crying. something in between. he held you tighter.

“that’s better,” he muttered. “cry in my arms like a normal person, not in the shower like a movie heroine.”

and just like that, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you found him in the bedroom, stretched across your bed like a damn king—which, technically, he insisted he was. shirtless, as usual. arms behind his head, eyes closed, expression too calm for a man with a bloodstained past and a mouth as foul as his reputation. the room smelled faintly like sandalwood and your shampoo, which he secretly used but would never admit to.

you stood in the doorway with the envelope clenched in your hand.

“oi, sukuna.”

his eyes cracked open, one brow lazily lifting. “what, brat? come to beg for kisses or annoy me until i carry you to class again?”

you forced a grin, walking in slowly. “tempting, but no. i’ve got something for you.”

“better be food or something perverted.”

you sat beside him, the envelope now shaking a little in your fingers. you hated how that tremor betrayed you. sukuna didn’t miss it. his eyes shifted to your hand, narrowing.

“what the hell is that?”

“diagnosis,” you said simply, tossing it onto his chest.

he caught it midair, scoffing. “what, did they finally diagnose you with being insufferable?”

“close. heart cancer. stage three. they gave me a twenty-four percent chance of living.” you tried to say it lightly. like it was a weather report. “cloudy with a chance of death, haha.”

sukuna didn’t laugh.

his eyes scanned the page. slower than usual. and his silence—it wasn’t dramatic, it was dangerous. the air felt like it thickened. you could almost hear his jaw clench.

“tch,” he scoffed. “twenty-four percent? what a bunch of weaklings. you don’t need their odds. you’ve got me.”

you blinked at him. “...you?”

“yeah. i’m keeping you alive. i’m not letting you leave me over some pathetic little tumor.”

you tried to keep the smile on your face, tried to keep the mood light like you always did. “damn. here i was thinking i’d finally get some peace and quiet.”

he sat up then—so suddenly the bed shifted with the force. his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing.

“don’t you dare joke about dying,” he growled. “not to me. not when you know what it would do to me.“

you tried to look away, but his fingers held you still. “sukuna…”

“do you know what i’ve done to people who’ve left me?” he whispered, and for once his voice wasn’t teasing—it was trembling.

“terrible things,” you murmured. “you’ve told me.”

“and yet, you’re the only one i’ve ever let touch me without blood on your hands,” he hissed. “the only one i’d share my bed with. laugh with. let sleep on my chest like some damn lovesick fool.”

you bit your lip. your bravado cracked. “...i’m scared.”

and that was all it took for him to pull you into his lap, arms winding around you with the kind of desperation he rarely ever let surface.

“good,” he muttered into your shoulder. “you should be. but not because of death. because if you think i’ll let you go through this alone, you clearly don’t know who the hell you’re dating.”

you buried your face into his neck, breathing in his warmth, his scent, the familiar thrum of something ancient and furious living in his chest.

“you’ll lose your hair?” he murmured. “i don’t care. you’ll puke every day? i’ll hold the damn bucket. cry at three a.m.? i’ll cuss out the moon for looking at you wrong.”

you choked out a laugh. “the moon, huh?”

“fucking moon thinks it’s allowed to shine on you while you’re in pain? not on my watch.”

he leaned back slightly, cupping your cheek now with uncharacteristic softness. “you don’t need to act strong for me, you little brat. cry. scream. sleep for days. whatever you need. i’ll be here.”

“...even when i look like a zombie?”

“you already look half-dead when you wake up. won’t be much of a change.”

you smacked his chest. he grinned.

and then he pressed his forehead against yours, a rare show of intimacy, his voice dropping so low you barely caught it:

“you’re mine. and i don’t give a fuck if it takes all my strength, my fury, my everything. you will survive this. not because the doctors said so. but because i won’t let you die.”

and for once, even with your heart breaking and your future uncertain, you believed him.

because when a monster like sukuna swore something, the universe listened.

SHIU KONG

the sun was already setting by the time you made it to his office.

you found him exactly how you expected: sleeves rolled up, shirt slightly wrinkled, tie loosened like he’d been too busy all day to care about appearances. he was hunched over his desk, fingers typing something sharp, probably threatening someone with policy violations and scary legal jargon. a half-empty glass of whiskey sat beside his monitor, untouched for hours. the room smelled like cologne and stress.

you stood in the doorway, clutching the envelope.

“shiu.”

his eyes didn’t lift right away—just one flick of them toward you, annoyed, until he saw your face. that was all it took.

he straightened. “what happened?”

“nothing,” you said too quickly. “or, i mean... something. yeah. i brought you something.”

you walked in, trying to act normal. like this wasn’t going to detonate his whole night. you placed the envelope on top of a stack of case files like it was a stupid postcard or a coupon for pizza.

he picked it up, his frown deepening with every line he read.

“you’re joking,” he said flatly.

“i wish.”

he looked at you. hard. no emotion at first—just that sharp, calculating gaze that made grown men fold. but you knew him too well. you saw the cracks right away: his fingers tightening around the paper. the twitch in his jaw. the breath he held too long before letting it out.

“stage three?” he said. “twenty-four percent survival?”

you leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to keep it light.

“well, if i was a stock, you probably wouldn't invest in me, huh?”

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped.

you blinked.

“jesus, shiu, calm down—”

“no. i’m not calming down. you walk into my office with this,” he shook the letter, “and joke about it? you think this is funny? you think i can just read this and go back to work?”

you stayed quiet.

he stood up, pacing now. one hand dragging through his hair, the other still holding the paper like it was covered in blood. his voice dropped low. rough.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want to ruin your week.”

he turned slowly. "you think any of this matters if you’re not in it?"

that one hit harder than you expected. your throat tightened.

he sighed harshly and stepped toward you, eyes dark, voice steadier now but no less intense. “look at me.”

you did.

he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was trying to memorize every inch.

"you don’t get to carry this alone,” he said. “not with me around. not for a second."

you bit your lip. “i didn’t want you to treat me like i was dying.”

“i’m not treating you like you’re dying. i’m treating you like you’re mine. and you are. and i don’t care how brutal this fight gets, how many appointments we sit through, how sick you get, how tired—i’m staying.”

you exhaled shakily, and his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you against him like he could keep the sickness away just by holding you tighter.

“you’re not allowed to go before me,” he murmured into your hair. “i’m the old one here, remember?”

you smiled weakly. “so what, you’re giving me permission to outlive you?”

“i’m giving you orders. and you always listen to your boss.”

“you’re not my boss, shiu.”

“wanna bet?”

you leaned your head against his chest, finally letting your tears soak into his shirt. his arms stayed locked around you like a shield.

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

he kissed your temple, voice rough and sure.

“then be scared. just don’t be alone.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he always stayed up too late when he was working. piles of case files, half-drunk cups of green tea gone cold, classical music humming low in the background like it could drown out the weight of the world. the desk lamp lit his tired eyes in soft gold, his brows furrowed in that focused way you knew meant he hadn’t even noticed the time—or eaten.

you hovered at the doorway for a second, gripping the envelope. stage 3. 24%. ugly numbers typed in a clinical font that suddenly felt louder than the damn music.

“hiromi.”

he glanced up, his features instantly softening the second he saw you. “you’re still up. what’s wrong?”

you tried to smirk. “well. i’m about to ruin your night. so buckle in, counselor.”

he frowned and pushed his chair back, straightening. “what happened?”

you crossed the room, placed the envelope down in front of him like you were handing in an assignment. “that’s my diagnosis.”

he didn’t move for a few seconds. just stared at it. like touching it would confirm the dread blooming in his chest. but he opened it, scanned the words, and then—

his shoulders stiffened. just slightly. like a man being sentenced.

“heart cancer,” he murmured, voice almost too calm. “stage three. twenty-four percent survival rate.”

“yeah,” you said with a dry chuckle. “bit dramatic, right? could’ve given me a 30% for optimism.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, unreadable.

“you’re making jokes?”

“if i don’t, i’ll cry. and i figured one of us should hold it together.”

his jaw tensed, and he stood slowly, walking around the desk with a kind of methodical grace that always made your heart skip. he stopped in front of you, one hand resting on your cheek like he was scared you’d vanish.

“you’ve known… how long?”

“got the results a few days ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?”

you looked down. “i didn’t want to be the reason you stopped working. you’ve got enough to deal with. i didn’t want to be another case file on your desk.”

he flinched like you slapped him.

“you’re not a case file,” he said firmly. “you’re not just another name. you’re—” his voice broke, just a little. “you’re everything.”

you couldn’t hold it anymore. your voice cracked. “i’m scared.”

his arms were around you instantly, firm and grounding. his hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into his chest like you belonged there and only there.

“then be scared,” he whispered into your hair. “and i’ll be scared with you. but don’t think for a second i’ll let you go through this alone.”

you held onto his blazer, gripping the fabric like it could anchor you. “i don’t want you to see me fall apart.”

“i’ve seen people fall apart,” he said. “i know what that looks like. this isn’t that. this is you being brave. this is you still showing up, still standing, even when you're hurting.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy. “what if i die?”

his hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing a tear away. “then i’ll have spent every last day making sure you knew you were loved. and if you live—and you will, because you’re stronger than any verdict—they’ll write books about how you told death to wait.”

you laughed through the tears. “that’s a little dramatic, even for a lawyer.”

he smiled, just barely. “i learned from the best.”

and then he kissed you—soft, reverent, like a man clinging to hope.

“we’ll fight this,” he whispered. “and i’ll be with you every step of the way. suits and all.”

i made this after re-watch now is good and just can’t help myself. i know, i know it was basic, classic drama, the girl is sick, has cancer, everyone wrote about it, i know. but i enjoy writing this so much, i may or may not make a mini series about them, do you guys will enjoy it if i make this longer? please let me know! 🫣

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reywritings · 15 days ago

Text

Winner Takes It All

In which a family of detective's notice a suspiciously lucky trend when it comes to Jason's girlfriend.

Jason Todd x fem reader, no use of Y/N

All fluff, mostly slice of life, based of WFA for this one.

Enjoy this one! The next post is angst 😈🙏🔥

______________________________________________________________

“You’re not gonna win. You never do.” Dick says, elbowing Tim as they play against each other in Mario Kart, after finishing a long case.

“Stop elbowing me!” Tim kicks at him, and it isn’t long before they’re trying to multitask kicking each other while playing.

“You’re both children.” Jason says as he walks in, with a raised brow at the two men, they glare back at him, and see you walking in behind him.

“This is pretty on par.” You say, shrugging it off, not nearly as disappointed with the two as Jason is.

Jason just rolls his eyes at them, giving you a shoulder squeeze as he goes to the library to grab what he came here for. Meanwhile, you lean on the back of the couch, watching the two play.

Dick addresses you in the middle of kicking Tim while trying to button smash at the same time, “Tell him I’m gonna win, obviously.”

You hum in thought. “Who’s playing as Rosalina?”

“Me!” Tim says, kneeing Dick again.

“Oh, well obviously I have to be on Tim’s side. Rosalina is the best character.” You nod, maybe your choice was purely for aesthetics but– its Princess Rosalina.

“What?!” Dick exclaims, and Tim laughs.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Tim says, pushing Dick’s leg off of him.

Dick rolls his eyes. “No, Toad is the best. And that’s why I’m gonna win–”

“I won.” Tim interrupts.

Dick stares at the screen slack jawed.

Jason walks back in, looks at the screen, looks at Dick, and then shrugs as he motions to you that he’s ready to leave.

Dick finally manages to glare at Tim five minutes later. “You got lucky! It was only because she rooted for you.”

Tim snorts. “Just admit you lost, dude.”

“No way! She’s a good luck charm. When have you ever beat me in Mario Kart on this map before?”

Tim considers that.

“Huh… what do you say to a science experiment?

______________________________________________________________

“I’m telling you, it’s definitely Kite-Man. Who else would be behind something as lame as this?” Steph asks, scoffing at the idea of it being anyone else. “Plus there was a kite at the scene.”

“Yeah. Which was at the park. Kites are in parks. That's what they do.” Duke counters, taking a seat at the kitchen counter, near Jason and you, the former seemed to show no interest in the conversation at all, but you turned to look at them.

“What’s this all about?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Someone stole all the hot dog carts at the park.” Steph sighs, bored by the mundane crime. Tim glances up, intrigued, but not because of the crime.

“My bets on Kite-Man.” Tim says, nonchalant. “..What about you?” He raises a brow as he looks at you.

“Uh– I’ll side with Duke. Keeps things even.”

“Thank you!” Duke seems genuinely touched.

Tim then pulls up the case notes on his computer, and looks for the latest police update.

“Well, what do you know? Not Kite Man.” Tim grins. This was sound evidence for him. Maybe you were lucky, after all..

Steph whips her head to Tim, eyes wide. “What?! Who?”

“Condiment King.”

“Fuck. I should have guessed that!”

______________________________________________________________

Four card games between Dick and Steph, a race between Cass and Duke, and three rounds of chess between Tim and Damian later, Tim and Dick reached the conclusion that you were, in fact, good luck.

However, in a family of detectives, it didn’t take long for a majority of the others to pick up on their scheme. Or to realize you were a good luck factor.

“I’m gonna win. Obviously.” Tim declared, confidently at the dinner table as they finished up– they were having a family dinner for once, and afterwards they were going to have a round of Mario Kart… which meant the winner only had to ensure one thing.

“Fat chance!” Dick scoffs, immediately giving into his competitive spirit with that comment.

“No. I am.. You should root for me.” Tim says, suddenly addressing you now.

“Tempting— but maybe I should sit this out with Jay.” You knew how game night went with this family, and you did not want to get in the middle of that.

“Or you could root for your favorite person?” Duke buts in, smiling as he slides his dessert plate towards you as a bribe.

“He’s gonna lose.” Tim points out, pulling the plate away.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” Duke retorts,ripping the plate away from Tim.

“No— she should root for me instead! Root for me, please!” Dick says, bringing his hands together as he begs.

You just laugh, but Jason looks completely annoyed by them now. Since when did they care who she was rooting for?

“No! She’s rooting for me—” Tim starts again, swatting at Dick as he tries to push Tim further away from you.

“If she’s truly as smart as Todd says, she’ll root for me, obviously.” Damian interjects, a proud look on his face as he crosses his arms.

Jason narrows his eyes. Okay, what was going on here?

Steph rolls her eyes. “Guys— stop it. This is all childish.”

The boys share a look, feeling a bit called out now.

Dick looks at you. “We aren’t trying to make you feel uncomfor—“

“Obviously she’s rooting for me.” Steph says, interrupting him, standing up at the table as she grabs you by the shoulders.

“Oh fuck you, you did that for dramatic effect—“ Dick slams his hands on the table.

“Like you aren’t the drama, Circus boy!”

You shake your head, deciding then would be a good time to go use the bathroom, because evidently— they would notice if you weren’t there during the actual games.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Jason turns back to everyone else.

“Okay, what the fuck is this all about?” He glares at them.

“Nothing!”

“What’s what about?”

“None of your concern, Todd.”

“Language.”

They all respond, obviously too quick and dismissive with their responses.

“…I’m gonna ask one more time.” He says, slowly, making eye contact with everyone.

“…okay, fine— she’s good luck. That’s all.” Duke says, shrugging.

That gives Jason pause.

“What?”

Tim butts in, “Anytime anyone has a game or a bet— whoever she sides with always wins. I thought it was an anomaly at first but.. it’s happened too many times to not be a trend.”

“She’s like a lucky rabbit's foot.” Steph provides, leaning back in her chair.

Jason mulls over that thought. Anytime he played Mario Kart or a card game against Roy, he *did* usually win.. he thought he was just a natural but— he only won when she was home, too. He lost when she wasn’t there.

“…maybe there’s some truth to that.” Jason admits.

“See!” Dick says, glad this didn’t end in argument but also— he noticed it first, so he felt vindicated.

“Now we shall let her pick a team.” Damian says, ready to convince her why she should root for him.

“No.” Jason says, smirking a bit as he shakes his head. “..you really thought this would change anything? She’s going to root for me— and I’ll wipe the floor with you all.”

There’s a pause as everyone stares at him in either disbelief or anger.

“..I fear we made an error.” Tim mutters.

“I’m definitely playing now. Guaranteed to win? I mean— I probably would have won anyways.” Jason brags, standing up as he’s ready to go to the living room and start these games.

“You cheater!” Steph accuses, slamming her hand down on the table.

“We were trying to do the same thing though..?” Duke adds, scratching the back of his neck.

You walk back in— raising a brow at Jason as he’s standing up.

“Eager?” You ask, smiling creeping onto your face. “I thought you didn’t want to play?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder as he leads you to the living room, you could make out his family’s argument and protests from behind you.

“Changed my mind. As long as I have you on my side, I’ll always win.” He smiles cheekily at you.

“How romantic.” You say sarcastically, raising a brow at his sudden affinity to participate in game night.

He grins at you, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“…is this about me being a boon?” You question, side eyeing him with a soft smile.

“You knew?” He widens his eyes, pausing to look at you as you both stand in the living room door frame.

You snort. “Hard not to. They made it fairly obvious.”

“…you still gonna root for me?”

“Always.”

#jason todd x reader #dc comics #red hood x reader #batfamily #batfam #jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood #jason todd imagine #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #batkids

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bunny-jpeg · 10 months ago

Text

house sitter au

while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*

task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.

that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!

when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.

the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.

four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.

price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)

johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.

simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.

kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.

but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.

other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.

when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*

(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)

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prlssprfctn · 4 months ago

Text

I awfully need a fic, where Jason gets drugged by a big dose of fear toxin and starts seeing Joker's hallucination around — kind of like Bruce in Arkham Knight game, you know — and everyone is just... confused what to do with all of it?

They can't really produce antidote because it would fuck up his mind more, so he is stuck in the cave for the next 24 hours, and no one is leaving, because they can't allow Jason to go through this alone. Again.

Jason tries to put a brave face of course (god, he is THE Red Hood, one of the most influential people in the Gotham, he can't be afraid of a stupid clown–) but the more hours pass, the less he can control his fear or anxiety. Instead of pacing around like a ghost — he did that in the first four hours — he sits down on the couch, hugs himself, and starts answering to Joker?

Yeah, he knows he is not real. He understands that feeding hallucination with conversations will not help — and Dick, the ultimate expert in handling hallucinations, really, gave him some tips on what to do — but he can't just ignore it now.

He is too scared.

He remembers what comes if he flips off Joker or stops playing by his rules, alright?

"Knock, knock!"

Joker's face is as pale and terrifying as Jason remembers it to be. And maybe it is hallucination, but he still can feel his panted, hot breath on his ear.

He is alone, of course. Or not entirely alone, but others would notice if Joker was really here, right?

"Who is this?" He whispers, sensing his family tensing a little, not being sure what to expect.

Jason either argues with his hallucination or asks to stop. Or maybe just wordlessly scraps on his temples or cheek, in the place the J scar used to be, before the Lazarus Pit erased it from his body completely, leaving no traces.

"The stray dog that can't bark! Do you know why it can not bark, Jayjay?"

"I don't fucking know," he murmurs, but the fiericness with which he screamed at this man for hours now is gone; he sounds tired even to his own ears, and it is embarrassing. "Tell me."

"Because I broke its bones with a crowbar, silly!~" Joker shakes his shoulders, and Jason can practically feel the familiar ache of shattered bones. "It– Ahahah, it is too hurt to bark! It can only whine!"

Jason laughs.

His facial expression doesn't really change — he is still frowning a little — but he laughs with a painful wheeze. Joker is pleased enough to sigh dreamily in his ear.

Good job, Jason.

"What so funny?" Dick asks carefully, a patient smile on his face — he has been trying to distract him with conversations the most; Bruce prefers to keep his silence, and Tim thinks accidental physical touches help more than talking.

"He just said a joke," Jason shrugs weakily.

"Tell it to them," Joker orders. "Let us all laugh."

He doesn't really want to. But he can't disobey. He can't allow himself to die again, and–

"Knock, knock," he clears up his throat.

"Who is this?" Tim echoes, turning his chair to him, smart eyes scanning him up and down.

"The stray dog that can't bark," Jason tugs the tips of his own hair. "Do you know why it can not bark?"

Bruce tenses in his chair. He tenses in a way, Jason thinks, he already knows this joke; he has already heard it before. He almost looks as if he wants to stop him, cut mid-sentence.

But for some reason, he doesn't.

"Uh, why?" Dick tilts his head.

"Because my– its bones are broken," Jason stutters. "You know, dogs can't really bark when they are hurt? Just whine."

He can't bring himself to laugh again, even though Joker keeps giggling over and over.

"That's not funny, Jay," Tim murmurs.

"Yeah. I guess it isn't. But if I don't laugh, he'll get the crowbar again, and I really, really want to keep barking," Jason smiles.

He tries to ignore pitful glances of his family members, and the torture continues. No one breaks his bones this time, but Jason still whines when Bruce hugs him by the end of the night, pressing to his chest.

Joker is not here anymore, but Jason still can hear his taunting whisper, somewhere in the back of his head.

You will die his son.

#dc universe #dcu #dcu comics #arkham knight #jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #batfamily #batfam #dc joker

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ridingthatd · 3 months ago

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∞ MAST♡R CUM DUMPSTER ｡.｡

➤ gojo, nanami, geto

gojo & nanami walking into their friend suguru shoving his cursed orbs inside your poor little pussy.

➤ warning : fem! reader, four sum, very dirty, very kinky, very nasty, a loooot of cum, pussy stretching, pussy gaping, squirting, breeding, degrading, anal sex, ass stretching, getting fucked in every hole, humiliation, rough sex, fisting pussy, sex toys, raw dogging.

geto suguru was your master.

after you got hurt losing one of your eyes in the mission you, gojo and geto were assigned to. geto vowed to break the cycle and kill every non-sorcerer to prevent the birth of more cursed spirits so you can never get hurt again.

now geto was collecting curses by "curing" cursed humans. suguru disguised himself as the head of a buddhist temple to attract cursed humans with the promise of "curing" them.

here he was sitting cross-legged inside the temples soft floor while his head was resting on his rough hand, his other hand was holding you tight by the waist as the plumpness of your ass was seated on his folded leg.

his hand start rubbing against your belly earning a low moan from you. he smirks you can already feel the hotness of his fat cock pressing against your soft ass.

"hm? does my little slut want to be stuffed by her master?". his warm breath fan against your neck as he leans in closer, his rough hand already made it's way under your kimono gripping your soft thighs tightly.

that's how you got here, flipped on getos lap your face pressed against the soft mattress on the ground while your wet pussy is wide open for any eyes that enter the temple.

the only sounds that filled the room was your heavy whines, breathless moans. and the wet sound of your pussy sucking in every cursed orb getos shoves inside you.

you sob whining, your thighs were trembling as you feel the orb ripping, stretching your wet little hole before it gets sucked inside your sticky slimy tunnel of a pussy.

suguru tsk at the sight, you can feel his hard on twitching and leaking against your belly. he was huffing like a dog as he gaze at the way your filthy pussy gush hot fluid outside each time he tries to shove an orb in like it's moisting your hole with sticky warm natural lube, getting it ready to slide another orb in.

he groans his mouth gape open staring through his heavy eyelids at how your dirty pussy was gripping tightly on the next orb he place before it sloppily slides in with a pop, like it's so needy so hungry to feed on his cursed orbs.

the veins surrounding his fat cock throbs as he feels the way a bludge start forming in your belly, getting stuffed from how many orbs he shoved inside your poor little pussy.

drool slides down his wet lips admiring how puffy, red and abused your pussy lips looked. so good so stuffed so full.

you were fucked out of your mind, your body was trembling shaking as you sob and hiccup over stimulated and full. not noticing the eyes of your two old friends hungrily staring at your pathetic state.

suguru chuckles, his eyes trail from your pussy to nanami and satoru who's eyes were glued on you.

"I told you my little slut was doing good".

it was getos idea to show your old friends how your sweet little pussy take his cursed orbs one by one so well.

they wanted to see you, check on their dear friend. geto invited them over without letting you know.

there eyes were glued on you. never leaving you while their fat cocks leak painfully. they didn't expect to find you in this position, fucked like a little slut.

so fucked to the point you don't notice their presence. your mouth was open as load of spit drool out of it, the only words you can make out were-

"please-! please-". you hiccup, begging your master to let you cum.

suguru coo at you rubbing your puffy red clit before whispering something in your ear and soon after you freeze, realizing who's in the room with you.

"so what do you say baby? should you help our little friends hm?". he smirks.

every hole in your body was stuffed. your body violently shake, your screams were muffled by nanamis thick cock as he pumps it in and out your abused lips.

you were laying down on sugurus chest, your hard nipples rubbing against his as he lays under you.

while his hand grip hard on your ass slamming his fat cock inside your sore pussy. your body trembles as you feel the curse orbs that were still stuffed inside your pussy twirling around, consistently hitting your g-spot with each hard thrust of getos cock.

your ears were filled with satorus groans as he hold your face close to him by the hair, your earlobe was coated with his warm spit as he wettly suck on your ears while his sensitive cock thrust inside your ass hole.

"look at me you fucking slut". nanami growls as he slams his fat cock down your throat bruising it before you feel robes of his hot cum shooting down your throat.

"m-master! no! no! no more please-" you immediately start sobbing out as soon nanami pulls out his cock, his warm cum was spilling out of your mouth as you struggle to speak.

"you fucking slut, who gave you the permission to spill it from your mouth".

nanami harshly growls out before he slaps your face with his rough hand. just to grab you roughly by your hair and force your face to meet his. but you weren't even lookin at him, eyes crossed focusing on the feeling of the two cocks inside of you.

he tsks before scoping the cum that was on your lips and shoving in back inside your mouth and you immediately start sucking on his fingers.

suguru slide your pussy down his cock one more time before he spurt his cum everywhere, coating your walls white.

you can feel the cum geto that spilled inside you sliding against the orbs making it more sticky and sloppy.

that's what had you squirting, over flowing with juice. that's what had you drooling. mouth over flowing with your own sloppy spit- spit that was mixed with nanamis warm cum that he stuffed inside your mouth. you were choking struggling to keep his boiled seeds that filled your mouth from spilling.

tears running down your face as your whole body thrust against geto who was under you- reminding you of the gojo fat cocks that was gaping your tight ass hole wide open.

you can feel the hardness of his red, sensitive nipples rubbing against your back as he thrusts in.

suguru hiss as he looks at the state of your nasty little pussy that was barely recognizable anymore. it was gaping open as his warm cum that was mixed with your fluid leak out of it, your pussy lips were so stretched so red so puffy so sensitive.

that as soon as he pinch your fat clit, your body freeze before you tense and a scream rips out of your throat as a forceful stream of hot liquid gush out of your abused hole.

the orbs that were placed inside you burst out from the force of your orgasm, each orb was sloppily popping out of your pussy.

the feeling of being gaped open was to much- the feeling of the sloppy orbs bursting out of your puffy pussy with so much force was to much.

it was all to much that it had you sobbing, drooling and spilling the cum out of your mouth as you hiccup, forgetting about the order of keeping it stuffed in your mouth that nanami gave you.

your mind was foggy, eyes blurry with tears, your lips were parted, jaw hanging open as drool of spit and cum drips down.

you couldn't control yourself anymore as your juice spray every where, coating the floor with your hot juice.

you couldn't control the orbs that were popping out of your pussy.

satorus whimpers at the sight his cock pumping as he ruts harder inside your ass hole, he doesn't even realize what's he's doing as his hand trail under your ass and reach your nasty little pussy.

it was gaping so wide open that he easily shoved his whole fist in, he moans loudly once he feels the way your gummy sticky walls grips his fist, massaging it.

and that sends him to the edge, slamming his hips into your ass before painting it with his seeds.

nanami grabs your fucked face, before shoving his tongue inside your mouth, licking and sucking on your tongue.

that's how you turned into their cum dumpster.

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kaissatou · 3 months ago

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Can you PLEASE write smth abt sub namgyu or thanos its making me go insane i love them

hi nonnie ♡ why have just one when you can have both?? =.=

you never imaged either of them to be so….whiney. So you’re automatically suprised the first time you’re taking Namgyu the whole way into the back of your throat, and he lets out the prettiest noise you’ve ever heard in your whole life.

You assume he doesn’t even realise he let it slip, but by the way one of his veiny hands is coming up to grip the back of your heard firmly and just you down just a little bit more until your nose is pressed against his crotch, has you doubting himself. Either he didn’t clock it, or really he just didn’t care.

Breathing in his heady scent almost has you forgetting the presence of a certain big mouthed purple haired pillow princess, until you feel the ghosts of sweet and sloppy wet kisses against your bare back, trailing up the ladder of your spine. Namgyu’s leaving against a bathroom stall, you caged between his meaty thighs on all fours, Thanos cradling your body like your his drug, keeping you steady with his hands gripping the sides of your waist, the tent in his boxers tightening, using both of his legs to cage one of your thighs between his.

And then he’s humping your leg like a dog. Oh. But how could you ever resist his urges when he’s letting out the sweetest moans against your back, vibrating through your spine and sending your brain to overdrive. Namgyu’s cock on heavy on your tongue, the harshness of Thanos and his thrusts against your leg sending your throat up and down, hollowing around the thick member taking reside in the gooey chamber of your throat.

Namgyu throws his head back and hits the stall in the process with a harsh thud, adorned with a throaty, pretty whine as you hollow your lips around his abused cock and suck the life out of him. And then Thanos is engulfing your figure under his full body weight, his clothed cock just rubbing against your tight hole so sweetly, so infectious.

They’re both moaning in a cacophony, moans becoming sluttier and sloppier and you know they’re both approaching their peak in unison. Namgyu’s salty cum is hot on the tip of your tongue as he’s sliding down the wall to be eye to eye with the both of you. Thanos slumps limply against your back, whispering a quiet thank you, the only sounds the mix of your heavy breathing and the overbearing fan.

#squid game 2 #squid game smut #namgyu x reader #nam gyu x reader #player 124 #thanos #thanos x reader #player 230 #thanos x nam gyu #squid game x reader

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crushribbons · 1 month ago

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the hot, flirty resident curse

summary: Dr. Frank Langdon just sustained the luckiest on-the-job injury ever.

cw: 2.8k words, nurse!reader/OC, friends to lovers, i started writing this before 1.10 so we're gonna say it's a "1.10 never happened"AU 😭, single dad frank, i made him probably more respectful than he actually is but nurses deserve the entire world so they're getting that too!!!, go hug a nurse rn, brief injury/knife ment, definite inappropriate behavior for a hospital, fem reader/OC.

a/n: drug theft???? what drug theft????

(gif cred)

The “break room” was busy today. Dozens of nurses hustling in and out of the dimly-lit, stale-smelling, and nowhere near big enough lounge. The microwave never could heat her leftovers to a degree that was actually pleasurable for human consumption, so she picked around her butter chicken with a sigh.

Only three hours left. She could have waited to eat dinner, but the promise of thirty uninterrupted minutes where she would not be yelled at by patients’ families or ordered around by some of the more pompous assholes she worked wi–

Speak of the devil, and he’ll stick his head into the nurse’s lounge, catch sight of you trying to enjoy a moment of peace, and yell, “HEY! Hey, you, Lululemon!” Her eye twitched. The black Define that she was wearing was her favorite. She did not turn to look at what she knew to be one of the new interns that started last week. He scoffed in frustration. “Yoohoo!”

“I have a name,” she said calmly, evenly. The butter chicken now held a lot of interest for her.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know it! How do I get to Imaging from here?” Her knuckles turned white around the plastic fork she was using, and she started to turn and read this greenie the riot act, but someone beat her to the punch.

A hand appeared from behind the intern (she realized with a little chuckle that she didn’t know his name either) and smacked him soundly upside the head. “What the FUCK?!” he cried. Dr. Langdon pushed him out of the lounge and down the hall.

“You will show respect to the nurses of this hospital if you want to continue working here, got it?” Langdon called after him. The kid muttered something snotty, she assumed, and she saw him amble away like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Sorry about him,” Langdon apologized. He hung on the door frame for a minute and chewed his lip. Her hand that wasn’t holding the fork searched for something to do, landing on smoothing down the hair that was already pulled into a perfect bun. “Kid’s an asshat.”

“I’ve known a few of those in my time here,” she joked, and Langdon grinned. She dropped the fork. “There was this one guy…Langdumb, or something like that. He was insufferable.” Langdon gave her an exasperated look that made her laugh and say, “But he’s much better now.” The exasperation was replaced with an angelic beam.

“Well, thanks for saying that. Some days, I wonder,” he said, then rubbed the back of his neck. She pouted in sympathy without realizing she was doing it. Langdon laughed. It was a little gravelly and when he smiled, he showed off each of his straight, white teeth. Her heart hammered at the ribcage prison bars that held it hostage.

Residents had a reputation. Of course they did; they’d toiled away in thankless obscurity for four years as medical students, so it only made sense that at the first opportunity they had to stretch their newly-educated legs, it would go straight to their head. She remembered Langdon being somewhat of a douche himself as a first-year, always correcting nurses and, on one occasion he later apologized profusely for, disregarding an order Dr. Robby had given for a patient to be intubated. Langdon had been correct in his estimation, thank God, but Robby had berated him in that terrifying, humiliating, cool as a cucumber way that he always did. She had been assigned to that patient at the time, and the memory of Robby quietly seething at Langdon in the corner of the hospital room still made her cheeks hot. That had been what finally whipped Langdon into shape.

Some residents also had a reputation for certain, seedier behaviors. There weren’t enough fingers or toes on the planet on which to count how many times some new hotshot had hit on her, usually opting to do so through negging and second-guessing her work, like she would be tripping over herself to go out on a date with the grown man tugging her pigtails on the playground. The kid Langdon had shoved down the hall was no doubt on his way to do something similar to the first nurse distracted enough to walk across his eyeline.

Dr. Langdon had no such reputation for flirtiness, and he had never made any sort of advance to her. Thank goodness. It was nice to have a friend in a slightly higher place than her.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, what’s going on for you, Dr. Frank?”

“Quit calling me Dr. Frank, especially in front of patients.” He rolled his eyes. “That puts a whole ‘Dr. Phil’ image in their heads and I hate it.”

“Oh I’m glad you mentioned that…” She turned in her chair to face him fully and seriously. “My teen has been drinking at parties and my husband is an absent father,” she said, face grave.

Frank adopted a Southern drawl and put his finger above his lip to simulate a moustache. “You have gawt to send that child to military school, it is the only waaay.” They giggled. Frank’s pager went off and he pulled it off his waistband to read it. “Shit, gotta run. Don’t have too much fun without me,” he ordered sternly, a frown creasing his pretty forehead.

Pretty forehead? Fuck is wrong with you? She admonished herself without mercy while she went through the motions of undressing and redressing the various beds in the Pitt for the rest of her shift. It was not a desirable duty to be stuck with. Luckily, it was a slow day in the ED by ED standards, with only two ambulance visits and a quiet trickle of less urgent cases admitted from the waiting room, so she had ample time to think about the piece of hair that was always falling in Frank’s bright blue eyes when he was working, and the way Frank cackled any time he cleaned up on one of his and Mateo’s college basketball bets, and Frank…

God, you’d think I had a thing for this guy, she mused to herself, slipping a pillow into its fresh case. Do not fall for the evil Hot Flirty Resident Curse. It might be a canon event for some nurses, but not for her. No, sir, she had her head on her shoulders more than that.

Didn’t matter if Frank wore a kitschy, clunky little bracelet, beaded with love by one of his daughters, every day. Didn’t matter if Frank spoke with the utmost respect about his ex-wife whenever the topic came up. Didn’t matter if he had once placed his hand on her lower back to steer her towards the patient’s room that he had needed her assistance with, and that she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Didn’t matter if Frank–

–was knocking gently on the door of the room she now stood, motionless, in and asking, “Hey, did you see Mrs. Horowitz getting discharged?”

“Mrs. H-Horo–?” Her tongue felt about ten inches thick as she tried to remember which patient he was talking about and how to move her feet like a normal person.

“The low blood sugar.”

“Oh, right.”

Frank raised his eyebrows, making her realize she hadn’t answered the question. She wished a hole would open up in the speckled tile and swallow her. “Yes, I saw her checking out with Dana at central an hour or so ago,” she said. Ok, got it all out without stammering. This was just Frank; why was her brain foggy and making it impossible to speak to a man she’d always just thought of as a coworker? Her favorite coworker, sure. The highlight of her day? Also sure, but it wasn’t…She pulled a face that mirrored her thoughts before she could stop herself.

Frank thanked her, then paused on his way out of the room again.

“Uh..are you done for the day?” he asked, and a glance at her watch told her that yes, she was three minutes past being done.

“I could stick around for a bit,” she shrugged with all the nonchalance in the world. “Need help with something?” Frank shook his head, a tiny smirk she would have missed if she hadn’t been staring too hard at his mouth flickering around his lips.

“No, no worries, head home! I can totally just grab someone–”

“No!” She tried to play it cool with a chuckle and threw the pillow she was still holding down on the bed. “Let me help. What is it?”

Frank sighed and yanked his right sleeve up to show her his shoulder, and all the mortification that had been comfortably fading away in his presence came back in full force. She stared dumbly for a few seconds before he turned a degree to his left and she caught sight of the ugly, crimson gash that ran from the back of his tricep to the top of his shoulder. “Jesus, Frank! Mention this shit first!” she cried, rushing to him. “What happened?”

He grimaced. “Turned my back for one second and a patient grabbed the scalpel off my tray and slashed. I’m angrier about the scrubs, to be honest. FIGS ain’t cheap.” He plopped himself down on the bed and looked up at her. “It’s not bad, really, I just can’t reach it to dress it myself. Would you mind?”

No, Man Who is Colloquially Referred to Around the Hospital as Dr. Dreamboat, no, I would not mind patching you up even a bit. She cleared her throat, trying to muster all her calm and competence, and said, “I’m not sure this hospital accepts your insurance, Mr. Langdon.” Frank grinned while pulling his sleeve up once more and holding it in place so she could access the wound.

“My work,” he groaned. “They got me on the worst plan possible. Acts of God are about the only thing they cover, so if anyone asks, God stabbed me.”

Her laugh surprised her. It wasn’t nervous; it was loud and probably obnoxious and it made Frank beam even more widely. She dashed over to the nurse’s supply station and requisitioned a wound care kit. When she reentered the room, she was horrified to discover that Frank had given up on holding his scrub shirt out of the way and had opted to pull the whole thing off. He was, thank heaven, wearing a white tank undershirt, and sat waiting for her expectantly. She took the second before he realized she had reentered the room to ogle as much as her professionalism and casual friendship would allow.

The sound of the alcohol swab’s packaging tearing echoed through the awkwardly quiet room. “Is it gonna hurt?” Frank whispered, making his eyes huge. She wanted to tell him to shut up.

“Shut up, just stay still,” she said, more thankful than she’d ever been that there was a layer of blue latex between her and the person she was patching’s skin. Using quick, dabbing motions to hide her trembling hands worked better than she had hoped. Frank got bored and started fidgeting after about 20 seconds. She had once told him that he needed four more letters added to his MD title: ADHD. It had been the hardest she’d ever seen him laugh, until, of course, he got distracted by something brightly colored in the distance.

He blew a puff of air from his lips and looked around the room. “Soo. Any plans tonight?”

“I was supposed to give the keynote speech at the Annual Best Nurses in the Universe Banquet, but my friend needed help putting a band-aid on, so I missed it,” she deadpanned absently, while opening the bandage and aligning it over the wound. “Are you worried about infection?”

“Not anymore, ‘cause the best nurse in the universe fixed me up real good,” he simpered. He batted his eyelashes up at her and she snorted to hide the smile that she couldn’t stop from appearing. “Um, well, anyway…” Frank began, but then trailed off. His tone had changed.

She was almost scared to ask, “What?” Her fingers smoothed over the bandage, adhering it flush to his arm, and tried to ignore the way she felt every ridge and groove of him. Or maybe she was memorizing.

Frank coughed and shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t working on. “Just…if you ever do have a free night, I mean, after work. Or not!”

She frowned. Whatever he was rambling about took a backseat while she made quick work of cleaning off the tray of supplies. “Again, what?” Her grocery order would be ready for pickup in ten minutes, and she didn’t want to miss the window by getting stuck in the parking garage with the rest of the mass day-shift exodus.

“Jesus, do you wanna go out with me?” Her eyebrows shot skyward as she whipped around to face him. “I’m sorry!” He immediately jumped up. “I wasn’t snapping at you, I mean, I was snapping, for sure, but at myself because I couldn’t just…cough it up. It’s taken me, what, like three years?”

He had a sheepish look on his face, and couldn’t seem to hold eye contact with her anymore. Three years. Three years? Three years was how long she had known him. Every last drop of nerve, embarrassment, confusion, attraction all threatened to bubble up in her stomach. She slammed the tray down on the counter next to the sink.

The reality of her feelings finally hit her full force, and she decided to acknowledge them for the first time in front of that serial stabber God and Frank and everyone: “I think I really like you, Frank.” It was easier than she could have imagined to say it, at last. Especially now, that he’d gone and taken their flirting to its natural conclusion.

“Well I know I really like you,” he replied, a grin spreading as rapidly as the elation that was filling her chest so tight she thought she might start floating away.

“You fucking doctors, you always have to come out on top, don’t you?”

Frank reached for her hand from the bed and tugged her to him. She stood between his legs, which were dangling off the bed, kicking back and forth like a kid who just got told that school would be ending three hours early on the sunniest afternoon of the year. “That remains to be seen,” he muttered up at her, his blue eyes a lot softer than his tone was suggesting, and she swatted him on the forehead for being so presumptuous before leaning down and kissing the stupid smile straight off his lips. Langdon groaned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and onto the bed.

“Shit, we–” It was hard to get words out when Frank chased after her lips every time she pulled them away. And she had never been good at saying no to him. “We really should not be doing this in here.”

He agreed by putting his hand on the back of her head so he could kiss her even more deeply. “Definitely shouldn’t,” he hummed into her mouth. “Could get caught. Could get fired.” Frank pulled away fully and she took the opportunity to gulp down some air into her neglected and giddy lungs. “Wait, will you still go out with me if I’m not a doctor?” “I’d rather you were ortho, but–”

“Don’t piss me off, baby.” But they were both giggling the same, stupid way they did when they exchanged jokes and insults. Only this time, she was kneeling on one leg in front of him on a freshly-made hospital bed, her other leg slung over his, his strong hand resting on the back of her thigh. Her heart was pounding at a wild rhythm she was not familiar with, and when Frank placed his hands on her waist and pulled her even more flush against his chest, she felt his beating similarly. “I’ve already taken off like half my clothes,” he murmured. “Should we just round up and get rid of the rest?”

“Definitely not,” she admonished through a laugh. “At least take me to get some jello or something first.” Suddenly, she was pushed off his lap and back to a standing position, her legs wobbling like a fawn’s after being folded under her so awkwardly. Frank tugged his scrub shirt back over his head and rose from the bed as well.

“Jello sounds really fucking good right now, good call,” he said, eyes already focused out the door and mapping the quickest route to the cafeteria. She wanted to laugh and cry and put blinders on the hyperactive physician so he kept kissing her until one or both of them died, but she opted instead to push that one strand of hair (the 90’s Leo one, she would later refer to it as) out of his eyes and said,

“You are insufferable.”

Frank shrugged. He grabbed her hand in his, loosely locking their fingers together and leading her out of the room. Her grocery order seemed like the least pressing matter in the world. “You love it!”

She kinda did.

masterlist

#when the fic takes so long to write that worlds have shifted since you started 😐#anyway lmk if more of this is wanted or if we’re all still coping JCODNSKSN #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo fic #frank langdon fic #frank langdon x reader #thepittposting #laneywrites

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kenyummy · 4 months ago

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HIGHLIGHTS OF THE NEL ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS : the highlights of the NEL seem to go viral on social media, and it seems the ones surrounding you, as blue lock's dear manager, are the most popular. which are the four most popular?

notes: hey guys u should read wahhh this was very very fun to write

#4 — BONDING TIME OVER CHESS! 2.0m VIEWS

Sitting at a small table, is you and the one and only coach of the infamous German team—Noel Noa. There is a small jug of water on the table in front of you both and also a chess table.

You clutch your chin between your fingers thoughtfully, eyes narrowed and squinted down at the board. Each of you has equal pieces taken away, and he's seemed to have cornered your pieces on the table.

He's watching you with an unreadable expression—you hardly notice through your intense thinking.

A game, all about strategy—It's no surprise you and Noa were locked intensely in a game such as this. It is a game that centres around your team's core values, and there's no substitution for cold, unfiltered logic.

Your eyes light up, and you move your piece on the board. Underneath the table, you cross your fingers as he makes his next move.

It is not long at all before your smile widens and you move your pieces along—collecting his King piece and practically sparkling when you announce, "Checkmate."

He shows a semblance of emotion—shock—when his eyes widen at your moves. It's for such a split second that it was nigh impossible to catch it if you blinked—however, his expression soon reverted back to normal as soon as the reality of his loss sunk in.

"Hm." That is all he has to say. He stares down at the chess board for a few silent moments longer, then says, "I did not expect that. That was a smart move."

You aren't too prideful, but you feel like preening like a peacock at the praise. You smile, placing your linked hands on your lap and nodding, "Thank you. It only worked because I believed you would take the most logical option possible for that next move."

You gesture towards the barren pieces left around his king. If Noa were a regular person, you're sure he would've smiled.

But he is not, so he didn't. "...Good job."

You don't expect the way his large hand finds its way atop your head and how he gives you a singular head pat. You blink incredulously, with dotted eyes.

He pulls away after a moment and you cough into a closed fist. "Master... how about another game?"

He has an indifferent tone—"Sure."—But the way he looks at you fondly tells you all you need to know.

You smile—ignoring the crash and bang of the unsupervised training behind you—and keep smiling as Ness chases Raichi through the room with a kitchen knife.

COMMENTS:

— mimiziiii: THE MOST ICONIC FATHER AND DAUGHTER DUO FRRR

— noastan2234: noa is so hot I want him

— user464637: IM LITERALLY SOBBING THEY PLAY CHESS THEYRE SO CUTE SHSBHSGSHSJ

— user464637: father snd daughter are father and daughtering

#3 — BATTLE OVER THE BATHROOM! 2.6m VIEWS

Aryu and you are at a standstill. Staring at each other, you both are silent and glaring.

You move quicker than the eye can see—rushing forward and using your hand to push the taller man behind you. "Ladies first," you try to say, excusing yourself but is quickly tugged backward.

You screech, lips forming into a nasty scowl at the man tugging your lacy singlet like you're a dog, "WHAT THE HELL, JYUBEI?!"

He winces at the mention of his name, but holds his head up high and huffs, "A glam being such as I deserve to use the bathroom first."

"You and your long ass hair takes years to dry! I need it more!"

Sparkles fly around Aryu and he makes a glam pose, "I don't think so, my [name] dear. I cannot waste a moment to not deter my extreme—" He makes the mistake of letting go of you for a moment to gesture to himself, "—Glam."

His head is suddenly jerked back as you roughly tug it and hiss through your teeth, "Just be a good boy and let me use the bathroom—and I won't make your life hell during training, okay?"

He screams, eyes hardening at you, "You cretin! How dare you touch my hair?! The mop on your head doesn't need any care whatsoever!"

You gasp in offended shock and lunge at him, "Oh no you didn't—"

Five minutes of tussling and petty insults later—it is abruptly stopped by the upward grab of somebody tossing the skinny, spider-limbed boy over their shoulder.

"What... the hell... are you idiots doing?" There, in all his pajamaed, loose-hair glory, is Barou Shoei, holding Aryu in a death grip and staring at you two with an aura of death. His tone is nothing short of dangerous. "You... woke up the entire stratum."

You blink, wide-eyed, while Aryu flips his hair around like a buzzing fly.

"What the hell are you all yappin' about?" Aiku walks in with pants hanging low and shamelessly shirtless—yawning and eyes half-lidded while Niko stands beside him in an oversized shirt with the print, Sleep, Anime, Game, Repeat.

Sendou is walking like a sluggish zombie with a bright pink eye mask on that says, Pretty, with him inches away from walking into a wall, if Lorenzo had not steered him away with a loud cackle.

Suddenly, you stand up and dash forward, "Well, thanks for letting me use the bathroom!" You don't waste a second in flashing Barou a pearly smile and waving as you close the bathroom door.

Behind her, Aryu lets out a loud scream of frustration and Barou snaps at him to shut the fuck up.

COMMENTS:

— barouscleaningspray: OH BAROU SHOEI THE MAN THAT YOU ARE MY MAN FOREVER AND EVER

— cutiepiecoded: AND THEN THEYRE DOING EACHOTHERS HAIR THE NEXT DAY SHSGHSHS I LOVE THEM

— user33535: ubers the only family ever

— animefan222: niko so real for that shirt

#2 — GETTING INTERRUPTED! 4.3m VIEWS

You peek your head into an—almost—empty training room, blinking curiously and surveying the inside. Your eyes light up like stars when you catch sight of something inside the room. The camera pans to show that thing happened to be Isagi Yoichi.

"That shot you made during training was so incredible," you say, taking a seat beside him. A towel is wrung around his neck and he's drinking out of a water bottle like it is the first time he has ever touched water.

Sweat drips down the side of his face—he wipes it away with a large pearly grin and tilts his head toward you, "Right? I could barely believe I did it."

"But you did!" You look to be just as excited as he is, twinkling with joy and smiling wide, "Even Mariele was impressed! You did great, Isagi! If you can replicate it during a game, it will be perfect!"

Isagi stands up suddenly—seeming to be bursting with energy and joy—he situates himself in front of you and you stare up at him, "It's perfect!"

You laugh, standing up in front of him and he places his hands on your shoulders, "It is!"

You both start giggling uncontrollably together—even from a viewing perspective, the energy in the room is unmistakable—and he stares deeply into your eyes with a soft smile.

You look up at him with a similar expression—eyes-half-lidded and squinted upwards—you start to lean in, slowly, when—

"[name]!"

You nearly fall backwards, if not for Isagi's arm wrapping snugly around your waist and tugging you forward. Your head snaps towards the source of the noise in the room—and there stands Gagamaru, with an empty, confused look in his black-hole eyes.

You step aside, away from the egoist—you don't catch the disappointed look on his face as you look towards your goalkeeper—"Sorry, Gagamaru, what did you need?"

He blinks, soullessly. "We've run out of tide pods again."

Isagi is shown rolling his eyes in the background and grabbing his towel.

COMMENTS :

— THEdiva: AHHH THEY WERE SO CLOSEEEE <3333

— cloudycloudss: isagi and [name] have so much chemistry!!! i hope they start dating :((

— soccersoccer888: i hate isagi GOD I HATE ISAGI kaiser is so much better for her i cant

— jellylover3: NOOOO GAGAMARUUUU WHYYYYYY

— isa[name]stan_2626: THE WAY HER EYES LIT UPP WHEN SHE SAW HIM. THEYRE THE REASON I BELIEVE IN LOVE.

#1 — THE FIGHT OVER THEIR MANAGER! 5.6m VIEWS

The video abruptly starts at a strange angle, where Ness has a death grip on the front of Isagi's shirt, "Shut. Up! Die, Yoichi! DIE!"

Kurona and Hiori both leap over to try and pry the screeching boy off of Isagi with panicked expressions. Yukimiya, Gagamaru, Raichi and Kaiser all sit in the back without seeming worried whatsoever.

"Get off me—!!" Isagi pushes the magician away with a snarl, eyes narrowing into a hard glare and face contorting uncomfortably. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"How dare you say that to Kaiser?!" Ness regains his composure with a huff and glare, cheeks puffing out like a small child, "Don't you get it?! If Kaiser wants your manager, she's not yours anymore, she's his! This is his team, not yours, idiot Yoichi!"

A stark silence fills the room and everyone's eyes turn to Ness. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care—because his boiling hot glare directed towards Isagi does not falter for a moment.

"Well, that's incredibly presumptious of you to say." Yukimiya steps forward and pushes his glasses furthur up his nose bridge. "You talk about her as if she is nothing more than a exclusivity, no?"

Kaiser grins, pearly teeth peeking out from behind his slim lips, "Oh? Are you Blue Lockers getting all possessive over your little manager, now? Cute."

"Stay away from her," Gagamaru looms over the German with big wide eyes. "She's ours."

"No way!" Ness snarls, forcibly moving the big man away from Kaiser. "Stop talking to Kaiser like this! He's better than you all! You're just stupid stepping stones for—"

Kurona bares his teeth and frowns deeply, "Miss Manager likes us better, anyways. Anyways."

Kaiser squints his eyes and smiles at the shark-boy, head tilted to the side and smile dangerously charming, "Oh? And who said that?"

"Me, obviously." Isagi looks completely and utterly unaffected by Kaiser's words and stands up in front of him without hesitation. He stares, deeply, into his eyes. "You think, that in any world, she'd choose you, over me?"

His eyes rest and he looks strangely calm, "You're a fucking clown, Kaiser."

"Yoichi..." His voice is strained and hard—brows furrow downwards and he does not get a chance to say anything else when Ness pushes him back and gets all up in Isagi's face instead.

"Die, Yoichi! Die, you idiot!"

"Hey now, maybe we shouldn't..." Hiori raises his hand and begins to try and walk closer to the two—when he is swiftly cut off by Raichi yelling something to start a fight—and a fight he earns.

A catfight hidden by the circle of players ensues in the middle of the cafeteria—just as three figures pass by the open doorway.

You peek inside for a moment—then look right back at the people beside you. "Is everything alright in there?"

"If we walk quickly, we will not be able to see them." An ominous reply, from Noa, and that is all the soccer star says before grabbing you by the hand and tugging you along—forever lost and confused about what was going on in the cafeteria that day.

COMMENTS:

— bereal_hoe: HOW DOES SHE DEAL WITH THOSE GUYS I WOULD ACC KMS

— cherrypiepiepie: THE CUTIESSSSS OF THE WORLDDD THEY LOVE HER SM ITS SO ADORABLEEEE

— nonchalantdreadhead34: i cant kaiser is such a DICK

©KENYUMMY 2024

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tpwrtrmnky · 5 months ago

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invaders

[ID: Thirteen panel comic with crudely drawn stick people divided across four images.

Panel 1: A blue person with pointy ears on top of their square head watches two grayscale stick people argue.

Grayscale 1: "Hah, you fool! Nobody actually thinks they're blue, we're just being polite because they look blue enough!"

Grayscale 2: "You admit it openly! You admit the lies of chroma ideology, greenie!"

Grayscale 1: "Owned again! I am not green!"

Panel 2: A reddish-orange person talks to another grayscale person while Blue watches dejectedly.

Reddish-orange: "I mean back in my day we were content with just getting to be primary colors, but now that they're also asking for us to be treated like fully worthwhile people rather than freaks? I think the chromatic movement's gone too far."

Grayscale: "Wow! A reasonable one!"

R.O.: "Yeah I'm one of the good ones. Will you respect me for it?"

Grayscale: "Haha no, but I'll exploit you as long as you're useful to me!"

Panel 3: A grayscale person approaches blue from behind.

Grayscale: "Hey why do you have to go all the way to being an entire blue dog person? Can't you just be a normal person who pees outside?"

Blue, in narration: "And so, on that day, I finally accepted that it was time to leave."

Panel 4: The blue dogperson is now in a more deliberately rendered room with beige walls, kneeling and wearing sunglasses. An orange dogperson is laying on the floor next to them.

Blue: "I… We only wanted to be left alone. But even this place isn't safe from them anymore."

Orange: "Why is it so bad to have to deal with people who disagree with us?"

Panel 5: Blue looks dejectedly, with dramatic shadows across their face.

Blue: "This is why you've yet to earn our trust, Orangepup Dogsaturated. You fail to distinguish between legitimate debate and thinly veiled harassment."

Panel 6: The Most Illiterate Person Alive, a grayscale stick person riddled with still-bleeding bullet wounds, looms ominously at the outskirts of a nearby forest.

Blue, narrating: "As for that thing… Far from a person with legitimate views to debate, I have doubts regarding whether it is even a person."

Illiterate: "I am… the most… ill…itt…er…ate….. person…. alive….."

Panel 7: The most illiterate person alive leans down, breathing heavily. The dialogue is just "h" over and over.

Panel 8: Indoors, a hot pink person with fluffy fur is talking into a walkie-talkie, and an onyx-colored person is aiming a sniper rifle out the window.

Hot Pink: "Comrades! There's movement again! They're up to something!"

Panel 9: The most illiterate person alive leans back, screaming: "Holy fucking shitfuck"

Panel 10: A dramatic zoom out shows more of the forest as the most illiterate person alive screams: "I can't fucking believe these dogpeople want to make everywhere a public bathroom!"

Panel 11: A view of the dog people's barn from within the dark depths of the woods, where grayscale people are lurking. The most illiterate person alive is continuing to scream: "They hate supply chains for lifesaving medicine! They want to force everyone to be green and worship Barxism!"

Panel 12: A view of the sky with a mountain in the distance. A large number of voices with increasing frequency and intensity say "Holy shit" over and over.

Panel 13: Out of the woods a swarm of grayscale people emerge, using a variety of creative approaches to movement, screaming:

"I have some concerns!" "Would you like to debate this issue?" "You need a healthy debate climate!" "You should hear out opposing viewpoints!" "Stop censoring me"

The comic ends at this and you are left questioning what the fuck that was.

End ID.]

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#pills that make you green #ptmyg #cw blood

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arminsumi · 5 months ago

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YEAH, PSYCHO BOYS DO IT BETTER

Your co-worker, Aki, jus' wants to bump off your lousy boyfriend so he can show you that heaven exists on his tongue... 'n maybe he also wants to dumbify you on his cock until you tell him you love him.

ㅤ★ requested by anonymous

ㅤ★ warnings; strictly no under 18s/MDNI, infidelity, Aki is *ahem* unwell/kinda yandere, possessiveness, alcohol/drunk fling, drunk s*x, oral (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x/cr**mpie, sum breeding kink, sum dumbification

It's a front — it always has been. Aki's not normal about you.

Underlining his every move, every word, every thought, is this sensual super psycho scorpionic energy.

He singes you with his hot looks some days in the office. Goes over to your cubicle and lingers for too long, biting his thumb and coolly flirting with you — "You look good today." leads to "Are you free later? No, no just as friends..." leads to shots after work with your co-worker Aki...

No, Aki's not normal about you at all; he follows every syllable you speak, follows your shadow like a dog, thinks about bludgeoning your boyfriend in his bed, and eats your attention like he's been starved of it for his whole life.

It's just a pity that you had a man. And a lousy one at that. One who can't even kiss you right, as a drunk Aki grumbles to you after a quick four shots of liquor.

"Your boyfriend can hardly kiss you right, can he even fuck you right?" he whines. It's shocking that these kinds of words are coming from a voice so feathery and quiet.

Your eyes widen. Your heart beats quicker. You tense your thighs together. You stutter.

"Aki... I think you've had too much to drink. Let's get you home, hm?"

He sighs.

You just don't understand him — that's what he's thinking while you help him walk home, your tiny frame tucked under his 6'2 stature.

That small rush of insanity comes over him, and for a split second he doesn't care that you have a boyfriend.

He just puts his drunk, smoky mouth on you and kisses you hard. You can not only taste the cigarettes and alcohol, but all the little psycho feelings on his lips.

Humming into the kiss, Aki feels dizzy. He's melting. Knees buckling. His hands come to cup your cheeks. He turns his face this way and kisses you like that, then turns like that way 'n kisses you like this.

"Aki, we shouldn't do this." you pull off his lips and he still chases after yours.

He looks like a psycho mess. Grazing his lips against yours. Breathing hard. Hair disheveled.

"You could do so much better." he admits right there against your face. "Y-y'know I meant what I said back there..." he breaths heavily before adding, "I could fuck you so much better than him."

He spies you rubbing your thighs together and his whole body runs hot. Leaning into you, he tries to stir you up some more.

"... come on... come inside, 'lemme show you."

"Aki, I'm a good girl. I don't do stuff like that..."

"But he doesn't even treat you well. Tell me, what do you owe him?"

You inhale deeply. "It's not right..."

" 'n that just makes it better..." he mutters under his breath. He pulls back, shakes his head and does a full 180. "Sorry... I'm just drunk."

He looks so pretty in this dim light.

The corridor of the apartment complex in which he stayed was so poorly lit, but right now? It lit up his dark, brooding features... black hair, blue eyes, and that overbearingly large frame; he really had that look going, hm?

His suit tie dangles deliciously before your eyes, and right then you feel a little surge of craziness yourself — oh and Aki just whimpers in surprise and delight when you yank him down by the tie to kiss him hard.

Hot, quick breaths, and small whimpers... yeah, it was a no-brainer where this was going.

Surely enough, it's three minutes later and you two are bursting inside his apartment, lip-locked like teenagers, his hands are all over your waist and squeezing places that you've always daydreamed of him squeezing.

"Nn!" you squirm at the friction of his leg coming between your thighs.

"L-l-let me I feel you, please." he whines with this need you've never heard in a man's voice. His long fingers are hesitantly tickling up the hem of your skirt. His knees are bent — tall boy problem; he can't kiss you without lowering himself significantly.

"Mhm!" you hum, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your pussy.

Letting out a low groan and eagerly feeling over your clothed pussy, Aki gets intoxicated on the smell of your perfume, just inhaling your neck like a vampire 'boutta bite.

He's multitasking just like he does in the office, the poor boy — trying to keep your lips entertained with his lips and trying to rub his middle finger up and down your clothed slit while trying to lure you into his dark bedroom.

You giggle all over his neck when you and him stumble into the bed like clumsy drunks, and that sound for some reason goes right to his cock.

Hand coming down, you squeeze at his bulge, "Aki, I didn't even know you liked me this much before tonight..."

"Then you're pretty oblivious, huh?" he murmurs, biting hard at your bottom lip.

*****

Aki's a sloppy eater between your legs, letting your slick run down his chin while his tongue wiggles inside.

"You taste so fucking good." he presses a twisted grin against your pussy lips, looking up at you momentarily, "Oh, baby, don't hide your face... I wanna see the expressions you make when you cum.

"A-A-Aaaki, nn!" you nest your fingers in his dark hair, pulling at it and eliciting a groan out of him that you feel all over your clit as he goes to suckle at it.

Soft lips puckered, tongue swirling, Aki shines his pretty blue eyes up at you and you don't even catch the devilish light in them because you're too blissed out — eyes pinched shut, a little drool escaping the corner of your mouth, head thrown back on the pillow of your co-workers black satin sheet bed.

"Can he make you feel this good, huh?" he asks.

"No!"

"Yeah? He doesn't make you cum on his tongue, does he? Need a real naughty boy to show you how it's done?" he asks in a taunting coo.

You're deliciously stuffed up with his long fingers, clenching around them tight and drenching him 'till your juices run down past his knuckles and get all over the palm of his shaky hand.

"Aw fuck, baby, you really like me don't you?"

"A-Aki, I'm not gonna tell you those kinds of things." you whine, feeling his fingertips rubbing somewhere deep in your gummy walls. Your eyes flicker into the back of your head as he just thrusts his fingers harder and meaner into your tiny hole.

"... 'guess I need to make you cum 'till you're dumb then, huh?"

****

He's crazed, up in your face, sticky damp sweaty forehead pressed against yours and eyes boring up into yours like he's gone crazy now after tasting your pussy. Aki's been mercilessly rubbing his thick cock back and forth through your folds, groaning each time he feels you cum — which has been how many times? More times than your boyfriend has made you cum in the last three months, that's for sure.

"Baby, tell me you love me." Aki begs, cock twitching as he intently watches your reactions to each thrust of his heavy cock. "Come on, y'love me yeah? You love me?"

"Aki! Nn... I can't say that... I have a boyf— ahh! Mnn!"

"Fuck, shut up about him already..." he groans.

He's perfectly stroking your clit like this, running through your folds, slicking up his cock 'till there's a sticky strand connecting from the base of his cock to your hole.

It's taking all his self-restraint not to plunge inside you. He's already accidentally poked his tip inside, each time immediately pulling out and profusely apologizing. But god it sent a shock of pleasure through his body to feel his tip squeeze through your tight ring of muscle like that.

Again it happens; he pulls back, accidentally pokes his leaky cockhead inside — just the very tip of the tip.

"Nn! Fuck!" you drool, giving him heart eyes, "Sh-shit, you're jus' trying to frustrate me now..."

"I'm sorry..." he bites his bottom lip, keeping his tip poised at your entrance. You can feel his throbbing heat against you, driving you crazy to breaking point.

"Sh-shit... jus' give it to me, then..."

"Are you su— fuckmeohmygodnnn!"

You've snaked your legs around his hips, locked 'em snug and tight and pulled his cock into your eager pussy yourself — trying to get as much of him into you as you can.

Aki's melting. He's literally falling to pieces when he feels your warm walls hugging his cock. He's stuttering. Trying to piece together a thought but your pussy is squeezing all logic out of his head.

"Y-you're s-s-so fucking tight..." he whines, sinking inch by inch out of you, then back in, rubbing his needy cockhead against your contracting walls. "Sh-shouldn't we use a condom?"

"Nooo! Gimmie your babies!" you lock your legs around his waist, giving him a crazed look. "Nn, please, 'm ovulating... it feels so good, I jus'... I jus' wanna..."

"Huh...?" his hips stutter and his cock throbs. "F-fuck... and here your man was always calling me the little psycho..." Aki smiles.

His head prods against your G-spot as he picks up his pace now that you've adjusted to his size. Even in his hazy state, Aki's so careful. Eyeing out your expressions for any discomfort, asking you if you want to keep going, wailing and whimpering when you just pull him into a hot and nasty kiss.

You should have expected it, because it's always the quiet psycho boys, but his thrusts destroy you.

He doesn't know what to obsess over. Your glossy lips? Your glossed-over eyes? The way his cock plunges into your slippery pussy and makes a bigger mess each time?

"Nn! Gonna cum... don't stop!" you whine, clawing at his back.

His ears perk up. Oh, you're gonna cum? Well, allow him to just...

"Good girl... fuck... cum for me. T-tell me you love me, 'n I'll cum too. Aw, please please please... I'll give you every last drop. I'll give you my babies — nn! Fuck! Please!"

He's shivering. His abdomen muscles twitch and flex with each pounding thrust into you. His cockhead is bullying a deep spot inside you, drawing out your orgasm and intently watching your eyes flicker as you cum all over his cock.

"I-I-I love youuu!" you whine, totally blissed out and dumbed by the feeling of his cock stimulating your sensitive walls, "Nn, I love you! Aki!"

It's your words and the milking contractions of your sweet orgasm that draw out his own orgasm.

"Fuck, good girl... m-mine forever, yeah? Fffuck 'm cumming... ahah, I love you so much."

He hides his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a harsh groan, and shoots a thick load — pushing himself deeper as he cums, pressing his cockhead up against your cervix, just to make sure that he's got you pregnant so you can never leave him now.

He's panting, coming down from his high with you. You feel him hug you tight, his bicep muscles twitching at your sides.

"Aki... I need help cleanin' up..." you whimper softly under his weight.

"... of course, baby."

"Don't call me that..."

"Baby."

You giggle and swat him. "You're a bad boy... now help me out, will ya?"

#tw: smut #tw: yandere #aki #aki smut #smut #aki x reader #aki x reader smut #aki x you #aki hayakawa #csm #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #csm x reaer #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man #csm aki #csm x reader #female reader

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