#he pops out the other side just like ‘huh don’t get what the big deal was’

[random-jot]

It’s a shame Zoro wasn’t in Whole Cake Island purely for the missed gag opportunity of him walking into the Seducing Woods - the woods designed so specifically to disorient and get lost anyone who enters - and walking straight out the other side in 5 minutes

[bloodibambiidoll]

There’s No Such Thing As Purity

(Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You and Rafe are childhood best friends and as far as he’s concerned you’re an innocent angel he needs to protect from the world. But he discovers a whole other side of you when you accidentally send him nudes that were meant for someone else. Wk: 4.9k

Warnings: Drinking/smoking weed, jealous!Rafe, posessive!Rafe, minor Jj x reader, brat taming, choking, spanking, spit kink, tiddy slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, fingering, orgasm denial, daddy kink, unprotected sex.18+MDNI!!!

A/N: this is only my second Rafe fic so pls be niiicee to me. But I love this man. I need him to own me and put me in my place. Thank you to my sweet angel @babygorewhore for listening to me rant about this, and for beta reading for me. Ilysm. Also this is based off the song “Purity” by Lilyisthatyou.

You’re not necessarily faded, but you’ve had a couple drinks and you smoked a blunt with a few of your friends when you first got here so you’re feeling a little buzzed. You check your phone and to your delight your sneaky link that you asked to meet you here had responded that he would be on his way soon. You smirk down at the screen, excusing yourself to the bathroom so you could respond to him how you really wanted to.

You close the bathroom door and pull your little crop top over your head, leaving you in just your low waisted mini skirt that you push down even further so your thong straps are on display. You stand in front of the large full length mirror on the bathroom wall, holding your phone camera up while you pose. You take a few shots, then a few more, until you're satisfied that at least a couple of them will be good enough to send. You spend a few minutes going through them before deciding on two.

One is straight on, your tits fully on display, your free hand pulling one of your thong straps up even further, and your tongue is sticking out. The second is from the side, showing the curve of your back and the top of your ass sticking out of your skirt, two fingers between your lips. You smirk, satisfied with your work. You select the two photos before typing out the text to accompany them.

“When are you getting here?😉”

In your somewhat hazy, horny state you click the most recent contact on your list and hit send. You didn’t think anything of it, since as far as you know he’s the last person that texted you. But what you failed to realize is during your little photoshoot your best friend had texted you, and you sent them to him instead. Seconds later your phone starts to ring, Rafe’s contact and a goofy photo of the two of you popping up on the screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” You answer cheerfully.

“What's up? What’s up with you? What’s up with those photos?” Rafe sounds pissed, which isn’t unlike him, but it’s very rarely directed at you.

“Photos? What’re you-?” It takes your slightly inebriated mind a second to catch up but when it does you gasp, pulling the phone away from your ear to pull up your texts. Your entire body warms and your heart feels like it’s going to fall out of your ass when you realize you sent him the photos, and not the intended recipient. “Oh god… fuck. Rafe listen, can we not make this a thing? Those weren’t for you, just delete them so we can forget this ever happened.”

“Who were they for then, huh? Also where the hell are you? I thought you were staying home tonight.” This was not good. You and Rafe have been best friends since you were kids, and he’s always been extremely protective of you, some may say overprotective. So things like guys and hookups? You keep them to yourself when it comes to him.

“Uh - I don’t see why that really matters? Can you just fucking delete them? Also I was going to stay home but then the girls convinced me to come with them to this party. You’re busy tonight anyways? I don’t know why it’s a big deal.” You huff in annoyance.

“It fucking matters because what if something happened to you? Since when do you go to parties without me anyways? You could’ve at least told me you decided to go out. Also you’re sending guys nudes now? Since when? Who is this fucker?”

“Rafe!!! You need to calm down. Seriously, we don’t have to make this a thing, okay? Just fucking delete them and go back to doing whatever it is you were doing. Please.” Your voice comes out more whiny than you mean it to, but you know he’s a sucker for your pouting so you're hoping it will calm him down a bit.

“No, seriously, answer my fucking questions.” He sneers your name into the phone and it sends chills down your spine. He’s been irritated with you before, of course. But never talked to you like this and you have to admit that it’s doing something to you. You’ve always wanted him, but he’s always seen you as this precious angel he needs to protect, innocent. When truly? You’re anything but. You go to parties without him when he’s busy all the time, and as far as your innocence? That was long gone.

“Oh my god. I already told you, I’m at a fucking party, okay? I’m here with my friends. You’re acting like I’ve never gone to a party without you or like I’m a child that needs to be watched and you’re honestly being really dramatic.” Rafe is taken back by your tone. You’re normally so soft and cheerful with him. But right now? You were acting like a fucking brat.

“At a party, where? And you still didn’t answer my other question. Who. Were. The. Pictures. For?” You can tell he’s pacing the room and running his fingers through his hair with his nostrils flared. The image makes your thighs clench. You’ve always fantasized about Rafe putting you in your place, he treats you like a princess, lets you do whatever you want. Granted you’re usually very sweet to him, but tonight? You’re wondering how far you can push him before he finally snaps. “You know you share your location with me, right? I can just fucking look myself if you don’t wanna tell me.”

“Jesus Christ, Rafe! It’s at Matt’s house! Are you happy? I’m still on figure 8, literally a few blocks from my house!! And as far as who the pictures were for? Just a guy, okay? I don’t know why the specifics matter. It’s almost like you’re jealous or something.” You tried to hold it in, you really did, but you’ve been holding back from saying that for years. It was like he didn’t want any guys near you, but he never did anything about it himself and you were over it.

“What if I am?” He practically growls into the phone and that wasn’t the response you were expecting. You had never brought up his possessiveness until now, but other people had and he always said something along the lines of ‘I’m not fuckin’ jealous, it’s just no man is good enough for my best friend’ and it always made your heart deflate, just a bit.

“Are you?”

“Just fucking stay there, alright? I’m coming to get you.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, the line going dead. Your text notification goes off, the guy who you meant to send the photos to letting you know he arrived at the party. Suddenly you feel shockingly sober.

You take a deep breath to collect your thoughts. You have two options here. Option one, hide in the bathroom until Rafe gets here and then leave with him, totally avoiding any further drama for the night. Or, option two, you could go out there, and when Rafe gets here, you could see if he really is jealous… Fuck it. You pull your shirt over your head, look in the mirror to check your hair, and exit the bathroom.

You weave through the sweaty bodies in the living room and head out back to where your date said he would be waiting for you. Your eye’s scan the patio, searching for those blonde locks. Your eye’s meet smug blue ones, a cocky smirk on his lips. Yeah, Rafe was absolutely going to lose his shit when he found out those photos were meant for none other than Jj Maybank. Probably one of the last people on earth he would want you fucking around with. But you ran into him at a party a few weeks ago, hooked up with him in a random bedroom, and you’re not ashamed to say you’ve gone back for seconds. And thirds. And forths too. It’s not your fault it was the best dick you’ve ever had in your life.

“Hey princess, how’s a goin’?” He approaches you, his eyes unabashedly roaming your curves in your little party outfit. He brings his thumb to your bottom lip, running across it before leaning in close so his lips brush your ear. “You look good enough to eat.”

“Yeah? Maybe you’ll get to try a bite later.” You lean back so you can look up into his eyes, biting your lip. For a second you almost forget all about the Rafe dibocle, getting lost in Jj’s now familiar, fresh, but still somehow musky scent and those eyes that remind you of the ocean water that surrounds your home. But you couldn’t forget about Rafe for long. Your feelings for Jj are so incredibly surface level compared to the feelings you have for him. “You wanna get a drink? And dance?”

“Sure thing, pretty girl.” He winks at you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

After you take a shot together you drag him out onto the makeshift dance floor Matt set up on his parents back patio. You start to sway your hips to the music that booms from the large speakers that were set up around the area and Jj hungrily eyes your curves. He pulls a joint from behind his ear, raising it between the two of you with his eyebrow cocked and you nod in response.

You continue to sway, turning your back towards Jj so you can rub your ass against him. He pops the joint in his mouth, turning his head to the side so he can use one hand to light it, his other hand coming down to grab onto your hip. His fingertips graze the skin above your skirt and it gives you goosebumps. After he takes a few puffs off the joint he holds it to your mouth, his skin grazing your soft lips. You turn your head over your shoulder to blow the smoke in his mouth and he takes the hint immediately connecting his lips with yours. But before you can even fully shotgun the hit to him your entire body is suddenly ripped away from his, a large hand pulling you by your forearm.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? HUH? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FUCKIN’ DOING?” Rafe’s voice bellows over the music as he pulls you towards him, causing you to trip and fall into his chest.

“Rafe, I’m just having fun, you need to chill. Seriously.” You push against him but he uses the hold he still has on your arm to pull you closer. His free hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it roughly, forcing you to look up at him.

“I need to chill? Are you fuckin’ joking? Is this who those pictures were for? This dirty fuckin’ pouge? Are you fucking him?” His eyes hold a fire that’s never been directed towards you, and logically you should be pissed, you should slap him across the face for acting like this. But instead you feel your panties get even wetter under his angry gaze, the feeling of his hand on your jaw making your knees weak.

“Hey bro, you need to back the fuck off! She told you to chill, get off her!” Jj tries to grab onto your free hand but Rafe doesn’t allow it, he grips onto your hips, using his hold on you to push you to the other side of him, away from Jj.

“You’re the one that needs to fuck off bro.” Rafe gets in his face, his nostrils flared, his eyes filled with rage. “Keep your dirty fuckin hands off my girl, fuckin’ pouge trash.”

“Your girl, huh? She didn’t seem like she was your girl when she was beggin’ me to let her cum last weekend.” Jj smirks, his eyes boring right back into the taller man’s. Rafe growls, using all his force to push him so hard he falls to the ground.

“Yeah bitch, my fucking girl. Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll beat your ass so bad they won’t be able to identify you when you get to the fucking hospital.” He spits on the ground in front of the blonde’s feet before turning back to you with his jaw and fists clenched. “Bathroom. Now.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, speechless. My girl. My girl. My girl. Replaying like a mantra in your head. After a few seconds of you standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, Rafe lost his patience. He swiftly closed the few foot gap between you, his large ringed hand gripping the back of your neck. He bends down so his face is level with yours, blue eyes filled with fire staring down at you.

“I said. Bathroom. Now. Start fucking walking.” He practically growls when he says it and you have to hold in a whimper. The hand on your neck glides down to your shoulder, turning you away from him without giving you a chance to respond. You have half a mind to talk back to him. But he seems like he’s two seconds away from turning around and taking his anger out on Jj and you’ve definitely done enough damage in that department for the night, so you start walking.

“Take me to the bathroom you took those little pictures in.” You squeal when halfway down the hall Rafe grabs onto your hair from behind you, pulling your head back against his chest. He’s looking down at you hungrily, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “I wanna take some pictures of my own.”

As soon as the bathroom door is shut he’s on you, shoving you up against it by your throat, his lips smashing against yours in a bruising kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth using it to dominate your own. Just when you feel yourself start to get lost in it he pulls away, a pout forming in your lips.

“Seriously, what the hell has gotten into, Bunny? Where’s my sweet little innocent best friend? Cause this girl I’ve seen tonight, she’s certainly not her.” He looms over you, the look in his eyes is wild, he looks like he wants to devour you and god you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t let him do just about anything to you right now.

“Maybe there’s a side of me you don’t know about, ever thought of that?” The smirk that spreads across your lips is seductive, the look in your eyes mischievous. “You do know I have a life outside of you, right?”

“No fucking shit, I know that. But this is not something I’d expect out of you. Going to parties dressed like that, smoking weed, grinding on pouges.” He snarls at the last part, the hand around your throat tightening slightly. He pushes your legs apart with his foot and shoves his knee between your thighs, pressing it up against your wet clothed core. You try to hold in the moan that escapes you but your body betrays you. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time, was he bullshitting me out there or did you fuck him?”

“Yeah I fucked him, more than once.” That Cheshire smirk reappears on your lips and he wants nothing more than to wipe it off. He releases your throat to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together.

“You lost your virginity to a fuckin’ pouge? You let him inside of you? When I’m the only one who's supposed to touch you? Bet he didn’t even make you cum.” He shakes your head from side to side, grinding his knee up into your cunt. You really don’t want to give into him just yet, but you’re losing your resolve quicker with every passing minute.

“HA! My virginity? I hate to break it to you Rafey, but that ship sailed back in highschool. And as far as him making me cum? Say what you want about the pouges but that’s the best dick I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah? Not for fuckin’ long.” He walks over to stand in front of the mirror you had your impromptu photoshoot in. He turns to the side, looking you dead in the eyes as snaps his fingers, his long pointer finger directed towards the ground.

“Are you serious?” You scoff, crossing your arms in defiance. “I’m not sucking you off.”

You absolutely were going to suck him off, but he didn’t need to know that, yet. You were having fun toying with him and getting him worked up.

“Really? Cause I think you want to. I think you did all of this on fuckin purpose to get me going. Come over here and get on your fucking knees for me, bunny. I know you want it.” He smirks, his hands reaching for the button on his shorts. He pulls his cock out and your eyes grow wide, your mouth dropping open. You can’t even hide the look of awe on your face at the sight of his thick cock. It’s almost subconscious the way your feet carry you forward towards him. You approach him, looking up at him through your lashes. His hands grip your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees in front of him. “Take that fucking shirt off.”

You rip your shirt over your head and as soon as it’s off he leans down to grab onto your tits, squeezing them roughly.

“Perfect fuckin’ tits, and they’re all mine huh?” He pulls back and abruptly his large hands smack down on both your tits causing you to let out a yelp. “Say it, say they’re mine.” Two more smacks come in succession.

“They’re yours Rafe, always been yours.” You look at him with big wide eyes and your lips set into a pout. You almost look like his innocent best friend again, but he knows better now.

“Open your fucking mouth, slut. Stick your tongue out.” He takes his cock in his hand, stroking it.

As soon as your tongue leaves your mouth Rafe is smacking the tip of his cock against it. Salty precum hits your tongue and you moan at the taste. His free hand gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrenching your head back so you’re looking at him.

“You done being a fuckin’ brat now? Gonna let me show you who you really belong to?”

“Uh-huh, yeah.” You nod to the best of your ability, all resolve you had left leaving your body. You’re already starting to feel fucked out and he hasn’t even really touched you yet.

“Did I say you could close your mouth? Open.” You stick your tongue out for him again and he leans down to spit on it. “Swallow… Good bunny.”

He pats your cheek and tilts your head back towards his cock. You immediately take his head into your awaiting mouth. You start to swirl your tongue around the tip but Rafe isn’t having it, he’s done with your teasing.

“Just fuckin’ sit still and relax your throat, let me use you like the whore you’ve been acting like all night.” He takes both sides of your head in his hands and thrusts deep into your throat, causing you to gag. “That's it baby, fucking choke on it.”

He starts to fuck into your mouth deep and hard, giving you no time to adjust. You look up at him and his head is thrown back, feral moans leave his lips and his chest is heaving. He pulls your head back, looking down at you. He feels like he’s gonna cum when he does. There’s a string of spit connected from your mouth to his cock, your mascara is running, more drool is dripping down your chin and onto your tits.

“Where’s your phone?” He growls.

“In my purse, probably on the floor by the door where I dropped it when you jumped me.” He rolls his eyes at your attitude, walking over to your purse to pull your phone out. He stands over you again, opening the camera.

“Keep sucking.”

You lean forward and take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down on his dick. You decide you’re going to show him what you’re really made of. One of your hands grabs the base of his cock, stroking what isn’t down your throat, the other comes up to his spit slick balls, rolling them in your palm.

“Fuck. You really are a little slut, sucking me off like it’s your fuckin’ job. You wanna act like a whore? I’ll treat you like one. You wanna send out slutty little pictures to trash from the cut? I’ll help you out with that.” He turns the camera toward the mirror adjacent to where you were standing and snaps a picture of the two of you. Then he flips it towards your face and takes another. “Alright. Get up. Bend your ass over the sink.”

You scramble to your feet and lean down so your upper half is against the counter, your ass and hips in the air. The marble countertop is cool against your bare tits and your skirt rides up over your ass, revealing your little lilac colored thong with a dark spot right in the middle. Rafe groans at the sight, walking up behind you while he pulls his shirt over his head. You tilt your chin up so you can lock eyes with him in the mirror, clenching around nothing at the sight of him standing over your shirtless.

“Look how wet that slutty little pussy is already, all this just from sucking my cock?” He grabs the bottom hem of your skirt forcefully pushing it up over your hips. His hands grip the meat of your ass, spreading your cheeks. One of his long fingers hooks under the thin lace that sits snugly between your ass, pulling it back as far as it can go before letting go. It snaps against your pussy deliciously, making you whimper. “I’ve always wanted to get my hands on this ass. Never thought it’d be like this though, not the first time at least.”

“How’d you think it would be then?” You look over your shoulder at him and he looks like a lion that caught its prey. He doesn’t break eye contact with you when his hand comes down on your ass, once, twice, three times.

“For one, I didn’t think you’d be such a fucking brat. My sweet little bunny. Always acting so innocent. Thought I’d have to be all gentle with you and shit. If I knew you were such a little cock slut I would’ve done this a long time ago.” He spanks you again, but this time it comes from below, the smack hitting your wet lace covered cunt. His fingers hook into your panties, ripping them down your legs. He runs his fingers through your slit, circling around your clit but not never actually touching it. “Look at this fucking pussy, looks so fucking sweet.”

“Please stop teasing me, Rafey.” You whine.

“Please stop teasing me, Rafey.” He mocks, and you think he’s going to keep torturing you but two thick fingers are suddenly being shoved knuckle deep inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” His fingers start fucking you at a brutal pace, this thumb coming down to finally circle your slick covered clit. His free hand comes down on your ass again and it makes you clench around him.

“Whose pussy is this?” Rafe leans over you, his large frame caging your smaller one against the counter top, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Tell me who fucking owns you.”

“You, you own me, daddy. I’m all yours.” He straight up growls in response, his fingers fuck into you impossibly faster and his lips latch onto your neck, surely sucking a bruise into it. Marking his territory. Your walls start to pulse around him and he can tell you’re getting close.

“You gonna cum? Gonna be a good little girl and cum for your daddy?”

“Yeah I’m gonna - I’m gonna fucking cum.” You push your hips back, fucking yourself against his hand. You're about to tumble over the edge when it’s suddenly ripped away from you, Rafe pulling his fingers out of you.

“Rafe! What the fuck! I was about to cum!” You push yourself up on your hands so you can glare at him in the mirror. He smirks back at you, taking the fingers that were inside you into his mouth with a groan.

“That’s what you get for acting like a fucking brat. Besides, if you’re gonna cum, it’s gonna be on my fuckin’ cock.” He pushes you back down by the back of your head, smushing your cheek against the counter. He lines his cock up with your entrance, fully inserting himself inside you in one thrust. “Oh shiiiit, you’re so fuckin’ tight bunny. Always knew you would be.”

“Oh my goddddd.” Your eyes roll back and drool drips down the corner of your mouth onto the marble from the way he has your cheeks pressed together with his hand. He’s huge and the stretch burns so good.

“Yeah, that’s a good little slut, take this fuckin’ dick baby.” His hand travels down your back, gripping your ass harshly before gripping onto your hips. He’s fucking you so hard the sound of your hips slapping together echoes through the large bathroom and his balls are hitting your clit with every thrust. “Your little pouge still the best dick you ever had?”

“N - no, you’re the best I’ve ever had daddy, you’re filling me up so good, feels so good.” Rafe reaches into his back pocket for your phone, using his other hand to pull your ass apart for the perfect view of his cock buried deep inside you.

“I think we should show him how good I make you feel, baby. Show him you really are my girl. From now on the only slutty pictures of you are either going to be taken for me or by me, got it?”

“Yes daddy, I got it. I’m yours, only yours.” He snaps a few photos before setting the phone down on the counter. He grabs onto the back of your neck, pulling your head up so you can see in the mirror.

“Look at yourself, look at what a little slut you are for my cock. Is that fucking drool?” He laughs condescendingly, a smug smirk spread across his lips.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your makeup is running down your cheeks, your hair is a disaster from how Rafe had been tugging on it, and there was in fact, drool dripping down your chin to your chest. Your eyes travel up to Rafe and you feel like you’re going to cum right then and there. His hair is hanging in his eyes slightly but you can see them enough that the look he gives you in the mirror makes your head spin. His toned chest is covered in a thin layer of sweat and the feral moans leaving him are your new favorite sound. His hand grabs onto the front of your throat, pulling you up so your back is against his chest. The new angel has him hitting deeper and you feel that coil in your belly starting to wind up again.

“Fuck daddy, I’m gonna cum, feels so good, please let me cum.” You reach behind you, threading your fingers into his hair while you push your hips back against his.

“Look who can be a good girl after all, asking me to cum without me even having to tell you? That’s such a good little bunny. Go on then, cum for daddy.” His fingers find your clit and it sends you over the edge, your walls tightening around him. “That’s it, fuckin’ cum on my cock.”

He fucks you through it before chasing his own high. Pushing you back down on the counter by your lower back, he grips onto your hips, and drills into you harder than ever.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had, this is my fucking pussy, you’re mine. I’m gonna fill you up so full of my cum you’re going to have to walk out of this party with it dripping down your legs.”

“Fuck yes daddy, fucking fill me up, please? Want your cum.” The sound of you begging for his release does him in. Just a few more rough thrusts and he’s pushing his hips flush against your own, pumping his cum deep inside of you. He pulls out and grabs onto your asscheeks, pulling them apart so some of the cum would seep out.

“Don’t fucking move.” He grabs your phone off the counter and takes a few shots of your puffy pussy dripping with his cum. “Good girl.”

He grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you up and flipping you towards him in one swift motion. He grips your face in his hands, kissing you rough and wet and possessively. He pulls away and tucks himself back into his shorts before looking at your phone again, he goes into your texts with Jj and selects the photos he just took, typing out a message and hitting send with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Told you she was my girl.”

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

order 87 | Alphabet headcanons | Ace | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: mmm okay so who’s next

A - Affection (What is their love language?)

Quality time is the one that really matters, you could be very beautiful but it wouldn’t matter as much as your personality to him in the end. But since you’re both, he’s a lucky guy. Just long conversation about nothing useful and scrolling on MagiCam together on the couch just feels natural.

B - Best (What is their best trait?)

Just how he’s always with you, not necessarily in a loyal way but he has to be at your side as long as it’s physically capable of him. He walks you to class without asking and always finds you in the hallways.

C - Confession (How did they confess?)

He did it the traditional way everyone told him to. Flowers and some sort of gift of whether you liked the most. He hid it from you the whole day until the perfect time he planned. It had to be when it was just the two of you, if anyone even walked by he waited until they went away then went for it.

D - Distance (How are they after fights?)

Even after you resolved everything, he may be a little bit pouty, either mad about what you did or feeling bad way about what he did. You have do ease him back in to make him act normal again.

E - Early (How was the first week of your relationship?)

He acted the same way he always did, at least he tried. He was both more nervous and confident around you. He was less chatty and more focused on what you were saying, but eventually grabbed your hand without saying anything when walking you to class. If you say anything about it, he’ll get embarrassed and let go.

F - First Kiss (When was your first kiss together?)

It had to be when you were alone, which is hard. But it’d most likely be just a hangout, suddenly you two start fighting and tickling each other. When you settle down, still sitting close to him. He just gets the urge, so he does it. If you freak out, he’ll say “so you just don’t like me?!”

G - Gifts (What gifts do they get for you?)

You honestly have to ask him or talk about something non stop for him to actually buy it for you. Not that he doesn’t care but he doesn’t get you spontaneous gifts unless it’s food because he’ll know you’ll like it.

H - Hugs (Anything involving hugs?)

He use to hug you more before dating but he hardly does it. But if you’re scrolling on MagiCam with him or maybe watching a movie, he might go behind you and bring you into a big hug, just to get comfortable.

I - Injury (How do they react when you get hurt?)

He might make a big deal when he hears you’re hurt with no context, depending on how bad it actually is he might just stare at it and scold you or rush you to the nurses office. Of course, when he does bring you he waits with you the entire time.

J - Jealousy (How do they get jealous?)

When anyone takes his spot. Even if it’s something meaningless like someone taking a seat next to you when EVERYONE knows he always sits next to you on that side. If someone else pours you tea at an unbirthday party, he dumps it on the floor and pours you another. But it gets worse if he notices they’re physically affectionate, he would actually pop a blood vessel.

K - Kiss (How are kisses with them?)

They’re very quick and more of just a reminder of his love. The longer kisses are reserved for when he missed you or when he’s jealous.

L - Love you (Who says it more?)

You mostly do; since he’s nervous with saying it too soon or too often since he doesn’t want to do too much (him attempting to be nonchalant). He only ever says it as a quick thing like when you make him food for example.

“I made cookies and I made sure to set aside ten just for you.”

“…I love you so much…”

“Huh?”

M - Memorable (What stands out most about them?)

He’s rude yet thoughtful. He reminds you to do your homework and if you have a big test the next day. He may tease you but most of the time it has a purpose, the other percent of the time he’s just being mean.

N - Nightmares (What do they do when you get nightmares)

When you wake up, he’s sorta concerned since you seem panicked despite just waking up. Whether you tell him or not, he can tell and he urges you to go back to sleep. He hopes holding you until you fall asleep will keep the bad dreams away.

O - Open (How open are they with you?)

If he doesn’t like something, he’ll eventually tell you. Even if it can’t be said out loud, he texts you while standing right beside you. But other than that he’s direct and he won’t hide what he likes and doesn’t like for long.

P - PDA (How much affection do they show in public?)

Not a lot, again with him trying to be nonchalant. He tries not to do PDA in front of his friends because he knows one of them will say “get a room!” or groan in disgust. Holding hands is another thing he’s more comfortable with and he hugs you before leaving for class. But if he’s feeling really brave, he’ll give you a kiss on the forehead but he’s running away immediately so you don’t catch how red his face is.

Q - Quote (what's a sweet thing they’ve said to you?)

“Can I come over later? You know, Riddle is so exhausting I need to get away from it… You know it’ll be cold tonight. I wouldn’t want you to be cold, s-so you should let me stay the night.”

R - Romantic (How romantic are they?)

Not really romantic on purpose, sure he intends to create the atmosphere but sometimes he just does what he wants so you can say he’s just naturally a romantic person. Definitely not with his words but more with his actions.

S - Sadness (What do they do to make you feel better?)

He tries to get your mind off of it, generally if you’re just down he won’t leave you alone until you go back to normal. If you won’t even tell him about it, he pesters you and if it doesn’t work. He tickles you, he loves seeing you smile you’re just cuter that way.

T - Together (How clingy are they?)

He’s clingy but not physically touch way. He can be but he’s doesn’t need to always have his hands on you. But proximity wise he will always be closest to you. He won’t ever let you walk to class alone and he has to be the first person you talk to at lunch.

U - Uplift (How much do they compliment you?)

He’s mean but he gives you credit for being smart. And not necessarily a compliment but he flexes your achievements to other people. When someone is talking about test scores he brings yours up first. If you aren’t very confident in yourself then he reassures you a lot.

V - Voice (How often do they express their love for you?)

He doesn’t like to talk about it because he gets embarrassed really fast. He doesn’t know what to say when someone asks how you two started dating. “Well I asked and they said yes.”

“How did you confess?”

“You don’t need to know all of this!!”

He doesn’t say it unless it really needs to be said like when you’re jealous. Over text he isn’t so shy, though.

Ace: Hey

Ace: respond if you love me

Ace: …

Ace: Please I miss you

W - Worry (How often do you concern him?)

He gets curious if you’re off schedule like you’re running late and he doesn’t see you in the morning. He doesn’t worry much but as seen in chapter 4, if there’s a reason he will worry his butt off until he sees you and can see for himself you’re okay.

X - XOXO (How affectionate are they in private?)

In private he doesn’t mind cuddling you or you cuddling him. He does just whatever you want to do, but he doesn’t like when you basically ignore him for whatever you’re doing. He pulls you away from it, literally.

Y - You (How often do they think about you?)

Every morning he wonders if you’re already awake and then he goes to school and wonders when you’re getting there. Then he walks you to class then wonders what you’re doing. Then after school he wonders what you’re doing again, cleaning or maybe doing homework? Then at night he wonders if you’re already asleep. Then repeat. He texts you a lot because of how curious he is.

Z - Zealous (How passionate are they about you?)

He shouldn’t have to say it but he’s very passionate. Before basketball games he thinks of you and how you’re gonna watch him. He tries way harder if you’re going to be there, but it results in bad decisions like shooting the ball when he should’ve definitely passed. His teammates don’t appreciate it at all. He’s not suppose to but he looks at you in the stands during the game. He just wants to impress you is all.

[chokifandom]

—☆ 11. hint

prev // masterlist // next

tw: mentions of kidnapping? but not serious, videogame violence, v*lorant

note: tumblr keeps screwing with my post formats im so sorry! anyway just some context if you missed reading the intro chapters (lunchly ambassadors and mikage corporate slaves)— nagi and hiori happen to be online friends on discord but don’t know each other's real identities (until this chapter, anyway) (also nagi's discord username is a sekiro reference 🤭) also expect a few more written chapters i think because we're lowkey nearing the end...

wc: 745

seikiro today at 8:45 pm

valo?

bluesadist today at 8:47 pm

ooh someone’s back from the dead

sure, be there in two

———

the light from nagi’s pc is the only source of illumination in the dark room. a half-eaten cup of instant noodles sits on the side, long gone cold. he aims and shoots, seemingly effortlessly. the kill counter goes up by one, and he swears can hear you talk about how you’ve always hated shooter games as you look over his shoulder at the game he’s playing.

but you’re not there.

it’s been a few days since you’ve been over at his place— well, since he’s even seen you, actually. he’s expectantly glancing at his phone, waiting for it to light up with a barrage of notifications from you, but it never comes. in that one second window of distraction, blood splatters all over his screen and the words ‘you died!’ flash in big red text. he groans and leans back into his chair. what am i doing wrong?

“i dunno, you seem pretty distracted today,” an airy voice rings through nagi’s headphones. had he said that out loud? nagi switches to spectator mode, choosing the point of view of his teammate bluesadist. “we finally play again after what feels like forever and you’ve devolved to this? i’m hurt.”

“huh?”

“are you okay?” bluesadist asks. “you keep dying, that’s very unlike the pro-gamer seikiro i know.” he adds, a tease to his words. nagi thinks about how his online friend’s accent sounds very much like yours, and he’s missing your presence all over again.

“i don’t know, sadist-kun.” he emphasises the nickname as a retort. he always thought bluesadist’s username was hilariously edgy, and never held back on expressing his feelings regarding the same.

“you don’t know how you feel? alright, this is definitely not the seikiro i know.”

“no, no, i do,” nagi answers after thinking for a moment. “i just don’t know what to do about it.”

“do you wanna uh… talk about it?”

“eh, it’s not that big of a deal… there’s this girl in uni i’ve been playing stardew with but lately she’s been ignoring me. i don’t know if it’s something i did but i wish she would tell me.”

“oh, so THAT’S what you’ve been doing all the while you were away!” bluesadist laughs. his laugh is just as airy as his voice, nagi thinks. “never thought i’d see the day you’d get hung up over a girl, sei-kun. she must be pretty cool.”

“she is.”

“well, i don’t really have much advice but i do have a friend who tends to get pretty avoidant. there’s a good chance it’s got nothing to do with you at all, so you could just wait until she gets out of that phase,” he pauses for a bit. “or you could just be straight up with it— sometimes they just need a little push.”

‘ynniechan is online!’ a steam notification pops up on the corner of nagi’s screen. he clicks it without hesitation, and it takes him to her profile page. ‘now playing: minecraft.’

“speak of the devil, she just came online—”

“oh, she’s online—”

“eh? you know my friend?” bluesadist jokes again. nagi thinks about how you’d have a similar response.

“sorry, what were you saying?”

a pit of doubt churns in nagi’s stomach. he momentarily wonders if bluesadist is— nah, incredibly low chance. he knew that bluesadist was from the same city as you… but that doesn’t mean anything. “well, i promised her i’d play minecraft with her tonight so i guess i gotta go.”

“wait a sec, sadist-kun.” it was a pretty baseless conclusion— a hunch at best— but nagi clicks on the mutual friends tab on your profile. and sure enough, there was only one profile on the list, and it was none other than bluesadist. “ynniechan.”

“huh? what are you…”

“check her mutual friends.” nagi’s smirking. hiori does, and the pieces finally click in his head. a light gasp resounds in nagi’s headphones.

“so YOU’RE —!”

the sound of laughter finally fills nagi’s room for the first time in a week. maybe you’re not so out of reach at all.

“don’t worry about it at all, nagi-kun! wait, can i call you that?”

“well, i don’t really care, whatever’s fine,”

“well… all i’ll say is, you gotta corner her down somehow to actually make progress. good luck, nagi-kun! i’ll be leaving now.”

taglist [closed] (if your tag is purple, i haven't been able to tag you! please check your mention settings)

@skullvgirl @8x9d @mxkvlio @bvttersywt @gigiiiiislife @thebestsetter @3stela @kaemaybae @tecchouss @haitanibros0007 @definitelynotanalien @sun00ssunshine @noomimi @ocyeanicc @saechiro @call-me-prodigy @whoskaikai @laqey678 @bleepei @oreopoodle @froggie-zusya23 @lleuviennae @egoistlino @rwbie @tojirin @morgyyyyyyy @pookalicious-hq @sunathnker @nanalover240 @levislug @90s-belladonna @sara4uuu @st4rdusttx @s4-mmy @itachis-sharingan @bubybubsters

[solxamber]

Hi! I want to request a platonic Sam and student reader who works at the mystery shop part time. Reader is shy and quiet, and spends most of their shift restocking shelves and checking inventory in the back. Sam has to step away from the counter for a moment and leaves reader to take his place. A group of students who are known for causing trouble comes in, they've been caught by Sam for trying to shoplift before, and when reader calls them out for trying to steal again, they start trying to fight reader. Sam pops up behind them after getting alerted by his friends on the other side and you can decide how he handles them. After all that, Sam offers reader a hug with a reminder they've got Sam on their side. Thank you if you write this one!

Platonic! Sam x Reader

I haven't ever written anything full length for him, it was fun!

Working part-time at Sam’s Mystery Shop is usually quiet. You prefer it that way. The backroom, with its musty scent of herbs and candles, is your safe haven, where you spend most of your shifts counting inventory or restocking the shelves. Sam doesn’t mind; in fact, he seems to appreciate your detail-oriented nature, saying it keeps things running smooth as silk. He handles the customers, and you make sure the shop stays well-stocked and organized.

Today seems no different—until Sam’s voice drifts into the back.

“Hey, kiddo!” Sam pokes his head into the stockroom. His ever-present grin is wide, showing a row of perfect teeth. “I’ve got to step out front for just a sec. Mind keeping an eye on the counter?”

Your heart skips. “Uh, I—"

“You’ve got this! Just for a minute. I’ll be back before you know it.” With a wink, Sam disappears before you can protest.

You take a deep breath, slowly making your way to the counter. No big deal, right? Just ring up anything if someone comes in. Easy. You stand awkwardly behind the register, shifting your weight from foot to foot. Hopefully, no one will come in while Sam is away.

Naturally, that hope shatters about thirty seconds later when the door jingles.

A group of students strolls inside, and your stomach twists. They’re the kind of students who bring nothing but trouble—loud, cocky, and notorious for trying to shoplift from the store. You recognize them immediately. Sam had kicked them out once before, and now they’re back, grinning like they own the place.

The tallest one snickers when he notices you at the counter. “Well, well, well. Look who’s on duty today.”

They split up, spreading through the store like sharks circling prey. One heads toward the potions shelf, another fingers through the trinkets near the front. Your throat tightens as you watch them drift toward the things Sam usually keeps a sharp eye on—things small enough to slip into a pocket.

“Need help?” you ask, voice wavering.

“Nah, we’re just browsing.” The one at the front offers a grin too wide to be innocent.

You grip the counter, forcing yourself to stand straighter. When you glance toward the potion shelves again, you spot one of them slipping a small vial into his jacket.

“Put that back,” you say, more firmly than you thought you could manage.

The student freezes, caught mid-act. His grin slips, replaced by a sneer. “What’d you say?”

You meet his gaze, your heart hammering. “I said, put it back.”

The other two immediately close in, flanking their friend. “Who do you think you are, huh? Sam’s little stockroom goblin?”

You swallow hard but hold your ground, though your palms are damp with sweat. “I know you tried to steal before. Don’t think I won’t—”

Before you can finish, one of them takes a threatening step forward. “Or what? You gonna rat us out?”

Your pulse skyrockets, and your mind scrambles for a response. Maybe calling them out wasn’t the best idea, but it’s too late to back down now. You glance toward the door, hoping to see Sam’s familiar grin, but there’s no sign of him.

Just as the tallest one steps closer, looming over you with a malicious smirk, the temperature in the room seems to shift. The air grows heavier, colder—and suddenly, you feel the presence of someone behind the group.

“You boys lookin’ for trouble?”

The voice is low, smooth, and far too cheerful for comfort. All three students stiffen. They turn slowly to find Sam standing directly behind them, his wide grin stretching even further. But this time, there’s a sharpness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“I’ve got friends who keep an eye on things for me,” Sam says, his smile never wavering. “They told me something mighty interestin’ was happenin’ in my shop.”

The students exchange nervous glances. The tension in the room is palpable, like a taut string ready to snap.

“Now,” Sam continues, clasping his hands together, “we’ve had this talk before, haven’t we? About what happens when folks try to take what doesn’t belong to them?”

One of the boys stammers, “W-We were just—”

“Just about to leave, weren’t you?” Sam finishes smoothly. He steps aside, gesturing toward the door with a flourish. “Go on now. And don’t let me catch you tryin’ anything funny again. Or else...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the gleam in his eyes is enough to send them scrambling toward the exit. The door jingles as they rush out, not daring to look back.

Once they’re gone, the atmosphere in the shop shifts back to normal, the chill lifting as quickly as it had arrived.

You exhale a shaky breath, the adrenaline leaving you feeling light-headed.

“Not bad, kid,” Sam says, coming to stand beside you. His smile this time is softer, warm with approval. “You handled that better than most.”

“I—I didn’t really do much,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. “They were about to—”

Sam cuts you off with a laugh, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “But they didn’t. And that’s what matters, right?”

You manage a small nod, still feeling the lingering tension in your limbs.

Sam tilts his head, studying you for a moment. “C’mere,” he says suddenly, pulling you into a quick but firm hug. His arms are strong, and there’s a sense of safety in the gesture that catches you off guard.

You freeze for a moment, then slowly relax into the embrace.

“You’ve got me on your side, you know,” Sam says quietly, patting your back. “Ain’t nobody gonna mess with you when I’m around. And even if I’m not, you’ve still got what it takes to handle ‘em.”

The words are reassuring, and the warmth of his hug helps ease the knots in your chest.

When he pulls back, he gives you a wink. “Now, how ‘bout you head back to the stockroom, huh? I’ll handle the front from here.”

You nod, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips for the first time that shift.

“Thanks, Sam,” you say softly.

He grins, giving you a playful nudge. “Anytime, kiddo. Now, get back to your shelves before I have to do your job for ya!”

With a light heart and a newfound sense of confidence, you slip back into the stockroom, feeling just a little less shy than before.

And as you reorganize the shelves, the comforting thought lingers: you’re part of this strange, wonderful place—and you’ve got Sam on your side.

Masterlist

[gutsyns]

Summary: Just a drabble from my drafts. I’m convinced Dallas would probably wreck havoc in Johnnys relationships until he got to know the other person well enough or they showed enough steel to make him back off🤷🏼‍♀️ Characters are aged up a few years just bc.

-

The shop bell jingles softly, bringing your attention away from the magazine you had been idly staring at for the past twenty minutes. It was late, close to closing and the only people you were expecting to cross the doorway was either in the form of your father with late minute supplies, or trouble.

You glance down at the bat by your feet, weary, but feel yourself breath out a sigh of relief when you take in the familiar face staring back at you, sheepish, but with a small smile on his face.

Johnny puts both hands in the air, taking a small step through the threshold.

“Easy there. I come in peace.”

You’re about to laugh, greet him like you normally would, but you pause. It had been two weeks since you had seen him, practically radio silence on his end. You’d tried to call him at the Curtis’, but there always seemed to be some sort of excuse for why he couldn’t come to the phone. For awhile you had been worried. What if his folks had gotten him, hurt him real bad this time? What if he’d gotten jumped again?

Then you had seen him out with Pony and Dallas getting cokes about a week back and the message he hadn’t had the guts to tell you to your face began to come through a little bit clearer.

“Hey.” You say eventually. “I haven’t seen around you for awhile.”

“Yeah.” Johnny at least has the good grace to look chagrined as he slips behind the counter and sits down beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dally said- well Dal had mentioned you’d been hanging around a lot is all, so.”

“Huh?”

You stare at his side-profile, stunned. He won’t make eye contact, instead staring pointedly at the display of gum you had put out earlier in the day. His ears are turning a fantastic shade of red, something that, under normal circumstances was endearing, but right now was just infuriating.

“Dallas said what?”

There’s no mistaking the dumbfounded fury in your voice, but Johnny just shakes his head and, finally making eye contact, sends you a pleading stare.

“It really ain’t that big of a deal. Dal just has a hard time adjusting to new people s’all. Give ‘im some time, he’ll come around.”

You glance around the shop, waiting for someone to pop out from a corner and tell you this is all a big joke. When no such thing happens, you look back at Johnny and brace your hands against the counter, breathing heavy. You laugh softly, before scrubbing a hand across your eyes.

“I’m sorry. Are you meaning to tell me that you’ve been going out of you way to avoid me because Dallas Winston told you to?”

Johnny winces and hunches his shoulders, defensive against your anger. Normally that would be enough to make you take a deep breath and reign it in, unwilling to be anything close to a reminder of his nightmare childhood, but this is… this is just too much.

“I thought I’d done something to make you mad.” You say, voice shaking with unnamed emotion. “I thought I’d… hurt you in some way, and all this times it’s been because big bad Dal doesn’t want to share his best friend.”

You laugh again, though the situation is far from funny. Johnnys face goes blank, distant and he squares his shoulders. There’s something dangerous glinting in his dark eyes, a warning that is demanding to not be ignored, but you’re far beyond recognising red flags by this point.

“C’mon Johnny, you can’t tell me you don’t see how insane that is?”

“Now just wait a damn minute-“ Johnny starts, fire in his voice, but your father chooses that exact moment to walk through the door.

He pauses for a moment, observing the two of you. Eyes flickering back and fourth between Johnnys stiff figure and your infuriated expression. He’s weary, nodding to Johnny before seeking you out.

“Everything okay, baby?”

“Peachy.” You breath, but there’s tears pricking in your eyes.

Your fathers eyes narrow in on Johnny, clearly deciding that he’s now public enemy number one and you can see how skittish it makes the other boy. Despite your anger, it makes your heart ache a little to see the nervous energy enter him, the near inevitable way he seems to brace himself for a blow. It makes you want to flay his parents, leave their skin on the local trees as a warning to anyone that dare try to hurt him again.

But. But this time, he’s hurt you. He needs to know that.

“My father is not going to lay a hand on you.” You whisper, just low enough for the both of you to hear.

Johnnys eyes snap to yours, and there’s kinship there, right then. An understanding. His shoulders lose their tension, and you both breathe.

“Johnny was just leaving, dad.” You say, heart pounding. “He’s got a thing with his friend.”

Dark eyes snap to yours, beseeching. Desperate. He looks so sad and it makes you want to forget everything that has happened, but you can’t. You won’t be second best, won’t be reduced to a problem that Dallas Winston wants to get rid of, and one that can be dismissed so easily.

“Don’t do this.” Johnny says, low, urgent, but you dismiss him.

You turn, busing yourself with the normal routine of locking down the shop. Even so, you can’t ignore how your hands shake. How your heart is beating a mile a minute. How you can feel Johnny’s stare on your back, even as you try to block him out.

“We’re closing now, son. Think it’s time to go.”

Your fathers voice is gentle, even after the ire he’d given Johnny when he’d seen the two of you fighting. You think maybe your dad understands Johnny in a way- in a way that makes you want to switch off your brain and never think about your grandparents again.

“Don’t do this.” Johnny says again, loud enough that its audible to both you and your father. He sounds unhinged, and it’s enough to make you spin around and look at him.

“I didn’t do anything, Johnny. You did. You’re a grown man, eighteen damn years of age. You chose Dallas. That’s fine. I’m not the one that made it a choice to begin with. Just don’t come weepin’ to me about the consequences.”

You spin, incensed and tear-blind, into the backroom. There’s soft murmurs, then the soft tinkling of the bell at the door.

Your fathers hand clamps down on your shoulder a moment later.

“All okay, bug?”

You can’t answer straight away, trying to fight back the tears. Even though you’d told him to leave, wanted him to leave even, it was still disappointing that he did.

“I’m fine.” You whisper, voice breaking.

And when your father pulls you in for a hug, you feel so incredibly small and young. The tears spill over without permission and you bury your head in your fathers shoulder, desperately wishing you had never heard of that damned, stupid gang in the first place.

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter one

"that's mikey's girl." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn chapter one, 3.2k words

two in the morning. he's on his stomach with moonlight fall through the window on his bare shoulders, the arch of his thick dark hair hiding his eyes in shadow. not even a gleam.

why do you keep calling me that? he says. used to be every now and then, like a joke, but now it’s just all the time.

it’s your name.

mikey’s my name.

michael’s on your birth certificate. that makes it your name.

everyone calls me mikey.

you lift an empty palm. and?

oh my god, don’t be so fucking mysterious, come here. c’mere. his hand's on your hip, clumsy. hey. talk to me. 

let it go, michael. 

when sweetness doesn’t get him what he wants, he reaches inside and produces more energy from god knows where.

don’t you ever get tired of being so goddamn mysterious? don’t you get fucking exhausted? from wheedling to kindling, you never tell me anything, just tell me one thing, okay? just one thing, what’s the big deal, straight shooter? huh? c’mere, hey. oh, now you’re not looking at me now? like what am i, a cop? i’m just fuckin curious, man, it’s my name, and if you’re—

okay! fuck! just. fucking calm down, i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you.

i am calm. he is. ruffled, but calm. he’s clean tonight, you can always tell the difference.

everyone calls you mikey. 

he turns over onto his back and lets the light reach everywhere. doesn't have to say a thing. his face is deceptively open, waiting, the full weight of his attention on you, and that's more than enough.

you say, maybe i don’t want to be everyone.

his face melts into that expression you love and hate in nearly equal measure, a little pitying, a little tender, completely fucking magnetic. he stretches out one arm across the tops of both pillows in mute invitation, and you know that you’ll crawl into his arms in a second, give in the way you always do.

oh, baby, he says. you’re not everyone.

yeah?

you've never been closer to him than you are right now, with all the red lights sped through a long ways back, and yet. and yet. you still can't read him. maybe you never will.

you say, then who am i?

.

.

.

when you go to the beef for the first time, you set yourself some rules. first off, don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the fucking staff.

don’t stare.

don’t say his name.

and as soon as you get your sandwich, you gotta go.

there’s rules. that’s your excuse for breaking your promise: if you act like any other customer, what harm can it do?

well, this.

you’ve done a decent job of pretending you don't know enough english to converse, but you’re still trying so hard not to look at carmy standing behind the counter that you let your gaze drift, go unfocused, as you anchor yourself by two fingertips barely grazing the counter. waiting for your mortadella like all the other schmucks. suddenly, your drift snags on a sound, a certain note in the voice of the guy behind you, and you turn before you have any idea what it is. your heart jumps. of course he’s got a gun, of course he fucking does, and carmy’s trying to calm him with shouting and everything else just happens. 

you wedge yourself between the guy and the counter don’t you fucking touch him back the fuck up at least the crowd’s smart enough to scatter or hit the floor and you smack the inside of his wrist knock the gun to the side where at least the only ones who could suffer would be the wall or you. bang, stupid loud. flinch. the picture frame on the wall right behind you shatters and falls, sting in your arm don’t touch him but one more twist and the gun is yours now and the guy is running, running, gone. which makes you just a person getting gawked at by strangers while your mouth is running behind. don’t you fucking —

you thought you forgot how to get scared a long time ago, but that’s obviously not true. you notice it as you pop the magazine and shake them out with a metallic tinkle in your hand, then pull the slide to clear the chamber too. yeah, you're scared.

the bullets are slippery in your sweating palm, and it's early chicago fall and no enemies left, nothing to sweat about. you slip bullets in your pocket, don’t want to give anyone a loaded gun, especially not a fucking berzatto. the shop hasn't cleared, it's louder than ever, and you're not looking at anybody, just the gun, mind on autopilot. somebody's asking you if you're okay and you're pointedly ignoring them. you say, gimme the trash can, carmy.

he does.

do i know you? he says.

the gun lands in the trash with a thud, and only then do you realize your mistake. you can’t even look at him as your stomach drops. you just fucked it for yourself. this is gonna be the last time. you turn and try to leave quick as the line re-forms beside you. chicago, god bless, still wants their fucking lunch. what happened to the rules protecting you? what happened to—

she’s bleeding, don’t let her—

it’s richie who gets to you first, which is somehow worst of all. you don’t know how he does it, you were nearly home free, but now he's right here and you’re still not looking at him as his hand closes around your good arm. you’re not looking at him but you recognize the voice, matched it to his face on your first visit to the beef. the face you matched to many photos you've seen, most of them blurry.

hey, sweetheart, let’s just—

and that’s what breaks it for you. you lift your eyes and look at him dead on and bullshit with the ferocity you only get when you’re in the middle of losing something. you don’t want any of this asshole did you think i learned to disarm a guy in kindergarten what the fuck do you think is going on here unless you want this place to be fucking mob associated then get your hands off me wasn’t the c enough or do you really need cops up your ass too—

richie’s not as stupid as he needs to be, or he’s not as smart. 

sure, yeah, he says. that’s very impressive and shit but we’re already kind of a mob joint, we owe a guy three hundred grand off book and that’s not even a joke, this is chicago, baby, and you’re bleeding. just come over here and don’t be a pain about it—i got it carm—don’t be such a fucking pain, come on.

it’s the voice that does it, and not the way he’s manhandling you back into the kitchen, it’s not the same but it’s a cousin and you just really fucking missed this shit. even though your heartbeat has slowed, you’re still dangerously stuck in that place where it might rain any moment. 

you’re still fighting him but it isn’t much, kind of autopilot, run on. it’s fucking nothing don’t be a baby what do you think this is i’m not gonna die i’m not even gonna go to the hospital richie it’s like a couple pieces of glass who cares plus the cops are gonna show up and then what. 

in the kitchen you look around hungrily. this is the place. those are the stoves, the knives, that’s the fucking mop and all. feels wobbly. you’re not used to being sentimental.

i mean jesus i just wanted a fucking sandwich, you say.

we can make you a fucking sandwich.

well i don’t want it any more!

what is your fucking problem, richie says, but he doesn’t say it right. 

here’s the office door, here’s the office, here are the piles of paperwork that used to be the bane of his existence. god but you’re weak. and as richie reaches for a first aid kit hanging from a nail above the filing cabinet, you give in one last time and steal a photo that was taped just above the desk. swift swipe. first crime you’ve felt bad about in a long time, and also the first crime that’s felt necessary.

i don’t want a fucking sandwich, you say, without skipping a beat.

fine, richie says with the air of a martyr. sit down.

he all but shoves you onto a chair. you let him, but you’re not gracious about it either. you have to resist touching your back jeans pocket where you slid the photo in, to check that it’s still there.

ebrahim’s at the door now, bearing the first aid kit.

give me that and get me a trash can and both of your fuck off, you say, and you only get three out of the four things you asked for, go figure. richie stays.

you shouldn’t even be here, so you rush it, snap open the kit, go for the tweezers, pinch the first shard and yank it out with a wince.

richie, gore might be your top pornhub category but i don't see you tipping my onlyfans, so fuck the fuck off.

words having failed, you try ignoring him, but even once all the glass is out, he hasn’t fucked off. seriously, stop hovering, you say.

do i know you? he says, but not like a proper question. like he’s on the verge of making it a statement.

no you don’t, i’m just one very observant motherfucker. now fuck off, don’t you have salami to slice or some shit?

you’d straight up flee, leave it all behind, except now there’s carmy in the doorway running his hand through his mess of hair with those wide eyes, richie standing behind him, and god yeah you do see it. how could carmy ever be anything other than a kid brother?

you okay? carmy says.

it’s not like a scratch, it’s literally a scratch. it’s literally a scratch.

no, i mean. you know. he’s struggling for it, and bless him but you’re not helping him, not one bit. that is not your job.

richie says, if you’re fine, then why are you such a fucking creep, man. why do you know our names.

carmy smacks him without looking, back of his hand to richie’s chest. what we mean to say is thank you. thank you, and do you want peppers on y—

and that’s when he sees it, over your shoulder, the empty spot over the desk. 

the regret crashes into you so hard and immediate you think you might be sick. you never should have come.

carmy says, slowly, did you take mikey? and there it is. you think with a slice of biting clarity that this is probably why he never wanted you to come here, he probably saw this one coming from miles and years away. you had one job. you fucked it.

sorry, you mutter, and you take the photo out and put it on the desk, one last look, and then you’re dodging them on the way out. you’d have shoved, but carmy just stepped aside as you charged forward, too taken aback to fight, just as innocent as ever. 

but then there’s richie right behind you and he was never innocent. 

you’re charlie, aren’t you, says richie.

as you try to navigate through the kitchen whirlwind, you can feel it behind your breastbone, like a detonation. that old game, that old thing. charlie and tommy, secret agents. 

no, you say, too quick.

no but you fucking are, and there’s a note of triumph in it, he’s sure of it now, you can’t convince him otherwise. still keep trying, though.

that’s not my name, is just, how do i—how do you work here the place is a fucking maze i just want the door for crying out loud thank you marcus jesus christ.

behind you: who’s charlie?

that’s mikey’s girl.

fresh chicago air which means grimy smoke and wind and you’re in it and you’re gone, hands shoved deep in your pockets, bullets cool against your fingers. thank fucking god. just soon enough to not hear what carmy has to say about it. escape means you’ll never know. 

.

.

.

it’s a real short story: you were two fucked up people with two fucked up lives and even worse sleep schedules. you liked smoking at the same spot, sheltered from the wind by a crevice of the apartment building where you both lived. talking shit. one thing led to another. he was good with your rules and you were good with his lack of anything to bring you except, occasionally, himself. and that was it. you liked that story. it was a good one. simple. very nearly clean.

unfortunately, it’s made you incredibly easy to track down.

when you come down for your nighttime smoke, half-hoping you won’t get called that night, half-hoping you will, there he is, waiting for you outside the double doors: richie.

at the sight of him, you try to retreat, but he's still got a key card, must've been a spare that mikey gave him. he yells at you, stupid loud for the time of night, HEY, and holds up the picture. he really can’t be the stupidest man in the world, not quite, because that bait you'd always fall for no matter the gleam of the hook. 

wordlessly, you come back and you take the picture from him. you look at it for only a second before you realize you can't look at it anymore, not in front of him, so you just hold it in your hand, careful. the only photo of michael that you have, and a good one. he’s got a big grin in it, the classic, perfect, flop-haired and glowing.

my name's not charlie, you say.

yeah. you're a big top secret whatever whatever booty call, i get it, he says.

you can’t even muster the words to respond to that because everything feels too embarrassingly much, or too inadequately little. you just burn.

look, richie says, with what you might think is a pang of actual conscience if you haven't heard so much about him already. carmy just thought you would want the thing.

i do. there's a pause. neither of you quite expected you to say that, and neither of you quite expect you to say what comes next, either. or at least, not this simple. thank you.

i could text you some more if you want, he says after a second. not cool with silence, this one.

you shake your head. i cycle through old ass flip phones. because. you shrug and you make no effort at your lies. i'm just very clumsy and i tend to drop them and break them like once every two weeks, so there's no point in buying anything expensive.

uh-huh, he says dryly. makes sense.

the corner of your mouth lifts, and then you look away, willing him to fuck off your mind to fade out, or both. it doesn’t happen. he almost says something more than once, you can feel it, but whatever inside him hates silence, that thing isn’t as strong as his fear of saying whatever he’s got to say.

and your fear, it turns out, is not enough.

it's not my fault, you know? and now you're zero to a hundred, outright. why he...i mean, we broke up two months beforehand. so, like. i know you're all. i know everyone thinks.

and now richie’s still looking at you while you're talking, same as before, but there's a weight to his eyes on you that you don't quite want to squirm out from under. he's actually listening. that's the thing.

just, whatever it was, it wasn't me, you say.

there's a silence long enough that it starts to get bad, and then richie says, we never thought it was you.

what can you say to that? it's not believable but he's trying to be kind, so okay, you'll believe his blatant lies like he tacitly agreed to believe yours. it’s the type of kindness you give to a child and it sticks in your throat, but you force yourself to swallow. good manners.

you want to say thank you again, but you can't. you're not gonna thank him twice like some kind of asshole.

so you just look at him for a second, really and properly. he is michael, he's a piece of michael, he's a thousand stupid stories you both laughed over under streetlights for a couple years, annoyed and hated and felt for from afar. his hair is lighter than you expected and his eyes are bluer, he's a little shorter and there's a tiny mustard stain on the neckline of his navy shirt. this is it. another piece of the endless ending.

see you around, you say, when what you mean is the opposite.

but then he says, yeah, and you thought that was just a word, but you were wrong.

.

.

.

you were wrong and it’s actually really funny.

cause of course you go upstairs and you have your little whatever-you-call-it, up there with that picture, and then some leftover mac n cheese and the picture and the knowledge you can’t fall asleep, and the picture and going back downstairs because after all that a cigarette just makes sense.

motherfucker is chain-smoking in your spot. at least he has the grace to look vaguely embarrassed to still be there when you arrive.

jesus, you say, looking at the little heap on the flat-headed metal post that serves as the unofficial building ashtray. you’ve done worse than that, but that’s not gonna stop you from saying it.

ah, fuck off, he says in welcome, and then you pull out a pack and he pulls out his lighter. you, uh. you see the bulls the other night?

can we not talk? you say as the lighter goes click, withholding your cigarette like he'd give a damn.

he blinks, pauses.

yeah, he says. you hate the sound of his voice. it’s too raw weary, like he just came out the funeral wearing a borrowed suit. yeah, we can not talk.

only then do you let him light the cigarette.

no words after that, as promised. you’re very tired. he might be even more tired than you. you lean against the building, but he won’t do even that. every now and then, you look at him, and rarely—just a few times—you see that he’s glancing at you. but you always look away. at some point you become convinced that he’s gonna say something, or you are—something about the eyes—but weirdly that fear drains away after a bit and you’re back to comfortable silence, which feels different even if it sounds the same. 

he runs out of cigarettes pretty early on, but you’re so self-absorbed that it takes you a while to figure out that he’s not gonna leave. he’s just not. so you’re gonna have to be the one to do it. 

you push off the wall. night, fuck-o.

he laughs, and that’s it, that’s all, just a laugh, ragged at the edges. but you won’t forget it. 

come to find out, neither will he.

.

.

.

[ chapter two ] [ the bear masterlist ]

.

.

.

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[hotbellepepaz]

ok so… was on the bus today…all of a sudden…

POP NEW AU IDEA BETTER JOT THIS DOWN BEFORE IT LEAVES ME AAA-

presenting

da Inside out journalism/undercover au???

In this AU, Disgust and Envy are the stars of the show! They’re an aspiring journalist duo who hope they can get their big break with a hit story. Alongside their partner Anxiety, they have their watchful eyes on a criminal group, The Rainbow Renegades. Made up of 6 members, these guys are tough cookies to deal with, and so Disgust, Envy and Anxiety will have to use their smarts to get intel and bust these outlaws. However, the duo doesn’t know that they have a secret weapon that can help them bust the Renegades, but it won’t come out to them that easily…

Characters

Journalists

Disgust

The lead investigator. Loves dressing up and writing about gossip. She’s been doing it ever since high school. Runs a small newspaper/magazine with her sister Envy called HotGloss News. Having sewing and fashion design as a hobby, she uses this skill to her advantage and designs all sorts of disguises for the trio to use. Her biggest weakness? Bias.

Envy

Disgust’s little sister and partner. She aspires to be just like her sister when she grows up, and run her own newsletter! Despite only being 9 years old, she helps her sis in investigations and does it amazingly. I mean, nobody expects a child to be an undercover investigator! She has a blossoming friendship with Anxiety, and often wants to tag along with her when she goes out, even though she keeps insisting that she shouldn’t. Huh.

Anxiety

A friend of Disgust’s that took this job to aid the duo in getting intel. Also, it’s just fun to go undercover and spy on people. Anxiety says she’s also trying to escape something from weighing on her, but the “something” she mentions is unknown. She goes out often to run errands of her own, but always comes back out of breath, tired, and nervous. Sometimes she even seems to come back hurt in some way, which makes this habit sketchier. Little do Disgust and Envy know, she has something bigger hiding behind their back…

The Rainbow Renegades

Sunshine (Joy)

The leader of the Renegades. Always comes up with a devious plan to smash and grab. Her specialty being the “sunburst” in which she pulls out a gun and spins while pulling the trigger. Sounds cute, but it’s extremely deadly.

Flamethrower (Anger)

The Renegade best known for setting the ransacked place on fire. For some reason, it comes out of his head. (!?)

Greg (Fear)

Instead of having a super-cool alias like the other renegades, this guy just goes by “Greg”. But don’t let his vulnerable personality and look fool you, as he has strength at unbelievable levels.

Au_revoir46377 (Ennui)

The renegades’ in house hacker. Going by her online username, she finds places that got the goods they want, and locates them for the renegades to ransack. Also usually turns off all security cameras as well.

Smasher (Embarrassment)

On the same floor as Greg, but Smasher is a bit more shy to throw punches. He’d rather just take the stuff.

The most important character, out of all of them, is actually Anxiety, and for a special reason. Remember how I mentioned that she goes out fairly often, and comes back suspiciously exhausted every time? Well, that’s because she’s secretly part of the Rainbow Renegades.

Zap (Anxiety’s alter ego)

When Anxiety goes out to “run errands,” what she’s really saying is that she’s going to go meet up with her comrades, the Rainbow Renegades, and go break the law. Under the alias Zap, she is probably one of the greatest criminals the Renegades have ever had. She can pull off a heist that would usually take more than one person, all under one minute. In fact, Sunshine considers her the bestest friend and partner in crime she’s ever had! However, both sides don’t know about her identity on the other. Disgust and Envy don’t know about her criminal life as Zap. The Rainbow Renegades don’t know about her real and investigator life as Anxiety. Yet, she’s way too nervous to come out to both. She thinks she’ll either disappoint or enrage either of them. So for now, she’s just going to figure out how to live a double life.

dw guys the bakery au is still alive and well :> just gonna have my head on this one for a while… AND IM GONNA WRITE IT ON AO3-

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: descriptions of a panic attack

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

A cacophony of voices fight to be heard over the other, everyone shit talking around the game of Mario Kart that’s currently set up in our living room. The boys and I watch as the four players duke it out on the big screen, witnesses to a friendship-breaking competition.

Loud stomping abruptly interrupts the taunts, “Y/N! What the hell? Is that my fucking shirt that you’re wearing?” My brother violently hollers from his spot, standing halfway down the stairs to peer down at the rest of us.

“The one you’ve been looking for all morning? Yup.” I lazily drawl from my spot on the couch, obnoxiously popping the “p” in my reply. My head slightly shifts as Tweek attempts to neatly braid my hair, Butters gently coaching him from the side.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Made me waste a bunch of time looking for nothing.” Stan continues as he finishes his journey down the stairs.

“You act like you have better things to do, loser. No girlfriend, no job—nada. So I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you on your period or something?” An accidental sharp tug makes me wince, Tweek muttering apologies as he quickly kisses the top of my head in repentance for his mistake.

“Shut up! Quit stealing my shit!” He's standing off to the side of the couch now, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

I glare at Stan and say around a mouthful of orange chicken at the top of my lungs. “Quit stealing my weed then!”

”God, you’re such a fucking pothead!” He shouts, fists clenching in anger.

”Says the alcoholic who starts his day with a shot!” It’s a low blow but all I can see is red.

“Bro, quit being a whiny bitch. You’re not dirt poor like Kinny. Just buy a new one.” Said blonde flashes Cartman his middle finger so he rolls his eyes and attempts to correct himself. “What? Fine, at least you weren’t born ginger and a Jew like Kahl. Talk about a double whammy, I’d honestly kill myself.”

”You don’t need a reason to kill yourself, Cartman. Make all of us happy for once and just do it. If you really need a reason, just think about how fat you are and how much wasted space you take up.”

”Aye!”

The match concludes with Jimmy coming out on top and the boys deciding to abandon the game entirely. They resume eating the Chinese takeout that’s laid out on the coffee table in front of them and half-heartedly listen to the sibling’s routine bickering.

“Take it off.” He scoffs at me, face heated with anger. Tolkien rolls his eyes so hard that I’m surprised a headache doesn’t occur.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re stupid, not deaf. Want me to ask mom to get you hearing aids? I said: take. It. Off.” Comes out of my brother’s gritted teeth, each word growing more impatient and strained.

“Big deal, Stan! There’s so many other fucking shirts in this house. Feel free to get one from my closet if you need one so bad.” I retort in exasperation, clenching the denim on Tweeks legs that lay on either side of my body in frustration.

“Ack!” The frenzied blond yelps from behind me and I let go, fiddling with the creases on his jeans instead.

“No! Didn’t you hear me, r-tard? It’s mine, I bought it. Now, take it off!” Kyle closes his eyes at the elder Marsh’s words, tired beyond his years.

“Able to throw some money away for a dumb shirt but you can’t even pay me back my hundred dollars.” The local space enthusiast mumbles to himself, a chorus of ‘shut up, Craig!’ resounds from the boys in Team Stan.

“Fine!” I smirk and get off from my perch on the couch, a sly yet very bold idea pops up into my head. The perfect little thing to piss my dear older brother off. If you want petty, I’ll give you petty.

I grab my shirt from the hem and start to slowly lift it off of my frame, quirking a smug eyebrow and taunting my brother with a smile when more skin starts to show.

“Woohoo!” Kenny hollers excitedly at me, his hands in the air.

“F-f-fuck! No! Quit it, will you?! Don’t fucking do that!” Stan pushes those in his way aside and the boys make it hard for him on purpose by sticking out their legs to trip him. My brother scrambles over to me, forcing my hands down.

“Aw. What’s wrong, Stanley? You’re starting to sound a lot like Jimmy, how cute. I thought you wanted your stupid shirt?” I jeer at him. It’s like what Bebe always says: boys never know what they want and that’s the problem with them. Amen, sister.

“Ewww, Marsh. No one wants to see your underdeveloped body.” Craig socks Cartman on the arm, hard and the larger teen squeals like a dying pig.

“Don’t listen to them, sexy! Keep on going!” Clyde joins in laughing, sliding off his jacket and twirling it over his head in support of the apparent stripping going on.

“You’re voluptuous! Curvaceous! I’m already down on my knees at the sight of you, sweet thang!” Clyde continues to exaggeratedly hype me up, comically imitating the sound of a barking dog afterwards.

“I don’t know how you guys can take her seriously when her hair’s only halfway done. Looks like a damn hippie.” Cartman mumbles, more focused on inhaling his food and rubbing his now sore arm.

“Pffft, b-buh-baby Marsh gone w-wild!” Kung pao chicken accompanies Jimmy’s words of encouragement and he grabs one of his arm crutches, twirling it above his head too. My hands are still at the hem of my shirt, lifted up slightly and exposing a sliver of skin, even when my brother lets go.

I turn my head and catch Craig’s eyes trailing down as he smirks at me, his eyebrows lifted up playfully. A glint in his deep blues as he nonchalantly says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

While I’d normally giggle in amusement at the normally stoic teen and the contribution towards further riling my brother up, my face immediately flushes red after my talk with the girls at the party. I’d say that butterflies are invading my stomach, struggling to break free but it honestly feels like a whole damn zoo down there.

Feeling the adrenaline rush from my brother’s anger, the boys egging me on, and Craig’s attention, my heart beats at record breaking speed and I can feel my cheeks shyly heat up. This development doesn’t go by unnoticed as Kenny stops his playful cheering and laughing, watching the interaction between us two with furrowed brows.

“Fuck off, Tucker. Actually, fuck both of you all the way to hell.” My brother grumbles, angrily throwing himself onto an unoccupied space on the couch with his arms crossed. “It’s the fucking principle of things.”

“Big word, Stanley. Is that your word of the day? Did you learn it from this week’s episode of Sesame Street?” I mock him with a pout in fake sympathy.

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your fucking teeth in!” My brother’s stupid face goes red with anger.

He pouts when Kyle holds him back and rolls his eyes, ever the voice of reason. “They were just joking, Stan.”

“Yeah, Stanley. I was just joking.” My eyes continue to follow Craig as he lifts a bite of food towards his handsome face, wooden chopsticks pressed against his still smirking plush lips.

“Craig.” My brother says sharply this time, straightening up his back to glare at the teen over Cartman’s bigass head. I’m slightly confused as to what’s happening but still loving the attention Craig is giving me.

“Relax, Marsh.” Craig chuckles with a challenging look in his eyes. Tension begins to grow in the room and I’m lost because the other guys would normally laugh at suave shit like that and instigate a fight.

I roll my eyes and figure that it’s just them being overly protective, going back to my spot in between the cute coffee addict’s legs so that he can finish his attempt at doing my hair. Butters has a small braid done in between tufts of silky blonde from when I demonstrated the process to Tweek. He rubs his knuckles together, nervous energy exuding from his body as I return next to him.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls excitedly informed me of tryouts and the process, which involves practice with the already established team and the new potential recruits. A week and a half is given to learn a few cheers before the day they hold the official tryouts, which was today. It’s here where I finally meet Nichole Daniels, Tolkien’s girlfriend. It would’ve been nice if he brought her over from time to time but I can understand his vehement refusal of bringing her anywhere near a number of dumb boys. Trouble seems to follow the guys wherever they go.

As promised to the parentals, I attended and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with the friends I’ve already made being here. I’ve never had problems with dancing as it comes easy to me so it’s nice to just hang out and bask in the feminine energy.

My parent’s request has continued to go under the radar as the boys have been busy with the football season starting. Their practice allows me to not have to think of an excuse for staying out late since they’re already busy, extracurricular activities taking up their time after school as they prepare for the season.

I shove the heavy front doors of the school open, the sun almost fully set as a gradient of red, yellow, and orange bathe me in their hues. The girls always remember to offer me a ride home from their parents but I always politely reject, my guilt not allowing any of them to go out of their way and use their gas on me.

My hands are shoved into my pockets, trying to accumulate as much heat as possible while I begin the journey home. Wisps of fleeting, misty clouds escape from my mouth after each puff of breath I let out and I watch them disappear. I bask in the rare moment of solitude and the quiet that comes with it.

I’m colder than I normally would be tonight because a freshman accidentally spilled her gatorade onto the duffel bag that I’ve been using for cheer. Not only were the sweats that I usually throw on over my shorts drenched in sticky sweetness, but the clothes I wore to school earlier were also an unlucky casualty to the liquid electrolytes.

I wonder if I’ll make the cheer team, I ponder to myself.

The rhythmic sound of my steps on the concrete sidewalk accompany me on my walk and I hum to myself until I hear sharp, rambunctious laughter. I’m startled as my head shoots up and see that across from me in the distance are a group of boisterous, older teens. Fear resounds within me when I faintly remember them terrorizing my brother and friends when they were in the fourth grade, them having been in the sixth at the time.

I pray in my head that they don’t notice me but my prayers go unanswered as they cross the street, now joining me on the same sidewalk. I know I can’t outrun them so I panic and impulsively decide to take a detour, turning right into an alleyway until I dreadfully notice that I can still hear them from behind. What was once just the sound of obnoxious laughter is now the noise of thundering footsteps following closely, beginning to get louder and louder.

My feet hastily pick up their pace and I can feel the tremors reverberate through my now sweating hands, anxiety filling me to the very core. My trembling makes the process of pulling out my phone agonizingly slow and I silently curse at my misfortune.

The white puffs of air that once brought me entertainment on my walk now serve as a reminder of the danger I’m in. Unlike before, they come out of my mouth in quick intervals and I clench my teeth to bid them away.

Out of nowhere, someone roughly yanks on my ponytail and they’re quick to cut off my yelp as a rough hand forces itself onto my mouth. The assailant painfully holds onto my other arm, both grips enforcing excruciating pain.

“Hey, I recognize you. You go to our school, always around those dumb boys.” One of the perpetrators in front of me sneers as he brings his face up to mine, his rancid breath invading my senses and making me feel even sicker than before.  

“Lucky, aren’t we? We got baby Marsh!” Their eyes lighten up in both delight and recognition. I can feel upcoming bile trying to force its way up my throat from hearing the term of endearment the boys call me used like this, the connotation eerie in this situation.

Trying to make a sound is futile as all my cries for help are muffled, my captor getting annoyed at my squirming and relocating his hold on my arm to my neck instead. He squeezes and I whimper in fear, my breathing becomes more desperate when my kicking and elbows do nothing to deter him.

“Why’re you crying? You’re just asking for it when you walk around in fucking shorts. We live in South Park. No one would dress that way outside in the snow if they weren’t a total slut.” They all degradingly mock me, laughter resounding throughout the cold air as foreign fingers begin to play along the edge of my shorts.

“Pffft, dumb bitch.” One of them slaps me just because they have the power to do so in my vulnerable state before squeezing both of my cheeks together with one hand, hard.

“Who wants to go first?” They all fight over the answer to the question and I clench my eyes shut in dread, the color draining from my face.

Before they can do anything, yelling can be heard and I’m dropped by my captor. I stumble to the dirty ground of the alleyway at the loss of my previous support. On the floor, I painfully dig my nails onto my thighs. My breath hitches and my chest tightens, my panicking intensifying despite finally being free.

Short breaths rake through my trembling body and my nails dig deeper. Crescent moons appear on soft skin, invoking blood. My head starts to feel a little light and I try my hardest to calm myself down but it’s to no avail, my attempts prove to be futile. My unoccupied hand trembles as they reach up to touch wet, stinging cheeks. I didn’t even notice that I‘ve begun to sob as every gasp for air racks my body.

“Holy shit.” Varying voices can be heard from around me but my mind barely registers their words as my head continues to feel even lighter than before.

Even though I’m unable to determine whether or not I’m safe, I don’t flinch when someone crouches next to me and hastily crushes me against their hard chest. I’m numb to my surroundings and everything feels distorted. It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning.

“Ack! She’s hyperventilating! Gyah!”

“No fucking shit captain obvious!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The chest I’m against rumbles and my brain finally registers it as the sound of Kenny’s voice. I muster up what little strength I have to look up and see my boys around me. My brother is directly crouched in front of me and from my peripherals, I can just barely see that it’s Kyle in the same position next to him, eyes wide in panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Fuck! What should we do?!” It’s Tolkien this time but I can’t look away from my brother. My eyes are begging him to do something, anything to make it stop. Oh how I wish twin telepathy were real.

“Breathe, baby. You need to breathe for me.” The world tilts around me as a soothing voice near my ear urges. A resounding gasp of air struggles to be inhaled but it’s too shaky and tears of frustration continue to fall. My breathing isn’t slowing and I just want this to be over.

“Someone needs to do something before her heart gives out!” Someone loudly kicks what sounds to be a trash can in anger, messily spilling its contents all over the floor and I flinch at the blow.

“Y/N, breathe.” Stan coaches me, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. His large hand encompasses my smaller one, exerting slight pressure until I can feel his heartbeat.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice and follow me. In, and out. In, and out. I’m here. You see me, right? You’re here with me at this very moment and you’re safe. You’re always safe with me. Big brothers always got you, yeah?”

I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t.

I’ve been trying and nothing is happening.

It won’t stop and I can’t fucking breathe.

I don’t want to disappoint everyone but I’m tired.

“Shh, shh. You can, love, you can. I know you can.” Kenny patiently encourages me as he gently brushes strands of my hair away from my sticky, tear-stained cheeks. Heavily disoriented, I didn’t seem to realize that I was verbalizing all of my thoughts.

“You know why? Because my girl is the absolute best—the best girl ever and everyone who's anybody knows that. She’s resilient and just so, so strong. As long as she tries her best, I’ll always be proud of her no matter what and nothing she can do will ever disappoint me. Literally, nothing. She could put a bullet through my head and I’d just pass away in euphoria because my last living memory is of a goddess with ethereal beauty.” Kenny continues and ever so slightly, a corner of my lip lifts up.

This is familiar. This is comforting. I know this. The playful flirting and cheesy, over the top exaggeration. His soothing voice helps guide me back down to Earth as I focus on the rising chest of my brother under my fingertips. This is familiar, too. It’s a sound I’ve always known, even before I was born. Whenever I’m feeling sad or scared, my big brother will always hug me to his chest, my ear pressed against the faint beating of his heart. The rhythmic sound let’s me know that I’m safe, I always am when he’s here. This sound is the other half of me.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. Really great. You always do great and I knew you would.” It’s the voice near my ear again and this time, I’m finally able to look away from my brother to see that the voice belongs to Craig. It appears he had a hand on my shoulder throughout the whole ordeal, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over my jacket.

I now notice that Butters has my other hand firmly in his, tears streaking down both his and Clyde’s faces. They all must have found me after practice and I’m thankful that I wasn’t too far from the school before everything went down.

When they ask me what I was doing out so late, in athletic shorts no less, I mumble an excuse about the girls inviting me to workout in the weight room back at school. They don’t know that it’s not just today that I’ve been trekking home alone at night and I don't want to correct their assumption when they sternly lecture me on how dangerous it is.

After taking me home and getting myself cleaned up, they decide on an impromptu movie night filled with blankets, pillows, and snacks. Last minute texts are sent to their parents, notifying them of an emergency sleepover. They place me in the middle, a cocoon of softness, warmth, and comfort. They let me choose all the movies for the rest of the night and the food we order for delivery.

Our faces are colored a pale green from the clay mask I put on everyone, those with longer hair having mini palm trees at the top of their head from being tied up away from their faces.

Self care, they told me.

This isn’t edible so don’t try to lick it off your face, I told Cartman.

I slowly look around and take in the bright light of the television reflecting off of their individual faces. Some people, like Tolkien and Kyle, are starting to nod off, fighting the last dredges of sleep for my sake. On the other end of the spectrum, Butters and Clyde jump at every loud sound that accompanies the suspenseful music, paranoia painting their faces white. Tweek catches my eye and gently feeds me a kernel of popcorn.

Surrounded by my boys, I smile knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with them.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

I’m sitting in front of my vanity, carefully applying some makeup to cover the faint bruising on my cheek, the process therapeutic. The occasional clicking of buttons could be heard, Craig lounging on my bed with a handheld gaming console in his hands. I softly mouth along to the words of the low music playing from my phone while faint laughter can be heard from downstairs.

I chance a glance up and catch Craig’s reflection from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t turn my head around as we make eye contact through the mirror. My lips unconsciously quirk up, fondness of the boy behind me fills my entire being from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “Hmm? What’s up, Tucker?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a thoughtful look adorning his attractive features. Ever since the night the boys found me, I’ve been catching their lingering gazes on me from time to time. Eyes distant, as if they’re looking past me.

I settle both of my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands carefully framing both of my cheeks lest I smudge my hard work. My smile doesn’t falter, never when I’m with him, and I lightheartedly tease him, “What? Never seen a good looking Marsh before? I know you’re around my brother all the time but he's not that ugly.”

I’m successful in getting a reaction from him because I’m soon rewarded with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, his expression softening, “Come here.”

His deep voice is firm, filling my room with its gentle demand and I blindly obey. With Craig, I’d do just about anything for him. He’s now seated upright and has positioned himself at the edge of my bed, legs open and his thumb tapping a beat onto his thigh.

When I’m close enough, the boy grabs both of my hands, interlocking our fingers together. He gives the intertwined digits a swift, reassuring squeeze before guiding me to him to close the short distance between us. I stand in between his legs and he elicits sudden goosebumps along my arms as he carefully drags his long fingers down the length of it, slowly before finding purchase at my hips.

I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, bringing us closer together and he gently squeezes in response. He murmurs so quietly, “Are you okay?”

I softly reply, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his neck, catching strands of smooth black hair. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Our voices are hushed. There’s no need to be quiet but it feels like we’re in a bubble and at any disruption, no matter how slight, might pop it.

“Yeah… You know I’m always here for you, right?” I softly nod in response, a slight shift in this space of intimacy we’ve created.

“You know you have me, right?” Again, I nod as I hang onto his words.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it is—big or small. At the asscrack of dawn or in the middle of the night. I'd drop whatever I was doing if it meant getting to you when you need me.” His long fingers reach up to lightly smooth his thumb at the area where soft skin meets makeup.

“If you ever have any doubts or feel upset about anything, just talk to me, okay? And I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to erase those doubts and remind you of how much you mean to me. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or less of anything, not when you mean everything to me.” The ravenette continues as he moves his hand, this time tucking silky strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

I shyly giggle in bliss at his soft touch and even lighter voice. “Where is this coming from, Craig?”

He ignores my question, persistent to convey his message to me. “You do know that, right, Y/N?”

“Of course, I’ve never doubted it or thought otherwise.”

“Good.” The teen says, satiated before bringing us down onto the bed.

My hands lay themselves against his chest to keep myself upright and he caresses my head with both hands, angling my head down to give my forehead a soft kiss. His lips lingers before pulling away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It wasn’t hard for the girls to see the slight traces of lingering purple under my attempted camouflage. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, yet they persisted in trying to make up for it due to the guilt they all felt.

I had just finished applying my daily cover up and was adding the final touches to my hair, making sure that every single strand was in place. Satisfied, I turn the brightness of my computer screen back up until the reflection of myself on the glass disappears. I had time before I was due to head out so I loosely curled every lock cascading down my shoulders, braids adorning either side of my head. The girls wanted to take me out later in the day as an otherwise unnecessary apology and I hummed to myself in excitement.

“Wow, doll. Is this all for me?” I look up from the boss battle I was currently engaged in, pausing to identify the intruder that let out a low whistle.

Kenny leans off from his laidback position on my door frame and lazily walks up behind me, the end of his lips quirked up. He gives me an appreciative hum as he takes his time scanning my appearance, indulging his eyes on my figure. I patiently smile at his appreciation.

“Ah, scratch that. That was a stupid question, you’re beautiful every single day to anyone who lays their eyes on you. You don’t even need to try so I meant to say that this is a welcomed treat.” I turn around in my seat to face him, giggling at his words of praise. I greedily drink them in as I loop my arms around his waist.

“Beautiful?” I seek more of his validation, a deepening blush rising on my cheeks as I parrot back his compliment.

He takes a small section of my hair and gently guides his hand to his face, kissing the soft locks in his possession. He hums to me, “Beautiful, bewitching, alluring… You’re every synonym and every iteration of the word, babe. You define beautiful, you’re the very embodiment of it. That word was created because of you—if I were to look under the definition of it, your name would be there.”

My smile grows wider and my cheeks start to hurt from the action, resulted by the constant influx of euphoria that the blonde never fails to provide me. Whether from being drunk on the male’s compliments or shyness, the color red has made its permanent residence onto my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair and gently cups his large hands on either side of my face, angling it up towards his taller figure.

“Pretty.” He quietly utters to my skin, kissing my forehead.

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to my nose this time.

“Irresistible.” A kiss to my left cheek.

“Ravishing.” A firmer kiss to my right cheek with a playful growl, melodic laughter gets pulled out of me.

“Lovely.” He says much softer this time, watching me with gentle eyes. He keeps his devoted gaze onto my visage, his thumb lightly goes over my lips once. “Everything a guy could ever ask for in a person. Everything that I could ever want in life. If I could have one wish, it’d be you.”

My eyes flicker between bright azure orbs, the air between us charged. Before I can say anything, the sound of muffled yelling from my brother’s room startles us. I hastily look away embarrassed, the moment between us broken.

“Can I make you pretty, too?” I flash him a toothy grin and he playfully rolls his eyes, seeking refuge onto my bed. That’s all the answer I need before I push at his shoulders to guide his back down before I settle myself onto his lower stomach, giggling with an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.

Washing flecks of glittery white over his eyelids, I bring my face closer to his and take the time to study the teen under me while his eyes are closed. His slender hands find purchase at my hips and I find myself mesmerized at the mini constellations that adorn his handsome face. Albeit not many, every freckle looks like a tiny star, accentuating the blonde’s mesmerizing features.

I lean in closer to get a better look as I carefully paint a streak of black, a steady hand making a line. I inspect my latest stroke when his hand gently grabs the wrist of the hand I have hovering over his face, the same one holding my eyeliner brush. His eyes slowly open as to not disturb my art, our faces close to one another. Kenny showcases his boyish smile, flashing me with deep dimples at the lack of space between us and my eyes inadvertently lower, seeking plush lips.

“Haven’t you noticed that yeah, the boys are overprotective over you. But when it comes to Kenny and Craig, it’s different?”

Fuck.

[jaxteller87]

Snow day

So, there we were, New York City covered in a thick blanket of snow, enough to bring the whole damn city to a standstill. Schools, work—everything shut down tight, and it looked like it would stay that way for a day or two. I was used to the powdery white stuff, but it was Jax’s first time experiencing a significant snowfall.

I couldn’t help but smile when I overheard Jax on the phone with his mom. I had just gotten out of the shower and heard him ask what the temperature was back in Charming.

“Eighty-two degrees?” he scoffed, “Try negative three, Mom. But it’s like— it’s like uh—hold on a minute,” he put his hand over the receiver of the phone. “Hey Amber!” he shouted.

“Yeah?” I casually called out from the bathroom as if I wasn’t listening in on the whole conversation.

“How cold is it with the windchill thing?”

“Negative twenty today, and it’s supposed to be even colder tonight,” I told him.

After he got off the phone, we went to the store to make sure we had enough supplies to ride out the storm. The funniest thing, though, was that Jax had a hard time wrapping his head around the way people were acting like it was the end of the world. But for me, it was just another day of winter in the frigid northeast.

“Are you kidding me?” Jax muttered under his breath.

I glanced at him nervously, knowing what was coming next. “Babe, it’s not a big deal.”

“Hey, lady,” he barked, causing her to jump and drop an armful of bread. “You do realize it’s just a little snow, right? You’re not preparing for the apocalypse! How many loaves do you need?”

The woman stared at him wide-eyed, clutching one remaining loaf to her chest like a shield. “I—I—”

“I what?” Jax bent down, picked up two of the other eight loaves she was hoarding, and handed them to her. “Save some for everyone, huh?”

“But— but the weatherman said it’s gonna be a blizzard!” she stammered.

Jax rolled his eyes dramatically. “So, take an entire shelf worth of bread for a day or two of snow? Trust me, lady,  you don’t need to buy out the entire store.”

He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing. I grabbed his hand and led us to a different aisle. Needless to say, we got what we needed, and we left before Jax went all quantity police on someone I might have known.

When we got home, the temperature was already starting to drop a little. “What the hell are you doing?” Jax barked as I cracked open the backdoor. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here, get your ass back inside.” He’d brought home a blowtorch from home, determined to melt away the ice so I wouldn’t slip and break something. We had salt for that here, but I didn’t tell him. He always had to help me; it was his thing. Besides, I didn’t have the heart to tell him he looked like an idiot down on his hands and knees, torching the frozen sidewalk. He was definitely acting like someone who never experienced snow before. So, I did the only thing that seemed right to do at that moment: I hit him in the side of the face with a snowball.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he chuckled, retaliating with a flurry of snowballs. And just like that, we were caught up in a full-blown snowball fight, laughing like a couple of damn kids. It was something we never got to do in Charming. It was one of those memories you wouldn’t think would amount to much, but yet, years later, you look back on it fondly.

After a while, I got out of my wheelchair and flopped down in the snow. In a few seconds, I had created a perfect angel. Jax sat down beside me and seemed to appreciate my artwork. “Nice,” he laughed.

“Hey, what are you laughing at?” I asked.

“You,” he chuckled, “I’m laughing at—”

POP!

I hit him in the face with the handful of snow I had been clutching between my fingers since I got out of the chair. “Got ya!”

“You son of a—”

POP!

“HA!” my laugh cracked so loudly I heard it bounce off the walls of the house. “Got ya again! Sorry to say, Teller, I’m the queen of the snow around these parts, and there’s nothing—”

POP! POP!

I took two snowballs to the dome, one in my right temple and the other square in the center of my face. Before I knew it, we were wrestling in the powdery white stuff- our joined laughter echoing through the frosty air.

After our little impromptu snowball battle, we changed out of our gear and snuggled up on the living room floor, wrapped in each other’s arms. “So, I was thinking—” I started to say, but something came over me, and I suddenly felt nervous.

 “What,” Jax asked, “Tell me?”

I blushed, feeling his hands skimming down my sides, teasingly preparing to tickle me. With a raised eyebrow, he awaited my response. “Okay, okay, just don’t make too much of me— please,” I giggled at the sheer concept of being brought to laughter by his fingers.

“Pinkie promise,” Jax smiled, extending his finger as a token of his word.

 “So, this was always a fantasy of mine— having sex while it’s snowing in front of the fireplace. Even though that’s a fake one,” I admitted, looking at the small heater.

Jax pulled me closer into his arms. “Well, what do you know! That’s a fantasy of mine, too,” he laughed, squeezing me tightly. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Since when?”

“Since you proposed that we have sex right here in front of the fireplace,” he smirked.

“Space heater,” I corrected him.

“Same thing.”

“Is it, though?”

“Sure. The point is, I’m not going to let what the heater wants to identify as ruin our sexy time. Fireplace, heater, campfire, whatever— you had me at sex.”

I rolled my eyes, “Big surprise there,” I joked.

“Aw, come on, I’m just messing with you. This whole experience has been nice, really,” he whispered against my neck. I could feel his lips brushing against my skin. “Like I always tell you, I don’t care what we do or where we go as long as I’m with you.” His whispered words sent shivers down my spine, “So?”

“So what?” I asked. 

“Space heater sex?” He had his begging eyes on. It was a fantasy of mine, after all.

“Well, if you’d look under the blanket, you’d notice my pants are already off. So, waiting on you, big Papa.”

The next day, Jax and I lounged lazily at home. An unexpected call from Mary broke the tranquility but was a very welcome surprise. “Hello, my dear,” she said. “I was just calling to see if you and the badass biker wanted to have dinner with me tonight.”

“Dinner?” Jax perked up, overhearing her.

“I was thinking tacos?” Mary continued.

“We’re in,” Jax whispered to me with a series of nods before sitting back on the couch.

“We’d love to; the roads are clear now,” I responded.

“Perfect! See you around 5,” Mary said.

“We’ll be there!” I hung up the phone, and the two of us got ready.

Later, as we found ourselves in her living room, my loving boyfriend engaged in conversation with Mary. “Hey, that’s a new painting,” I remarked, admiring the delicate strokes of purple and black butterflies surrounding the vibrantly colored flowerbeds.

“Yeah, I saw it the other week; thought it was cute, so I bought it,” Mary explained.

 “So, Teller, how are you liking your first real snow?” Mary crossed her legs and sat back on her chair.

“It’s been an experience, I guess I can say that at least,” he responded. There was nothing I loved more than watching my two besties bonding.

Later, back at home, as we snuggled on the sofa, Teller disappeared momentarily, only to return with a small gift. “Here,” he smiled, handing me a metal rose. “I’ll love you until it weathers away,” he told me with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, baby,” I smiled. 

“I wanted it to be your single rose for Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t done in time.”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I love it, and I love you!”  I was brimming with joy from ear to ear. I reached up, and when he bent down to me, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him like it was our last hug ever. I sat the metal rose next to the real one he had given me a few days ago.

“The cool thing about that one is you don’t need to water it,” he joked. He always had a way of making me laugh.

[sukirichi]

sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations. 

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner. 

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. 

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous. 

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.  

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder. 

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart. 

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact. 

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. 

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes. 

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised. 

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now? 

Silly girl, you chastised yourself. 

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story. 

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses. 

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds. 

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him,  eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin. 

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead. 

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage. 

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses. 

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded. 

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down. 

You were fuming. 

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from. 

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff. 

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop. 

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!” 

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward. 

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination. 

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it. 

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then. 

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life. 

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel. 

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you. 

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him. 

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away. 

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?” 

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Unsolved | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! I am a BIG fan of Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara and their show Buzzfeed Unsolved (soon to be Ghost Files in the Watcher Network on Youtube), so this is inspired by a few of their episodes! 😂👻

If you like what you read, reblog so others can find my stuff!🥰

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

Bucky’s warm hand grew clammy as he rested it in your palm. “I still don’t know why we’re doing this-” he looked to Steve, “this is a terrible idea”. Obvious fear showed itself in Bucky’s voice, but Steve simply shrugged. He clapped a large hand against his best friend’s back and stared ahead and the old house that sat before the group. “Because someone is adamant that ghosts are real, and Nat and I just wanna see for ourselves”.

“Right- so why are we here?” Bucky tightened his hand around yours, his protective instincts never taking a day off. You couldn’t seem to recall the details of the conversation that landed you, Bucky, Nat, and Steve in front of one of the most haunted houses in the United States, but you regretted ever taking part.

----Two days earlier----

Bucky let loose a loud groan as Nat made her pick for movie night: The Conjuring. “What’s the deal, Barnes? Too scared?” Nat tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, relishing in her favorite activity- giving Bucky shit. Their sibling-like relationship always manifested in silly arguments and bouts of rough housing that often ended with Sam and Steve at their wit’s end. “I just prefer slasher flicks over the paranormal ones. That’s all”.

He stole her bowl of popcorn and placed it in his lap, offering some to you before diving in himself. Nat scooched forward in her seat, her expression betraying an even mix of disbelief and annoyance, “Hang on- you’re telling me you’d really rather watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre or some shit over this? This is one of the best horror movies ever made! What do you have against the supernatural?”

Steve had tried to stay out of it, but he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Nat, don’t get him started-” he practically begged, but it was too late. Bucky shot Steve a look and Nat made eyes at you, clearly confused. Placing a hand on Bucky’s thigh, you pulled his attention, “Um, do you two maybe wanna clue us in?” Steve let out an exasperated huff and took a long swig of his beer, motioning for Bucky to do the honors.

“Steven here doesn’t believe in ghosts, like an idiot-”

“Oh, I’m the idiot?”

Bucky flew into the same argument he used every time he debated with Steve about the supernatural over the course of their long friendship, “Then where does the energy go? HUH? Energy can’t be created or destroyed, Steve! So we gotta go somewhere when we die!” Steve just rolled his eyes as he always did, taking yet another long swig of his beer,“We go into the ground, Buck! You die, you get buried, you decompose! That’swhere the energy goes-”

“That’s just your body, man. I’m talking about your energy!”

“When did you become such a hippie, Buck?”

Bucky grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at Steve, landing a few pieces in your hair as collateral damage. He gently freed the popcorn from your locks and took your hand in his before whispering a quick apology. With Bucky distracted, Nat snatched her popcorn from his lap, “listen to your friend there, Barnes. Ghosts aren’t real! You know I love you, but you look like the Charlie Day red string meme right now”. Bucky stared at her with a blank expression, his lack of pop culture knowledge making itself obvious. With another laugh and a “never mind”, Nat motioned for the conversation to continue.

“Anyway…” Steve cleared his throat, “What do you think, huh? Nat and I are skeptics and Buck is a believer- what about you?” Three sets of eyes rested on you, everyone curious to see who you’d side with. “I totally believe in ghosts- Why wouldn’t I? I mean, we’ve seen some crazy shit: Norse gods, armies from space, Thanos- believing in ghosts seems like a no brainer after all that”. Bucky slung his metal arm around you with a proud smile, pulling you in close to his body, “See? She gets it”.

But his cheeky smile disappeared just as quickly as it came when Nat presented the group with a challenge. “There’s actually a pretty famous house not far from here. It’s from 1907 and everyone says it’s crazy haunted- there’s even an alleged demon in the basement”. Even with your unenhanced senses, you could’ve sworn you heard the rapid beating of Bucky’s heart. His warm hand suddenly grew clammy, and his breathing hitched in his chest, the mere thought of another encounter with the paranormal sending a chill down his spine.

“Yeah, come on, Buck. Let’s settle our century long debate: Are ghosts real?” Steve’s cocky grin pushed all fear from Bucky’s body, and with a handshake, he agreed. “Fine! Let’s do it. Just don’t come crying to me when you get possessed”.

“I actually know the people who own the house- long story, don’t ask- I’ll call them and ask if the four of us can have a little sleepover party”, Nat let loose a dark laugh, “it’ll be fun”.

----Now----

“Fun” was not the word Bucky used to describe the plan for the evening as the four of you stood outside the famed house, staring at it in the setting sun. “You two are here to balance us out! We’re the skeptics, you’re the believers. It’s gotta be even!” Steve took a long look at the small, seemingly normal house, “This place is nice, actually. I’d live here-” he grabbed his bag from the car and headed up the front walk, “your friends lookin’ to sell, Nat?”

He disappeared inside with Nat hot on his heels, the two of them eager to get inside the house that they believed to be completely free of any ghosts or ghouls. But Bucky could feel the fear creeping up his spine, “I still think we should’ve brought holy water. Wouldn’t have hurt…”

“You don’t have to do this, Buck. We could take the keys and ditch their asses if you want”. Seeing your hulking, super soldier boyfriend so scared was rare. He leaned his body against yours, his massive frame dwarfing you in comparison.

“No, it’s- it’s fine. Can’t let those two get any bragging rights. I’m just gonna spend some time with my best girl”. His hand found yours in search of a reassuring squeeze, and the two of you headed inside for your date with the darkness.

Steve was right. If it weren’t for the possible haunting, the house would’ve made a lovely place to live. Imagining the cozy living room and surprisingly spacious kitchen as your home was easy, especially with Bucky by your side- and he intended to stay there all night. He wanted to accompany you everywhere, partially for his own sanity, but also for your safety. He didn’t want you stepping away to get a glass of water and ending up possessed by the house’s darkest resident.

But Steve had other plans, “Okay! Well, I say we split up and look around so we can get acquainted with the ghouls.” Bucky’s mouth ran dry at the thought of actually exploring the house. He’d found a tiny amount of comfort in the living room, and planned to stay there until sunrise- but knew Steve would tease him if he did. “Um, okay, yeah- let’s explore. Just as long as we’re respectful, you know?” Bucky threw a pointed look at Nat and Steve, hammering his point home, “you don’t wanna ask a spirit to show itself or antagonize them in any way- don’t tell them to touch you or-”

“HEY, GHOSTS! WE’RE HERE!” Steve shouted into the air, “COME SAY HELLOOOO.” A sickly pallor took over Bucky’s expression as he begged Steve to stop, but Nat just had to jump in. “YEAH! AND IF THERE’S ANY DEMONS HERE, SHOW YOURSELVES! LET’S PARTYI DARE YOU TO GRAB ME! PULL MY HAIR! WIGGLE ME AROUND!” Steve collapsed into a fit of laughter, spurring Nat on even further. “COME PULL MY BONES OUTTA MY BODY! RIP MY HEART OUT!”

The room fell silent.

Everyone in the group waited for something- anything- to happen. Steve and Nat both hoped a fire would suddenly roar to life in the fireplace or an unseen force to drag them across the room, but nothing happened. “Okay, well, now that we got ‘em all riled up, let’s get exploring.” Steve turned on his heel and headed for the back bedroom, leaving the three of you behind. But three turned to two when Nat took off in the opposite direction to start her adventure in the kitchen.

Bucky, however, remained rooted in place. A cold sweat trickled down his spine and his pupils remained blown with fear as he stared down at you. “Don’t worry Buck, I’m gonna stay right here”, you squeezed his hand, “this isn’t an episode of Scooby Doo where we let fuckin’ Fred give us orders. He and Daphne can split up all they want, but this Velma is stayin’ by her Shaggy”.

And for the first time since arriving at the house, Bucky smiled. “Holy shit, Steve and Nat really are Fred and Daphne, aren’t they? Only, Steve doesn’t have an ascot and I don’t remember Daphne being so deadly…” The loud laugh that escaped your lips made Bucky smile. And with a gentle tug, you pulled him down the hall.

Bucky remained by your side, his fear rendering him eerily silent. “Hey, come on, this could be fun!” you pulled him into a random room and flipped on the light, “okay- let’s pretend we’re buying the house. What would you change about this room?” Bucky scanned the contents of the small room, eyeing the child-size bed and pink, floral wallpaper.

He thought long and hard about the question, picturing himself buying and remodeling a house with you. Just the thought of doing so brought a smile to his face, and any thought of the supernatural faded away. “Okay, um, I’d obviously get rid of all the kid stuff…maybe this would be your office? That way you don’t have to do your work at the kitchen table”.

He told you about the large, wooden desk he’d get for you and the tall bookshelves he’d line with your favorite novels. He imagined a comfortable armchair for reading and all kinds of art hanging on the walls; he built you the perfect space. “Damn. Now I wanna live here for real”, you leaned against his body, picturing the ideal, cozy room Bucky designed just for you- until a sound made you jump.

A distinct noise filled the room, like someone knocking on the wall. The three loud knocks sent a chill running down Bucky’s spine, until he heard Nat burst into laughter. “Gotcha!” she laughed at the shocked expression that colored your face and Bucky’s. “I was thinking we could order some pizza, I’m fucking hungry. You guys in?” You shared a glance with Bucky, the two of you experiencing the exact same thought- as you often did. “Um, you’re gonna order pizza? Here?” In no time at all, Steve appeared in the doorway, “did someone say pizza?”

With the four of you in the same room, the rest of the house should’ve remained silent- but an eerie scratching sound echoed through the room. “Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny, Nat”, Bucky rolled his eyes at her, but instantly clocked the confusion she wore. “That um, that wasn’t me”, she looked to Steve, “Rogers?” But Steve shook his head. A hush fell over the group as four pairs of ears strained for any other sounds, but nothing came.

“Um. Anyway…” Nat shook the eerie feeling from her mind, “it’s just a house- of course I’m gonna order pizza. I’m hungry”. Nat whipped out her phone and headed for the living room, placing an order for enough pizza to feed the enter 107th. But you and Bucky couldn’t believe how casual Nat was. There’d been such a clear indicator of something in the house, and all Nat could think about was deep dish from Romano’s.

Back in the living room, you laughed and joked with the group as everyone practically inhaled their food, and Bucky almost felt normal- until he heard an eerie sound. A loud ‘creeeeak‘ rattled down the hall and into the living room, pulling everyone’s attention.

Bucky instinctively inched closer to you, either to protect you or find reassurance for himself, as the sound faded out. “Okay, what the fuck was that?” Bucky stared down the dark hallway in the direction of the sound. He was definitely curious about the origin, but not so curious that he’d go searching for it. “Relax, Barnes”, Nat sighed, “this place is over a hundred years old- it’s got a lot of creaks and groans in it. You know, just like you”.

Steve quickly reminded her whose side she was on, and she apologized for the friendly fire with a less than sincere ‘sorryyyyyy’. “OH! I totally forgot, I wanted to give you guys a little history about the house!” She pushed her pizza aside and cleared her throat before diving into the house’s storied past, “Like I said, it was built in 1907 by a German guy, Bernard Schiefer. He lived here with his wife and their daughter, but the daughter died in the house when she was seven. People say she’s still hanging around here…”

“Oh, a little girl ghost?” Steve piped up, his mouth full of pizza, “Those are always the creepiest ones! I wonder if she’ll talk to us”.

“Well, she only speaks German. So unless you remember some Deutsch from your days fighting the Nazis, you’re shit outta luck”. Nat tried to continue to her story, only to be interrupted by Steve. “Hallo, mein name ist Steve Rogers”, he proudly proclaimed, shooting a wink at Nat. Everyone waited for an answer from the little girl’s ghost, but the room remained deathly silent.

Nat turned to Steve with narrowed eyes, “really? You spent all that time in Germany and all you can say is your name-”

“I was introducing myself! Some of us have manners, Natasha. I can say other stuff- just give me a second…” Steve searched his brain for the right thing to say, finally settling on a single word, “Flugzeug”.

“What does that mean…?” Nat eyed Steve, still unimpressed by his less than fluent German.

“Um. It means airplane”.

Nat rolled her eyes and let out a loud huff, slumping in her seat with plenty of dramatic flair, “airplane?! That’s all you can come up with!” She launched packets of parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes at him, forcing him to duck for cover. “Hey! Don’t give me that!” Steve raised his hands in surrender, “I was in Germany eighty years ago-I’m shocked I remembered that much!”

“ANYWAY, Steven. After her daughter died, Mrs. Schiefer refused to leave, and she died in the house six years later”. As Nat regaled the history of the house, Bucky felt his heartrate quickening. It took everything in him not to climb into your lap when Nat revealed that the house had served as a mortuary after Mr. Schiefer sold it in 1927- and he could’ve passed out when she told the group who bought the house in the 80’s.

“So then a cult bought the place when the mortuary closed- this was kinda their headquarters”.

Bucky slumped back into the couch cushions, groaning a dramatic “oh, perfect”. He’d been ready to leave the second the group arrived at the house, and the mention of a cult had him regretting ever stepping foot inside. You leaned your body against his, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek. His cold, metal hand found yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, finding solace in your touch. With you by his side, a newfound confidence surfaced inside him. He opened his mouth to tell Nat that it was time to go, but a sudden sound stopped him.

The loud crash of a large shelf falling from the wall rendered everyone silent. A cold sensation pricked at your skin as you stared at the decorative pieces that lay strewn across the ground as a result of the fall. No one was anywhere near that shelf, and even Steve struggled to come up with a logical explanation. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to reason his way out of the seemingly unexplainable phenomenon.

“Um, I know what you’re thinking, but this place is over a hundred years old!” Nat interjected, “I’m sure the walls are full of dry rot. And there has to be termite damage. It’s not a ghost!”. With another bite of pizza, she resumed her story as though nothing had happened.

“The cult was…dark. They definitely sacrificed animals down there… the inspector found a lot of weird stuff. And there’s some strange shit painted on the floor- like, symbols and stuff. And no one can cover it up or remove it- no matter how hard they try. Apparently, that’s how the demon ended up down there- all those sacrifices and rituals attracted some dark force that will never leave…” The room fell silent for a split second until Nat let out a loud laugh, “ya know, if that shit were real”.

As the weight of Nat’s story settled in, a feeling of uneasiness crept through the room. Even Steve felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of ritual sacrifice happening just one floor below his feet. But Nat remained unphased.

“So then my friends bought the place when the bank foreclosed on the cult! They didn’t know about all the weird stuff and just wanted to do some renovations to restore it to its former glory- but apparently that didn’t go so well”.

“What, um…what do you mean by that?” You knew you had to be strong for Bucky, but hiding the shakiness of your voice seemed impossible. “Apparently, ghosts don’t like when you fuck with their environment…” Nat smirked, “doors slammed, cold hands grabbed at peoples’ wrists, and the contractor swore he heard voices coming from the basement…”

Steve opened his mouth to make what would’ve been a smart-ass comment, but he changed his mind when the basement door suddenly flew open. “And what’s your explanation for that, huh?” Bucky pulled you closer to his side, “let me guess, the air conditioning blew it open?” Nat stared at the now-open basement door with wide eyes, her gaze drifting down the darkened stairs. “There’s um…” she finally said, “there isn’t any air conditioning…”

Without warning, Bucky sprang from his seat on the couch, “That’s it! We are not sleeping here tonight”. He hurriedly grabbed his bag and yours, slinging them over his shoulders and searching for the car keys. “We’re taking our shit and going home-” he held out a hand and beckoned for you to join him, but Nat didn’t give you the chance. “Wait, you can’t leave! We said we were gonna have a sleepover-”

“Sleepover cancelled! Make fun of me all you want. But I’m not staying here tonight. I’m taking my girlfriend home where she won’t get possessed by demons-”

“Come on, Buck”, Steve made it to his feet and crossed the room, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “at least stay till 3am…that’s the witching hour!” Bucky shook his head emphatically, rejecting Steve’s attempt at negotiation. “Well I’m happy that the witches get their own hour, but it is 9pm and I am not staying here six more hours”.

“Five hours?” Steve begged.

“No.”

“Four hours?”

“No!”

The room fell silent as Steve and Bucky remained locked in a standoff. Then suddenly,

“Three hours?” Nat chimed in.

“Oh my god- NO!” Bucky pinched at the bridge of his nose, overwhelmed by the ridiculous antics of his friends. “Did the two of you not see that shelf fall off the wall? Or the basement door fucking fly open? You know, the basement that contains a DEMON?!” Steve shot a look at Nat, his calm and collected façade crumbling ever so slightly- but Nat remained cool. “I mean, those are pretty small things. The house is old! I’m sure the frame of that door is super warped and that’s why it opened. No big deal. No reason to ruin our sleepover!”

She put a hand on the bags slung over Bucky’s shoulder, giving them a slight tug. “Come on, I don’t what you guys to leave. It won’t be as fun if you go- it’ll just be me and Rogers sitting around in a house without wifi-”

“Hey! Rude!” Steve called from across the room as he finished off his ninth piece of pizza, “I’m fun!” Nat rolled her eyes and directed her attention back to you and Bucky, her eyes pleading for you to stay. Bucky looked to you with guilty eyes, not sure what to do. He wanted to keep you away from all the ghosts and ghouls, but Nat seemed really disappointed that you were leaving. You gave him a little nod, assuring him it was okay to stay a bit longer. “Okay, fine. We’ll stay till midnight and then I’m taking my girl and we’re leaving. Deal?”

Nat gave Bucky a firm handshake and launched herself at you, enveloping you in a hug. You sometimes forgot what a softie she really was under her rough and tumble exterior, but moments like this always served as a reminder. “Alright, well if we only have a few hours, we better get to the fun stuff!” Nat shot across the room and dug through her bag, her hands finally emerging with a ouija board in hand. “Let’s talk to the spooks!”

She set the board and planchette on the coffee table before fishing a few candles and a box of matches from her duffel, “if we don’t have a séance, what’s the point of us even being here?” But Bucky refused. He was not about to invite any dark energy into his life, and asked you not to partake either- but you didn’t need much convincing. Nat practically begged Steve to join her in using the board, but as he wiped the pizza grease off his hands and outstretched them toward the planchette, he felt a chill prickle at his skin.

The planchette began moving on its own, unseen hands directing it in a few lazy circles. “Holy shit-” Nat leaned forward, watching the eerie phenomenon with wide eyes. But the speed picked up suddenly and directed the planchette in a wild figure eight pattern, forcing everyone to freeze with fear.

“We- we need to get the fuck out of here. Now”, Bucky grabbed your hand and led you outside, dropping the bags at your feet. He made you promise to stay outside before heading back in to grab Steve and pull Nat away from the Ouija board. And as you stood outside in the dark, waiting for Bucky to return, you couldn’t help but notice how eerie the house looked. It had appeared so cozy and inviting only a few hours ago, but the sharp shadows cast by the silver light of the moon made you uneasy. A heavy sigh of relief left your chest as Bucky, Nat, and Steve burst through the front door and joined you on the front lawn.

“You better have left that fucking Ouija board behind” you shot a pointed look at Nat, “we don’t need that shit following us back to the compound”. She gave you a small nod, her eyes still wide with disbelief. Steve and Bucky loaded the car hastily, eager to get away from the darkness that dwelled within the house. Bucky slid into the driver’s seat and threw a look your way- a look you knew to mean “we were right”. But he wasn’t about to rub the victory in Steve and Nat’s faces when Nat’s hands still shook with fear.

The drive home was quiet. The four of you reflected on the mind-blowing event you’d just witnessed, and Steve’s preconceived notions about the paranormal crumbled all around him. “Well, I guess we’ll never know if ghosts are real or not…” Nat suddenly said, “maybe we could go to another haunted house next weekend! I know there’s one upstate, and-”

“What do you mean?!” Bucky shouted, “we WATCHED planchette move ALL BY ITSELF! How is that not enough proof?” Nat just laughed and rolled her eyes as she pulled up the location of a different haunted house,“Ugh. Believers always swear that everything’s a ghost. Am I right?” She nudged Steve for some back up, but he remained silent.

“I mean, come on, Buck. Haven’t you ever heard of magnetic fields? Or uneven foundations? There’s plenty of logical ways to explain the planchette doing that-”

Bucky stared at you with disbelief, shaking his head in utter shock. “Okay, Nat. That’s fine,” you offered, “you don’t have to join Team Ghost…yet. We’ll hit another house next weekend and see how you feel then. Gotta get you a replacement Ouija board”. Nat’s confident smile wavered ever so slightly, signaling to you that she was closer to joining Team Ghost than you thought.

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

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cwbucky @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll 💜

[shadowofroses]

Jujutsu Kaisen

No pairing

Warnings: Language, Gojo is his own Warning, Sakuna is his own Warning, Satoru’s future daughter. Randomness

Part 2

Story idea:

Gojo (Name) snow white haired woman with (Color) eyes, Inherited the 6 eyes, not Limitless. At least you thought you didn’t get limitless you never managed to master it. There was only so long Satoru could keep you a secret. Especially since your mother wasn’t too bright and gave you the Gojo last name on paperwork.

That painted a pretty little target on your head ever since you were born.

Changing your last name wouldn’t help either due to the fact that paperwork for it to change existed.

Especially when you were dumped at Jujutsu High as an infant, paperwork and all.

You were a bright girl, the only thing you weren’t expecting is to randomly coming across a Cursed user that managed to send you back in time.

What was worse? You were now in a time where the Cursed user that sent you back wasn’t even born yet.

Popping out of no where in the middle of a Volcano Domain, you blinked when suddenly you were brought into Limitless. You stared at a white haired man talking to a Volcanic head curse, with a teen in his other hand.

You watched as a blue eye locked onto yours. The Pink haired teen shocked by your presence as well. Next thing you knew the Domain was gone, and the Curse’s head was underneath Satoru’s foot. “I’ll deal with you in a second.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Cool it Pops, If there was anything for you to deal with you should have wrapped it before you tapped it.” He raised an eyebrow as well at that. “I simply took a wrong turn in Aberquercie”

“Huh?”

Later on:

“Uh Gojo…”

“What?” Both you and Satoru responded causing the man to look down at you. “You want me to believe you’re a Gojo?”

You only deadpanned, “What you can’t tell with your “Special Eyes?” Shoko is already working on the blood test you said.” Yuji was holding on to the cursed corpse while watching you two. You looked around, “What, can’t afford to give us a boardgame, at least give Us Uno or something.”

Satoru sighed, “You two have movies, isn’t that good enough?” As his phone rung and he picked it up, “Gojo here.”

You rolled your eyes, and looked to Yuji, which he looked back, “So do we have Human Earthworm 2 at least? I’ve been itching for a classic.”

Yuji’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, “Hell ya we d—-“ You watched as the Corpse landed a punch in his jaw and you winced at the impact.

“Yeah….sorry about that…”

Yuji only grumbled, “It’s fine I’m used to it.” Moving to put the tape in when Satoru hopped onto the couch between the two of you, placing his arms around your shoulder and Yuji’s.

“So, I’M A FATHER! You going to congratulate me?”

“WHA-“ Yuji got sucker punched again.

Satoru laughed and wrapped his arms around you from the side, and wiggled, “Apparently (Name) here is my daughter~ Why didn’t you tell me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I called you Pops.”

Satoru’s mouth rounded, “OOOOH. So what landed my beautiful Princess here?” You noticed an eye open on Yuji’s cheek and you didn’t acknowledge it.

“Curse User I was fighting had the ability to time travel and here I am.”

“Time Travel?! Hohoho, find him for me so that I can go back and kick some Sorcerers ass for locking me away. Or hell to find a better Vessel!” You tilted your head towards Yuji as you saw another mouth.

“One, this is what….2018? That Curse User isn’t born yet, and I don’t think he knew what year or time he sent me to, the kid panicked cause he thought I was about to kill him.

Satoru wiggled his fingers at the eye, “No Gojo would help you out in that way Sukuna.”

However you shrugged, “I’m about as big of a wild card you are Satoru…”

“ITS DAD, POPS, FATHER, DADDY NOT SATORU TO YOU YOUNG LADY!”

Of course he was no different from your time. For some reason you found the younger version with the same personality to be draining. “Just for that I’m helping out Sukuna.”

“Heh.” From Sukuna as Yuji sipped from his can of soda. “YOU’RE GROUNDED!” From Satoru.

[sluttywonwoo]

desperate || c.sc x reader

Summary: the first time seungcheol fucks you raw (sponsored by irresponsible decisions)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

additional warnings: oral (m receiving), choking, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (bathroom), creampies

“Baby,” Seungcheol groaned against your neck in an attempt to get your attention, but if you’d heard him you were choosing to ignore him as you continued to grind down onto his lap with your head buried in his shoulder. “Baby,” he tried again, “I don’t have a condom.”

He was still desperately rifling through his wallet with one hand and digging through the pockets in his jeans with the other in the hollow hope that maybe he’d find one.

He always carried condoms with him, he had since before you had started dating. How the hell was he missing one now- then it dawned on him. Last month, at that bar back in London when you had been wearing nothing under your tight black skirt and he just had to have you… god damn it, Cheol, he thought to himself. He had used the last one then, when he fucked you in the bathroom that night. But now you were the needy one and he couldn’t even take the edge off for you.

Despite the circumstances at hand, Seungcheol’s body was reacting accordingly to your actions. His cock was straining against his jeans and he was almost positive you could feel his erection against your thigh. And if your moans were any indication, he was right.

He sighed into your shoulder, and used his hands to still your hips. Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout momentarily before you began pressing languid kisses to his neck, sucking hickeys right underneath his jaw.

“Y/n, I-I don’t have a condom,” Seungcheol stuttered out again and pushed on your shoulders to make sure you heard him this time.

“I don’t care,” you whined, slumping forward onto your boyfriend in defeat. “I want you so bad.”

“I know, darling,” he said in a hushed whisper, trying to ignore the way your hips were still rocking instinctively on top of his.

If you were at home it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Seungcheol could just pop out to the shops and be back within the hour with enough condoms to go as many rounds as you wanted. But you were all the way in Monaco at the F1 Grand Prix- it wasn’t like you could just come and go as you pleased, once your ticket was scanned at the beginning of the day you were stuck there because the no re-entry policy was strictly enforced at all exits. You’d learned that the hard way on the first day.

When asked later, your friends would claim not to know where you and Seungcheol had run off to. But everyone knew. You were a bit infamous for bathroom quickies, hence that night at the bar last month, and you had been before Cheol was in the picture. Bars, restaurants, movie theaters, clubs, and department stores were all fair game to you. Today was no different. Seungcheol was sitting on the counter with his back pressed against the mirror in one of the racetrack’s tiny, one-person facilities and you were straddling his lap.

Everything had been going routinely when Seungcheol broke the news and you felt your heart (or rather, your pussy) shatter into a million pieces. He just looked so goddamn good in that pink shirt with his hair slicked back like that… fuck. And the way he’d been acting this weekend, so casually confident with his friends and the racers, it brought out something primal in you.

“You want my fingers?” Seungcheol offered, holding up the middle and ring fingers on his left hand.

You shook your head. “Just want you.”

He chuckled lightly and brushed your hair out of your eyes. You knew you were being a brat, but you were too desperate to care.

“I know, but I already told you-”

“I don’t care that you don’t have a condom,” you sighed. “Just go without.”

Seungcheol blinked at you in surprise. “Wha- are you sure?”

In all the time that you had been dating, you and Seungcheol had never had sex without protection. It wasn’t that you were opposed to the idea, you were on the pill, but you had always been overly cautious and you and Seungcheol had never really… talked about it before.

“Y/n?” You had fallen silent.

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You could only nod at first before you could verbalize.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmured, voice an octave lower than it had been a second ago.

“I’m sure,” you managed, “please, Cheol.”

He smirked, biting his lip. “Of course, baby.”

You pushed yourself off of him and watched as he unfastened his belt. Your mouth watered as he pulled at the button and zipper on his jeans and you thought for a brief moment about how pathetic you were.

But as soon as Seuncheol had freed himself from his pants you found yourself not caring anymore. The humiliation burning in your cheeks melted back into want and you felt the temperature in your whole body rise a degree or two.

Seungcheol pushed his jeans down to where they sat bunched around his thighs and looked at you expectantly.

“Ready, angel?” he asked, dark eyes giving you a onceover.

It wasn’t often that you were the one fully clothed and Seungcheol was the one exposed to you, but on the rare occasion it did happen you liked to take advantage of it.

“Wait, can I?” Your gaze fell to his lap and he cursed.

“Always.”

You smiled and licked your lips as you bent over to take him into your mouth. Seungcheol wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but his cock was still able to hit the back of your throat, which you loved. You suppressed your gag reflex as best you could while you sucked him off, feeling the arousal simmering in your stomach multiply tenfold just because of how full your mouth was. He brought a fist to his lips and bit down on his hand to stifle his moans, tangling his other hand in your hair.

He twirled your hair around his fingers into a makeshift ponytail and tugged gently. You moaned around his cock and took him even deeper so that the tip of your nose was pressed against his pelvis.

“God, y/n,” Seungcheol groaned, bucking his hips upwards into your mouth. “Sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay,” you said with a smile, still somehow managing to keep your pace.

“So desperate for my cock, you’d take it any way you can get it, huh?”

You whined in response and nodded your head. You heard him laugh, then choke when you pulled off of him. He scowled at you as you licked a stripe from the base of his cock, along the vein, to the head, before taking him fully in your mouth again, making him throw his head back in pleasure.

“Stop, stop, I’m close,” he warned and pulled you off his cock by your hair.

If you weren’t so intent on having him inside you you would’ve finished him off there. He looked so hot like that- jaw clenched with restraint, stomach taught and firm, even under his shirt. And the way he looked down at you while you sucked his dick, fuck.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and leaned in to kiss your boyfriend on the lips. He met you halfway and pressed his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. The taste of champagne lingered on his lips.

“C’mon, baby,” Seungcheol grunted and motioned for you to climb on top of him.

You did just that and hiked your skirt higher up on your thighs, pushing your panties to the side so that he could have easy access to you.

You reached for him and used your knees to brace yourself on the counter before he held out a hand to stop you.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly, “let me taste you first.”

You watched as reached a hand under your skirt and used two of his fingers to collect your arousal before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. When he was satisfied with his work he offered the same two fingers to you.

“Open,” he instructed.

You sucked his fingers into your mouth as he’d asked and moaned around them, which might have been a little over the top, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Seungcheol retracted his fingers after a couple seconds and kissed you again, cupping your face with both of his hands. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, groaning when you whimpered. You could taste yourselves on each other’s lips, but as you continued to make out they became indiscernible, a mix of both of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t get enough.

Seungcheol struggled to pop the first few buttons on your shirt, but eventually got the hang of it, and unbuttoned the rest with ease, exposing your chest to the cold air.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of your tits,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder lightly. “Cheol, stop teasing me,” you begged.

Your entire body ached. You were clenching around nothing at this point and it was torture. You needed something inside of you right that minute and if Seungcheol wouldn’t give it to you your own fingers would have to suffice.

“I’m not teasing you,” he insisted earnestly.

“Then fuck me already!”

He smirked for what felt like the millionth time and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to have to keep your voice down if you don’t want us to get caught, darling. Do you think you can do that?”

You nodded fervently, knowing it was a boldfaced lie. Seungcheol knew it too- you had literally just been yelling at him to fuck you seconds earlier, but you were already this far and he’d made you wait so long already.

“C’mere,” he said lowly and put a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer. “Spit,” he commanded and held out his hand for you. You spat into his palm and watched as he used his hand to pump his cock a couple of times, ensuring that it was lubricated enough for you to take comfortably.

He then lined himself up with you and held back a groan as you sank down onto his cock. You sighed in relief at the feeling and wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself. You stayed there like that for a minute or so, not moving, just enjoying how full you felt.

Seungchel always felt good inside of you, but like this… without discomfort of the condom, without the resistance of the rubber or the texture of the latex, without anything in between you… it was indescribable. You could feel every vein, every curve of Cheol’s cock. You could feel his pulse in your pussy and the sensation was enough to make you forget how to speak.

“G-god,” you gasped.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Seungcheol muttered through clenched teeth.

“Feels so good,” you mumbled.

Seungcheol managed a smile and brushed your hair out of your face. His smile faltered when you began to ride him without warning and he choked out your name along with a string of profanities.

You rocked your hips forward to meet Cheol’s over and over again, moaning quietly every time the head of his cock brushed your g-spot. It wasn’t long before Seungcheol was doing most of the work, slamming into you like his life depended on it. It was actually impressive, how hard he was fucking you in the position he was in. He was sitting upright with all of your weight on top of him and was still railing you like it was nothing.

“Is this what you wanted?” Seungcheol asked, voice low and gravelly. “For me to fuck you like a slut?” You could only nod. “Answer me,” he demanded. “Are you such a desperate fucking cockslut that you couldn’t wait a few more hours like a good girl?”

“Yes!” you cried.

Seungcheol brought a hand to your throat and wrapped his fingers around it, rubbing his thumb along your pulsepoint. He squeezed lightly, smiling darkly when your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he asked, knowing you were close.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Do you think you can be quiet?”

“Yes. Please, Cheol-”

“Please what?”

“Please can I cum? I-I need to cum, fuck!”

You fell over the edge before your boyfriend could respond, not even allowing him the chance to get a word in before your entire body was overcome by waves of pleasure. Your vision went white as you rode out your orgasm and Seungcheol held onto you tightly the whole time, whispering praises in your ear as you came down even though you knew you were in for it later.

Your thighs were still trembling when the aftershocks had finally subsided and you gave Seungcheol a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured you. “I made you wait long enough.”

“You were teasing me! I knew it!”

He kissed you chastely on the lips and winked. “Couldn’t resist. You’re so fucking hot when you’re desperate.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did.”

“And if I remember correctly, you haven’t come yet. I could always leave you hanging-”

“No! No, I’m sorry,” he apologized hastily.

You laughed and pushed his curls out of his face as you began to ride him again, ignoring your own arousal still burning in your stomach. Seungcheol cursed, letting you know that he was right there on the edge.

“Where do you want me to cum? Your mouth? Your chest?” You didn’t answer and leaned down to kiss his neck instead. “Baby, I can’t,” he rasped, “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.”

“I want you to,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I want you to cum inside me, Cheol. Want you to fill me up-” your pleas were cut off with a moan as Seungcheol came and you felt him tense underneath you as spurt after spurt of cum filled your cunt. If you thought you had felt full before-

You threw your head back at the feeling and helped your boyfriend ride out his high. It wasn’t enough to make you cum a second time, but the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he clenched his jaw and bit his lip as he came… it certainly… sparked something within you.

Seungcheol was out of breath by the time he could open his eyes again and when he did he smiled at you from underneath messy hair and hooded eyelids, completely blissed out. He pulled out of you slowly, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the counter.

He turned around and snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser on the opposite wall and handed half the stack to you while he used the other half to wipe down the counter.

“What a gentleman,” you said sarcastically as you used the towels to clean yourself off. You knew when you stood up there would likely be more dripping down your legs, and that was if you could stand, but you would have to cross that bridge when you got to it.

“And they say romance is dead,” he quipped back cheekily, holding his hand out for your half of the used paper towels.

“Can’t imagine why.”

You watched from the counter as he threw them away and washed his hands. He pulled a couple more paper towels from the dispenser and wet them in the sink before making his way back over to you and just tossing them between your open legs.

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

send me an ask to be added to a taglist

[storiesforallfandoms]

and the winner is... ~ eminem

word count: 1784

request?: yes!

“hey, love your writing sm ❤️ I really like the concept where the reader is a young actress with Eminem, so can I request one where they go to Marshall’s award show for the first time publicly, they try to keep it low key but the reader presents an award and when Em wins they share a warm moment on stage and the media loses it? thanks in advance”

description: in which they say they’re going to be lowkey for their first public appearance as a couple, and then he wins the award she’s presenting

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

It was hard to keep my hands off of Marshall as we walked down the red carpet. It was our first public outing as a couple, but Marshall wasn’t very into PDA so we had decided to keep it somewhat lowkey. It seemed like a good idea in theory, until Marshall did the unthinkable and showed up dressed in a suit. How am I supposed to not jump his bones when he looks damn fine in a suit?

Every time I so much as glanced at him the paparazzi would go crazy. So many flashing lights that eventually I was seeing spots. It was hard to keep smiling when I couldn’t even see ahead of me.

Marshall put an arm around my waist - which of course led to more flashing lights - and walked me off the red carpet into the venue. The minute I walked through the doors into the dimly lit room, it really was like I couldn’t see. I had to take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the sudden light change.

“Weird how quickly I go from basically a nobody on a red carpet to a hot commodity just because I have attractive arm candy,” I joked.

A half smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. “You were never a nobody. Not to me anyways.”

“Awe, that’s so sweet it’s kind of gross,” I teased.

This earned me an actual laugh as Marshall pulled me in for a kiss. Without any prying eyes around, we felt free to actually be a couple.

We engaged with some others in the industry, including those Marshall considered to be close friends of his. I felt out of place at this music award show as an actress who was still trying to become more than just a side character in the movies she starred in. I was grateful to have Marshall there to help me through it.

When we took our seats as the show was starting, Marshall reached over to take my hand. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Nervous I think. Which I shouldn’t be because it’s just me announcing an award, but it’s my first time on an award show stage for any reason, and it’s a pretty big award.”

“And it’s one I’m nominated for.”

I looked over at Marshall with wide eyes. “What?!”

“You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. Now I felt so much more nervous. What if I pulled a Steve Harvey and said the wrong name because I wanted Marshall to win? Or what if he actually did win but everyone thought I said he did because we were dating? I tried to focus on the stage ahead of me but my heart was beating so fast that my vision was starting to get blurry. I felt warm, like I was sweating, which made me worry that my makeup was starting to run. I was going to look disgusting with my makeup running on live television.

Sensing my new found nervousness, Marshall gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, look at me.” I glanced over to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve rehearsed this speech so much that you can say it without the teleprompter. It’s not going to be any different just because I’m nominated. If I win, you give me the award and I do a speech. If I don’t win, you give the award to whoever does and they make a speech. It’s not a big deal, (Y/N), don’t worry too much about it.”

I wished I could’ve just let my fear rush from my body, but it was still there. Before I could say anything else, the lights went down and the show officially started.

I tried to just sit and enjoy the show but it was hard when I had my upcoming presenter role looming over me. Of course, it was one of the last awards of the show, so I had to sit there and let my nerves build as the suspense for the winner of the award grew as well.

Every now and then Marshall would give my hand another squeeze and I would calm down for that split second. Having him by my side helped a lot, but every time I remembered that he might be the recipient of the award I became nervous again.

Finally, it was my time to take the stage. They passed me the envelope with the name of the winner and motioned for me to take the stage. I plastered a smile on my face as my name was called and I walked onto the stage. I hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up my shaking, and I really hoped my shaking wouldn’t make my voice sound as bad as I feared it would.

“This award can only go to the best of the best,” I started, glancing at the prompter in front of me to make sure I was saying the words correctly. “The person who worked the hardest and had the best payoff with their release. The competition this year is fierce, and it was hard to narrow it down to just these five artists, as there have been so many amazing works of art released this past year. It has been an even harder choice to pick who of them all is the best, although I might be bias in saying I’ve already chosen my favorite.”

The audience chuckled at my improved addition to the speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your nominees.”

I watched the video that played of the nominated artists. My heart skipped a beat when Marshall came up, a few clips from the music videos he had filmed playing in a short montage. He had worked so hard on his latest album, every part of me hoped that he would be the winner I was announcing.

As the video came to an end, I turned back to face the audience (and the cameras) to announce the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

I tried not to let my slight fear show as I fumbled with the envelope for a moment. I started to worry that I wouldn’t even be able to open it and completely embarrass myself on live TV. I tried not to sigh with relief when the seal perfectly popped open and I was able to pull the card out. The smile on my face had to have given away the winner before the words were even out of my mouth.

“Eminem!”

The crowd cheered and stood from their seats. A camera found Marshall, who was standing from his seat and hugging Paul and Denaun before making his way to the stage. I couldn’t help but smile proudly at him as I extended the award I was holding - his award - to him.

I was taken by surprise when he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. It was brief since he had an award to accept, but it was enough to make my head spin, the way his kisses usually did.

When he pulled away I was still so stunned that I almost forgot to give him his award. I could see him trying to hold back a laugh as he took it from my hands and turned to the microphone.

“Thank you,” he said to the still cheering audience. For a minute I forgot there was anyone else in the room, and realizing so many people had watched that kiss made my cheeks heat up. “I’d like to thank my manager, Paul, who for some reason still backs me with everything I do and produce even when it pushes the boundaries a little too much. I also want to thank the good Doctor, who has been supporting me since day one and who has always believed in me and gave me this platform to make music and to push the boundaries that Paul has to deal with. My daughters, my biggest inspirations. And of course, I’d like to thank the beautiful lady who presented this award to me tonight. I may not show it publicly but I am my happiest when I’m with you and I cannot thank you enough for that.”

I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes as I clapped along with the audience. The music started playing as Marshall offered me his arm to walk me off the stage. I felt like I was floating on cloud nine as we walked down the stairs and backstage, away from the cameras and the thousands of people watching us, both in person and on TV.

We were greeted backstage by other presenters and winners who were still mingling and celebrating their wins. Marshall was congratulated and a few of the other presenters told me how well I did with my presentation. I was proud of myself for getting through it, but I was more proud that I didn’t go completely airheaded after Marshall kissed me.

When we finally got away from the large amount of people, Marshall pulled me in for another kiss.

“So much for keeping it lowkey, huh?” I teased when I pulled away.

“I was caught up in the moment,” he said with a shrug, but I wasn’t completely convinced.

“That speech was uncharacteristically sweet,” I said. “For your public persona anyways. I figured you’d keep it short and sweet and maybe get the show into a little bit of trouble with an unplanned curse word.”

He chuckled. “Well normally that would be how things go. But I meant what I said during my speech: you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. When you said my name I just couldn’t help but feel this unfamiliar surge of happiness and excitement at winning. You know I don’t care about these types of award shows, but the fact that you presented this award to me made me care for just a second. I know I’ll be the talking point for the next few days because of this, but right now I don’t care all that much.”

Tears were welling in my eyes again as I pulled him back to me. “Shut up, you’re gonna ruin my makeup.”

His laugh filled my ears as he pulled me for another kiss. The happiness he said he felt coursed through my veins too. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in a moment like this.

When he pulled away he put his arm around me again and started to walk towards the door. “Let’s get out of here. I think I wanna celebrate my win with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

I smiled brightly at him. “I like the sound of that.”

[osakunt]

YOUR REQUEST ARE OPEN YAY!! SO,,

Can I please have miya twins who have twins and said twins being a mama's girl??

(+bonus [if you want to] of inarizaki team seeing how much of a mama's girl/boy the twins are)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

➟ 𝗗𝗮𝗱 𝗢𝘀𝗮𝗺𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗔𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗺𝘂 𝗠𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝘅 𝗠𝗼𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

➟ 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂,𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 !! 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝘁 "𝗠𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘀" 😮‍💨 𝗜'𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 😩

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

𝗢𝘀𝗮𝗺𝘂 looks down to his set of three year old twins clinging onto your legs like koala’s not giving him an opening to grab one of them to help you out at the small get together you were having with the old team mates. “C’mon, yer papá’s gonna give ya hugs and kisses” Osamu tried to make a deal with both boys who looked the same but had something in particular that distinguishes one from the other. The small birth mark under the youngest’s left eye.

“Mama kiss ‘n hugs !!” The oldest grabs on tighter to your leg. “Mhm mhm !! Want mama kiss !” The younger one beams agreeing. Smiling at your two joys, you neal down to their height embracing them giving them a kiss on there crown and swaying side to side as they giggle. “Mama does gives the best hugs and kisses,huh ?” You gleam down at them kissing one on his left cheek and the other on his right. “Don’t be mean to your father and give ‘im at least a hug” now it was your turn to gamble with them but they pouted making Osamu pout as well feeling hurt that his boys were much closer to you. He thought that having boys meant he’d get to hang out with them but now he was slowly becoming the ‘outcast’ as he called it. In reality he spends a lot of time with the boys but they just love you a tad bit more “Aww please….do it for mommy, yea ?”

Blinking up at you the youngest dash towards his father, hand in hand with his brother . Osamu picks them up with a big smile finally getting his time with them. Sadly that didn’t last long - you took the time to go get some drinks for the guests and at the moment the oldest twin looked around asking for you and ran looking for you. “The oldest one takes from Atsumu” Aran points out remembering Osamu saying that Atsumu was a momma’s boy more than Osamu was and still is. Kita and Suna chuckle at memory while Atsumu squinted his eyes trying to play off like the information wasn’t true. “I ain’t no mama’s boy !!!” ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“Look at ‘er. Just takin’ yer mom’s time away from me and you” 𝗔𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗺𝘂 glares at your figure playing with your daughter from outside the cracked door with your son. “Can I get one of uncle Samu’s onigiri after this ?” Your son whispers before putting his dum-dum back in his mouth. “Yer really thinkin’ about food when that little demon is takin’ quality time from us ?” “Yea. Sissy likes playing dress up with mommy and I don’t” he shrugs pushing the door into the room and making his way in front of his older sister and you. “Are these kids even twins ??” Atsumu whisper-shouts scratching his forehead.

“Hey baby ! Did your dad get annoying ?” You finis up putting on your daughter’s Snow White dress on her. “He’s sad ‘cause sissy doesn’t wanna play with him.” Though Atsumu didn’t say it, hit some knew well enough that his daughter wasn’t a daddies girl as he was hoping when you were pregnant five years ago. He imagined himself going full on spoiling his kids, and his daughter clinging in to him at all times.

“……he’s a cry baby” your daughter giggles to herself. Yup she was for sure Atsumu’s kid. No filter in her words and not caring if they hurt. “Ya think I’m a what !!! Baby the light of my mornings, ya really think yer beloved father is a cry baby ?” Atsumu lifts your daughter in his arms, bopping her nose. Laughter erupts from her little figure saying “YESS !!” And confusing to laugh but doesn’t forget to give her father a hug to console him from her ‘hurtful words’. “ ‘love you pops” she mumbles as your son sneaks his way into your arms while his sister is distractedly with their father “Wanna play games and watch a movie when your sister takes a nap” you talk in secret with your son knowing that your daughter would fall asleep after the whole morning playing and running around. “Can we get dad to be with us ? I want dad to cuddle with us when watching Shrek !!” The five year old boy sets up his time with you after his sister taking you away the whole morning.

As planned and said, your oldest twin fell asleep right after playing tea and here you were consoling Atsumu while your son was in his arms happily eating his uncle’s food and watching his movie.

“She called me pops, y/n….Suna will hear a word or two about this”