#kusakabe atsuya x gender neutral reader

[nanamis-bigtie]

kindest lies

"It's… rather urgent." Next to exhaustion there's hesitation in the assistant's words. As if she dreaded sharing the data with you. "There's a huge risk of civilian casualties. We suspect it might be an act of jujutsu terrorism."

Five people get cursed under atypical circumstances. For the tracking and locking properties of your cursed technique you're requested to assist Atsuya during the investigation. Following the curse user's trail, you sink together into the world of izakayas, night clubs and love hotels. And you do everything in your might to not think about last summer's day that has irreversibly changed the terms between you two.

Written for gender neutral reader. No gendered language, no body descriptions, they/them pronouns may appear as pronoun placeholder if necessary in dialogues. Y/N used as a name placeholder.

↬ kusakabe atsuya x gender neutral reader

↬ cw: coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, canon-typical violence, investigations, hurt/comfort, alcohol, forced proximity, self confidence issues, eventual smut, MINORS DON'T INTERACT

↬ chapter directory: chapter 1 (you're here) | ...more to come

↬ word count: 3,138

↬ a/n: The idea for this fic got born out of secret santa prompts given by @clumsyraccoon. It was supposed to be a simple one-shot but it just kept eating my brain space, until it couldn't be contained within a single chapter - and then waited for the right time (aka when I'll refill strength after a massive burn out & stop being such a chicken). It's been almost a year but it's finally here. Coony, I hope you will forgive me this extremely long wait 😅

Chapter 1

It feels like you've barely closed your eyes when the phone vibrations under your cheek force them open again. 

Darkness around you only adds to the impression; the curtains you always keep shut tight for the night deal even with full noon light, making it impossible to estimate the time right. With a groan, you turn your head to the other side and press it into the pillow, hoping it's just a dream, wrong number or a pushy call center, not an emergency or worse—another mission. Hell, you would take even an earthquake warning, if you wouldn't have to crawl out of your apartment because of it.

Luck is not on your side. Vibrations cease only for a few seconds, just enough for the stubborn person on the other side of the call to choose your number again. Dull buzzing starts anew, bright light from the screen sneaks under your tortured eyelids, and finally jolts you awake. You sit and wipe your face, then squint at the clock and the name of the insistent intruder. You can't match it with a face but there might be only one kind of a person who would scramble for attention this early in the morning.

5 a.m. What sins did you commit to deserve it?

"It better be something important." You screech into the speaker instead of a greeting. When clearing your throat doesn't help, you put the phone on the speaker and reach for the half-empty bottle left on the bed stand.

It's lukewarm and tastes of plastic.

"Y/N? I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" The woman on the other side sounds as miserable and tired as you. She must have been heading home from the night shift or forced out of the bed even earlier than you. The peak cursed season doesn't discriminate, it sucks everyone dry, from the bottom to the top of the sorcery ladder and is probably the closest to the fair share you can experience in this damned profession. Everyone is perpetually exhausted and looking forward to September when the tension will mellow down to the usual levels.

Thinking back, you feel a little sorry that you couldn't bring yourself to be at least a little nicer to her. But you bet the woman doesn't resent you for being grumpy. She definitely heard worse than your exasperated lack of manners.

She introduces herself and gives you her identification number and the code confirming she indeed is an assigned assistant. She's specific to a fault and you're grateful for that. You're not sure if the scrambled remains of your brain would be able to pick the crucial information if she beat around the bush.

"Sorry, I think I'm out of commission for now," you say quickly right after fulfilling your part of the greet-and-identify ritual. You don't want to take this job but at this point you won't fall back asleep, so you sit down and firmly place your feet on the cold floor to chase the drowsy feeling away. You need a shower and fresh clothes; it was a little before 1 a.m. when you crawled into your apartment, stripped to your underwear and fell face down into the bed. Hell, you could use some breakfast too...if there was anything left in the fridge. You can't remember the last time you ran groceries.

"It's a personal request." The assistant cuts in before you can continue with your excuses. Her voice is as apologetic as determined to deliver her part of the job—or at least to fight hard enough for the higher ups to not hold her responsible for your refusal. You can't blame her, really.

"An assistance?" You take a wild guess. 

Peak season meant also peak mortality, leaving the "lucky" survivors with huge gaps to fill regardless of their specialization, which leads to many frantic reshuffles when the situation turns out to be too risky for a blind escapade. This demand touches especially the sorcerers whose skills can cover a wide range of crises, like you. Hard tasks are almost always assigned to heavy hitters—and heavy hitters look for support on their own account. For help with barriers and rituals, for cursed technique boosters, and for all the technical details that don't look as impressive in the CV as The Big Strong Cursed Techniques do, but often require even more skill to be performed safely.

Unless you are Gojo Satoru, sooner or later you will run into a mission where you need a helping hand to be able to use your own cursed technique.

And unless you have one of those Big Strong Cursed Techniques, you will play the helping hand role more often than doing your job solo.

The math is easy and, at least in your opinion, weirdly fair when it comes to covering the pay gap. Being a second grade, you would need to cover thrice as many solo missions to climb to the same financial level as those from the top. Depending on the person calling for assistance, support can be paid almost the same as an average solo for your grade—or even more, if it's the first grade who tend to overuse their privilege of getting round the path through the officials. There's also more regular contact with those on the top—who can whisper a word where it's needed, spiraling your chances for a promotion.

If only it wasn't so fucking exhausting once the peak season hits...

"Look, I would love to—" Your strategy is to not let the assistant pull you into discussion. They have their tricks to manipulate reluctant sorcerers into taking new missions. And you hate to admit some of them work on you every single time. "—but I've just come back. I have twelve hours of rest protection secured in my contract. Ask someone else, it's Tokyo, there's definitely someone—"

"I've checked." Now it's her turn to butt in your word. "I know you're under protection, I looked through the agendas of every sorcerer active from here to Miyagi, and everyone is already assigned. I did what I could, Y/N. There's literally no one else to replace you."

"Postpone it?"

The situation is dire. If an assistant—who's usually on the sorcerers' side in this everlasting game of tug of war between them and the higher ups—says nothing can be done, it really means it. At this point you know you're taking it, but negotiations won't hurt. It's not your first rodeo, you know with high demand comes incline towards meeting halfway and bandying bonuses around.

"It's… rather urgent." Next to exhaustion there's hesitation in the assistant's words. As if she dreaded sharing the data with you. "There's a huge risk of civilian casualties. We suspect it might be an act of jujutsu terrorism."

You don't answer immediately, weighing words and options. The deeper you dig, the thicker this cesspool becomes. But before you find a way to fend off this stick, there goes the ultimate carrot, "It's paid extra, too."

"How much?"

You swallow that bait as if she coated it with your favorite dessert—and you curse yourself in thoughts for letting that question slip. You don't think of yourself as a greedy person, but hardly anyone does this job out of a kind heart.

"We haven't got official approval yet but given the circumstances and the request itself? That's gonna be the standard rate, not support."

"So, you're sending me somewhere in Miyagi?" You sigh into the silence on the other side of the speaker. The assistant said everything she had to say and is just waiting for the inevitable, her determined chirping replaced now by the hum of the car and subdued music on her radio. You can't recognize the band playing but you can tell it's one of the older western ones.

"Okay. Who's calling?" You give up when the quiet gets awkward. There's still some water left in the bottle; you swirl it a few times before bringing it to your parched lips.

"Kusakabe."

Your hand trembles, some water spills down your chin and neck. You haven't choked but your sore throat still answers with coughing. Fighting against the spasms, you even forget the shock that caused everything, at least until the concerned assistant snaps you back, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." Nothing is alright, it's just gotten significantly worse, but you'd be rather cursed than return to negotiations—even if you've just become even more reluctant to take this mission. "I just took a weird sip."

"I'll be at your place in about thirty minutes, will you make it?"

Trying to stuff the panic at the very back of your exhausted brain, you do a quick run through the mental map of your current state. You should find some fresh clothes. Coffee? No time for it but there should be an emergency bottle of green tea somewhere. Breakfast? No chance, even if you by miracle saved something in the fridge. Shower? Yes, this one is possible.

"Yeah, if you grab me a sandwich and something warm and caffeinated."

"On it."

You want to scream.

First few minutes of your precious time you spend lying flat across the bed and staring at the ceiling. You're nothing but a pile of refusal and exhaustion far different than physical. Why him, of all possible options? Why not Nanami and his dry demeanor, professional to a fault and ready to throw hands for the sake of even pay? Why not Usami who wouldn't exchange a needless word and let you work in peace? Hell, you would take even Mei and the risk of being abandoned with the slightest inconvenience over...that.

How are you supposed to work in those conditions? How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after what happened between you two?

The solitary life of a sorcerer has, despite everything, its perks—comfort of avoiding people you don't want to see the biggest of them. Unless you get called on the carpet or are forced to partake in a group mission, you rarely see anyone other than randomly assigned assistants and windows. Meetings outside the work are easy to avoid and since that day, you've become a master of excuses. You worked hard for the distance between you two, almost a year now since you've exchanged more words than sparse greetings while passing by. Not even once your eyes met, his flying far above your head, as if you were made of thin air, yours stubbornly boring into the floor as you quickened your pace and hid behind the first corner possible, before anyone would see, before either of you two would get a very bad idea.

At the beginning, he tried. He tried but you were faster than his incoherent attempts of starting conversation. He once even caught your wrist and pulled you as you started walking away—but released you as soon as your eyes met for the last time.

You would love to claim that you forgot, both that day and the look in his eyes before he turned on his heel and retreated. Up to now], if you closed your eyes, you could recall the feel of the anguished clench of his hand.

You peel eyes off the ceiling and look at your wrist, half-expecting bruises shaped like his fingers, but your skin is as clean as ever. Just in a desperate need of a shower.

Twenty-five minutes to go.

Hope dies last. You peek into your box with coffee pods (empty), into the fridge (empty bar a moldy tomato), into the cupboard (empty, no emergency tea left). You gather dirty clothes you find on the way to the bathroom and stuff them into the laundry basket (overloaded). You don't have time to wait for the right temperature, so you jump into the shower (dirty) right as it is. It's more energizing than you thought but you must get out right as it warms up to the right level and your mood immediately drops back.

Soapy stains on the mirror diffuse your reflection: parched lips, pale unhealthy-looking skin, red eyes and gigantic shadows under them. If you survive both Kusakabe Atsuya and whatever cursed crap he's called you for, you're going to call the contract cleaners and spend the forced day out in a hotel with a spa. Maybe a set of good sushi, too. Or a night out with friends, to drink and forget whatever awaits you—and something tells you it's going to be one hell of a pile to wash down.

"It better be a really good pay", you mutter to yourself with half a heart.

You hate this day, you hate this job, you hate yourself for how mushy you feel right under the layer of exhaustion and panic.

The only clean clothes you have left are worn-out jeans and a nerdy t-shirt you use for your no pants days. You're going to regret this when the summer reaches its peak later that day, but so far, it's still somewhat crisply outside. Perfect time for coffee...if you had it, that's it, you recall not without an irritated huff as you lean against the lantern in front of your apartment complex. The streets are empty and silent, life around is barely starting and stretching its limbs. In moments like this you almost like Tokyo.

The assistant surely takes her time and by the time she finally finds you, sleepiness has already crawled back on you. In your current state you stand out like a sore thumb next to that damned elegant car all assistants are driving, at least until you collapse on the backseat and realize the inside is no better than your apartment. Under other circumstances you wouldn't be thrilled to drive all the way to another prefecture next to empty McDonald's bags, with empty energy drink cans between your feet, but at this point you just don't care. You're going to pass out soon anyway.

"Yeah, a total state," the assistant hands you an iPad before your drink and sandwich. You're not sure if she meant her car or whatever awaits you in the case files.

Screen brightness is set to maximum; you squint your eyes, suddenly painfully aware that sand under your eyelids is rather a glass wool at this point. It's impossible to read like this but you grin and bear it, with, hopefully, an expression not as miserable as you feel. At least you can tell that the notes were taken in a hurry, they lack the typical formatting and order, making the job much harder for you, of course, but you feel less shitty for giving up and relying on the assistant and her explanations.

Coffee is black, strong, and with an ungodly amount of sugar. Oh, she knew what kind of boost your brain would need.

You're waiting for the perfect moment to attack with questions when a call comes, almost shaking the car with the volume alone. Assistant flounders in an apology and hands you a tissue but you don't bother to wipe those few droplets of coffee off your pants when that name peeks at you straight from the car's touchscreen. A solid 3/10 you were giving this morning so far has dropped far below zero, together with your heart, rolling now somewhere between Monster Energy cans.

"Nakagawa, is Y/N with you already?" Atsuya's voice is all around you, tacky, drowsy, with that characteristic hoarseness of a pulled all-nighter. You wish you hadn't known him enough to imagine how he looks now so easily. Maybe your body wouldn't react in such a... pathetic way. 

Wagging your tail like this just at the sound of him so close? Do you have no shame?

"I'm here." For once you're glad you're so tired. Tension in your voice can easily pass as dryness of the throat—and you add to it with a hearty cough. "Morning."

"Oh. Hi." There's a change in how he sounds. A slight but still is. Oh, how you hate yourself for being able to pick it up. "Good morning."

There's a click of an opened can, a few deep sips, and a long, relieved exhale—that has little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You hear gravel under his feet, an eerie feeling of being approached; you tense shoulders and let a peek to the side slip, as if he really, physically came to you, about to casually tap your back, that infuriatingly casual habit of his.

Before you even liked how straightforward he is. After just a thought of being touched fills you with a maelstrom of conflicted feelings. You haven't even gotten rid of his fingers off your wrist yet. You wouldn't wipe that comforting—impertinent—tap off for ages.

"You can scratch the risk of civilian casualties out." Atsuya's steps finally still, he either sits down or leans against something with a little groan to it. "One guy just tapped out."

You hide an awkward grunt behind another sip of coffee. People get cursed and die every day, in a job like this you're getting used to it fast—or you tap out yourself. It doesn't get any easier to hear about it, though, even if it's better to pretend otherwise.

"A corpse in a resume even before I seriously started. Fucking crap. I wanna go home." Atsuya doesn't care and it's something you still envy him. To shake it off just like that, to treat human life like another paperwork to deal with instead of spending the night in an izakaya or in front of tv. "This is going to get ugly really fast. That woman from number two... When did it happen? Eh, whatever, Nakagawa will give you the details. But I don't think she'll make it, we found her pretty late, too."

There are five names on the list; the signs are blurred for your tired eyes, but you can tell as much. You highlight the first line and mark it red.

Four cursed ones remain.

"Grab some sleep, if you can." Atsuya's voice grows softer, bringing out that mushy, soft feeling that's been lurking at the edges of your mind. "I'm gonna catch up, too. I'm counting on you."

He leaves the car in silence, thick like tar and having your muscles painfully tense. You need a deeper breath but you're afraid you're going to betray all your thoughts and emotions, so you run on short, barely audible ones.

"Kojima Eitaro, forty-six, salaryman." Nakagawa tries to pull your attention towards the case, but she could as well just speak to the wall. "Found unconscious by the door of his apartment on Thursday, August 3rd, around seven in the morning. The source of the curse: unknown."

ao3 version // jjk masterlist // kofi // dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[gingernut1314]

As Sweet As Sugar Bonus Scene

Gojo x GN!Reader

Summary: Gojo calls a meeting with the whole school to announce your relationship.

Warnings: Set sometimes during season 1ish, just fun back and forth between characters, slight mention of Star Plasma Vessel Arc, poor Gojo can't ever escape his students bullying, pet name (reader to Gojo)

Word Count: 900+

A/N: I thought of this little scene and just needed to try and write it. This can be read as its own fic, but it is a little extra scene from As Sweet As Sugar which is technically it's part 1. I hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @sordidmusings @lostfirefly

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“Since you all are my children and I raised you through blood, sweat, and tears, I thought it was only fair I told you all the happy news,” Gojo spoke, standing in front of the whole school in the auditorium. You knew he had been up to no good when he had convinced Yaga to hold this meeting. You almost had been delusional enough to believe he wouldn’t say anything about you and him becoming a couple. 

But who were you trying to kid? This was Saturo Gojo you’re talking about. Of course, he was going to announce it to everyone he could. 

You heard a murmur go up from the students--mainly them grumbling and complaining about Gojo “not being their dad”. 

“Me and that lovely professor over there.” He pointed your way, a wide grin crossing his glossy lips. “Are together. They’re my partner. He he my partner.” Gojo said, looking like a kid who had just opened his birthday present. 

The auditorium fell silent. So silent you would have thought Gojo had told everyone someone had died. 

“It’s pretty awesome right?” He beamed, looking right back at you with that bright smile of his. A smile that never failed to make your own pull to your lips.

“Really?” Maki started in that flat, ever-disapproving tone of hers.

“Holy crap. I think I’m gonna vomit.” Nobara said, slapping a hand over her mouth like she really would. 

“That guy?” Maki continued with a shake of her head, her ponytail swooshing behind her. 

“That guy?!” Nobara popcorned off Maki, flinging her hand from her mouth to point at Gojo who had yet to take his attention off of you. Attention that only made you more flustered and giddy the longer you were under it. “You know he doesn’t even moisturize! What kinda monster doesn’t moisturize!” 

“Awe…guys. Don’t you think you’re going a bit too far?” Yuji, ever the Gojo supporter, joined in, scratching the back of his head as he looking towards his friend. “They like each other isn’t that--”

“No. It’s weird.” Megumi added, arms crossed over his chest looking as grumpy as ever. “Gojo’s an idiot. Our professor could do better.” 

“Exactly!” Nobara popped in once more.

“Come on, Megumi. Can’t be happy for your old man?” Gojo’s attention unfortunately pulled from you then, leaning on the podium he stood behind. “So sad. Where did I go wrong?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. Megumi only stared blankly at his benefactor, utterly unamused.

“Tuna mayo.” Inumaki chimed in, making Gojo gasp. 

“Really? You too kid?” 

“Salmon roe.” The second year said with a shrug. 

“Uh…I think he’s right. Ain't there some kinda rule about this? Like teachers can’t date other teachers?” Panda said, turning to look toward Yaga who was watching the whole thing unfold from nearby, expression unreadable.

“Of course, there isn’t!” Gojo said exasperated. “That would be cruel and, frankly, unjust.” 

“There is,” Yaga said making Gojo groan dramatically, plopping his forehead against the dark wood of the podium he was all but sprawled over. 

“You all just don’t want to see me be happy huh?” Gojo moaned pitifully. “Where are the third years? They’d be happy for us.” He turned his head to look your way once more, a big pout on his lips. You knew if he wasn’t wearing his blindfold, he might have mustered up some crocodile tears for everyone.

“Mission.” You said earning another dramatic groan from Gojo. “Sorry, baby.” A round of displeased sounds boomed from the gathered students, even your fellow teacher Kusakabe gave a cringe. Gojo popped right up quickly, shouting back and fighting with the students like he was just another one of them. 

You might have stepped in and stopped them all did you not know Gojo loved this. He loved these kids, even when they were very very direct with their thoughts. He loved that they were comfortable enough with him to be able to argue back--to speak their minds. And you loved that it made Gojo happy. Loved that he was able to give these kids a bit of childhood you, him, and the rest of the alumni of this school never truly got. 

A shoulder bumped into yours, pulling your eyes from everyone. You instantly knew even without looking her way that it was Shoko. You knew just from the smell of the heavy perfume she wore to try and mask the musky scent of her last cigarette she had been trying, and failing, to not have.

“About time, huh.” She said, the bags under her eyes seeming darker as she looked back at Gojo, who was still shouting and playfully arguing with everyone. “You two deserve it. We’ve been through enough.” She said, eyes growing distant. You knew what she was thinking of. Who she was thinking of. “Be happy for the rest of us, yeah?” You nodded, nudging her lightly back.

“We will. But we’ll all be happy.” Shoko gave you a smile that seemed too weak to be genuine. One that never seemed to reach her tired eyes. Hadn't reached her eyes in some time.

“Hey. I’m happy as can be. Get to dissect bodies all day and heal paper cuts. My cup of tea.” You shook your head at the dryness of her humor. 

“I think you’re gonna have to heal Saturo’s ego after this.” You said, earning a huff of amusement and another light nudge from Shoko.

“Oh, but that’s your job now.”

<- Previous

[c4teyezz]

my fav jjk men with babies lol

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my fav jjk men x afab!reader

i kept the baby gender neutral for yall in case, i dont want ppl coming to me like “nO hE wOulD dEfinEtly hAve a-“ shut.

note: on nanamis part it mentions reader being pregnant 🤰

characters: gojo saturo, geto suguru, sukuna ryomen, higuruma hiromi, nanami kento, kusakabe atsuya, toji fushiguro

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Gojo Saturo

- spoils the baby 24/7 and the things the baby has are the best of the best, the price doesnt matter to him

- idk why but he likes taking a big whiff of the babies hair then going like “ahhhh!” after and then kissing their scalp

“look babe i just bought some new clothes for our little one” gojo said smiling up at you as you entered the room. gojo is sitting on the foam rug thing with the baby laying down on it

gojo held up the baby carefully while supporting their neck at the same time to show you their fit. “thats so cute!” you responded then sitting down with him, you look at the tags that gojo ripped out from the clothes “saturo what did i say abt rubbish- $200!? WE SHOULD BE USING THAT MONEY FOR THEIR FOOD”

Geto Suguru

- i feel like hes gonna be a fairly strict but not too strict of a father

- he loveeessss wrapping them up in his robes, hugging/carrying them around like that wherever he goes in the house

“ah-! let go of my hair!” suguru demanded but not doing anything to stop it, the baby just giggles at their fathers reaction not knowing that their lowkey hurting their dad bc obviously theyre just a baby…

you take a quick pic of the sight thats in front of you, giggling along with your baby

“damn this thing is strong!” he said

“dont call your kid a thing!”

Sukuna Ryomen

- he mostly watches you take care of “the brat” he calls them, but is willing to help as long as you give him clear instructions on what the hell hes supposed to do with “it”

- i can see him holding his kid upside down with their legs when theyre like 6 or something and sometimes he drops them on purpose before quickly and successfully catching them, he has no intentions of hurting them, hes mostly doing it to fuck with you. i mean he made the kid laugh so lol

“what the fuck its crying” he pointed out to you as you rock the baby gently in your arms

“yeah i can see that… and stop calling them ‘it’, theyre not some sort of rare space specimen”

Higuruma Hiromi

- even tho in the manga hes portrayed as the classic “no humor, cold, tired man in a suit” kind of guy, i honestly dont think hes just that, hes just like that in professional settings and when things are serious. i can see him make light jokes, like he did with itadori, so he’d definitely do the same with his baby

- he likes gently scratching the babys back, as he knows its relaxing i mean who doesnt like a good scratch on the back sometimes. he doesnt mind when the baby starts fiddling with his tie, but when the baby chews on if he definitely gets a bit grossed out

“bah!” hiromi jokingly surprised the baby which made the baby flinch and cry at their father, hiromi laughed at the baby’s raction “sorry” Hiromi gently apologised while smiling at them, then went back to scare them one more time by covering his face then quickly uncovering his face “boo!”

this time the baby laughed with their father and you recorded the fun moment

(this is also inspired by a reel i saw on instagram, it was so cute 😭)

Nanami Kento

- HANDS DOWN THE BEST FATHER DUH WTF??? do we even have to argue???? since the baby hes been cutting his alcohol drinking as he doesnt want the baby’s sensitive lungs to suffer from the smell. he also lovessssss skin to skin, when the baby popped out and it was his turn to hold the baby in his bare chest, he was over the moonnnnn

- ngl he would mostly take care of the baby more than you, his excuse is since you carried the baby for 9 months, so its his job to support and deal with the baby most of the time mwah mwah

you stare at him feeding your baby their bottle, whose also safely tucked in his loving arms

“kento can i feed them now?” you asked him

“go rest honey, you deserve it” he responded, kissing you on the forehead

“thats my baby youre hogging!”

Kusakabe atsuya

- omg he likes making the baby dance, the baby cant walk yet, so he’d hold them up and make them look like theyre dancing by making them look like their doing that default baby dance toddlers do or gently swing them side to side

- loves placing them on his chest as they sleep as he fiddles with their tiny hand. also he strictly calls them by their shorter version of their name or a random nickname that suits them

“mmph! stop trying to grab my lolly!” atsuya told the baby as it tried reaching for it, eventually the baby caught the stick of the lollipop and forced it out of their dads mouth and putting it into theirs

“hehe gross”

fushiguro toji

- he plays with them by making them pretend that theyre boxing with their hands

- naps naps napsssssss, he always puts them on his chest so that they can nap together on the couch. but sometimes when toji snores, he lets out a loud snore which scares the baby into waking up crying lmfaoooooooo

“hell nah”

“toji just wipe their ass already, im trying to show you how change their diaper”

“fucking hell…” toji muttered as he slowly lifts the baby by their legs

okay maybe hes not the best when it comes to helping sometimes, but at least hes willing to try

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maayong gabii lahat!!! (good evening everyone!!!)

hehe i just wanna say thank you guys for the likes, reblogs, comments, and followers so far :))))

damo nga salamatttt (thank you so muchhhh)

[arvandus]

AN: Here is my contribution for @ficsforgaza's kinktober! They gave me a Pathetic Man™️ (/affectionate) and I said "say no more." I really enjoyed writing this and it was a good exercise in keeping myself from making it too long. I hope whoever submitted this request enjoys this fic, and thank you so much for your support!

The Suffocation of Fear

Characters: Atsuya Kusakabe x GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; GN!Reader (i.e., no gender-specific descriptions of body anatomy; no described hair type, style, or length; reader wears neutral clothing, etc.); CHOKING; handjob (reader receiving); dry humping; my usual hurt-comfort thrown in for some ✨seasoning✨.

Blue.

Silky blue with a slight sheen.

A nice color, he’d thought when he’d bought it years ago.

But now as Atsuya stares at it, all he can see is its plainness.

A boring, average tie for a boring, average man.

But it doesn’t look boring on you.  No, on you, it looks different, feels different.  It fills his vision, swinging gently from a neck that isn’t his and yet belongs to him nonetheless.

His mouth is on you, hot and wet against the curve of your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.  Your body surrounds him, your thighs straddling his lap, your arms around his neck.  Your shirt is already gone, making the blue of the tie contrast against the sweaty sheen of your skin.

“What’s it like?” you ask.

Your sudden question disrupts him, yanking him from the haze of pleasure you’ve wrapped him in. He pulls back to look at you. Your eyes are on the cut on his brow.

“What’s what like?” he asks, his voice raspy with exhaustion and hunger.

You avert your eyes to look out the window into the night.  “Out there. Where the curses are.”

He looks out the window with you, his hands on your hips.

It’s a long moment of silence before he finally speaks.

“It’s terrifying.  They’re grotesque, and violent, and come from the worst parts of us.”

Your eyes stare at his wound again, and your fingers brush around it gently, careful not to touch it directly.  “I can’t imagine...”

Atsuya’s gaze focuses somewhere below your eyes.  “Why would you want to?”

You hesitate, your hand retreating.  “Because it’s you.”

More silence, before you finally speak again.  “Tell me... please? Tell me what it’s like.”

“The fear? Or the curses?”

“Either.”

Atsuya’s silent for a long moment, his eyes once again on his tie around your neck. Its loose, and he grabs the ends of it gently.

“It feels like...” he starts, but falters.  He watches the way your breath hitches slightly and licks his lips.

“It’s like a dark presence that you can’t see,” he continues, “no matter how many times you look over your shoulder.”

His hand begins to tighten the tie, closing the gap between the knot and your tender throat where your pulse flutters.

“It feels like suffocation,” he mutters.

He tightens the noose until it’s snug, then he tightens it just a little more.  You swallow, and he watches how the fabric digs into your skin before relaxing.

Atsuya looks up at you, catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. It’s a mixture of many things – love, pity, fear, lust.  You’re so human. So very, very human.  It’s both refreshing and painful.

Your hands are resting on his forearms, soft palms against taught, muscular skin.

Atsuya stares at you as he tightens the tie even tighter, just the slightest bit.

“It wraps around you like an invisible hand, and every inch of you is screaming to run, run, run....”

Your breaths are heavier now, your chest swelling with each inhale.  Atsuya pauses, relishing the sight. He grips your hip and forces you to rock against him, the heat of your sex burning through his slacks. Your eyes close and your lips part with a whimper.

“But you can’t run,” he continues, “because people are depending on you. Helpless people that need protecting, comrades that need assisting.”

His are eyes locked on the tie wrapped tight around his fist, linking him to you.

“So you stay, and that only makes it worse.  Because all you’re thinking is I don’t want to die.”

Your eyes gaze down at him, a mixture of adoration and pity, and it threatens to unravel him.  He breaks his gaze and tightens the tie further.  Now the silken fabric is digging into your skin, your breaths shallow.

“It’s like being adrift at sea and you’re trying not to drown. Because as soon as you give into it, it’ll drag you under.”

Your grip on his arms is still firm.  He tightens the tie further, grinds you down onto his aching cock harder. Your grip finally loosens, your hands falling limp at your sides.

“It hurts, that kinda fear. It makes your heart pound and your head throb until you’re so lightheaded that you think you’ll faint.”

Atsuya braves a glance and likes what he sees.  That pity is gone now, your eyes glazed over in hazy pleasure, riding the cusp of consciousness in a blissful daze.  He likes you like this... pliant, subdued, too wrapped up in yourself to notice him.  His grip on the tie tightens, his knuckles white as his other hand digs into your hip.  Your body is moving of its own volition, your rhythm needy as tears sting the corners of your blank gaze. You’re close.

Atsuya releases your hip and slides his hand into your pants.  He strokes you, pets you, savors your heat. Your eyes widen, your cresting arousal forcing you into the present, back towards reality. His touch is relentless, pushing you over the edge until you’re soaking his fingers, his hand, making a mess of yourself within your pants.  His fingers expertly loosen the tie around your neck, finally granting you oxygen.  The rich vibrancy of your face returns, floods back into your cheeks, your eyes.  Gasp after deep gasp follows, your throat sucking in precious air.  He smiles.

“But then you win,” he continues, his voice deepened by lust.  “The fear vanishes, and you can breathe again. It’s a high unlike anything else.”

You’re still half here, your mind caught between the aftershocks of pleasure and blood rush.  The color has returned to your face, and yet your eyes are still somewhat cloudy, your lips gently parted.  He pulls you in by the now-loosened tie around your neck, the imprint of it still etched into your skin, and kisses you, his tongue taking over your mouth.  It takes a moment for you to return it, your lips and tongue fumbling before you remember how.  When your lips part, his thumb strokes your cheek, tracing the wet paths of your tears.

“Then you go out and do it again,” he says. “And again. Because it’s your job.”

Your comedown is slow, inebriated, your body laced with shivers. You lay against him, putting your head to his shoulder as you wait for the room to stop spinning.  His arms wrap around you gently, his fingers delicately tracing the shape of your spine. A content sigh passes your parted lips.

His voice is softer now, carried just above a whisper.  “That’s what it’s like. And I’ll be doing it until the day I die or until I know you’ll always be safe, whichever comes first.”

[lazyjellyfish300]

masterlist pt 2 ⚡︎ ☁︎ | masterlist pt 1

-MINORS DNI, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

- REBLOGS/COMMENTS/RECOMMENDING MY WORK IS MUCH APPRECIATED.

masterlist below the cut

(check masterlist pt 1 for writings prior to 7/25/24)

-Most of my reader POVS are FEM or AFAB, sorry. Since I am a cis female that is the pov I feel I can write the most accurately. I try to do gender neutral whenever possible.

-I describe curvy body parts.

-I try to exclude reader's appearance as much as possible except clothing. Tattoos or piercings are sometimes applied.

-I have religious trauma and sometimes my negative opinions of organized religion show up in my writing. If that is not your cup of tea, please do not read.

-My rating system is my humble opinion & might not be totally correct, read at your own risk. I'm self indulgent with my writing the vast majority of the time.

🌶️-suggestive 🌶️🌶️-moderate smut

🌶️🌶️🌶️-very smutty 💖-fluff 💔-angst 🔥-slow burn/smut doesn't happen right away

-last updated: 11/27/24

miguel o'hara (atsv) x reader

-love that doesn't make it into the bedroom-drabble thought 🌶️

-jacuzzi drabble-nsfw smutty thot 🌶️🌶️

-the aftermath - fluff drabble hc about the morning after your one night stand 🌶️💖

-fluff thought 💖

-smutty thot 🌶️🌶️

-putting his hands in your pockets-quick thought 💖

-dinnery party drabble 🌶️💖

-miguel's act of service for you-quick thought 💖

-the color red-🌶️💖 Miguel learns to love his eye color thanks to you short blurb

-miguel needs glasses -fluffy blurb 💖

-miguel sleep hcs 💖

-miguel likes your fall candles-autumn drabble 💖

-your fall decorations start to grow on Miguel-autumn short fluff 💖

-eloping with him -short fluff 💖

-would've been you-angstober request 💔🌶️🌶️

-rubbing your clit-smut drabble 🌶️🌶️🌶️

-can i be him?-smutty drider!miguel oneshot 🌶️🌶️🌶️💔🔥💖

peter b. parker (atsv) x reader

-love that doesn't make it into the bedroom-drabble thought 🌶️

-smut thot 🌶️

-marry me honey-proposing to you during sex 🌶️🌶️🌶️💖

-peter washes the dishes-drabble 💖🌶️

-a horror movie night with him-flufftober piece💖🌶️

nanami kento (jjk) x reader

-he's just your boss- you're kento's assistant. you realize you're in love with him. 💖

-love that doesn't make it into the bedroom-drabble thought 🌶️

-rainy night in the farmhouse-drabble 🌶️💖

-ill take care of us both -your husband cheering you up after you lose your job 💖🌶️

-making love in the barn-self indulgent drabble 🌶️🌶️💖

-eating chocolate chip cookies pregnancy cravings drabble 💖

-his watch 💖🌶️

-smut thought 🌶️🌶️

-lying by the river drabble 💖

-waking up after a shower drabble 💖🌶️

-stay asleep to see you 💔🌶️🌶️ angsty dark piece about your grief after Shibuya that ends in tragedy

-threesome with Kento and Kusakabe drabble 🌶️🌶️🌶️

-kento x kusakabe x you smut drabble 🌶️🌶️

-rating the thunder -fluffy drabble 💖

-nanami kento as a boy dad 💖 HCs

-fingering you drabble 🌶️🌶️💖

-kento x shiu x you smut thought 🌶️🌶️🌶️

-catching you playing the piano (early relationship drabble) 💖

-to the echoes of infinity-drabble 💖

-every vacation is a honeymoon- drabble 💖

shiu kong(jjk) x reader

-smoking during sex thought drabble 🌶️🌶️

-your wedding and honeymoon-brief smutty fluff 🌶️🌶️💖

-the aquarium-first meeting with him 💖

-he comforts you over losing your first husband- angst with comfort snippet 💔💖

-kento x shiu x you smut thought 🌶️🌶️🌶️

-asking your husband to adopt a dog 💖

atsuya kusakabe (jjk) x reader

-he likes your curves -brief thought drabble 🌶️🌶️💖

-just a man- he visits you the night of Shibuya 🌶️🌶️🌶️💔

ben reilly (atsv) x reader

-late night cravings - getting ice cream+ food with him in the middle of the night 💖

𖥧 𓂃 ♥︎ ᨒ

©lazyjellyfish300 Please do not copy / plagiarize / edit / translate / feed into AI any of my work / content! Ok with reposts to other sites/fic lists but you MUST CREDIT ME. Thank you !! 𖤣𖥧

[clumsyraccoon]

OK, here it is...

Kusakabe Atsuya (JuJutsu Kaisen) x AFAB!reader

Reader is afab but I tried to keep anything else as gender neutral as possible, so description of body should be ambiguous. "pussy", "cunt" and "clit" used to describe genitalia. No pronouns used.

Adding details: reader is a foreigner sorcerer, mentions of previous make out session (I said it was self indulgent… >.>”), mentions of alcohol

Smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THANK YOU): fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Words: 2630

[I swear to the gods I don't know what (or who) possessed me while writing this O_O It's honestly my first time ever finishing a smut piece, so if you have comments and/or constructive criticisms, as always I will be more than welcome to hear them! ^^]

[Ah, yes, not beta read, minor edit just to not post a complete mess XD]

The now empty boxes of your take-out are set aside in a corner of the table, to make room for all the preparatory paperwork for the mission. Forms, applications, and all the paperwork required: you also had to learn all the bureaucratic minutiae in order to become a full-fledged sorcerer. You flanked several professional sorcerers since you arrived at Tokyo JuJutsu High, to better understand all the various processes and to see how every individual had their way of doing the work, and for the mission at hand it was Kusakabe-san turn.

After the end of class for that day, you both opted go to the home of one of the two: as much as JuJutsu High provided rooms and offices for their personnel, the both of you wanted somewhere more cosy and relaxed, as winter was fast approaching and being in the office when it was already so dark outside spoiled the mood of the man paired with you.

In that first year in Japan, you had the chance to meet a variety of exceptional and extravagant people that left you almost without breath sometimes, first above anyone else the person that scouted you: Gojo Satoru. But Kusakabe was somehow...different. He was indeed a powerful and skilled sorcerer, a Grade 1 nonetheless, but his demeanor was so in contrast with people like Gojo or Mei-Mei that he seemed almost...normal. And that was kind of a relief, especially for a foreigner that has been oblivious about the jujutsu society for most of their life. He was a good teacher and when he came to you, he used the same patience and tranquility in explaining things: just as he didn't treat any of his students as stupid (maybe apart from the occasional times when they drove him nuts), he never made you feel inferior, putting you at the same level of every other sorcerer and explaining things calmly and clearly.

“Now, we begin with filling the Prearranged Team Management Form.” his low voice takes you out of your own thoughts, bringing you back to the delightfully bureaucratic filled present. He slides a blank folder under your nose, pointing with his finger the protocol number. “It serves to organise who will be in the team and leave a track of which exact people will be at which exact location. Obviously 99% of the time it is filled out after the mission is over, due to the lack of advance notice...but I have to teach you properly, so here it is.”

As much as he hates missions, he is a very thorough individual. Every paper is neatly placed in front of you, a small semi-transparent differently coloured post-it at the corner of every folder, a way to categorise them depending on their function and who they should be delivered to in the office. You nod, trying to memorise number and use of said form, while Kusakabe lends you a pen. “Experience is the best teacher – he says, a small grin appearing on his lips – so I’ll let you do the honor” Another nod from you, while you put all the concentration you’re capable of into filling the form out. He snorts at your face, a smile tugging at he corners of his lips “Don’t worry, you’re not under exam.”

---

A couple of hours later and the atmosphere is far more relaxed, thanks to the majority of the papers being taken care of...and also to the couple of bottles of red wine you had brought from your country.

“There - you say, stretching and lying on the floor, since sitting on a chabudai for too long was something your body was still not that used to – should be the last one, right?” The wine in your system is not that much, you would not call yourself drunk right now, but it leaves a pleasant buzz throughout your whole body, your senses slightly enhanced by the alcohol. There’s also a pleasant warmth that radiates form you and, even if you’re wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you feel it slowly increasing. Turning your head towards him, you take the chance to glance at Kusakabe while he’s still preoccupied with checking papers: your gaze start from the hand on the floor he’s putting his weight on, then slowly trails up his hairy forearm (when did he took of his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up?!?), the slightly unbuttoned shirt, revealing just a hint of his also hairy chest…

“Yep, everything seems fine to me”

...his neck and jaw, idly moving whenever he turned his lollipop around in his mouth...(his neck and jaw that you explored oh so well in an half-drunk yet very aroused state after Ieiri’s birthday party...)

“Y/N?”

You snap out of your trance and meet his questioning gaze, the warmth inside of you making a sudden surge. But, somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed nor guilty. You never felt like that with him, always making you feel at ease, as if he was something solid, something certain that brings stability in the frenzy of life.

“Yes?”

“Are you drunk?”

A heartfelt laugh escapes your lips, while you pat the futon at your side, inviting him to join you on the floor. “No, just happy we finally finished all the boring stuff.” you answer, while he lies on his side near you, propped up on one elbow, hand supporting his head. You look up at him, trying to ignore the warmth that heavily radiates from his body as well.

“Thank you, Kusakabe-san” you murmur.

“Ah, I’ve already told you – he retorts, a small grimace on his features, while he takes the stick of his now finished lollipop out of his mouth – you can call me Atsuya.”

“Well, then... thank you, Atsuya.”

The way you say his given name is not even consciously intended, but it slips out of your lips nonetheless, taking down the raising heat by a couple degrees...but not in an unpleasant manner. Your own voice send a shiver down your spine, the way you said his name probably giving away way more than you had intended to, and you search his gaze, to see and assess how much damage you have done. His brown eyes are instantly locked into yours, a flick of hesitation already fleeting away to give space to...to… You don’t know how to describe what you see, you just feel the warmth of his body raising again and his already wide pupils taking over his irises completely, two dark pools you’re sure you’ll drown into, if you’re not careful. He doesn’t say anything, just exhales a tad too loudly than normal, while still not breaking eye-contact with you. His free hand slowly reaches for you and you don’t notice, still too enthralled by the soft, welcoming abyss of his eyes, until his fingertips brush against the exposed skin between your t-shirt and jeans, fingertips so hot they threaten to burn holes into your flesh, so hot they send another, more powerful this time, shiver up you spine. It’s your time now to exhale loudly, anticipation already making you squirm under his touch.

“Atsuya”

His name rolls out of your tongue another time, more shyly yet more pleading, a whisper that becomes a prayer on his ears and in his heart. How can he deny you, resist you anymore when you say his name oh so nicely? How can he find the strength to stop the both of you once again when you’re here, on his futon, looking up at him with that gaze, calling his name with that tone? How can he withdraw from your warmth? How can he suppress all that turmoil you cause in his heart every damn time he sees you?

He, simply, can’t.

So, finally, instead of fighting back what he now knows to be unbeatable, he surrender. He surrender himself to your smile that goes with your every “Good morning!”, he surrender himself to electricity that surges every time your hands brush by accident, he surrender himself to the optimism you sport every time you go on a mission together. He surrender himself to you, completely and undeniably.

The fingertips on your skin become a palm, sneaking under the hem of your t-shirt and gently caressing what’s underneath it. Your answer wants to be a soft gasp, but there’s no time for it to form before his lips descend on yours. The kiss is so sweet it is almost chaste, that first contact delivering all the feelings the both of you have tried to store away in the depths of your hearts, finally revealing what you have always been afraid to say. It feels liberating to finally let go, and you feel Kusakabe’s muscles relax in sync with yours, months of pining quickly dissolving from your bodies and souls.

One of your hand finds its way to his hair and gently tugs at it, with the result of making him part his lips and moan into your mouth, giving you the chance to deepen the kiss. The flavour of his lollipop floods your taste buds and you devour each other, almost like teenagers at their first shot at kissing, and your body already ask, no scream for so much more that you try to turn on your side to have a better position, but Kusakabe’s hand keeps you firmly in place. He pulls away just enough to look at you “Please, let me…” he murmurs against your lips. And in his tone there’s a plea that sink right into your heart and turns it into jelly. Replying with a nod you let yourself relax again on the futon, while his hand lifts your shirt all the way up, leaving your flushed chest exposed to him. He takes a moment to feel your erratic beating heart, palm pressed right in the middle of your chest, before resuming his exploration of your skin.

Despite the callousness of his hands, his touch is gentle, almost feather-like. Fingertips lightly brush against your skin, trailing around your nipples, but never touching them, down towards your navel, to your hips, up your sides. No haste nor hurry, but taking their damn time into exploring every inch of you, as if they were explorers into territory unknown to mankind up until now. They then skim just above the hem of your jeans, goosebumps now covering the entirety of your body, while his mouth descends to leave warm kisses on your chest. They are almost shy at first, sealed lips barely touching your skin, but as soon as your hand find its place in his hair again, they become more bold, tongue poking out to wet the path.

It takes a few minutes of kisses placed with utter adoration all over your exposed body, before Kusakabe muster the courage to latch on one of your nipples. And when he does, you start to sing. A moan finally fall freely from your parted lips, your body arching into his touch, craving him not only there, but everywhere on your burning body. Your free hand joins the other and entangles itself in his brown locks, instinctively squeezing every time you feel his teeth grazing against your sensitive flesh and receiving a pleased grunt from him in exchange.

There’s a trickle of saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue when he parts from you, and you look at it glimmering in the room’s light, almost enraptured by the vision, before your attention is diverted from it by the man’s hand. Slowly, he’s unbuttoning your jeans, his gaze fixated on you and, as you reciprocate his look, the thought that crosses your mind is that he’s insanely handsome. A blush covers the majority of his face and the tips of his ears, his hair is ruffled by all of your toying, and in his eyes you can see the real feeling he always nurtured for you.

Warm fingers slip past the waistband of your panties and push the clothes down enough your tights to leave your core exposed, the sudden chill air against you heated skin sending a shiver up your spine. Cupping his face with your hands, you kiss Kusakabe deeply, pulling him closer to you, while his fingers start to roam your tight like they previously did on your chest. Your focus shifts from his mouth to his neck (god how you missed it) and you unbutton his shirt, trying to spur him, but his touches are painstakingly slow, fingers too far away from where you wanted them most. Undaunted, you continue your attack, tongue tracing pathways of pleasure into his skin, teeth scarping and sinking, lips comforting and eliciting.

Circles are drawn on the canvas of your skin, smaller and smaller, until he finally reaches your cunt and you start to loose track of time, his fingers teasing your folds but never entering, caresses on your clit that never turns into that something more enough for you to finally cum. Squirming and whimpering through the sweet anguish he persists in doing, yet you hear the first signs of capitulations in his own grunts and moans.

Yet he persists.

Yet he persists.

Yet he persists.

Your breaths are hot and short against each other, the temperature of both your bodies so high now you might have a fever. Your face nuzzle in the crook of his neck, his ministration starting to make you see stars in your vision, while you desperately cling to his now exposed chest, hair soft under your touch.

“A-atsuya...p-pleeease…”

Deft fingers continue to caress your sex, eliciting a new series of moans and cries out of your mouth, his tongue trailing from your ear down your neck, leaving the skin burning in its wake. And you know that, if he continues to torture you like that, it’s no long before you come undone under him. So, with the last remnants of your will, the leg trapped in between his tries to grind against his hard, still clothed, cock, while one of your hand tries to get a hold of his forearm, in a futile attempt to slow him down or hurry him up, you’re not even sure of what you want to do anymore. You just now that you will not resist a second more.

As if he reads your mind, Kusakabe finally finally push a finger past your folds and inside your aching pussy, your lewd cry of pleasure making his dick throb in his pants. There’s no need for a second digit, as your orgasm hits you suddenly and violently, leaving you shaking so bad you cling to him for dear life.

You stay like that for a couple of minutes, but as soon as the shivers start to subside, you look up at him “Need you...inside...pl-please…” is all you manage to say in between your broken breaths. A soft kiss on your temple “Are you sure?”

Just a nod from you and he’s unbuckling his pants, letting his cock finally free. Impatient hands pull him closer and he’s already lined up to your entrance and ready, but he takes his time to smile down and then softly kiss you, before entering in one go in your wet hole. It’s your turn now to moan into his mouth, while he hooks your legs over his arms, a mating press the best way to deal with all the too many clothes you two still wear.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your peaks, pent-up as you are, moans and cries being swallowed into hungry kisses, bodies trembling in unison. And as your breath slowly come back to normal and you both descend from your high, the way Kusakabe embraces you tells you everything you wanted to hear from him.

[nanamis-bigtie]

ice rink

↬ kusakabe atsuya x gn!reader ↬ jjk masterlist // ao3 version // kofi

cw: fluff, established relationship, some harmless dilf humiliation ;) summary: just some winter fluff and a quick ice rink date word count: 1,012 a/n: that was supposed to be a part of a bigger christmas project but i decided i have enough on my plate for now dkljkfhk anyway, hope you will enjoy this little crumb divider by @/saradika-graphics

For an hour before the closing, the ice rink is deserted bar you two, lacing your skates in silence and hurry. The Christmas atmosphere you were hoping for is nowhere to be found but that's the best you could get with the limits of your busy lives. It's a miracle you found a moment to share in between missions, yet—an open rink in a smaller city like this one. Especially now, with days desperately short and weather far from encouraging, everything drops into deep sleep hours before you are allowed to finish your cursed shifts.

Atsuya steps into the ice first, too confident for someone who's claimed he had skates on only once, as a child. He's slow and wary but his knees don't wobble when he feels the unknown ground and takes a turn to face you. It's not a pretty style of a skilled skater but he's standing firm, firmer than you and your clumsy duck trot as you try to join. It's been a long while for you as well, but you had your hearty dose of experience back then, apparently too far in time for your muscles to run on autopilot.

He's right there for you, behind you, one hand close to your hip, the other reaching for yours. There's still warmth of his coffee lingering on his skin and you gladly nuzzle up to it, half expecting to be scolded, for the umpteenth time this evening, for forgetting your gloves. But Atsuya remains silent, respecting the eerie atmosphere of an empty ice rink, as if you two entered a sacred ritual that could be disrupted by imprudent words.

You adapt to it, relishing in the white noise of your skates scratching the ice and distant, dull humming of the last cars crossing the empty streets. Rink's supervisor didn't bother to turn the music on for you two only, and you're thankful for that, suddenly not in the mood for cheesy Christmas music anymore. It's way more intimate like this, engulfed by warm lights and flecks of ice around your feet, as if closed in a domain built to protect rather than defend or attack.

You're almost snuggled into each other, your back flush to his chest, your fingers intertwined, your legs moving in unison. Atsuya's presence gives you confidence and balance, you're teaching him the right moves and rhythm—and together, however slow and clumsy, you glide around.

If only it would start snowing... But it's too warm for that, it's not even winter yet, just the beginning of December, just the end of the relatively calmer time right before the Christmas and New Year rush will pump a new wave of curses to deal with. Tomorrow and the day after will be even more busy than today was, and who knows when you'll be able to steal some time for each other again.

Mere thought of it clenches your heart. You squeeze Atsuya's hand tighter, he leans closer to your neck, his warm, coffee-soaked breath brushes your skin right before his lips—a kiss pressed to the side of your jaw.

"You're cold," he finally breaks the seal of silence, his voice more playful than grumpy.

"You forgot your chapstick," you cut in before he can pick on your poor gloves again. You can hear the roll of his eyes from the way he's sighed before attacking your jaw and neck with peckish kisses.

The hold protecting you from a possible fall is now your prison. You squirm and giggle and try to slide out, just to be pulled back into his embrace for another dose of ticklish tortures.

"Why won't you share yours, then?" His dry, chapped lips are trying to chase yours. "I shared my hand warmers."

He's kissing your neck, ears and cheeks, but you wiggle out at the last moment before he can claim his goal—well aware you're able to because he lets you. Your careless laughter soaks through the sacred silence, must be the sin that's earned you a fast punishment. Because once Atsuya is done with the game of cat and mouse and tries to spin you in place, to reach your lips with one smooth frontal attack, his knees finally do wobble, and the balance suddenly sways his way.

Even if you had enough strength to hold a muscular man in place, it happens too fast, faster than your instincts. Atsuya slips back and pulls you with him, face first into his chest, and you both groan when his butt slams against the ice.

"I think I heard something breaking," he lies flat, arms dramatically thrown by his sides and face wincing, as if he just got thrashed around by a curse.

You've been around enough to know he's lying but you still lean close, pulled by the most obvious bait ever, straight into the trap of his lips. He's smirking through it, proud of himself, one hand cradling the back of your head, holding you in place with ease. You struggle just for a moment, for the sake of the game, but you're as hungry for this as him, for his big tongue and dry skin of his lips, and the aftertaste of coffee he grabbed on the way.

If not for the ice-cold hard surface beneath, you would prolong this until your mouths would grow numb.

Atsuya is still smirking when you pull away, then grinning when you struggle to stand on wobbly legs—but it fades when you offer him a hand and he tries to sit up, making only a few inches upwards before wincing.

"...Fuck. I really've pulled somethin'." He falls back on the ice, with whine too pathetic to be feigned. "Right in my ass, too."

It takes you three tries before you manage to scrape him off the bottom, less because of his weight and groaning and more of your laughter, pushing you to tears and hiccups.

"Alright, old man." You're shaking under his arm as you're slowly sliding towards the exit. "Let's buy you a hot compress for tonight."

[nanamis-bigtie]

kindest lies

"It's… rather urgent." Next to exhaustion there's hesitation in the assistant's words. As if she dreaded sharing the data with you. "There's a huge risk of civilian casualties. We suspect it might be an act of jujutsu terrorism."

Five people get cursed under atypical circumstances. For the tracking and locking properties of your cursed technique you're requested to assist Atsuya during the investigation. Following the curse user's trail, you sink together into the world of izakayas, night clubs and love hotels. And you do everything in your might to not think about last summer's day that has irreversibly changed the terms between you two.

Written for gender neutral reader. No gendered language, no body descriptions, they/them pronouns may appear as pronoun placeholder if necessary in dialogues. Y/N used as a name placeholder.

↬ kusakabe atsuya x gender neutral reader

↬ cw: coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, canon-typical violence, investigations, hurt/comfort, alcohol, forced proximity, self confidence issues, eventual smut, MINORS DON'T INTERACT

↬ status: on-going

↬ word count: 3,138/?

↬ a/n: I've taken some creative freedom when it comes to everyday work of jujutsu sorcerers but I tried to keep power system as close to canon as I could. I know the story will eventually end with smut but I'm still not sure if I want to keep it as the last chapter in the main body of the story or add it as a standalone one-shot.

Smut part will also be written for gender neutral reader, likely with top Atsuya.

Chapter 1

...more to come

ao3 version // jjk masterlist // kofi // dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[nanamis-bigtie]

morning after

↬ nanami kento, higuruma hiromi, kusakabe atsuya & gender neutral reader ↬ jjk masterlist // ao3 version

a/n: debuting post for the monday afterhours, yay! i'm really excited to start, especially with the topic that's been at the back of my head for a while. i love casual intimacy and i love giving touch starved men the oh moment of their life cw: suggestive themes, implied bottom reader word count: 2.3k

nanami

Nanami is not used to noise and smells in the kitchen so early in the morning. Such disruption of his routine would bother his mood under other circumstances—but now, with the soft sound of your bare feet at the other side of his apartment, it feels only right. Familiar, he would even say, despite the atmosphere of a special occasion lingering in the air.

When was the last time he made breakfast from scratch, he wonders when the door of his bathroom closes behind you. Normally, he would be still asleep at this hour; his alarm would go off in thirty minutes, he would take a necessarily short and cool shower, check emails in case of an emergency, and then head to the 7/11 on the corner, to eat a humble meal of a pre-made sandwich and a cup of coffee from the machine, maybe an onigiri too, if he felt particularly greedy. Today, he barely slept and rose with a crack of the dawn—yet he felt the most relaxed since what seems to be ages to him. He still had the taste of you lingering on his tongue after the night, and decided to savor it until the flavor of cooking he had to test on the way would eventually wash it away. Scratched marks on his shoulders and back stung when he leaned to check what he had in the fridge. His hips, unlearned of moves he had been using on you since you had devoured the takeaway dinner together, ached as he tiptoed to reach the rice cooker, left dusty on one of the highest shelves. His eyes kept the afterimage of your blissed out face over the selection of vegetables and spices he chose for this meal.

When was the last time he was so peaceful?

Nanami finishes cutting the fresh cucumber and tsukemono, pours water into mugs with instant miso soup inside, and finally checks on the rice. It's warm and fluffy, just waiting to be put into the bowls he prepared—the cutest he had, with a long-tailed tit pattern. He brought them from Hokkaido and didn't use them even once, until he spotted them today and decided you would love them.

Rice has to wait; he can't let it grow cold like the sheets you two left behind are undeniably growing. First, he checks on the piece of salmon—a luxury that waited for a day when he could cook again—getting ready in the oven, then cracks a few eggs and beats them well with a pinch of salt and pepper. His stomach growls when they hiss on the red-hot pan—and he can't help but wonder if you're as hungry as him. Things you had in your mouth through the night couldn't feed you, as your corny, vulgar jokes suggested. Nanami rarely smiles but the memory of them and the startled look you gave him as you worried if you hadn't been too much for him has him grinning for a short moment.

When was the last time he felt strain in the corners of his lips?

The omelet is ready in no time. Nanami knows how you like your eggs, but he can't remember how and when he learned about it. He's sipped many details like this from your lips, through the whole year of waiting for the day you crossed the threshold of his bedroom. He was feeding on crumbs for so long... Being full out of the sudden fills his heart with content and anxiety at the same time. He wants to savor this moment, afraid to stomp on the thin shell of happiness too strong, but he knows he's already too addicted to stop. Whatever happens, happens.

And the food can wait only as long. He can't feed you a cold meal.

The hum of the shower ceases shortly after he takes the salmon out of the oven. Nanami listens to the commotion in the bathroom while he finishes the last cuts. Bowls are filled with steaming rice, plates and mugs find their right place on the table. He hasn't cleaned the kitchen—but even if he could do it quickly before you join him, he can't bring himself to disturb this disarray. It looks—it feels—so good to have his place messy at least once, at least today, at least for the first hour you spend together after the night of passionate lovemaking.

His hands still remember the shape of your hips, he realizes when you appear at the entrance, fresh yet still sleepy—and smiling bright at the sight of him by the table.

Nanami doesn't want to ever forget it.

higuruma

Out of the first mornings Higuruma experienced, this one is not the most...extraordinary. But he definitely would place it somewhere at the top of the list.

Seated on the edge of the bathtub, head leaned down, he still feels drowsy. The night was deliciously long and so worth the lingering fatigue in his muscles. He hasn't worked that hard in a while—well, physically at least—and he's undeniably going to pay the price with the top soreness of the last decade. He's more than okay with it...as long as you're not going to ask him for the repetition within the next few days. He's crazy for you—but he's not twenty anymore, and his job squeezes much more energy from him than he would have sacrificed, if he had any choice in this matter. 

Speaking of squeezing—he barely managed to find time to bring you home, for dinner and a movie you didn't even start watching, hungry for something else than a story. And he did so only by nipping time off somewhere else—and by paying the carrying charge now, in his bathroom, awaiting the blind judgment of your skill...or the lack of it, to be honest. He has no idea if you've ever done a haircut before.

But you seem at least familiar with it enough to know how to hold and turn the hair clipper around. Higuruma watches you from the corner of his eye: you're right behind him, scrunching your nose as you're studying the shape of the device and options the various buttons provided. Bare-chested, wearing your pajama shorts only, you secure the towel wrapped around your head with the other hand. It's on the verge of falling apart, some of your hair already got out. He feels an urge to get up and help you tuck it where it should stay but just thinking about feeling it pushes blood where he really doesn't want it, if he wants to leave for work on time. He had his share of touch a few hours ago, stroking and playing with your locks as you had your sweet lips wrapped around his cock.

He's ruined the position when trying to take a better look, so you gently nudge him to lean fully again, a brush of your warm palm enough to have hair on his forearms standing. He had your hands all over him for hours, pulling him close, securing him next to you when you both finally collapsed into well-deserved sleep, so he could swear he's learned your touch enough. 

But now...it's different.

You run fingers through the hair at the back of his head, testing the line you want to cut—and Higuruma is melting. He has to clench hands on the edge of the bathtub to stay collected; the last thing he wants is to get scolded and deprived of your digits slowly threading through his locks. You mumble something about being jealous of how thick they are and something about how badly he needs this cut—but all he can think of is how your voice is so raspy after moaning out his name over and over again. He wonders how your mewls would sound with this tone but thoughts evaporate from his head as soon as they've appeared, this time with the steady buzz of the clipper.

So the sound can be ticklish, such a weird sensation...

You're quick and as precise as only you can be at six in the morning, scrunched over his back in a rather tight space. You cut his hair just enough to keep him somewhat tidy for the few days before he can see an actual hair stylist; there's no time for more and Higuruma doesn't want to make it too much of a struggle for you. Even if it was his own request, he immediately regrets it when you're finished with brushing the cut dust off his neck and shoulders. It's such a pity you have to abandon him and rush with your own preparations. If only you had more time...

Right as he's straightening his back, you touch him with both hands, fingertips scratching lightly at the freshly shaved part of his head, right at the point where it meets his neck. Warmth explodes in his chest—and Higuruma lets out a low, needy growl. It's good, so good, oh gods, just touch him more, just do it one more time, he hasn't had anything like this for so long...

Humming, you move towards the longer strands, then down the sides of his face until you're cradling it between your palms. You tilt his head back and pull him close, until he rests it against your exposed, warm belly. Dry sob shakes his whole body and tears prick at the corners of his eyes—but Higuruma can't bring himself to close them or at least to look away. He's begging for your attention like starved and he's not ashamed.

All he wants is for you to never let go of him.

kusakabe

Holy shit.

Kusakabe didn't get a wink of sleep through the whole night—and the fact that he doesn't have anything to do for the day to come doesn't help the case. He always had problems with falling asleep after sex, but he thought the long break since the last time and, well, the overall busy period in his life would crumble this irritating habit by sheer force of exhaustion. He's as good at taking an accurate measure when it comes to love as he is with dozing off, it seems.

You're sprawled by his side, lying face down and on his arm, butt-naked with the exception of the blanket loosely wrapped around your leg and covering half of your ass. You've taken his share of sleep since you collapsed as soon as he rolled to his side and reached for wipes to clean you both, much to his amusement—and horror once he realized he was sentenced to his thoughts alone for the hours to come. Your smell, soft, twangy breathing, and warmth is just helping them race now. Your weight, pressed tight from his wrist to shoulder, keeps him in place too, cutting any attempt of shameful retreat short. It's nothing he wouldn't be able to move, he's carried you around not once and not twice and it meant nothing to his strength, but he dreads to wake you up.

You deserve that rest after taking his pent up tension over and over again. And he really has no idea what to say to sound appropriate.

Good morning? Good job? Did you sleep well? I love you?

Kusakabe groans and does another trip around the room with his eyes only. The more light sips through the loosely drawn curtains, the more details he could pick up, and shame already pricks at his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he cleaned around properly but even if he had it squeaky clean for the night, the area just screamed: a confirmed bachelor. Well, at least there's no trash lying on the floor or furniture, but he could easily pick up the smell of cigarettes and a badly aired room. None of it mattered when you tussled in darkness, sucking sloppy kisses from each other's lips and peeling clothes off your bodies. But once you wake up and take a look around—Nope, he doesn't want to think about it. That's a problem for Kusakabe from in-a-few-hours-future.

He rolls head to the other side, ashamed to even look at your sound asleep body, and stares right at his shirt, casually thrown over the bed stand. He doesn't have to look at it to know it definitely has its best days behind it. He could at least wear something presentable when seeing you for that unplanned job, hasn't he learned anything from his past relationships? Maybe he did, but it was so long ago he wasn't sure anymore if his sloppiness was ever addressed. His chain-smoking, however, is a different story.

Holy shit, he really needs to smoke.

Kusakabe knows there's a spare cigarette and a small pack of matches hidden in the little pocket of his shirt, this very shirt within his reach. Carefully, he scoots to the side and reaches for it, fingers already brushing the sleeve, just an inch more, just a little...

You mumble his name and shift, sheets rustling around your legs. Kusakabe freezes, sure he's finally done it and woke you up, but you just adjust your position, face turned to him, and continue with your softest snores. You're all messy and exhausted, in need of a shower even more than his room is in need of tidying. With amused relief pushing his worries out of his mind, he reaches out and gently strokes your hair.

You repeat his name, with a mewl dangerously close to what you screamed into his ear a few hours ago.

Out of the sudden, the thought of smoking by your side has him disgusted. You're going to wake up to this mess, to crumbled sheets and clothes all over the place and dying plants and papers lying on the floor in piles—and he wants to add smoke right into your eyes? You deserve better than that. You deserve him to be better than that.

Hell, he's been thinking about it for a while anyway. Maybe if he remembers your face from now, so calm and smiling through your dreams, it will be easier for him to finally quit.

thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.

tag list: @lale-txt @mirkaaaluv @ohnococo @clumsyraccoon @honey-deku

[nanamis-bigtie]

JJK MEN WEARING A SEXY COSTUME FOR YOU

featuring: gojo, ino, takaba, naobito, geto, toji, higuruma, ijichi, nanami, choso, naoya, shiu, kusakabe, sukuna, yaga cw: ambiguous reader, suggestive themes a/n: various ideas were stuck with me since i saw this sukuna fanart by @clumsyraccoon and i finally put them together in my online notebook; i finally got myself to write my underrated husband takaba too, yay!

100% into that

Gojo

What is sex if not fun? Sticking to one outfit or doing stuff butt-naked would be boring and boredom is the last thing Gojo wants to have incorporated into his sex life. He's the one bringing this up, actually, one day appearing in the bedroom as a sexy nurse. He changes costumes more often than his everyday outfits, until he gets bored and returns for a while to the classic naked routine.

what he would wear: literally anything. he would fuck even in a fursuit

Ino

Sweet boyfriend Ino has quite a kinky side to him and likes to experiment. You're proposing, he's in, no questions asked—and gods above, he feels amazing while dressing up for you. Rather than coming up with ideas, he lets you dress him however you desire; he prefers costumes to be tied to his submissive strike.

what he would wear: sexy bunny costume, catboy/puppy attire, lingerie

Takaba

He takes to costumes and crossdressing like a duck to water, he's a professional, after all. No shame and no restrictions to imagination found—and he loves to roleplay while in costume, so be ready to be encouraged to wear a matching one. Takaba is pretty flexible when it comes to adapting to your whims, so whether you prefer a submissive femboy or a leather daddy, you will have it.

what he would wear: he's down to anything you propose but personally loves burlesque the most

Naobito

He has a huge crossdressing and role reversal kink, and he lets you know about it beforehand—he can't imagine sex without a little dress up game from time to time, so if it's a big no for you, you won't be compatible partners. He doesn't expect you to wear a costume as well but will be delighted if you play along, especially with his favorite geisha & customer game.

what he would wear: traditional feminine japanese attire

likely

Geto

Himself, Geto is rather indifferent when it comes to what he's wearing (or not) during spicy moments. But he likes to spoil you in bed and to nurture your kinky side, so he will take a mental note whenever you come up with dressing-up or roleplay ideas, and strike when you expect it the least despite the slow build-up he prepares on the way. He leaves a trace of his schemes, lets you run into clues, like browsing history or a receipt "recklessly" left on display. You will know what awaits you—but never for sure and never when.

what he would wear: priest attire, sexy bunny costume, nurse costume, latex, lingerie

Toji

What are some clothes in comparison to all those wild and weird things he's done with all those women for a place to stay. He even likes it but he's usually just too lazy and believes that, in the end, the simplicity and naked bodies are the best. So, sometimes you have to coax him into wearing what you want—but for Toji there's no such a inconvenience that couldn't be bribed with a bowl of good ramen or a blowjob.

what he would wear: leather, uniforms and working clothing, cosplay

Higuruma

He's just unsure if he's more into that or into the overwhelming embarrassment he feels when you put him into a costume. He hasn't done it with previous partners and, on top of everything, no matter how hard he tries, he can't quite click with roleplaying, if it comes with the costume. In the end he almost always caves but he definitely feels more confident in outfits that don't require coming up with acting.

what he would wear: suits, uniforms and working clothing, priest attire

Ijichi

The thing about him is that he just...doesn't have heart to say no, and once he finds himself in the middle of situation, in crushing majority he's so much into that he scares himself. Dressing up at least doesn't come with the aftertaste of "in the end, it did awaken something in me". Prefers to be dressed up like a doll rather than coming up with costume ideas

what he would wear: crossdressing, sexy bunny costume, catboy costume, cosplay of female characters, maid costume

rather unlikely

Nanami

He just...doesn't get the appeal. Will do it for you, if you insist really hard, but it's a special kind of a treat and you won't get it often. Once he gets into the attire though, he's dedicated to his task for 100%. Nanami never does his job half-heartedly, if you want to have a sexy maid, you will have a sexy maid to the tiniest detail.

what he would wear: leather, suit or uniform, maid costume for crossdressing & role reversal roleplay | i actually did write something about the latter...

Choso

Poor soul, it's almost too embarrassing for him. He blushes so hard he gets scarlet-red all over his face, stutters and ineffectively tries to bolt from the place where you attacked him with your ideas. Why do you want him to do this, it's weird, he looks weird, why can't you two have normal sex? Eventually gives up if you pester him long enough but he gets so submissive about it it's almost more adorable than sexy.

what he would wear: any cute attire. he looks surprisingly good in cute, lolita fasion inspired dresses

Naoya

He's rolling his eyes and scoffing even before you finish explaining him your idea. It's ridiculous, you are ridiculous, if you hoped he will do as you please and put that hideous outfit on (after all, anything that hasn't been chosen by Naoya himself is hideous by definition). He has more pride and praise kink than braincells, though, so he will cave just to show off. He loves it but he will rather be skinned alive than admit it to you.

what he would wear: if you stroke his ego hard enough, he will literally wear anything, even the most stupid outfit possible

Shiu

A sly smirk dances on his lips when he's listening and counting how many favours he can squeeze out of you in exchange for what you're asking him to do. He never explicitly says yes or no, so you're not sure whether he hates the idea or quite contrary; it's always an exchange of goods for him and you need to be prepared for hard negotiations.

what he would wear: oh baby, that completely depends on how much you're willing to pay for your whim...

you need a miracle

Kusakabe

If you thought Choso is the peak of embarrassed blush, look at Kusakabe's face when you show him the bunny ears you bought in a sex shop. He stutters and talks way too loudly, has no idea what to do with hands, paces around as he explains why absolutely never and why did you even bring this to him, is this a joke and if it is, then a very not funny one. Will, reluctantly, try, if you're pleading long enough, as conscience gnaws on him and calls him out for being a coward.

what he would wear: sexy bunny. once. never again until you effectively bribe him

Sukuna

You really have the gall to ask him for such things in the first place—but, luckily for you, he loves when you're being bold. Just don't overuse your special privilege if you don't want to have it revoked and face...consequences. Be patient, he will wait for the right moment and eventually reward you for your assets. It's an exceptionally rare moment, so treasure it.

what he would wear: leather, uniforms, genderbend cosplay of female characters

Yaga

He's too old for this, leave him alone. The best that you will squeeze out of him is one of the suits he doesn't wear anymore but doesn't want to get rid of it either. And still, as soon as the matters get closer to sex, he will just take it off.

what he would wear: he's a hopeless case, let him be the boomer he wants to be or else he will ruin any outfit for you

[nanamis-bigtie]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ reacting to the other one crying about something

❧ kusakabe atsuya x gn!reader | cw: pre-relationship, mutual pinning, story takes part in a bar setting but there's no mention of alcohol ❧

It's been more of instinct than a conscious decision, Kusakabe must admit as he's lingering behind the door, hand clenched on the handle. He sprinted to his feet right behind you and followed—but now, once he knows why you left the party so suddenly, his confidence popped like a balloon and faded.

Part of him is glad it's not sickness, part gnaws on his conscience and thrashes his mind from the inside. What is he doing here? He's never been good with crying people; he should turn back and call Nanami or Iori… Does he even have tissues on himself?

But the sight of your slumped back and curled shoulders, shaking in that characteristic rhythm of sobbing, clenches his heart with pain almost dragging a cry out of him too. It should be his chest you should hide your face in, not your hands, out there in the cold, leaning over the railing in front of a bar.

Maybe if he wasn't such a coward and finally pushed the matters further than courteous coffee and snack dates after work—

Kusakabe scratches the back of his head and gnaws on a profanity pressing to his tongue. If he did A, there needs to be B, or else he won't be able to call himself a man anymore.

"Okay there, Y/N?" He tries to sound casual, peeking through the open door, his coat thrown over his arm at ready. It's just a smoking break, not a rescue mission, and it doesn't matter that he quit smoking two years ago. 

You jolt in place, wipe your eyes with both hands at once, your lips trembling slightly as you try to pull a smile, "Yeah, all good. Just needed fresh air."

Horrible liars, both of you.

He leans over the railing, close to you but keeping the distance suit for a coworker. 

"You sure you don't need to call it a day?" Trying to push through awkward silence, he observes you with the very corner of his eye. Not obviously staring, just casually monitoring the situation, like a good colleague should, right? "I can call a taxi—"

"I'm okay." At least your voice doesn't tremble anymore. "It's been… A rough week. Just needed to cry some. Five more minutes and I'll be back." 

You don't have any coat on, Kusakabe realizes and almost slaps himself for not doing so sooner. He should have grabbed yours, not his, if he really wanted to be useful. What is he going to do now, stay there with you awkwardly and dressed or return to the warmth, leaving you alone midst cursed December?

Just a coworker wouldn't—

"Here." He wraps his coat around your shoulders, his heart fluttering when your gazes meet. For a mere few seconds, he can't feel the cold anymore and the noise of the bar behind your backs seems as sweet as a rippling stream.

"And you—" You accept the offering and clench your hands on its skirts. Even if he were about to freeze, he would have no heart to take it back from you, no matter what you say.

"I just need one thing." Praying his hands don't tremble as much as he thinks they do, Kusakabe reaches into one of the pockets, soon fishing a lollipop out of it. "Here, for you."

He taps your nose with it, a stupid, childish impulse—but for the first time tonight you smile for real, soon even laugh a little, "Thanks. Thanks a lot. For checking on me and…everything. Thanks, Atsuya."

A second earlier he thought the sound of your laughter was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard. Oh, how wrong he was.

Even your laughter couldn't compare to the way you say his name.

a/n: I'll die on the hill that Kusakabe's iconic lollipop is a remain of smoking addiction. big thank you to my server peeps for support with my first time at trying writing him & to @clumsyraccoon and @lemonszesty whose Kusakabe writing served as inspo to reach for his drabble out of order! EDIT: it's been brought to my attention that Kusakabe's antismoking lollipop is canon via databook. I'll leave the og note cause the coincidence is just funny lol