#past the blood and bruise

[dailytraingirl]

i hate EVERYTHING

HAPPINESS (ts) HAS BEEN TIKTOKIFIED

is anything worth it

[robo-milky]

Boys with blvd <3

They just bounce right back up, don’t they?

Nosebleed theory, guys… makes everyone universally 10x more attractive 🙏

[qoldenskies]

i think about splinter walking in on the aftermath of caged lungs a lot

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Dream: at least come out and talk to me

Villager: you need to stop talking to your brother. Prophecy Nightmare: WHAT? Dream: …excuse you? Villager: See? There's your attitude. Prophecy Nightmare: I Prophecy Nightmare: . . . Villager: He's corrupting you with his demonic powers. Prophecy Nightmare: KILL THIS MAN.

Prophecy Nightmare: HEY Dream: DON'T EVEN START.

Villager: his skull broke! can you believe that? all i did was throw his book at him and it CRACKED! like an egg! Dream: ??

Nightmare: uh. m Nightmare: hi! brother. i Nightmare: i fell out of the tree. again Nightmare: sorry Dream: oh! that's okay, i can patch you up :)

Dream: ARE YOU SULKING

[tr1ppykay]

1 week post OP -> 2 weeks post OP

seeing the healing happen slowly each day is really surreal. a lot of the stiffness and skin tightness is already clearing up. i'm not wearing the binder because i'm lucky and don't have much swelling or fluid buildup, just tape on the incisions and aquaphor + bandages over the nipple grafts

the nerve regeneration is pretty painful, but only for a few seconds at a time. it feels kind of like spasm or a pinching sensation, with a surge of what i can only compare to a static electricity shock. it sucks but im being optimistic and taking it as a good sign that i'll get sensation back :)

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

★This is a prompt fill for @nuttynutcycle's amazing Prompt 404, full credit to her for this idea.

Original Prompt

"They sent you? After everything I did? That's hilarious." The villain laughed through bloodied lips."And I'm the sadistic one."

The hero didn't respond to the shell of their tormenter. They remembered the villain as vibrant, invincible: a showman of suffering. Not coated in dirt and bruises in a cell.

"After everything I did, I'm surprised you can even come near me." The villain said softly. Their gaze didn't waver. "Unless this is your way of asking for more."

A shudder ran through the hero and they tasted bile at the thought.

-continuation starts here-

TW: Implied past abuse, scars, choking, suicidal ideation

"Stop," Hero breathed out, looking everywhere but at their nemesis.

They let out a cold, shrill cackle, or at least, an attempt at one, throat so dry, it sounded more like a strangled cough. "Stop? Come on, you know me better than that, Hero," they purred, the voice grating against the crime-fighter's eardrums.

It had taken them so long to be able to stop hearing their once-torturer's voice ringing in their ears, its hold so mercilessly powerful on them, it had managed to escape their nightmares. For some time, the words 'auditory hallucinations' had seemed so fake, part of a poorly fabricated illusion.

They didn't even know how they were standing here, why they'd accepted. It's not like Superhero had forced them. But it was easier said than done. Nowhere near as terrifying as being face-to face with them. So much so that the bars between them seemed pointless, half-invisible to the hero.

"Come here to have a go at me too? I'm quite popular amongst some of the members of your agency, it's about time you of all people showed up here." The villain may have been smiling as they said it, tone laced with cold, indifferent amusement, but their eyes told a different tale, the look in them practically screaming broken and exhausted.

Hero wanted to retch at how disturbed they were by the criminal's state. "Fragile," they'd called them, back when they spent their days waking up to a boot pressed into their chest, continuously mocking their empathy as an attribute only possessed by the weak and foolish.

Right now, their old enemy was trying to hold on to whatever shreds of their pride they had left, by way of tormenting the crime-fighter, who by all other means had the upper hand here.

"No," the crime-stopper answered, appalled. In spite of the clear disgust in their tone, they weren't really sure if they'd meant it with all their being, as their gaze flitted over to an old, jagged scar, in an unappealing, dusty shade of pink on their left forearm, revealed as the sleeve of their somewhat baggy sweatshirt fell lower against their arm. They pulled it back again, a force of habit, worrying their bottom lip between their teeth.

The second they'd managed to escape, they hadn't wanted anything more than to rip them to shreds, to make them suffer what they'd done to them tenfold. The hero had scratched at the skin of their wrists and screamed their throat raw, even in the safety of their own bed, wishing to tear the villain's world apart, brick by brick as though it was a building.

Seeing them like this, it should've felt cathartic. It should've brought the hero some sort of twisted satisfaction that their tormentor was getting a taste of their own medicine, maybe even worse.

But all they felt was a cold, mind-numbing emptiness, a disturbance that settled at the pit of their stomach and twisted it into knots. If they searched hard enough, they'd swear that they even felt a pang of sympathy for the shadow of their once all-powerful tormentor.

"Of course not," Villain drawled lazily, staring at the crime-stopper with a chilling mix of amusement and contempt, horribly reminiscent of their past self. The criminal got up, stretching their limbs casually, moving as far as the chains would let them. They stared down at chipped, broken nails with an impossible amount of blood and dirt accumulated underneath them. Before, the villain had always looked immaculate, but instead of kohl underneath the cruel, icy blue eyes, there was an ugly trail of bruises and crusty blood mixed with dead skin.

But even looking like the personification of death, the villain still managed to be spiteful. "Nothing could make you lose that foolish weakness of yours, Hero. You'll always be a goddamn bleeding heart, too bloody nice and pathetic to deal any real damage. Don't you have any dignity?" they spat, and they sounded genuinely frustrated, their eyes narrowing, the most emotion they'd displayed since the crime-stopper had entered their cell.

Hero didn't know exactly when their hands had twisted the key into the lock, when they'd raced into the cell, slamming the villain into the wall with an audible thud, the force drawing a sharp gasp from their adversary's throat. They weren't sure when their fingers had clawed at the criminal's throat, keeping a vice-like grip on their neck, their nails digging deep into the already damaged skin. It was almost as though their rage had possessed them, coursing through their veins like poison, speeading heat through their body like wildfire.

"Oh, you think that it's hard for me to hurt you? You think that I haven't dreamed of the day where I put you through hell? Show you how it feels like? There were times when all I could think of was how much I wanted your blood on my hands, how much I wanted you dead!" they snarled.

For the first time, true, unabashed fear had flashed across Villain's features, eyes wide, their lip quivering as they choked in the hero's grip. But the bastard smiled at them, trying so desperately hard to be sharp and taunting. Instead, it was weak, full of pain, as every muscle of their face twitched and struggled to keep it up. Tears streamed down their face instead, and the hero slightly loosened their hold on their throat.

"Do it. Kill me how you've always wanted to, Hero." The villain's voice had only ever been smug, full of power and entirely lacking emotion. All it was now was soft and broken.

Whatever had taken over the hero faded as they removed their fingers from their neck, their mismatched eyes softening. They involuntarily winced at the bruises and bloodied scratches left on their neck.

Even through all their cruelty, the villain had been more merciful to the hero than the criminal's current tormentors were to them. They'd let the hero eat, not that they really had the apetite, gave them the basic rights of showering and clothes. Sometimes, they didn't even hurt the hero, usually when they felt they'd had enough. It was agitating to think of their once-captor's virtues, but the hero wasn't one to deny the truth.

Except here, the villain was clearly starved, their face gaunt, cheeks sunken, and the tatters they had for clothes hung loosely off their emaciated frame. Their body was covered in numerous scratches, deep and barely healing, some even clearly infected.

"I came here for closure. But now, I'm going to get you out of here." Maybe the villain deserved some sort of reckoning for what they did, but not like this. Not remorseless torture that left them wishing they were dead.

Villain's eyes widened as they held their breath as the hero began unlocking their chains. "This isn't legal," they murmured.

"Like I give a damn," the hero replied tersely. The villain had become so frail that they had to lean on the hero all the way.

Hero's eyes flitted over to Villain's cell one last time, contemplating again whether they should just let them rot and get their revenge, but their compassion overrid any of their darker thoughts. Empathy, they realised, was not a weakness. It is what separates man from monster. It stops us from falling into stupors fuelled by rage and bloodlust. It is the tool by which we hold power over our own emotions. It is a strength of priceless value, if only people would stop being so blissfully ignorant, hiding in the silky duvets of their own selfishness.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[mag200]

I'm only whatever you make me, and you make me more and more a villain every day.

YELLOWJACKETS 2.08 "It Chooses" || HALSEY "Easier Than Lying"

[whumpdrivethru]

Can I get a uhhh… Defiant Whumpee with high-pain tolerance and a Caretaker who worries sick about them while Whumpee laughs at their own injuries??? Thank you!

Heyyy! Thank you for choosing the whump drive-thru! Enjoyyyyyyy < 3

Where Even Diamonds Shatter

TW: Blood, slightly graphic description of injuries, implied past captivity, implied past torture, bruises, angsty

It wasn't the rumbling thunder or the honking of cars speeding down the highway that roused Caretaker from their already fitful sleep. It was the frantic rapping at the door, that awfully distinct knock that tore them away from their sheets and cracked their eyes wide open.

"Ah, took you long enough," Whumpee quipped, smiling brightly at Caretaker, but there was nothing behind the eyes. Their whole body trembled, soaked to the bone in rainwater.

"Y-you look like hell," Caretaker rasped out, the concern still clear in their tone, even through their sleep-hoarse voice.

"I didn't imagine hell to be so wet." Whumpee let their lip curl upwards into a lopsided smirk as Caretaker frantically pulled them inside, unable to find Whumpee's jokes amusing the way they usually did.

Out of a force of habit more than anything else, Whumpee threw themselves on the couch, shrugging their boots off and tossing one leg over the other, the almost sarcastic groan too stoic of a reaction for the horrible state they were in right now. Their cheeks were hollow, and the bags under their eyes were dark and heavy, and they looked significantly older, even though Whumpee was barely an adult, much like Caretaker was. A patchwork of bruises in sickly shades of purple and brown marred their face, and scratches of various sizes littered their visage.

All of it made Caretaker terrified of what was concealed underneath the flimsy fabric of Whumpee's shirt as they mentally steeled themselves for the result.

"Spoiler alert, it isn't pretty," Whumpee quipped, their eyes full of mirth and amusement, and yet so unbearably empty as Caretaker lifted it up.

Ghastly. Horrifying. Gruesome. It didn't matter how many terrible words Caretaker used to describe the state Whumpee's abdomen was in, it would still be a sight burned into their eyes, engraved into their memory. Lacerations snaked across their body in various degrees of healing, the blood still fresh on some of them. The wounds were dull and ugly, clearly produced by a blunt tool, definitely not deadly, but fashioned to produce as much pain as possible. They looked more like the result of a vicious beast dragging its fangs through Whumpee's vulnerable flesh, slow and tormenting.

It wasn't that the wounds were simply unsightly; they were a reminder of all the torture Whumpee had been subjected to, of the extent of its brutality, and yet here they were, scoffing and laughing and making a show of rolling their eyes at every grimace and soft gasp that Caretaker gave. It amazed them, how they still managed to remain composed with injuries as deep as these.

"W-what did they do to you?" Caretaker breathed out softly, worrying their bottom lip in between their teeth, still unable to register what they were looking at, their eyes unfocused and glazed over.

"Ah this? Just a minor disagreement between civilised people, ya know. They say they want me to beg, and I say screw you. I'm not sure, but I don't really think they liked that," Whumpee replied offhandedly, laughing softly.

If it was anyone but Caretaker, they would've believed that laughter was genuine. They could see the hollow, lifeless look in their eyes, the way their muscles tensed, the subtle manner in which they clenched their jaw, all indicators of the severe pain they were in. They wished more than anything to scream at them to stop making a mockery of their injuries.

Instead, they went over to the bathroom, gathering medical supplies into their arms, only for Whumpee to raise an eyebrow at them sceptically. And just before they could let another snarky, ill-fitting joke fall from their lips, Caretaker tossed the supplies onto the coffee table, and their gaze turned steely.

"For the love of God, stop it! None of this crap is funny!" Caretaker thundered, their nostrils flaring as they picked up a few alcohol wipes and pressed them to Whumpee's many wounds.

"Oh come on, Caretaker," Whumpee drawled between hisses of pain as the antiseptic burned across their skin, the alcohol wipes turning crimson ridiculously fast, "would you rather I cry?"

"No," Caretaker bit out tersely, "but you shouldn't be making fun of it either."

"I shouldn't?" Whumpee hissed, voice dropping dangerously low, "Do you know how hard I bit down on my lips to stop myself from screaming, but I still did anyway? Do you know what it was like living a life where every goddamn moment is agony?!"

All their composure had disappeared into nothing, their walls broken down, the cold indifference replaced by a quivering lip and furious, shameful tears streaming down their face. Whumpee hurriedly wiped at them, as though acid was flowing down their face.

Caretaker's gaze softened as they crouched down a little lower, using the alcohol wipe in their hand to wipe the blood off their hands. They wiped the new tears off Whumpee's face with their fingers, blissfully cool against their burning skin. "I'm sorry, love," they whispered, carding their fingers through Whumpee's hair.

"You've been through a lot, I know. But it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay, I swear. It doesn't make you weak or whatever crap they told you. You don't have to laugh when you don't really want to," they continued with the same gentle tone, cupping their jaw and giving them a fond smile that still carried a forlorn air to it.

"I just don't want any pity," Whumpee attested, gaze downcast and full of uncertainty.

"And I understand that. You are strong for managing to make it through all this. I want to offer you care and not pity, love," they added, ruffling their hair affectionately.

Whumpee tried for a few false starts, but they ultimately decided on a nod and sucking in a shaky breath.

Their breathing began to slow a little as Caretaker resumed patching up their wounds, and while they still tried to keep their pain well-concealed beneath a clenched jaw as a force of habit, something a bit of time could heal, they weren't completely averse to displaying vulnerability, feeling a lot safer than they ever had in their life under Caretaker's gentle vigilance.

Vulnerability is not an indication of a lack of courage. And, while it may be difficult to process, all one needs is a steadfast companion; someone to lean on when they have been holding their own weight up for so long the way a mountain does. People are not broken objects in need of rigid fixing to return to what they once were, rather, the steps they take to heal, no matter how undesirable, are all that they need, vital to even the most resilient of minds.

Today's server is Natalia! If you enjoyed this meal, we'd all be honoured if you come again <3 <3 <3

[lunaetis]

" if i can bleed, does that mean i'm alive ? " tell me.

[meadowsmawce]

"i'm fine... i'm fine..."

extra versions below

w/ lighting

w/o blood, bruises

[keeps-ache]

okay i'm out of evil mode. peace love and a little bit of still-tired on planet earth lol 🧃

[cassachino]

Rotting (2024)- watercolor & ink

Vent piece about trauma, intrusive thoughts, depression, and chronic illness.

reblog if you’re a rotting corpse

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.

[chizue-witchery]

⚜️. *. ⋆ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

⚜️. *. ⋆ Rating: Mature

⚜️. *. ⋆ Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

⚜️. *. ⋆ Pairing/s: Dazai Osamu & Oda Sakunosuke

⚜️. *. ⋆ Character/s: Dazai Osamu, Oda Sakunosuke (mentioned), Mori Ougai (mentioned)

⚜️. *. ⋆ Summary: It had been weeks since Odasaku's death, yet Dazai couldn't sleep. His mind is plagued by Odasaku's final moments.

⚜️. *. ⋆ Word Count: 1,497

⚜️. *. ⋆ Tags/Warnings: Post-Dark Era, Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Impllied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Sleep Deprivation, Vomiting, Blood, Guilt, Emotional Hurt, Hut No Comfort, Whump, Angst

⚜️. *. ⋆ Prompts/Squares Filled: Sleep Deprivation, Broken Window, Bruises || @whumptober 2024 day 8 & 9

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

AO3

A/N: omg, i'm so sorry for the repost. i don't know why the original post got deleted, i must've accidentally deleted it and didn't realize.

Dazai can't sleep.

His mind is plagued by Odasaku's final moments.

He hadn't been able to sleep since he left the Port Mafia. It had been a week since then.

He hid in another city, staying in a rundown apartment until he knew what he wanted to do.

Here, he lies on his uncomfortable bed, staring at the leaking ceiling. A water droplet drips as it falls to the carpet with a soft thud.

Every blink he does feels heavier than the last one.

He wants to succumb to exhaustion and sleep and never wake up.

He wants to sleep and wake up to Odasaku leaving him a message.

He wants to go back in time to save Odasaku.

He wants to fulfill Odasaku's last wish.

He wants to die.

He wants, he wants, he wants—

He yawns, loudly and mouth wide open as he closes his eyes for a brief second.

He opens them once he finishes yawning, and he is so tired.

The week has blurred together; he doesn't remember what he did in the past week. It's hazy when he tries to remember.

Has he eaten anything in the past week?

He looks to the side and sees half-eaten cup noodles on the coffee table, some spilled with soup and noodles scattered on the table and floor. More plastic bags contain cup noodles and chips, and another plastic bag contains bottles of alcoholic drinks. Empty cans of beer are all over the floor.

Hm.

He ate something.

Although he never recalled leaving the apartment to buy them.

Speaking of the apartment, it is a mess. He sees piles of dirty clothes on top of each other, the clothes he wore on the day he held Odasaku in his arms. They're still stained with blood and they smells heavy and sickening.

It sickens his stomach, and he lurches as he moves to the edge of the bed to puke out the contents from his stomach. He heaves heavily, coughing away the remaining vomit stuck at the back of his throat. He wipes away the vomit on his lips with the thin blankets he uses to cover his body from the cold.

He stares at his vomit; noodles mixed with alcohol, along with other contents he doesn't recognize. It's disgusting. The liquid is spreading everywhere. It smells acidic. It stinks the entire room.

He wants to puke again.

He doesn't.

But the smell of acidic vomit mixed with beer and noodles, as well as the scent of the blood, makes him nauseous. His head starts to painfully throb, causing his swaying, a feeling he hadn't realized he was experiencing until now.

He shuts his eyes and opens them immediately, feeling the regret of closing them since his eyes hurt when he does. And yet, opening his eyes felt more painful.

He slowly, achingly, moves to the other side of the bed, as far as he can get away from the stench of vomit. His movement is sluggish, slower than normal. It takes everything in him to get his body to move in such a short distance.

He breathes heavily in exhaustion as though he ran a marathon, his body aching from moving them after not moving them for who knows how long. They cramp and he feels his muscles tense, and it's uncomfortable.

He stretches his legs, feeling his bone crack before curling his body. He stays in a fetal-like position until he loses count of how long he stayed in the same position. But he knows it's long enough for his body to ache.

He moves his head to look at the broken window, with blood splattered on the wall next to it. Under the window, the broken glass pieces are scattered on the floor. He would have guessed something happened the week before for the window to be broken, but then he noticed the blood on the wall was still recent—the blood not fully drying out. He tries to think of what happened, but the events of it are blank.

He doesn't remember it.

Perhaps he broke it while he was wasted.

How odd. He wonders why he broke it.

He thought of Odasaku's soft smile directed towards him, the way his eyes shone with so much hope for him and—

Oh.

Right.

That's why.

Thinking of Odasaku sends him to despair and grief. Because he knows Odasaku knew that he was going to die while taking down The Mimic organization.

Mori knew it. Odasaku knew it. He knew it.

It was why he tried to stop Odasaku in the first place, an attempt by allow himself to be vulnerable — and yet, it did not work.

Odasaku still went with it and died.

And it was all his fault.

If he had tried harder, maybe Odasaku would have agreed to not go on his suicide mission.

If he had been faster, maybe Odasaku would still be alive.

If, if, if—

Any what-ifs wouldn't have worked.

He already thought of all the what-ifs hours after Odasaku passed away in his arms.

He sighs, feeling his eyes droop, but he keeps them open. He refuses to allow himself to succumb to the slumber.

He sits up slowly; the fatigue weighing him down. He brushes away the hair on his face and they feel sticky and oily.

When has he last taken a shower?

He doesn't remember.

Maybe he should take a shower to wash away the grime on his body.

He doesn't move to leave the bed.

He didn't move at all after he sat up, other than a few yet slow blinks.

He thinks of lying back down on the bed, but he fears he might pass out once he does.

Slow and steady, he moves his legs to the edge of the bed, his body shivering when his feet touch the cold floor. He looks down as he wiggles his little toes, trying to feel something other than numbness. With a hard push, he gets himself off the bed and stands up.

He wobbles when his vision darkens and he immediately grabs the headboard of the bed so he doesn't fall. He waits for his vision to clear and for the dizzy spell to subside before he moves.

He walks to the bathroom, avoiding any trash or mess on the way. He closes the door behind him and he looks at the mirror.

He looks skinny, perhaps even malnourished. His dark hair is sticking out everywhere. Some of them are even tangled together. His face looks pale, his eye bags visible enough to look like they're bruises he got from a fight. His cheeks are sunken and his eyes are droopy and dull. His mouth is dry and his lips cracked because of thirst.

All in all, he looks worse compared to when he was at the Port Mafia.

That is not how he is supposed to look like.

He is supposed to change, just like Odasaku told him.

And yet, he looks worse.

He is recognizable, yet also not.

He knows it is him in the mirror, but it doesn't look like him.

It's a stranger who stares at him in the mirror.

He touches the mirror, and his reflection does the same thing. He pinches his cheek, and his reflection does the same. He takes a step back and his reflection does the same.

It's him.

But it's not him.

It's him without the bandages wrapped around his right eye. Odasaku removed them. He hasn't wrapped bandages around his eye ever since.

It's strange.

He's not used to it.

But it's new.

It's a new look.

It's… different.

A strange kind of difference.

He doesn't know what to call this emotion squeezing in his chest.

He doesn't know if it is a good thing or not to feel this way.

Not wanting to feel this emotion further, he turns away from the mirror and leaves the bathroom.

He sits down on the couch and grabs chips for him to eat. He bites the chips slowly, not wanting to upset his stomach further if he eats too quickly. He would've eaten cup noodles instead, but it takes too much effort and time. He doesn't want to do it.

He grabs a can of beer in the plastic bag and opens it before chugging it down. A sharp exhale escapes his lips once he finishes drinking the entire can. The headache is still there, but the burning sensation in his throat drowns it out.

He drinks another and another until he is lying down on the couch. The throbbing sensation in his head worsens while the darkness in the corner of his vision intensifies.

He slowly turns his head to the window and notices the sun slowly rising; another day has passed since Odasaku died.

He misses his friend dearly.

He wants him back.

But he can't get him back anymore.

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, finally allowing his thoughts to shut down.

A/N: ... dazai is too easy to write angst/whump. i struggle trying not to use him for all whumptober days.

[tonycries]

BRAT!

Synopsis. Scream it! While he’s still asking nicely, that is…

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, getting reader to not be quiet in béd, CÚMPLAY, spítting, Sukuna’s second tongue, oraI (fem rec), pússydrunk boys, squírting, six eyes, face-sítting, pússy-slappíng, true form Sukuna, chokíng, markíng, exhíbitionism (Nanami), víbrators, dp, slight voice kínks, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Love y’all, have a good leak day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Let it all out!

“Doll…” he drawls out, that tiny scar at the end of his smirk dragging roughly against your glossy pout. And when Toji’s given nothing more than a few of your muffled, bit-back whimpers, he’s insisting - begging, “My stubborn girl-”

Five thick fingers wrap delicately around your neck - jostling your fucked-out expression up to his greedy gaze, “Cat got yer tongue?” As if to fuck the answer out of you, his hips are ramming angrily, knocking rawly into your bruised g-spot. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hah- fucked dumb already? Wha’s the problem, ma?”

It’s been hours now, and Toji’s absolutely wrecked - blood thumping in his ears, broad chest heaving with short rasps, stars bursting behind his half-lidded eyes after each sloppy thrust. And, yet, he still has enough sanity left to notice when you’re biting down brattily on your knuckles, throat tight with all those sweet moans being held back. 

See, that’s when Toji gets impatient. 

“Fine- be as quiet as your pretty lil’ heart desires, then.” Your eyes are widening at the mushy twitch of his rotund tip - still leaky, still angry. “We’ll see how long that lasts, anyway.”

Just that dark little promise is enough to make you keen - and he’s chuckling, “Now now- what did I say-” Those soft pads of his fingers glide up in a gentle curve towards your lips - but the way he just shoves them inside is anything but. Rounded tips constricting into the very back of your throat, “Ya wanna be quiet? Then, commit to it like the big girl you are.”

Big fat tears spring up to your eyes when he’s hiking a powerful thigh up, pressurizing the ruthless pace of his achy cock even more. Bullying into your velvety walls like he was angry, knocking all the air in your lungs with every glide of his swelteringly hot head along your cervix. 

“Hngh-” you gurgle past his swirling fingers. Your nails piercing ravaged red lines where you’re gripping helplessly onto his wrist, “T-To-ah!”

There’s such a deafening squelch gushing out of your messy cunt when the mean digits on his free hand push down about halfway at your stomach, feeling for the branding little nudge of his fat cock. Toji’s mouth drops in awe at the milky white coating of his cum. Dredge after dredge soiling your inner thighs, forming a creamy little ring where he was pushing his thick hilt into you over and over-

“Shit-” his Adam’s apple bobs with a heavy gulp. Mindlessly, he’s falling down onto his elbows in exhaustion, bending you in half like a little ragdoll underneath him. “N’ suddenly I’m the one speechless, doll- Hahah-”

The heavy thwack! thwack! thwack! of his still painfully-full balls make your head spin, and Toji’s drinking in your little gasps like a starved man. Slow, languid, eyes drooping shut. “S’this why- hngh- s’this why my girl’s bein’ so quiet all of a sudden?” Hips stuttering forwards like he was losing control, just filthy, lusted-up little half-thrusts and drags of his length down your gummy channel. Even that was too much for his poor, overworked cock - painting your insides full with his thick, translucent precum with every swallowed-up inch. “Too cockdrunk? Too hah- full of my cum t’speak?”

You were so close - so overstimulated - you could barely string together a sentence. And you couldn’t have answered even if you wanted to - because your lovely boyfriend only rummaged his fingers deeper inside your mouth. Fuck- it felt so dirty having him fuck you like this - spitting against your lips, twitchy cock mashing deep into all your sensitive spots. Like he was reaching into your lungs - into your barely-lucid mind until you couldn’t do anything but nod. 

“Mmmpf- I-” you’re managing out, the words coming out in a thick, garbled mess that makes his cock throb. “Hngh- yes yes yes-”

“Awww, fuckin’ knew it.” he coos, and it’s all the warning you’re getting before two big strong arms of his haul you up. Falling back onto his muscled thighs in a sitting position - with you all speared like a slut down his unforgiving cockhead. Being bounced up, up, up your limp body nothing against his inhuman strength. “Shit- fuckin’ knew it- My poor girl got fucked so good she couldn’t even speak, huh?” Toji just throws his head back at the answering clench of your elastic walls, molding around each one of his ridges and veins. “How cute–” 

You cower under his weighty gaze, unable to escape. To do anything other than take it when his bicep bulges around your waist, tightening like a vice. “How so very-” Abs clenching when they ram- up- “cute-” He’s gritting his teeth, baring you with such a sweet, sultry smile, one that ghosts the very shell of your ear, “But why don’t you jus’ cum f’me now, ma.”

You don’t know whether his own words have Toji reaching his high - or maybe the sight of you does. Because all you see is black tinging your vision - then white, seeping out of the corners of your puffed-up folds, sopping a wet puddle into the non-existent space between you two.

He’s so vocal when he fucks you through your orgasm, raspy baritone wrenching out little praises like a mantra- “Yeah- yeah there we go. Louder f’me- scream it all out. I know you can do it.”

“P-please, Toji.” You don’t know what you’re begging for - and Toji doesn’t mind. Only pinning your body to his hulking one, holding you so close that your whimpered out moans are almost inaudible over his cushiony pecs. Babbling out, “Please- f-fuck it feels too good hah- m’cumming- m’cumming m’cumming-”

“Such a chatty girl, moanin’ so fuckin’ loud.” he titters. “Don’t you dare hold back that pretty voice from me, m’kay?” 

But only when your orgasm bates into tiny tingles, only when your syrupy sweet moans turn quieten down - only then does Toji pull away. Shuffling onto his knees until his hot breath was fanning your eagerly quivering cunt, soft tongue dragging up your painted white slit, “So let’s see if you scream twice as loud for this, my girl.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Shhh…

“My love…” Nanami breathes out in a ragged pant, his hot breath breezing down your spine. Arching up so sultrily when the pistons of his hips slow down, aching for more more more- “Is something hah- wrong?”

It takes you a second to raise your bleary head up from where it rested amongst all the papers on the desk, the satin of your office skirt hiking up even further when you’re rutting your hips back in a quiet tandem. “N-nothing, Ken–” your words come out hushed - hurried. 

And oh your husband looked so unfairly attractive when he was concerned, blond brows furrowing in the middle, running one hand through his disarrayed hair, the other pulling your teary eyes up to his. “You’re just being so-” There’s an experimental mash of his fat, rounded tip into your mapped-out g-spot, as if to confirm his suspicions. And Nanami grunts at the sight of you biting down on your lower lip, “-quiet…Now now-” His thumb comes to gently pry away your worried lip from under your teeth, “-what’s wrong?”

“S’jus’-” you hiccup, eyes flitting to the closed storage room door. “-m’ so close n’ someone might hear. I know Higuruma also has overtime-”

Shit - you’re so far into your little rant that you don’t notice the way his entire body stiffens, jaw clenching at the mention of your - and his - coworker. You can only gasp when Nanami’s towering figure just shoves you deeper into the cool mahogany desk. One hand on your head, the other wrapped nicely around your blabbering mouth.

“You’re right-” Nanami breathes, words tinted with a slow, dangerous purr. And it makes your velvety walls just seep a fresh gloss of your sweet sweet juices down all his long, hard inches. “-better not make a noise unless you want to get caught then, because m’not going easy on you today, darling.”

And fuck, Nanami likes to think himself a practical man - a sensible man, even. But right now all he could see was red - nothing past the way that other man had been eying you a little too closely these days, laughing at your jokes a little too loud. 

Don’t get him twisted, he knows you’d never do anything - you were his pretty lil’ wife after all, the love of his absolute soul. But sometimes, he just wanted to make you scream it out. 

Your pretty eyes bat hypnotically over your shoulder, “K-Ken- oh!”

Only to be shut up by the furious pummeling of all his rock-hard shaft, the sheer girth of it already making you keen. It’s enough for honeyed moans to bubble up in your throat, ticking in time with that angry pulsing of his thick tip massaging your plushy walls. 

“Shh shhh-” Nanami coos, and you feel his abs ripple from behind you when he leans his weight down, down, down to pin you even more helplessly against the desk. Those thick fingers of his cover your mouth even firmer, “We hafta be quiet, remember?”

If he was looking for an answer, then Nanami fully and thoroughly fucks it out of you. 

Those important documents are shuffling around everywhere, flying off the desk when you’re scrambling towards absolutely anything to keep just an ounce of your sanity. Because Nanami was hammering into you in such powerful, pressurized thrusts. Hard enough that you could feel the line of his hip bones along the fat of your ass, the circular smacks of his heavy balls along your thighs. Sure to leave marks that that sinfully short skirt of yours wouldn’t cover. 

“Ken! Ken- oh my god-” 

All you get in response is the sudden slowing of his mean pace, until your heady moans are softening down to mere whimpers. 

It still feels so dizzyingly good this way, having your snug hole stretch limitlessly around his girthy shaft. Knocking so deeply and thoroughly against your womb, clenching your saturated walls down with every graze of the neat tufts of blond at his hilt. 

“What did I say?” His mouth comes down onto yours in a heated clash of teeth and tongue and moans. So many rasping grunts furling from out of Nanami’s throat, spitting into your mouth, “Hafta- be hah- quiet. Or else Higuruma is- gonna- hear-” 

And that hypnotizing push and pull is punctuated by the greedy drag of Nanami’s thumb down your clit, spelling out little patterns. Over and over-

Thud!

“Hah- I don’t-” you’re startling when he hikes up a leg onto the desk, the change in angle making you all but scream out into his ravenous mouth. “Don’t think I even- care anymore ah!” Every one of those syrupy sweet moans falling from your lips have Nanami hammering in even deeper, rattling the desk with his strength. “Just wanna- just want you to-”

You’re gasping at the familiar work of his fingers on your sensitive nub - a flurry of letters all over. K-E-N-T-O-K-E-N-T-O-K-E-

“Say it.” he bites down on your earlobe. “Spell it out f’me.”

“M-m’gonna-”

K-E-N-T-O-K-E-N-T-O-K-E-N-T-O-

“Scream it out, no need to be embarrassed.”

“Cum!” you’re sobbing. Heaving for air when he doesn’t take even a second to slow down, “M’gonna cum, Ken. M’so f-fuckin’ close.”

His next words are murmured at the crook of your neck, dangerously above your racing pulse. Making you flinch at the sharp teeth indenting over your skin, “Then cum.”

Oh and when you do it’s like something snaps. Because all you know next is that you’re being fucked through such a delicious high. White-hot pleasure having you quivering deeper into Nanami’s hold, dragging out each one of your peaks. Your throat feels raw, head swimming so much that you almost don’t hear-

“Just the way I like you.” Leaving a lingering peck at your collarbone, “All gorgeous and-” At the sensitive underside of your jaw, “-blissed out and-” Before you’re jumping at sharp canines sinking down into the side of your neck. Hard. Possessive. 

It hurts - but it hurts so good that you don’t even register the way Nanami’s eyes flit to the door - slightly ajar now. Voice rising in volume when he finishes, “-mine.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - We’ll piss off the neighbors

“Mmpf- S-Sugu…”

“S-S-Sugu-” your beloved boyfriend is just leering, his velvety voice pitched dramatically high. Shoving apart your dangling legs so burningly wide to bully that furiously shuddering hot-pink vibrator even deeper inside your insatiable cunt. 

He’s grinning such a dangerous grin down at you, “Now, why don’t you lemme hear those pretty moans of yours like usual, gorgeous- instead of holding back?”

And all you can do is squirm around mindlessly when he’s feeding your sloppy cunt inch after smooth inch of more of the thin vibrator. Rummaging around your clingy walls so much, “Come on now-” A taunting thumb of his glides along the intensity meter - Setting 1, Setting 2. Before finally resting smugly on Setting 3. Long, dark lashes bat at you, “You’re breaking my heart here!”

“P-please!” you sob out, before immediately worrying your lower lip shut. And Geto notices - of course, he does. The determined smirk on his face turning into something a little colder, a little more predatory. 

“Aww, my poor baby doesn’t wanna speak with me.” he’s goading, leaving your plushy walls stretched full with the blissful girth of the vibrator. Letting you all but cockwarm it while he’s running a rigorous thumb over your puffed-up clit, “Tha’s fine. Whatever my girl wants, she’s gonna- get.” 

Geto’s sharp tongue is running lewd stripes up and down the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the corners of your lips as if he isn’t driving you insane. As if he isn’t driving himself insane. The achy, fat tip of his reddened cock kissing wetly at your glossy folds, weeping hot precum that sticks to your slit, trickling down the buried hilt of the vibrator. Oh, how he knew - had planned out - exactly how he was going to make you scream. 

But for now, he’s only pursing his lips together, letting you babble and whine unfairly to yourself. 

“S’not- not that I hngh!” your entire body jolts when he’s wordlessly increasing the intensity - Setting 4. Nervous eyes flitting down to where Geto’s lengthy cock was sitting prettily across your open legs, throbbing. Waiting. “Jus’ the neighbors- hah- we got another noise complaint, Sugu–”

He still doesn’t budge, still doesn’t say a word. This time his fingers are toying your finger even sloppier. Tweaking and circles lazily along the sensitive nub, making you all but scream-

“Please- I promise-” you’re bucking your hips up for more more more. Feeling the sopping smack! of his hefty shaft come down on your skin, splattering translucent dredges of his syrupy precum all over your skin. “Promise s’jus’ that Sugu.” Shaky fingers of yours wrap around his long, inky hair - hauling him close to meet your lips, and you could feel the ridges of Geto’s toothy grin when you crack, “Feels so good- too good. N’- jus’ want your cock- hngh! Promise was jus’ trynna be quiet because the walls are th-thin and the-”

And then it feels like you’re being split apart, such a thick intrusion to your already filled-up cunt. Soft, supple walls being contorted around the vibrating toy - and Geto’s addition of his thick, weepy tip. 

“Say please, then.”

You’re so completely and utterly fucked out that you barely even hear him at first - body moving before your mind when your lips sag open. Jumbling out a mess of, “P-please.”

“Hmmm…” Geto pretends to think, but he’s still circling open your elastic entrance to fit his needy cock inside. Taking it slow, sensual - making sure your silky sweet walls are rubbing against each and every one of the prominent veins down his middle, the rotund end of his head shoving its way inside. “S’not ‘nough - how about ‘please, Sugu’?”

“Please, Sugu!” Your nails claw their way down his broad, milky shoulders - leaving red, red marks that make him groan. That make his hips jut forward in a solid, thorough thrust, “Please- d-don’t care about the n-noise complaints hah- jus’ wanna be full of all of you.”

Geto doesn’t know if he can move, fuck, he doesn’t even know if he’s breathing. Eyes widening, head thrown back at the slightest feeble clench of your velvety walls desperately trying to accommodate around his cock and the vibrator. 

It takes beat - two, of him grinding in filthy gyrating motions, abs flexing when his slender waist surges forward. All the way until that divot at his tip was branding into your spongy cervix, painful, cum-filled balls sticking thoroughly against your ass. Somehow, he’s managing to roll his eyes, “D-didn’t hafta hah- say that much, gorgeous.”

There’s a sharp flick! 

Setting 5. 

The heady room is instantly filled by both of your moans - so loud. Yours higher-pitched and cracking pathetically at the end, Geto’s throaty, like they were being dragged from his throat against his will. 

Immediately, he bores down at you with a bit lower lip, eyes half-lidded, the corners of his mouth curled up in what almost seems like a smile. “Guess I better quiet down myself- hngh- huh?” he gasps - heaves - tremors of the vibrator rubbing up so deliciously at the underside of his throbbing shaft, jostling with each hastening ram into your gushing cunt. “B-because now that I finally got you to scream out f’me-” 

You’re mewling when his thumb comes up uncharacteristically gently to swipe away your own lips from underneath your teeth - a habit, almost, at this point after you’d gotten a very huffy email about being too disruptive at night. Like right now. “-I don’t wan’ ta hear anythin’ else. And that includes noise complaints - because soon m’gonna move ya to our own house, pretty, don’t ya worry. And there-” Your forehead is branded with a soft kiss, your g-spot with a rough ram. “-you can scream as much as ya want.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please please please.”

Choso couldn’t stop even if he tried - he couldn’t hold back even one of those broken, whiny pleas wrenching from his rosy pink lips. So loud, deep voice pitching up highly at the end every time the weepy divot at the very end of his fat tip reached into the spongy bottom of your pussy. 

“Baby- please, baby–” he drags out your sweet little nickname, two of his sizeable palms coming to splay out on the curve of your hips. Just dragging your gummy cunt down like a cocksleeve, helping you ride him in easy, relentless grinds. “Does it feel good? Tell me- does it- hah-”

His breath hitches with a sudden shudder when your fingernails dig into the side of his pale neck, using the leverage to just ram your cunt down in thorough, hypnotic gyrations.

“Please!” Choso’s gasping, eyes rolling to the back of his head. You’re jostling slightly precariously on his slender hips when he’s planting two feet flat on the silky sheets to buck up, up up- “Tell me- tell me how it feels, baby.”

Your fingers tighten involuntarily at the sound of his greedy beg, making him let out such a guttural groan. The sound sends shivers running along your spine, all the way down to where he was jackhammering into your ravaged cunt. Thumbing apart your swollen folds to keep them spread enough for him to bully his girthy hilt into. So depraved. Needy. “S-so good, Cho-”

It was an accident - really - you didn’t even mean to let the little compliment slip. But it’s enough for Choso’s eager cock to expand even girthier inside you, all the blood in his body rushing to stretch your elastic walls to their limits. You could feel him everywhere, molding you to the very shape of his cock. 

“Yeah? Oh yeah?” he’s hissing, craning his neck up to mesh your lips together sloppily. Languid, delirious - kiss-bitten lips smacking when they’re sucking on your lolled-out tongue. Fuck, how he missed your voice. “Tell me- ngh! Tell me more, please.”

Oh, but really - your sweet sweet boyfriend was so pretty like this underneath you. Milky skin damp with sweat, his dark eyes dewy with tears and locked on you, mouth parting open in ragged grunts. Your favorite little melody - it made the way you bite your lip stubbornly all the more sweeter. 

There’s another glissading stream of his sweltering hot precum coating your inner walls, sloshing around in a syrupy slow rhythm inside you. “Please-” He’s crying out again after a few more branding smashes into your bulging g-spot  - lips wobbly as if he was on the verge of bawling without your voice. “Wanna hear your sweet moans, y’know? S’my f-favorite song-”

And you swear your hulking boyfriend’s mouth was upturned into such a pretty pout at that very second, soft planes of his hands caressing up and down your bent thighs. You can’t help but hum, making his head feel so lightheaded with that teasing quirk of your lips.

Or maybe it was the way your fingers clamped down tighter around his neck, sure to leave a perfect array of bruises from your splayed-out fingers. Jerking him even closer- “Fine- open that mouth if you love my voice so much.” 

You’re barely even finishing the sentence before his jaw slacks open, tongue darting out - just in time to catch the steady glob of syrupy saliva you spit out. Right onto the middle of his tastebuds, Choso’s immediately slotting his mouth against yours in an even greedier mess of a kiss. 

“Didn’t think you- hngh! like my voice that much, baby.” you’re humming, letting him hurl into a frenzy of powerful mashes into your g-spot. Some missing - drawing long, eager glides of his rounded, thick head along your cervix. “I like yours too, y’know. So much.” Leaving a lingering drag of his jutted-out bottom lip between your teeth, “S’why I ah- hngh- held back- love hearin’ you.”

And oh, every honeyed word of yours goes straight into twitchy cock, pulsing painfully into your mushy walls. Curving upwards so deliciously, Choso’s hold on you tightens - enough to draw blood, you might think, had he not cut his nails just earlier. 

He’s fucking upwards into you so solidly hard - feverish drags of you down his massive length only getting rougher and rougher until he couldn’t-

“Don’t do that, silly girl- mm- can’t live without hearing those cute moans of yours, m’kay?” Big fat tears gloss down his sharp cheeks with how stimulated he was right now, and you could feel the weighty shifting of his balls. So tight they almost felt like they could burst. “So be loud. Be as loud as possible f’me- tell me how it feels, how you ah- want more- a-and-” His fingers now cup your face, leaving all the laborious duty down to his frantic hips. Yet, Choso didn’t mind - anything that let him glide a thumb along your spit-glossed mouth, tugging out your bottom lip from where you were trapping it between your teeth, “-and say my name.”

You do - and it’s just about all you can manage out when you’re leering down to bite on Choso’s sensitive earlobe. Exactly where you knew would make him shiver the most, rutting up animalistically to bounce you up even deeper, “Then cum f’me, Cho.”

And he thinks he will - fuck, at the sound of his name rolling off your saccharine sweet tongue he couldn’t hold back even if he tried. But not before teasing a hard roll of his thumb along your clit, “F-fuck you little- ah! You first, since you’ve been hah- holdin’ out on me. N’ this time-” His glinting eyes narrow, sharp canines bared in such a viciously fucked-out grin that it makes you clamp down - hard, “-you’re gonna be the one hngh- crying out, baby–”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - CHATTERBOX!

Now, usually when Sukuna had you all splayed out like this - your trembly thighs balanced on either side of his head, puffy pussy lips so sopping wet it made his mouth water - he knew you’d let out a few pretty noises. 

A mewl when his hot tongue laps up the syrupy juices sopping from either side of your slit, a moan of his name when all he does is card the very edge of his soft muscle between them. And finally - finally - his favorite, a whiny beg for, “P-please, Kuna- no more teasing!”

How cute. 

When you miss the first - he doesn’t think much of it, instead too engrossed in thumbing apart your swollen folds, admiring the way your greedy cunt was already glistening and winking down at him so sweetly. Spitting a fat wad of his saliva right on the bullseye of your entrance. When you miss the second, he’s concerned, humming a raspy growl at the back of his throat while wrapping two plump lips around your throbbing clit. 

And when you miss that last one - oh, now you’re gonna get it. 

Smack! 

All give digits of his thick fingers come down hard on your hovering pussy, sliding a glistening syrupy wet sheen down to his wrist. 

“S’this boring to you, woman?” the famed king of cures spits his words with a low, threatening rumble of his sculpted chest. And it’s all you can do to throb, whirling your glassy eyes down at his half-lidded, darkened gaze, “Anything else you’d rather be doing right now?” 

You’re shaking your head deliriously - but that’s not enough for him, of course. 

There’s another oozing little throb from your cunt - rewarded with another branding smack! across your sensitive clit. “Don’ wanna use your big girl words, hm?” Sukuna raises a brow, still holding such dangerous eye contact with you when he hollows out his cheeks, long tongue lolling out to make out with your pussy. “Fine then- let’s let this cute pussy speak for herself, hm?”

There’s only a drawn-out, sloppy squelch ringing through the heady air when he lays his tongue flat across your glossy lips. Just teasing around the very edge of your gushy entrance before the very tip of him dances up, up, up.

“Hngh!” you’re gasping at the feeling of him grazing over your clit in a sultry push and pull - and the sudden wetness of something else swirling around your syrupy sweet hole. “Wh- is that-”

“Shhh, didn’t ya wanna stay quiet, brat?” Sukuna cuts through your words, velvety coo making you just arch down harder to drag your slobbering cunt all across his eager face. And where that mean mouth of his was teasing you, his other - larger - tongue on his stomach was picking up wherever left off. More, even. “So shut up and let this pussy talk, why don’t ya?”

Ah, it was impossible to escape him. Two big beefy hands were steadied firmly around your quaking thighs, hauling you right onto his swallowing mouth, grinding you against his jaw like his favorite meal. You’re being bounced, almost on top of him - his other tongue driving you insane. 

Reaching all the spots you could’ve never even imagined. Arching into you almost as deftly as his cocks, bullying past your puffy lips and into every bulbous areas of your sensitive spots. Fucking you so thoroughly-

“Hey-” There’s another reminder - one of Sukuna’s free hands planting a solid smack onto the very bulge of your elastic walls around his tongue. “Think she said she’s getting close- Almost didn’t hngh- catch it ‘cause you’re being a bit too hah-” He’s craning his thick neck back in for a messy kiss against your clit. “-loud-” Again. And again and again- plump smirk glittered with all your sweet sweet juices. “-dontcha think?” Smack! You’re whining in response, drunken hips pushing down as if to shut him up, “S’like you want to hngh- moan f’me. If you wanna then why are ya being so- fuckin’- stubborn.”

And fuck, you were so far gone that Sukuna almost didn’t expect a response. Half-lidded gaze locked on the trickle of drool slobbering down your slack mouth, eyes bleary, soft whimpers barely even audible over the sinful squelches! from down below. You were so loud, so drippingly wet in each one of your noises that it has him running his free palm over the outline of his aching cocks. 

“B-because-” your wobbly voice makes his fat tips just gush out in thick ribbons of precum, seeping through the fabric of his decadent yukata and onto his fondling palm. “Felt embarrassing- the position a-and hah! got nervous I’d be too whiny or somethin’, Kuna…”

“That so?” Sukuna simpers, voice a little more silky soft than before. And the gentle smack! on your cunt reads as more fond than punishing, “Stupid brat- ya think I’d be like this if I didn’t like your pretty noises?” As if to prove his point, the two hands on your body ride you harder down his mouth. Sloppier. More depraved. “Nervous for what- s’jus’ me, y’know?” Tonguing back teasingly over your glossy clit, his eyes just bore into yours. Baritone vibrato pulsing down your achy pussy, “And I love every lil’ thing you do, my girl.”

His guttural moans are still echoing from the very base of your cunt when you cum - so hard. Violent, even, that Sukuna has to wrap his strong arms around you to keep you from escaping. It’s all your poor pussy can take. Waves of pleasure taking you away. Gushing and gushing so hard-

“Sh-shiiiit-” Sukuna utters - and it’s only then that you realize just how much you’d cum, quivering hole letting out bursts of your syrupy sweet slick. Just coating the entire lower half of his face, his cheekbones, down to his pecs in everything you’d squirted.

And while his lower tongue still laps at your honeyed juices, letting each bead slide down the muscle. He licks his lips with a sigh, “Let’s ask this gorgeous cunt if she can do that on my cocks now, too, hm? N’ this time- ya better scream f’me.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Shut up.

“Sweetheart…”

“Satoru.”

“No-” 

Maybe it was the way your sorry boyfriend was just aching to hear your sweet sweet voice moan around his name, maybe it was the way he’d been spending hours already groveling and worshiping your body. Or maybe it was the way your clingy walls just pulsed all around his weepy cock, squelching in a way that makes him salivate. 

“I told you, my girl–” he soothes out in an almost-whiny tone. Pressing an overly-wet peck at your forehead, your nose, on either side of that scolding pout on your glossed-up lips. “I’m- sorry- I’ll listen to whatever hah- gossip about your favorite show next time just please-”

Two rough hands rest at the globes of your ass, purposefully jostling your fucked-out body to face him - he wasn’t letting you escape any time soon. 

There’s the slow, lingering squelch of Gojo rolling his hips forwards in such a dizzying tandem. Shoving you further and further up those expensive silken sheets at the hotel suite he’d booked for tonight - all for his little apology. 

“I s-see that lil’ smile-” he’s grunting, forcing two fingers around your face to look right into his greedy gaze. “Aww, come on- wontcha forgive me? M’begging here- begging.” And when you’re still keeping your mouth stubbornly shut, he’s throwing your limp legs over his broad shoulders. Running a syrupy slow circle over your neglected clit, “-promise I won’t fall asleep next time ya hah- t-talk my ear off.”

You have to admit that every saturated glide of his throbbingly fat tip has your jaw slacking further and further. Honeyed moans just bursting behind your lips, he’s stretching you out so sinfully. 

And, yet, it was so fun to see the strongest all broken down like this - eyes drooping almost closed, pouty lips with a glistening sheen of spit, little whimpers sounding at the back of Gojo’s throat every time he’s knocking right into your bulged-out g-spot. It drove him absolutely insane to see you purposefully hold back your pretty moans. 

“No no no no no-” he’s frantically prying away the knuckles you’re biting down deliriously on, trying to ease out those soft little whimpers and mewls. “My stubborn girl.” Pecking lingeringly at your lips, “Won’t you just scream- f’me-”

With a singular, jutting slam! of his hard hips against yours, you’re just keening - because Gojo was just crashing angrily against your poor g-spot. No longer teasing grazes and glides along your soppingly wet walls, just daring you to beg for more as you always did. 

No, he was pressing into your g-spot with ferocious power, muscles rippling across his hulking body when he’s sliding his fat cock back, back, back- Only to reel all the way forwards, the very curve of his globular head curving thoroughly against your sweetly sensitive spots. Again. and again. And again and again-

“Ah!” you’re scrambling up onto your elbows, connecting your forehead with his own. “S’too-”

You didn’t know what you were going to say - to have him beg more- to have yourself beg for more? But whatever it was clings to your heavy tongue when you’re raising your head up to meet your boyfriend’s. 

Because oh you knew that flushed, blank expression on his face, the slight crinkle of lightning at his eyes. This fucker-

“Whoops.” Gojo’s grinning, not a drop of regret in his words. “Guess I must’ve hngh- accidentally used six eyes when I-” Another nudge of his rotund head against your g-spot, only picking up in pace. Only plugging you full of his deep, grinding inches - fucking you so thoroughly into the mattress that you could hear the bedframe creaking in protest, your own cunt squelching ravagedly. “-hah- fuck this cute pussy. But hey…” He leans his face even closer, that infuriating curl of his lips only growing, “-I don’t hear ya complainin’ now, do I, sweetheart?” 

“Especially when m’ruining you right-” Splaying out all five of his long, pale fingers across your stomach - drawing an invisible line where he was branding the imprint of the very top of his length into the bottom of your pussy. “-here?”

Fuck, he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Y-you’re so-” you’re managing to gasp, eyes narrowing as he leans in even mockingly closer. But you can’t hide the slutty bliss in your tone, the way you tug and tease his soft, snow strands. “-so infuriating, y’know. I shouldn’t even hah- be lettin’ you off the hook this easily.” 

He’s moaning twofold, like the sound of your voice electrifies him. Hefty shaft twitching with each piston, painfully tight balls just clenching so painfully. “Yeah- hahah- yeah, isn’t it because you love me?”

The entirety of his body shivers when you lock your legs tightly, bowing his body even closer to stick to yours. “It’s because-” you purr, batting your lashes so sultry. Spitting against his lips, “-you’re such a pain in the ass, Toru.”

And then he’s cumming - and cumming and cumming so hard that Gojo doesn’t have the time to be embarrassed. All he can really think about is the syrupy slow slosh of his seed painting inside your gummy walls, shooting out in thick dredges. 

You giggle, eyeing down at the puddle of cum and saturated slick oozing down your thighs. Leaking out of your weepy slit, “Heh…for someone that wanted me to hngh- s-speak up so much, you sure are weak, Toru.”

The second roll of his nickname on your tongue is enough for Gojo to be gushing out another wave of potent cum into your snug channel. Hissing, he’s swiping at the creamy ring forming around his hilt, pooling the mess on the large pads of his fingers before-

“Maybe s’better when you-” Bullying them between the seam of your mouth, he’s swirling around your hot tongue. “-don’t speak.” Your answering glare is enough, “J-just kidding!”

A/N. If y’all need me I’ll be in my prayer circle manifesting for a Gojo comeback…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Red. That was all Simon could see as he barreled through the barracks, ignoring the concerned onlookers as he slammed open door after door.

He was just washing up for the day, ready to head to his quarters when he’d heard whispers of you being admitted to medical. The words “banged up pretty good” were all he needed to hear before setting off in a panic to find you.

You were everything to him. Simon Riley was a man who swore he’d die alone and be happy doing so, until you came along. You, with your terrible jokes, your witty personality, your loyalty and determination and gods damn your fucking smile. He’d do anything to see you smile.

Love wasn’t something that came easy to Simon, but with you it did. Loving you was as easy as breathing, it was natural. He loved you from the moment he saw you, and would love you until the day he died.

The door to the infirmary flung open, and Simon strode in with purpose, his eyes scanning the entire room. When they landed on you, Simon felt his heart drop, his blood running cold.

“Who did this?” Was all he said, his cold gaze softening ever so slightly as he took in every cut and bruise that littered your beautiful skin. It took everything in him not to yell, to scream.

Your eyes dropped from his, your lips forming a thin line as the nurse beside you finished stitching the large cut that now adorned your shoulder.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, causing you and the nurse to jump slightly.

With a small smile aimed at you, the nurse gave a polite nod to Simon as she ran past, leaving the two of you alone in the now eerily silent room.

“Tell me.” Simon demanded, sinking to his knees in front of you. When you still refused to meet his gaze, he gently rested his index finger on your chin and tilted your head to look at him. His eyes were soft, gentle as he gazed into your own. “Tell me.”

The tenderness in which Simon looked at you had your lower lip wobbling, a soft sob slowly escaping your mouth as you replayed what had happened in your head. “Simon, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. You need to tell me what happened.” His finger gently began to graze your cheek, a tenderness that you’d grown used to over the years with him. A tenderness reserved only for you.

“The mission went south. There was a mole. We got ambushed.” Was all you said, as you struggled to regain your composure.

“Who.”

“Simon, please it’s really okay, I-.”

“Who.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as Simon ripped off his mask, his face now fully visible to you. Concern etched its way across his features as he held your gaze. You knew this was a battle you wouldn’t win.

“Coles. It was Coles.”

“He dead?” Simon asked, his face not showing any of his internal turmoil. If he wasn’t, Simon would make damn well sure he’d suffer for what had happened to you.

You shook your head as your bottom lip trembled once more. “No, but Simon-.”

Simon cut you off with a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin as he murmured, “Sleep in my quarters tonight, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

Without waiting for your reply, he strode out of the infirmary, the red in his vision intensifying as he set out to find the mole. Nobody, nobody would harm a hair on his lovers head and get away with it.

Simon would do anything for you, die for you, kill for you. He’d do anything to make sure that beautiful smile of yours was permanently etched onto your lips.

For you, Simon Riley would watch the world burn.