#sorry king but you're getting dragged into this too

[theworldisabrokenbonebutitishome]

just give it time...

You and I - PVRIS

[itneverendshere]

BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party. 

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i  didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely sorry.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,” 

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

 “i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound. 

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body. 

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing. 

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver. 

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into. 

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different. 

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting. 

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe. 

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible. 

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up. 

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough. 

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips. 

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting. 

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed. 

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening. 

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.” 

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control. 

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window. 

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open. 

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body. 

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.” 

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you. 

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something. 

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch. 

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right, 

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?” 

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind. 

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you want to fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick. 

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can’t take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell. 

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm. 

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone. 

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace. 

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else. 

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes. 

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes. 

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb. 

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him. 

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you. 

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you. 

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more. 

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this. 

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place. 

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

[waywardsalt]

sometimes you make aus just to see how far you can push your favorite fictional little guy within the bounds of their canon characterization before they’re straight up an entirely different character

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head. 

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still. 

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy? 

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either. 

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline. 

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up. 

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?" 

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you. 

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

[jo-speaks]

please please please ft. jack hughes

in which...

you're aware of Jack's reputation with girls, but you know he'll be different with you.

track two in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

I know I have good judgment

I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic

That only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different

Your sister stared at your phone, a picture of the one and only Jack Hughes on it. The look on her face was one of confusion and slight disgust. “That’s… your boyfriend?”

“Well don’t get too happy about it.” You answered, pursing your lips together as you turned off your phone. 

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, he looks like a frat boy who drinks every other hour and fucks a different girl every night.” 

Before you could respond, her phone rang. She excused herself into the living room, leaving you pondering on your queen-sized bed. Your sister was partially right, he did have a reputation for being, for lack of better words, a fuck boy. 

Ever since he got drafted when he was 18, the number of girls that entered his dm’s was despicable. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t respond to them, getting a few relatively censored pictures in return.

But with age comes maturity. Once he met you, he knew he found his person. 

No more DM’s. No more hookups. No more girls. Just you, and only you.

Your sister reentered the room, “Sorry. Mom just wanted to know if I was showing up to meet your boy toy this weekend.”

“I promise you. He’s different.”

And everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

“Do you not trust me? We’ve been over this, babe.” Jack stated, wrapping his arm around your waist as you got into bed with him. 

You looked up at him as you rested your head on his bare chest. “I do trust you. But you have to understand why they’re worried about me dating you, Jack.”

His body tensed up, and his hold on your body loosened. You could feel the gentle rise and fall into his chest speeding into a rapid pace. Family meant everything to Jack and you knew that, so you couldn’t imagine how he felt at the idea of your family not liking him just because of stupid decisions he made in the past. 

“Sorry. Maybe when we all have dinner tomorrow I can clear that up. I want them to like me, Y/N.” He whispered. 

I heard that you're an actor

So act like a stand-up guy

“So. You’re Jack.” Your father said, eyes trailing up and down his figure.

Your boyfriend gulped slightly, trying to keep his composure. “Yes sir. A pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t reply, choosing to stare the boy down instead. 

“Dad.” You warned.

Wanting to break up all the awkwardness, your mother introduced herself, giving Jack a warmer welcome than your father. She took his hand and dragged him into the house, leaving you and your dad standing tensely in the doorway.

“I don’t like him. Who the hell does he think he’s impressing with that ‘yes sir’ crap?” 

You groaned softly, “Dad, I really like him. Can you please just give him a chance? I promise you he’s a really great guy once you get to know him.”

Your dad stared at you blankly, “How many girls do you think he’s gotten to believe that? Your sister came over yesterday to talk to us. Told us all about him.”

“Yeah, well he’s changed. And whether you choose to believe that or not, all I ask is for you to treat him with a little bit of respect. Please.”

He didn’t respond verbally, opting for a simple sigh and nod as he led the two of you into the house.

Whatever devils inside you

Don't let him out tonight

I tell them it's just your culture

And everyone rolls their eyes

Yeah I know

Maybe it was a mistake bringing your parents to the Devils vs. Kings game. You had never seen Jack as rilled up as he was tonight, but you were sitting close enough to the glass to hear his opponent chirping him about his size. Jack had enough of the cheap shots, choosing to slash and rough around a little bit with the bigger man. 

Your mom laughed softly as he got dragged to the penalty box. You looked up, pointing out the camera focused on Jack displayed on the jumbotron. 

“People pay to watch me play!” Jack yelled, his voice slightly audible from the other side of the rink at which you were sitting.

While you and your mom giggled about the comment made by your boyfriend, your dad shook his head. “Real classy.” 

You sighed, “Dad, please. It’s just hockey culture. He didn’t mean it. 

He simply rolled his eyes, “I’m telling you, sweetie. A temper like that doesn’t only exist while he’s playing.” He said, crossing his arms before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly on it.

All I'm asking baby

Please please please don't prove em’ right

Jack threw his equipment bag into the trunk of your car, shaking the vehicle slightly as you got into the passenger seat. However, he stopped you before you could buckle in. 

“Can you drive?” He mumbled, “If I get behind the wheel right now, I swear to God, I might crash it.”

You simply nodded, stepping out so he could step in. You walked around the car, seeing Jack inside the car, looking out the window into the dark, night sky. Since you didn’t lack common sense, you decided to stay quiet and let his mind run wild. Handling three straight losses isn’t easy on an athlete, especially if that athlete is Jack Hughes. 

The half-hour drive back to his Hoboken apartment was mostly silent, other than the occasional sniffle from Jack, his body getting used to being warm after almost six hours at the rink. 

After a few more minutes, it grew old. “You okay?”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m totally fine after losing, that makes total sense, Y/N.”

“Okay, no. I didn’t do anything to you, so lose the damn attitude because the only thing I’m trying to do is make you feel better.”

“Well maybe use your brain and don’t ask me stupid questions like that when you can clearly see that I’m not.” He retorted, turning his head to look at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, severely disliking his tone but ultimately too tired to snap back, resorting to a deep sigh and a quiet, “Okay, Jack.” 

Pulling the car into the driveway of his apartment, you waited for him to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. He didn’t, rather letting out a breath and reaching over to grab your hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you didn’t do anything to me and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s fine, Jack.” You mumbled, not meeting his gaze. 

He gently cupped your face with his right hand, softly forcing you to look at him, which you reluctantly did. “It’s not fine. You’re my girlfriend and I promise you that will never happen again.”

You nodded, silently thanking him before leaning in to kiss his chapped lips.

Please please please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Heartbreak is one thing

My egos another

I beg you don't embarrass me

Mother fucker ohhh

Please please please

‘Jack Hughes seen with beautiful lady at local Jersey bar. New girlfriend in the NHL superstars’ life?’ 

You read the headline, immediately throwing your phone from your vanity seat onto your bed. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over if you blinked. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to hold back the river that began spilling from your eyes. The mascara entering your eyes was a pleasurable burn due to it distracting you from what had caused the situation to unfold in the first place. 

Was he cheating on you? Is this just another gossip site desperate for attention? 

“Woah! Hey, what happened?” Jack called out, snapping you out of your spiral. 

Unable to form words, you just handed him your phone, looking up at him with an expression of hurt and worry.

You watched as his eyes shifted from left to right, reading the article with furrowed eyebrows. When he was done, he let out a sigh and wiped his face then ran the same hand through his hair. 

He set the phone down, squatting down to be on eye level with you. “Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what? Because to me, what it looks like is that you were getting nice and cozy with that girl.” You scoffed, trying to turn your chair away from him.

His reflexes were quick enough to stop that, not wanting the conversation to end before he had the chance to explain himself. “Listen to me. Lukey was eyeing her all night. I wanted to be a good big brother and try to set that up. That picture was just taken at a bad time, but I swear to you that’s all it was.” 

“Then why the hell was her hand on your shoulder like that?” You cried out, your sobs breaking your voice. 

“She did that! I took it right off immediately after, I swear. You have to believe me, Y/N. I would never even think about doing that to you.” He pleaded, not wanting everything the two of you had just because of some touchy girl at the bar. 

You tried to calm yourself, wanting to stop the tears but you couldn’t. You believed him, you truly did, but just the idea of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach.

“Okay.” You eventually managed to croak out. “I believe you.”

He pulled you into a tight hug, the mascara running down your cheeks staining his white dress shirt. “I promise I will never, ever, do that to you.”

Well I have a fun idea babe

Maybe just stay inside

I know you're craving some fresh air

But the ceiling fan is so nice

“Do you have to go?” You asked, intertwining your legs with his as you lay on the couch.

He chuckled, “Yes, I do. It’s an event for kids, Y/N. I can’t miss it.” 

“But it’s so nice in here! We’ve got Netflix and A/C. What more could you want?” 

“Fresh air, maybe?” He said with a teasing tone, “I haven’t been out in so long, I need vitamin D.”

You wiggled your eyebrows, “Or vitamin me.” Jack gagged at your joke, pressing himself away from you as you laughed maniacally from your spot on the couch. “I’m definitely going after that awful joke.”

Once you calmed down, you groaned dramatically, tightening your grip on him, “Anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

“Maybe one thing.” He smirked, leaning up to peck at your neck and jawline. “Grow three more heads and a penis and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Not funny, Hughes.”

And we could live so happily

If no one knows that you're with me

I'm just kidding

But really (Kinda)

Really

Really

“Can I post this?” Jack asked, crossing his arm over your waist to show you his phone. 

It was a picture of the two of you sitting on the boat and smiling at each other. A cute photo, truly, but your face was on full display. Jack noticed your questioning stare, leaning up on her elbow so he could see you better. 

“I don’t know, Jack. I’d rather you not.”

“Okay… can I ask why? I think it’s a cute photo.”

You let out a soft breath, “I’ve seen the comments under some of your posts. I just don’t want anyone saying anything about us.”

He nodded slowly, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much? It’s just a bunch of fifteen-year-old girls who think they have a chance with me.” 

You let out a laugh at his comment, “It’s not that I care, I just don’t think I want to put us out there. Not yet, at least.”

“Gotcha. So I can’t post you at all? Or can I do this one?” He showed you his phone again after a few swipes of his thumb, his screen displaying a picture of him Titanic-ing you on the edge of the boat. Your back was to the camera, but he had turned around to look at his brother, giving Ellen the perfect chance to capture his laughter in the image.

Smiling at the picture, you nodded, giving him the okay.

Please please please don't prove I'm right

Please please please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Jack’s rough hands over your eyes weren’t the most pleasurable feeling. He wasn’t paying attention to his subconscious choice to press the pads of his fingers into your eyes, so you were mumbling constant, “Jack.”s the whole way to wherever he was taking you. 

Why he couldn’t have just gotten a blindfold was beyond you.

After a few more steps and the familiar creak of the door, he removed his hands. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Once you did, you saw a bunch of red, pink, and white decorations hanging in the kitchen, a small cake in the middle with little figures of you and Jack on the top of it. 

You gasped softly, taking in the scene. You knew Jack was never one to go above and beyond for silly little holidays like Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sap for celebrating anything and everything, so he figured you would like it. 

Jack had turned to admire his handiwork, but by the time he turned back to you, tears were streaming down your face as an upside-down smile covered your face. He couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. 

“You aren’t supposed to cry!” He exclaimed in between short laughs. 

You sniffled, “I know! But how can I not?”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug as he swayed you softly, your dramatic cries turning into laughs once you got over the initial shock.

“Thank you, Jack. I love it.” 

He placed a soft kiss atop your head, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Heartbreak is one thing

My egos another

Jack stormed into your apartment, startling you from your place on the couch. You had forgotten you gave him a spare key. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, immediately standing up once you saw the look on his face.

His eyes were red, as well as the rest of his face. “Shoulder.” Was the only word he was able to get out before tears of frustration began spilling from his face. 

You had never seen Jack this vulnerable, so you had no idea what to do. You guided him to the couch, gently pulling him into your arms. 

He eventually calmed down, taking a few deep breaths. You didn’t give him the chance to speak before you chirped in. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Talked to the PT guy. I’m out for the season.” He explained, his voice trembling. 

You let out a sympathetic sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jack.” 

He shook his head, “No. I should’ve listened to you when you told me to rest it. But my dumbass ego decided to ignore you. And now look what it got me.”

“Hey. This is in no way your fault. Could you have rested? Yes. But, if the trainers didn’t believe you were fine enough you wouldn’t even have had the choice to pick.” You placed your hand on his non-injured shoulder, “You picked your team. You picked the game that you love. You went all the way until it stopped you and that is not your fault.”

Taking a minute to process your words, Jack blinked, his eyes never leaving yours. He opted to not respond, instead just leaned his body into you, wanting to be held. 

“I’ve got you, my love. No matter what you have to do or how long it takes, I’m here for you every step of the way.”

“Thank you.” Was the last thing he mumbled before settling in the warmth of your chest, pushing you back onto the couch so the two of you could sleep.

I beg you don't embarrass me

Mother fucker ohhh

Please please please

“All right. Big impression number two.” Jack joked, trying to ease your nerves. 

He had met your parents. Now it was time for you to meet his grandparents. You had already met Jim and Ellen, but somehow meeting their parents seemed a lot more intimidating.

Jack noticed your eyes trained on the floor, so he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, causing your gaze to shift to him. 

“They’ll love you. I’ve told them how helpful you’ve been throughout this whole thing and they said they can’t wait to meet you. Just relax.” He explained, his words calming you just a bit. 

One knock from the door was all it took before Ellen opened the door, immediately pulling you in for a hug. “Hi! How are you?”

You laughed at her joyful reaction, “I’m doing great, you?”

She let out a sigh, “Jim’s mother is driving me nuts. I swear, you can’t cook one meal without that woman getting involved. I love her but, jeez.” She turned her attention to her second son, “How are you, Jack? How’s the shoulder?”

“It’s getting there. As for your Nana problem, I’m sure Y/N could be a good mediator,” Jack suggested, sending you a wink as you turned to look back at him with wide eyes.

Ellen gasped, “Oh you’re right! Would you mind, Y/N?” 

You hesitated, “Um. Sure, why not?”

Jack’s mom pulled you by the hand into the kitchen, Jack’s laughter fading behind you as he stepped into the warmth of the house, shutting the door behind him.

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

Please x9

“Goddamn it, Jack.” You mumbled to yourself, seeing his sling on the kitchen bar with a sticky note with ‘sorry! <3” on it in rushed handwriting. 

He had told you he was just going to go watch his Dad and brothers golf but had a change of plans. You sighed and pulled out your phone, taking a picture of the scene in front of you and sending it to Jack.

y/n 

Seriously?

jack

Whoops

You let out a grumble at his response, grabbing the sling and the keys to the golf cart before driving up to the country club. 

After a few circles around the holes, you spotted Jack and his family. You stepped on the pedal, rushing to get up before Jack had a go. 

“Alright, Jacky. Your go.” Quinn stated, sitting in the golf cart, ready to observe his brother’s swing. 

Unfortunately for Jack, you were faster. “Jack Rowden Hughes!”

The Hughes’ men’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, especially Jack’s. They all turned around to look at you, a look in your eyes that could only be described as crazy. 

You stomped over to Jack, ignoring the rest of the guys. You shoved the sling into his chest, crossing your arms immediately after. 

“Jack, you can’t be golfing right now! The doctor said you have two more weeks with that thing!” You exclaimed. 

Quinn spoke up, “Two weeks? Rowdy, you told us your doctor cleared you.”

Jack let out a sigh as his cover had been blown, “Just wanted to golf.” He mumbled. 

You scoffed, “I’ve worked my ass off for you and this is what you do? I’ve taken care of your meds, when you’re supposed to take them, washing that thing for you because you couldn’t. Doing all the work around your house so that you wouldn’t have to and Luke could focus on finishing his rookie year, and this is what you do?” 

Everyone was silent as you scolded Jack, knowing fully well you were right. You had picked up the slack around his and Luke’s shared apartment throughout his recovery, and the fact that he wanted to disregard all of that for a game of golf was disrespectful. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, “I just wanted to get out here before summer’s over and Quinn leaves for Vancouver and Luke and I for Jersey. All I wanted was a normal summer, leave my injury at the door, you know?”

You gave him a soft smile, “I get that, but Jack. You’re almost at the point where you can do all of this, without having to worry about anything else. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so many things for this, don’t throw it away for something you can do in two weeks.”

“She’s right, son.” Jim spoke, “We know you love golfing, but you love hockey just as much. Don’t ruin the progress you’ve made, all right?”

Jack nodded, “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.” He shifted his attention back to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably light yourself on fire.” Luke chirped, gaining a laugh from all of you.

You pulled Jack into a hug, taking his hand and guiding him to sit next to his brother.

[pseudowho]

Fright Night! Multi-Fic

The local fair has a Halloween fright night! Actors and zombies and terror, oh my! You drag your boyfriend to it...how does that go for you?

Gojo, Geto, Toji, Higuruma and Ino

18+, NSFW/suggestive in parts

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Gojo: Goes in smiling. Obnoxious laughter the whole way, and it only worsens when you're screaming at every single actor. As you cringe away from a dead-eyed bride, Gojo tickles your ribs until you squirm.

"Awww, baby, you scared? You're scared, right?"

As if in answer to his question, and received with heaps of cackles, you screech when some hideous creature with no teeth and bloodstained rags lunges at you from the dark.

"Satoru-- hold my hand--"

"--ahhh, yeah, okay...c'mere."

He pulls you in, and you scuttle to keep up with his long-legged stride. Still, the horrors continue and so does his mockery.

His teasing is relentless. Your fear is gradually replaced by indignant prickling anger. You take your chance, when it comes.

"You go in first," you beg Satoru, outside a horrifying old room full of dolls, "please, Satoru, check it out first before I go--"

He huffs as if actually bothered, but his shit-eating grin gives him away as he ambles inside. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twi--"

You promptly shove the door closed with a bang! and yank a chair beneath the doorknob. You've heard rumours about this room; you are not disappointed. Satoru's voice sounds wary. The doorknob rattles just once, and you bite your lip with a smile.

"--hey...hey, babe, the...the dolls are moving."

Nervous laughter from the room. You try to hide the laughter in your voice.

"Oh yeah? You okay?"

"--OH, FU-- yeah, I'm fine. You know me, I'm the stronge--"

Satoru's voice cuts off with a profoundly girly screech, and the doorknob rattles violently while you twist with silent hilarity, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choke out.

"Ohhhh, nooo, Satoru, the door's stuck!"

More screeches, bangs and horrifying eerie noises, but you're too busy pressed forwards on your knees, laughing and laughing to the confused looks of passers-by.

"The dolls aren't dolls! THE DOLLS AREN'T DOLLS! BABE! LET ME OUT!"

A guy leans down to you, pointing at the door.

"Hey, uh...can we go in?"

You wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, bursting into laughter as you hear Satoru scream again.

"No...no, sorry buddy. This one's gonna be taken for a while, I think."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Geto: Total con-artist. Though he croons to you, cloudsoft and soothing through your horror, he's the puppet master. The horror engineer. The king of manipulation.

Every time another actor leaps out to set fear aflame in your veins, Suguru only pretends to be surprised; he isn't. He's already led you around this maze three times, anticipating the flow of the actors, and bleeding you for maximum terror.

He doesn't want to admit how his cock twitches against his thigh every time you break down into a whimpering mess; but, he can't deny that he's getting off on this.

"Shhhh, shhh shhh shhh," he soothes, one arm holding you to his side while his lips and nose ghost the shell of your ear, "shhh, baby, it's okay...it's all just pretend. I'm here. I've got you."

You look confused, your memory tangled by fear; "I...I could swear we've been this way already, Suguru--"

"Trust me. I know the way. These mazes are all samey. You're just getting mixed up, silly. Come on."

He has distracted you again, of course. He walks forwards, looking back to you with a smile. You frown, looking down at Suguru's two empty hands...and wondering whose hand you are holding.

The scream you scream, as Suguru seamlessly replaces himself with a white-eyed, rotten-fleshed actor, sends a dribble of pre-cum down his thigh.

He's just waiting until he can get you home, switch off all the lights, and continue the scare trail straight into bed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Toji: Utterly unbothered, and smirks his way around. Some of the actors approach, take one look at him, and then turn tail to scare someone else. Anyone else.

But halfway round, he gets bored, and disappears. You're left, abandoned; alone. Toji wants to get in on the action.

You're surrounded by screams, and silence, and dry ice in the dark, and you turn on the spot, spinning, frantic, your heart pounding, your tongue dry, sweat dripping down the small of your back--

Until the sound of metal on metal. Something scraping along a wall. Footsteps heavier than your own heartbeat. And, the one small light source you have is blocked, as a monster of a man in a boiler suit, mask and axe fills the doorway.

The whimper that leaves you is audible; "...Toji?" As if you could be so lucky.

Silence. His heavy, laboured breathing. The footsteps begin towards you, slowly at first...before he runs.

You run, too, shrieking like a banshee, too loud for you to hear the occasional laugh beneath the monstrous man's roars. You find yourself chased down to a dead end, your back and palms flat against the wall, chest heaving, and he approaches slowly, watching you behind his mask.

The blade of the (very blunt) axe strokes down, down, down the centre line of your torso to stop just over your sex, and you whimper, mortified by the trickle of arousal that creeps through you.

"T-Toji--" You whisper to yourself, "T-Toji, where the fuck--please please please help me--oh my god ohmygod ohmygod--"

A shiver seems to go through the man, who leans down and whispers, in a voice so familiar that your jaw drops.

"Like bein' chased, huh? What about bein' caught? You like bein' caught?"

Judging by the way his boiler suit tents, Toji likes it, at least.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Higuruma: Has not got the mental wherewithal for this, today. Perhaps another day, but not today. And it infuriates him, when his colourful imagination and adrenaline threaten to overtake his inherent logic that this is all just make-believe.

"For fuck's sa-- pull yourself together, Hiromi," he groans as another horrifying creature-person scuttles past in a contortionist twist. You're carried on his back, squealing and kicking into him, while he huffs at you with beleaguered fondness.

Every time something makes him jump, a noise of bewildered shock bursts out, and he growls at himself, running his hand back through his hair and pressing his forehead against a nearby wall.

A few actors, however, take one look at him and treat him as part of the furniture. Hiromi frowns.

"Some of them think I look scared enough, apparently."

You mumbled into his neck. "Scary enough, I think you mean. Look--"

You gently turn his face to a flaking full length mirror. Hiromi drinks himself in; still in a dishevelled suit and tie, sweatstains, coffee drip on his white shirt, and dark circles that surely have to be make-up.

Suddenly, it clicks.

"Ahhh," Hiromi breathes putting you down to your screeching indignation; he doesn't notice as you press yourself to the wall, instead rubbing his face and clothes on a discarded 'bloody' rag.

By the time he's finished, stepping slowly over to you, chin tilted down and looking down at you with beetle-black eyes, you feel a shiver running through you. He's...frightening. Clearly some awful spectral businessman, covered in blood and dirt and horror.

"You...wow. Yeah, Hiromi, you look...great."

Hiromi shrugs you onto his back with a satisfied little chuckle, and the rest of your scare trail is relatively unhindered. Passers-by skirt round him with a wary gaze, and the sinister little smile on his face only adds to the effect.

You stroke one finger down his chest, sultry and whispering.

"Hey, Hiro...stay like this, later, for...activities."

"You are utterly twisted, my love. I absolutely can."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Ino: Just as scared as you. Absolute chocolate teapot. You'd have done better taking a puppy with you, probably, because the actors approach Ino thinking he can take it, and he absolutely can't.

If Takuma could have jumped into your arms, a la Scooby Doo, he would have. Alas, he simply pulls his balaclava down in groaning terror. When other visitors then scream at him, too, thinking he's part of the crew, he raises his balaclava back up with a suppressed sob.

"Baby-- I can't take it-- I'm too weak-- my heart--"

"Takuma, I--" You shriek, too, when some ghastly woman in a bloodstained nightdress appears. She runs for you both, and you and Takuma sprint away, hand-in-hand, half-laughing, and half-crying.

By the time you round a corner, slamming the door to trap yourselves in a dark room, you and Ino hold each other, panting in the gloom. You feel a familiar hard press against your belly, and look up at Takuma with utter disbelief. He blushes, his lower lip drawing up and looking aside with a grumble.

"--are you excited, Takuma--"

"--aww, shit, babe, you know he don't make any sense--"

His words cut off with a strangled moan as you grip him through his pants, and, biting your lip, lower to your knees. Takuma's jaw drops, his cock twitching up as it's released. You whisper up at him in the dark.

"...emotional support blow-job?"

"F-fuck yeah, emotional support blow-job, I can be your hero after that--"

A few people come to investigate the ghostly little moans coming from your room, but Ino blocks the door with one trembling, jittering foot until the moans crescendo.

[ashtavula]

I am dragging this out, but I love the kiss scenario. Okay, so, let me set the scene. The overblot gang overblots, and almost as soon as they come out of it their S/O would run over to them embrace them, and kiss them in pure relief and joy at them being okay. Reactions?

I am so sorry for taking a while to get to this ;~;

cw: spoilers for all the overblots under the cut

Overblotters react to you kissing them in the aftermath

Riddle:

-He feels like crying. Scratch that, he is crying. When you rush up to him, he immediately reaches out to you, and sobs into the crook of your neck. He blubbers out countless apologies, his words blurring together. Then, you kiss him. You can taste his tears, and he lets out a whimper, his knees buckling. You both crash to the ground, and he continues to cling to you, like a child seeking reassurance. Know that your presence is extremely comforting to him. and that he's more than grateful that you're there even in one of his darkest moments. Even as Ace begins to yell at him, he snuggles close to you, his tears staining your shirt.

Leona:

-You nearly knock him off his feet when you suddenly tackle him. He lets out a huff, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Easy, herbivore. No need for all that," he grumbles. Still, he lets you pull him into a kiss. As the others start declaring that they're going to wipe the floor with him in the spelldrive tournament, he takes their ribbing with ease. But you can feel the way he leans on you for support, and you can see that he's more exhausted than he's letting on. Later, he'll collapse on top of you, and sleep until well past the morning, cradling you in his arms.

Azul:

-When he comes to, the first thing he sees is your worried face hovering over him. You gasp, and immediately embrace him. Azul blinks, willing away the tears that are starting to form. You kiss him, and he lets out a muffled whine. He feels pathetic, but your affection is comforting, to say the least. You break away, only for Floyd and Jade to come in to ascertain if Azul truly was alright. Later, when you see the picture of him as a cute, chubby kid, he'll do his best to cover your eyes, and he'll blush when you coo over how adorable he was. Maybe...you don't actually mind how weak he used to be.

Jamil:

-He sighs, and rolls his eyes when you kiss him. "Being worried about someone like me, even after this... You really have no sense of self-preservation, huh?" Despite his harsh words, he holds you close, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm glad you don't," he mumbles, sagging against your body. When Kalim tries to hug him too, sobbing, Jamil pushes him away, and yells at him. But as he raises his voice, he still remains with you, even covering your ears to make sure he won't hurt you with his volume. When all of this is over, he'll worry about you changing your mind, and deciding that you can do better than a servant who's betrayed his master. For now, though, he's content to have you close, and maybe he'll give you a few more kisses in private to reward you for staying despite everything.

Vil:

-It's over. It's all over. He's shown you the absolute worst side of himself. The petty, jealous, downright ugly part of him hidden deep within his heart. He's fully expecting you to say it's over. So when you instead rush into his arms, crying out in concern for his well-being, he's uncharacteristically silent. He only recovers when you kiss him, showing him proof of your continued affection. He cups your cheek, idly stroking your skin, and he lets out a huff of laughter. He can still feel your kiss on his lips as Malleus repairs the stadium, and as he dances and sings on stage. When it's all over, he'll return to you, weary, but somehow happy. "Come, my little blossom. Stay with me for a while. After all, a queen is nothing without her loyal king."

Idia:

-He's shell shocked, for more reasons than one. Seeing Vil's wrinkled face, losing Ortho again, and now? Now, you're clinging to him and giving him kisses. He stutters over his words, his hair flaming up to a rather familiar pink as his hands flail. He's not sure if he's embarrassed about you kissing him in front of everyone else, or if he's just relieved to still be on the receiving end of your love. After a few moments of unceremonious floundering, he gives in, leaning into your embrace. He sighs deeply as the others start calling out for him to fix the system and seal the gate. Can't he just stay in your arms a little while longer?

Malleus:

-His arms are slow to wrap around you, but he tightens his grip when you tug him into a relieved kiss. He feels...oddly empty inside. He did all of this to keep Lilia, you, and everyone else with him forever. And he figured that this might have been the end. You'd seen just how possessive he could be, and how powerful he was. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd been scared of him. But here you are, in his arms, right where you belong. Still loving him, despite the things he put you through. He pulls you closer, almost crushing you against his chest. "Don't leave me. Please..."

[flametrashiraarchive]

hi may I ask for

pussy drunk muzan please♡

Alright, look... I'm absolute trash for Muzan at the moment. I already thought he was hot and then that last Swordsmith Village episode just... ugh... I love him.

Anyway, I couldn't resist answering this right away. I've also done headcanons for human Muzan and demon Muzan because I'm a hussy for him.

NSFW below the cut.

He may be wealthy, but Muzan's life is far from comfortable. He hurts; he's angry, frustrated, he resents the world. Physical activity is hard on his body but the man still has needs.

Human Muzan

You enter his room when summoned, hopeful that the doctor has given him good news this time.

"Of course not. That fraud only deals in disappointments."

"I'm sorry..."

"Keep your worthless pity. Just... come here."

You approach his futon and gently take his extended hand. His grip is weak and unsteady. "Yes my lord?"

He arches an eyebrow, knowing that you're aware of what he wants.

So you get into position, lying sideways across the top of his futon so your hip is resting where he would lay his head. You lift your skirt and open your legs so he can rest his head on your inner thigh as he lies on his side.

Muzan doesn't speak a word. He doesn't praise you, doesn't thank you. He just inches his head closer and begins to lick your pussy.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out. If you make too much noise he'll scold you and stop, so you do all you can to remain silent. Muzan Kibutsuji is the only man you've ever met who eats your pussy solely for his pleasure.

He tongues your hole, lapping at your essence as if it could cure him, his deep groans vibrating through you as he feasts. And when he's licked up every drop, only then does he turn his attention to your clit, slowly circling it with his tongue, enjoying the way it swells from his attention, stopping when he feels you're wet enough again and turning his attention back to your cunt.

He goes back and forth between the two motions, taking you to the edge of ecstasy again and again until you cum. His long, dark hair splays across your thighs as he fucks you with his tongue and palms his cock. He strokes himself slowly, setting a pace which isn't too strenuous for him, and all the while he continues licking your overstimulated clit in those long, slow circles, making your muscles tighten with every torturous lap.

He keeps going, his groans getting louder as he makes you cum once more and he keeps on stroking his cock.

"Mm-more," he moans, his deep, commanding voice cracking with desperation. "Nghh... give it... to me."

His composure breaks entirely as he shudders through his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucks your clit, tonguing it to get you off one last time.

The doctors confirmed long ago that Muzan cannot produce heirs, but that doesn't stop him from fingering his cum into your pussy, making sure you take in every last drop of it before he lifts his head and says flatly. "I'm finished. You may leave."

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

Demon Muzan.

Muzan appears accompanied by the sudden strum of a biwa, standing behind his work desk. "Get over here. Assume the position."

Thick veins throb in his forehead and his crimson eyes are murderous.

Either the upper moons have pissed him off again, or his latest experiment to reproduce the blue spider lily potion has gone awry. And when he's in a rage like this only one thing that can calm him.

You climb onto his desk on your hands and knees and put your chest down, sticking your ass in the air toward him.

"See? My requests are so simple and yet you are the only one who seems capable of obeying them." He slides a finger down your slit, spreading your growing wetness. "You bow for your king as you should."

"Because I-"

"Silence."

A low, primal growl rolls from the depths of his chest as he leans forward until his face is no more than an inch from your pussy. And then he inhales.

That's all the warning you get before he drags his tongue slowly from your clit down to your hole with a deep groan.

"Oh, you never disappoint me," he whispers, though whether he's speaking to you or that specific part of you, you aren't certain.

He starts with small, fluttering licks, teasing your sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue. But before long he can't hold back, and his licks become frantic and sloppy, devouring you with fervent hunger.

Outside of this room he appears cold, calculating, elegant and distinguished, but you bring out an all together different sort of beast.

"Muzan!" You bite your knuckles to keep from crying out and incurring his wrath.

He grips the backs of your thighs and parts your folds with his thumbs, pushing his tongue deeper into you. His wanton moans fill the room as he drags his tongue over your flesh again and again. You can't hold back from crying out in pleasure as you cum, your pussy throbbing with ecstasy as he continues eating you.

As a demon, he has the strength to fuck you like he always wished he could as a human. At the sound of your desperate cry, the last remnant of his restraint snaps. He stands, licking your essence from his lips as he thrusts his cock inside you, shivering at the sensation before he starts to pump his hips back and forth.

His elegant fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place, burying himself to the hilt inside you and fucking you with short, fast thrusts, keeping your cunt stuffed full of him.

"Oh... oh... yes..." he grunts beneath his breath.

He pulls out only to push two fingers into you, pumping them back and forth before he takes them out again and stuffs his cock back in. And as he fucks you harder, faster, he brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks the taste of you from them.

That's enough to send him over the edge; your exquisite taste accompanied by the sensation of your needy cunt squeezing his cock. His back arches as he cums, baring his teeth as he fills you.

His breath is hot and heavy as his lips graze your shoulder blades.

"Such a good and obedient servant," he whispers, his hair falling over his brow.

And then he straightens his back, regains his composure, and disappears once more, accompanied by the strum of a biwa.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Duck on a String III

Jessie Fleming x Child!Reader

Summary: The team meet your duck

Mama lets you bring your red wagon to training today because you don't want Sir Quackers to be alone at home.

He's got a big cage to keep him safe with lots of blankets and water and food for him and you get to pull him along in your wagon.

You knighted him last night while you and Mama were playing kings and queens so now he's Sir Quackers instead of just Quackers and you love him very much.

Jessie doesn't want your duck being left alone in the house either. He's proven to be a bit of a menace by himself if the chewed-up boxes of cereal are anything to go by.

No.

He's much safer in his cage while he's still too small for the harness and leash Jessie's ordered for when he's older.

"Mama," You say," Will the others like Sir Quackers?"

You seem completely enamoured with him and, despite the fact that the duck seems to think he rules the house, Jessie loves him too.

"They'll love him," She assures you, fondly pushing your hair out of your face as you both approach the doors," Make sure you tell Magda just how thankful you are about her getting Quackers for you."

"Sir Quackers, Mama," You remind her," We knighted him."

"Oh, you're right. Sir Quackers. Sorry, duckie."

"That's okay! He's still getting used to his name too!"

Your proud entrance gets a bit hampered by the fact that your wagon gets caught at a strange angle so Jessie has to help you get it through the doorway.

By that point, the whole room has fallen silent and Magda has grown incredibly pale as you approach her.

"Thank you for my duck, Uncle Magda!"

Pernille scoffs next to her, muttering sarcastically," A dead egg, huh, Magda?"

"Er...You're the welcome," Magda manages to get out after a long bout of silence.

"His name is Sir Quackers!" You tell her, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her through the small crowd that has surrounded your wagon," Because ducks say quack and Mama and me knighted him. So he's Sir Quackers and not just Quackers."

"A duck, huh?" Erin snickers and Jessie buries her face in her hands, Niamh rubbing her shoulders.

"She was very excited."

"Do you know how to take care of the duck?"

"The vet sent us home with an information pack. Duckie's insiting we read it as her bedtime story every night."

"That's sweet," Niamh offers up," It shows she's taking this seriously."

"She keeps trying to sneak out of bed to play with him. I've had to move the duck into my room to make sure I catch her."

Erin can't stop snickering and soon Sam and Guro are laughing too.

"Is it that bad?" Niamh asks and Jessie has to begrudgingly shake her head.

She watches as you hold Magda hostage by your side, very excitedly waffling on about how cool Sir Quackers is and how he's your bestest friend in the world.

Magda looks unbelievably nervous, eyes wide as Pernille stares daggers at her. She ducks her head down to focus on you again, hoping that by showing interest, she can avoid whatever lecture Pernille's already planning in her head.

"Do you want to hold him?" You ask and Magda freeze, throat suddenly going dry.

"W-What?"

"Do you want to hold Sir Quackers?"

"Erm..."

"Are you scared, uncle Magda? That's okay! I'll hold him and you can stroke him!"

You show no fear as you pick Sir Quackers up and offer him to Magda to pet.

"I'm sorry about her," Pernille says, watching from a distance as she slides next to Jessie," She assured me it was dead."

"It's fine," Jessie assures her," I think it's nice Duckie has a friend now."

"Magda will willingly babysit them both."

"I can't ask that."

"You don't need to ask," Pernille says," It's what's going to happen. Magda can supervise duck play."

They both turn in sync to see Magda really awkwardly stroking Sir Quackers as he tries to eat her finger.

"Mama!" You say, looking at Jessie proudly," He is giving uncle Magda kisses!"

[larcenywrites]

My Little Animal

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW | rough sex | unprotected p in v | lots of foreplay! | biting (with tongue and fangs!) | collaring (Logan) | growling | smelling??? | calling Logan an animal (affectionately!!) | feral Logan??? | oral (F receiving) | Not really Dom!Reader but not exactly Dom!Logan either? | maybe the real Dom in this fic is just the love we made along the way :) | I guess I ended up using the taller hugh jackman version of wolverine for this sorry short king Logan 😔 | no real plot just lots of porn with an intro | some HCS for collaring here

Word count: ~2,400

A late night was normal around here, and a late night waiting up for Logan was hardly newsworthy. Neither were the heavier-than-usual drag of boots outside the door, nor the irritated huff after he closed the door a little too carefully.

Your eyes are drawn from the book in your lap to the larger man sitting on the end of the bed, back to you. Remaining silent, you watch him, his hand scratching through his beard and through the hair on the back of his neck. His tension is obvious in his movements, and more obvious in the tight muscles of his back as he pulls his white tank over his head, tossing it aside with a huff.

"Tough day?" You finally break the silence, trying not to let your tone hint at the longing in your eyes as you ogle.

"Always," he only replies gruffly, making you huff with an irritated amusement. You continue to eye him from your spot, deciding not to scold him this time for wearing his suit's yellow and blue pants on the bed. This time.

"I think you're just being dramatic," you softly tease, placing your book on the bedside table. With a disgruntled grunt of disagreement, Logan bends to work on getting his boots off, bare shoulders just inviting you to touch them. Shrugging the covers from your lap, you shuffle across the mattress to his seated form, eager to slide your palms over his heated skin. There's no reaction even when you nuzzle into his neck, the only sounds being the thump of boots being tossed aside and the rustling of fabric as he removes his pants. And those black boxer briefs didn't leave much to the imagination when he kicked the yellow and blue fabric aside, his flaccid bulge moving with his thigh.

You knew he could pick up your spike in arousal at the sight, and you could feel the elevation of his heartbeat when you hooked your arms under his to rest your hands on his chest. It was only when he felt your tongue on the shell of his ear that he finally reacted, a low growl vibrating through your hands and chest where you pressed against him.

That was really all you needed to know.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling away from his tense form. Instead, you roughly thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling more low rumbles from his chest. Like a grumpy ball of putty in your hands, he lets you push his head down, chin to chest. Just another little push, and he lowered himself, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He sighs heavily when you steal your touch from his hair, but it's far from one of relief. His cheek tilts your way as you shuffle over the sheets again, listening as you move back to the nightstand.

You can't hide anything from him. He knows which drawer you open. He knows what's in it. He knows what it means. Yet he still doesn't move when your hand pets over his neck. You could practically feel him bristling with excitement. For being so tense and stubborn, he always allows you to bind his neck with the collar. You wrap the brown nylon fabric around his throat with care, its gunmetal gray fastens jingling as you fix the buckle, keeping it loose just the way he likes it.

Wrapping a few fingers around the now-fitted collar, you carefully tug it up towards you, keeping his head down while your nails scratch over his scalp. Another soft growl makes you smile. Stepping off the bed next to his kneeling form, you drag his collar with you, the rough fabric sliding over his skin as you stand in front of him. You continue your petting, letting him adjust to his new headspace until he finally leans further into your grasp, nuzzling against your bare thigh and resting his cheek against your skin with a growly sigh.

"There's my little animal," you coo, tightening your grip on his hair and abruptly tugging the collar up, making him face up at you, your knuckles against his jaw. Logan's mouth parts in a silent moan, lip curled in a silent snarl. He narrowly eyes you through his lashes as your thumb pushes his bottom lip down and leans obediently into the rough petting on the side of his head. The pad of your thumb presses into the point of his fang and is met with his eager tongue, languidly lapping and swirling over the digit.

You take your hand from his hair to trace fingers over his lips, watching him close his eyes in ecstasy as he laps at your other fingers. Tongue and lips press against your palm in a sort of kiss before fangs gently bite into the soft flesh between your thumb and finger. You know they're just itching to get that tension out, and what better way than guiding that bite down to your thigh. He eagerly latches on, exploring the skin of your thigh with scraping fangs and long licks while bringing his hands to hold the backs of your thighs in a bruising grip.

You can't help but finally moan at his feral-ish nature, holding onto the back of his collar while threading through the thick curls on the back of his neck, encouraging more of those sharp nibbles and wet trails drifting closer to the inside of your thigh. He can't help but taste the softer skin beneath his tongue several times before sinking his teeth in just a bit harder, growling low in response to your moan.

Your grip on his hair tightens in surprise as he noses against your panty-covered clit, cheeks feeling flushed at the sound of him inhaling the scent of your arousal straight from the source. Fangs press ever-so-gently into your mound as his tongue finally meets your sensitive bud, swirling over the fabric and massaging deeply the more the mix of his saliva and your slick dampened the thin material that hardly kept you separated.

You desperately clench around nothing when he pulls back, teeth bringing your panties with him as his fingers tightly grip around the band and impatiently tear them from your legs with ease. There's no time to think about scolding him before your knee is forced onto his shoulder, falling into an awkward angle against him as his lips devour you again.

"Oh fuck, Logan," you sigh, only able to claw at his shoulders while firm hands pull you into him. His hot breath fans over your sensitive flesh as he practically pants, cleaning up the arousal pooled at your core and his nose bumping against your clit. The only noises in the room are your mixed panting and the crude lapping sounds from between your legs, supplemented by the low, warning growls every time the prickle of his beard causes you to twitch away. The same prickling friction that drags through your folds as his tongue meets your clit again, leaving your legs trembling in his grasp with every swipe. He knows you're close-- he can smell it, hear it in your whimperish panting, feel it in the way you try to grind on his tongue. It only spurs him on, tilting his head against your thigh as if to settle in while he pushes you closer to the edge.

It isn't long before your nails dig into his hair and pull him closer, and your legs awkwardly tensing and closing against him as you finally come on his tongue. He laps deeply at your over-sensitive bud several more times to ride you through it before attacking your entrance again, drinking your essence like a starved animal. Every brush of his beard and nuzzle against your clit becomes far too much to keep handling as he continues, but there's no escape from his grip on you. Wrapping your hand around the collar, you try to tug him away, only met with a deep rumble that borders between a growl and a moan, hot breath fanning over your core again. He was as stubborn as he was greedy, knowing well that he was far too strong for you to pull him away, especially from between your legs. Maybe he even enjoyed the rough material of his collar threatening to choke him.

"Logan, please," you plead breathily, thumbs hooked around the collar. As if to make a point, he deeply laps at you several more times before turning to sink his fangs into your thigh in aggravated obedience with a low growl that gently rumbles against your skin. He keeps his teeth in your leg even while you lower your knee from his shoulder and holds onto you while you recover for the moment. But only for a moment.

The sharp prick of fangs finally leaves your thigh, only for them to brush across your tummy with a wet lick as he nuzzles under your shirt. Your fingers brush over the tense hands that grip your thighs, feeling those claws flex beneath his skin, naturally responding to their owner's pent-up emotion and energy in the only way they ever knew how. He's obviously still unsatisfied, raging to let loose. You're jolted from that thought as he bites into the soft side of your waist, licking over his bite in a soothing way. Helping him out, you slip your shirt over your head, tossing it aside like every other piece of clothing. Without a word, he gets to his feet, taking it as his cue to lick his way between your breasts and into the crook of your neck.

He roughly pulls your hips flush to his, his chest practically heaving from the deep inhale he takes from where he stays buried in your neck. He's never been one for subtleties, especially not when those hips start to hungrily rut into yours, and his hard-on, hardly hidden in his briefs, is straining for attention. Grinding with him, you hook your thumb beneath the burlap brown band as your fingers tangle through the dark locks of hair on the back of his neck.

"You're not very good at this taming thing," he finally breaks his silence with a cocky grumble, pressing his lips to your cheek. At his comment, your hand wraps around the front of his collar again, knuckles to his throat.

"Good thing I don't want to tame you," you softly sass back, turning to meet his lips and tracing them with your tongue. He shows off his fangs with a low growl, grip tightening on your thighs before he roughly hoists you up to wrap around his waist. It's only seconds for him to spin around and plant your back on the bed, his much heavier form coming down with you, wasting no time to ravish your throat with sloppy kisses and lovebites.

You can only tilt your head back and moan softly to the ceiling, much to his purr of approval as he continues his assault, even while awkwardly shuffling between your legs to rid his too-tight boxers. You know he's finally done it when the heat of his cock presses at your entrance and a hand pushes a thigh aside to give him more room to work with. Despite still being soaked from your romp just minutes ago, he's still not the easiest fit when he pushes into you, mirroring you with lips parted in a silent moan and eyes screwed shut. Even with the sting of your nails in his bicep, he keeps sinking into you, giving you no time to adjust to the pleasurable burn of him filling you to the brim.

Cock sitting heavy against your cervix, Logan grinds you into the mattress, nestling back into your neck tongue first. Muscular arms cage your legs against his hips and his fists wrap into the sheets as he instantly ruts into you like an animal in heat. Once again, the only sounds filling the room are whimperish moans and heavy panting being outshined by the lewdness of how wet each thrust of his cock and each slap of his balls sounds against your soaked heat.

Hot breath fans over your skin with a low rumble when you pull at his hair, the growl vibrating from his chest through yours and only adding to the growing tension in your core. He lifts himself when you tense around him, bowed up above you as if in concentration and chest heaving with his wild panting. You look up at him through your lashes, a few dark strands hanging over his forehead and loose collar hanging over his collarbones. The sight alone could send you close to the edge, already throbbing around him, but you needed him close again.

Dark eyes flicker to you at the feel of your hand on his chest, playing through the thick body hair there before wrapping around the burlap brown band hanging from his throat. He obediently lets you pull him down with the little strength you have left, his own hips faltering as you pull his face into your chest. He moans low, tongue lolling against your skin as he picks up the pace again, hips stiff and fists tight around the sheets. He's just as close as you are, but his deep and well-aimed thrusts are determined to get you there first.

He can smell it, hear the soft whines from your chest and feel your legs squirm under his arms, and groans deeply at how tightly you clench around his cock and hold his face to your chest as you come around him. His steady pace finally slows, stilling as deep as he can within you and cumming with a low growl. He keeps you caged and pressed into the mattress, panting hotly against you. Your fingers gently play with his hair while you come down, other hand still holding onto the collar while he gently nuzzles and rubs his face between your breasts, as if you didn't already smell like every part of him.

After several moments, he finally lifts himself from you, pulling out from your messy core and wasting no time going down on you, savoring the mixed scents of your essences and greedily cleaning you up. With a gasped-out moan, you tug desperately at his hair, only being answered with that possessive growl that means he isn't letting you go anytime soon.

[aakeysmash]

hii, first time writing a prompt :)

maybe a drunk reader and sukuna has to take care of her and take her home, she forgot her jacket and he lends her his sweater. maybe established relationship?

(i love your sukuna fics hehehe)

i made this a bit angsty lol

"you look like a spider."

sukuna rolls his eyes, then turns around and keeps on dragging you by your hand, just like he has been doing for the past 10 minutes. "what the fuck are you saying now?"

you trip on your own two feet, again, and you have to stop, again. you see him closing his eyes and taking one big inhale. he's really close from breaking your neck. you wobbly get in front of him, squint and poke his chest with your freshly done nail. "you- *hic* have eight eyes. ouch!"

you frown, massaging your forehead. he just flicked you.

"spiders have eight legs, not eight eyes. and i do not have eight fucking eyes," he tells you, annoyed.

"okay but still," you pout. you look at him and- damn, he's really fucking pretty. even if he's blurry he looks like a king: he's only wearing a sweater, but he's the hottest man you've ever seen. you try getting on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek, but you almost fall face-flat on the concrete you're walking on.

"you stink, don't get close to me," he says, serious, dodging your attempt to grab his forearm. then he turns around and leaves you there, standing. you open your mouth to say something, but no words come out, so you just stare at his retreating back. you know you're annoying him badly. it's not like receiving a messy text saying your girlfriend is drunk and that she needs a ride could be pleasurable for anyone, especially if you told her to be careful while she was out with her friends and if the text was sent in the middle of the night. and especially if you fought before she got out.

you're a little bit lost in your thoughts, and walking has become really hard, and when you look up you don't see sukuna anywhere. you feel like crying. you hate when he gets angry, especially because you never know how to say sorry properly. you didn't think he'd leave you in the middle of the street, though.

you sit down on the sidewalk and decide to take off your heels. they're hurting your feet and they make you seem like a drug addict for the people that see you walk. not like you could care less without sukuna making fun of you for it. you went a little overboard, sure, but you don't leave a girl alone at night.

you start crying. you don't even remember why you fought in the first place; maybe something that had to do with mowing the lawn this saturday? or was it about last night's tv series? anyway, you start missing him badly, you just want to go to sleep and stop your head from hurting. plus, it's so cold tonight. why does he have to be this difficult?

"the fuck are you doing?" a voice comes from behind you. you jump a little and try turning around, but you're suddenly brought up by two massive arms, finding yourself face to face with your boyfriend. he's looking at you weirdly. it's so cold.

"oh. hi," you say, sniffling and trying to wipe your tears, only creating a bigger mess on your face from your mascara streaks. your feet are touching the bare concrete and you feel like a mess. you fidget while avoiding the eye contact he's trying to make.

"why are you- nevermind," he answers himself, exhaling hard. you close your eyes and try not to let more tears out, feeling like he's going to tell you you need a break of some sort, when a weird warmth engulfs you. you look at your shoulders, now covered by the jacket he always has in his car "just in case he gets cold". but you know he never gets cold, he always runs warm. he keeps that jacket in his car for you.

he gets one of his hands on your cheeks, angling your face towards him, then tries cleaning up your snot and make-up with a tissue. you look up at him, big eyes observing his every move. you're warmer now. his hand touching you is warm too, and he makes little circles on your skin. you know it's his way of saying he's sorry.

"you're so messy," he mumbles, his face extremely close to yours, kissing your nose lightly. you burst into tears again.

"yo what-"

"i- i thought you lef-left me here," you sob, leaning your head on his chest. he's paralyzed for a moment, then gets one hand on your small back and caresses your head with the other.

"baby, you were freezing, i just went to the car to get your- my jacket."

"i know but you were so-so annoyed *hic* i thought-"

"then stop thinking," he interrupts you. you still, then lightly nod, brushing your face on his shirt.

"not too much, pretty girl, this shirt is white," he chuckles in your ear, still massaging your scalp. you hum.

"let's get you home, m'kay? i'll run you a really nice bath. i'mma make sure you take aaaall your medicines and get you to bed, mh?" he mocks you, almost like he's talking to a child.

you softly punch his chest, then mumble, "the bath sounded nice."

you're swept off your feet, then he squats to get the heels you left on the sidewalk.

"then i'll run you one for real. everything for you."

you're already dead asleep when you get to his car, and he makes sure to kiss your forehead before closing the passenger door, a little smirk on his lips.

[jinuaei]

Dude, you could make a drunken alastor with the reader, what would it be like? And what would happen?

(( I saw a short on YouTube of an animation, I thought it was so funny... I wanted to see a fanfic about it...

If you're curious: https://youtube.com/shorts/ZN2PBs-RsVM?si=12BtCleXiCO7BWkU ))

So I basically mixed both of these asks into one fic, sorry if its not what you wanted its 3 am and I don't know what im doing kk love yall byeeee. been a while since I wrote so please be kind

Additional art

Warning: Kind of yandere? tagging just in case, BAD ACCENT WRITING, kissing!, Drunk alastor

Alastor is a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but still, his tolerance to strong alcohol is no match to the king of hell himself. The bottles that surround the both of them shine under the lights of the hotel, empty as the red eyes staring at the wall behind Husk. Which is rather concerning as the owner of said eyes is the loser of the impromptu drinking game, started by the loser himself.

Alastor has been taking big Ls tonight huh. Not only did he lose his own game with the king of hell, he’s also getting clowned on by his enemy. Speaking of, Lucifer is now gloating in front of Alastor about how ‘he’s better’ and ‘you thought you could defeat THE KING OF HELL???’, while the recipient is still mindlessly staring at the display bottles of the bar.

Concerned, you walk up to him with hesitation, not wanting to trigger the hunting instincts he has displayed every time you are around. He has always pursued you not in a romantic sense, at least you think so, but more of a predatory sense. Everytime you walk into the room, his head always snaps to your direction, the smile on his face spreading wider and the horns growing the closer you get. At first you would just ignore the ever growing static emitting from him, the fear of getting mauled and eaten by him increasing with the volume of the radio waves. 

The intimidating display of his horns always amp up too whenever the other men of the hotel try to talk to you, or just even approaching your general vicinity. The headaches that you leave with always render you unable to do anything for the rest of the day. But with how constantly he’s been threatening the whole room with his power and presence, it’s no wonder you’ve been trying to avoid him everytime you just even feel the shift of static in the air. You’d rather not be MIA just because Alastor’s radio waves make you ill.

However, when you’re with the girls, his presence becomes pleasant, the sharp noise turning into a sweet jazz song that calms your nerves. During those times, you find yourself appreciating his presence. When you talk to Charlie or Nifty, he likes to cozy up right next to you, butting into the conversation, and when either of them ask for help, he tries to include you into the task, even when you are not needed. For Vaggie though, he still does stand next to you but you guess that his face is not as pleasant as when you talk to the other girls as Vaggie always glares at him when tries to speak. Nonetheless, the girls are always treated better than the boys.

Onto the current task, you wave a hand in front of him, still hesitant as Lucifer is still trying to provoke the Radio Demon. Thankfully Charlie managed to drag him away from the bar, talking about how his father is also drunk. With the unsuccessful attempt of catching his attention, you instead call out his name. In response, his head snaps to you with a painful noise that sounds like his neck breaking.

“Are you good Alastor…?,” his stare is still there but it looks more focused compared to the past 20 minutes.

You wait for him to respond, or at least for his brain to work again. Alastor blinks slowly, his smile growing bigger as his eyes finally focus on yours. The empty gaze turns soft and sitting before you is Alastor not as the Radio Demon, but his truest most pure self. And now that you think about it, you don’t hear the faint hum of the radio coming out from him, it was pure silence. That is until he finally speaks to you.

“Hello sha…”

Your breath hitches. 

You did not expect the cajun accent that came out of his mouth, and by God was it hot. It took you longer than you wanted to respond, the sheer change of his usual accent surprising you.  And the surprise must be obvious on your face as Alastor chuckles at your bafflement. 

“Why, what’s wrong dear…?”

He speaks slowly, slurring some of his words, but the accent is still thick on his tongue.

“Nothing, it’s just… how are you? You’ve been staring at the wall ever since you lost to Lucifer.”

“Hm… Nothin’, just thinkin’.”

“Thinking about what?”

“You.”

He purrs, the half lidded stare directed at you burns your body hot. It was nearly impossible to look away from him, but luckily he moved first, perching his head onto his crossed arms, looking adorably tired.

“So uh.. You drink whiskey huh?,” you fumbled, pointing to the various bottles that surrounded him.

He nods, still burrowed in his arms. The others are starting to retreat to their rooms, waving a goodnight to the people left in the lobby, which was you, Alastor and Husk, who is now starting to clean up the bar.

“You know, I haven’t tried whiskey yet.”

Alastor raises his head to look at you, mouth slightly opened as if to display his disbelief to your lack of taste. 

“Well, surely you have to try at least once!”

Husk was only minding his business, cleaning up the bottles on the table when Alastor yanks his arm and pulls him to demand a bottle of whiskey. The cat demon's face scrunched up, and he looks at you with a ‘are you fucking for real’ face, you can only smile sheepishly back. Being given no choice, he complies to Alastors demand, grumbling about wanting to sleep but needing to still clean up after you both. Feeling pity, you volunteer to do his work and let him go to bed, he eagerly agrees and practically books it upstairs. 

The demon left with you shows off the bottle he acquired, popping off the cap with a flourish. You try to find a glass to drink out of but Alastor had another idea. He drinks out from the bottle and before you can ask him to stop, he grips the back of your head and kisses you.

Your eyes widen, freezing in your seat in shock and awe. His hand moves under your chin and his thumb trails up to hook it through your lips and pulls open your mouth. The whiskey from his mouth transfers to yours, burning as you gulp it down your throat. He finally pulled away when there was no more whiskey left to transfer.

“Well, what do you think? Do you like it?”

The dopey smile on his face is impossible to ignore, he looks so pleased yet still so hungry, but the ever so gentleman still waits for your reaction.

Honestly, you don’t know if you liked the whiskey but you really, really, really liked the kiss.

“Yeah! Yeah, I liked it.”

“That's good! I’m glad my deer also likes the stuff that I like. Haha! Here, have some more!”

He nudges the bottles to you, but since it's midnight and you’d rather not have a hangover by the morning. So you refused, and he full on pouted, pouted! And he looked so sad too, his ears flattened and everything! 

You couldn’t bear to see him that sad, even though it’s actually terrifying seeing the Radio Demon, acting like a dejected puppy. So you came up with a solution to both of your problems.

Gingerly holding his cheek, your hands carefully pull his face to yours, his gaze curious but willing. You bit your lip before kissing him lightly, unsure of whether it’s okay or not to do this to the predator that has been haunting your days. The same predator who's now reduced to putty in your hands, eagerly kissing you back with vigour. He tastes of whiskey, which was what you were finding for, and slightly of blood, maybe his meal from earlier that night.

You pull away from him when you start to lose air from the kiss, he complies, his face dazed and the blush from the kiss spreads across his face. Catching your breath, you see Alastor move closer to you, he moves his face to your neck, sniffing it deeply.

“What are you doing…?”

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to accept me for so long...You don’t understand how long I’ve longed for you sha… To become mine,” he starts to ramble, the cajun accent still thick, and only getting thicker the lower his voice gets. His hands start to roam around your body, gripping your waist tight as he pulls you close to him, he would have pulled you onto his lap if you haven’t stood your ground.

“Oh… how I wanted to rip those damned men that try to take you away from me, ‘specially that cursed sorry excuse of a father, Charlie would be soooo much better taken care of by you n’ me. Nifty already thinks of you as her parent, to which of course I wholly agree with. You’d make a perfect parent sha.”

You stay silent as his whole body is now fully leaned against you. 

“I like helpin’ you out n’ Nifty, makes me feel like a proud father n’ a good husband… Ohhhh, i’d love to be your husband.”

“Sometimes, I like to follow you around to protect you from those disgustin’ dogs tryin’ to steal you away from me.”

What the fuck is happening? You thought this man hated your guts and only wanted to fuck with you for fun, but not like this. Yeah the kiss wasn’t good either but you only wanted to do it for bragging rights, like who could say they kissed the Radio Demon?? Oooh, Vox would have your head if he knew about this, that tv head of his and his weird obsession with Alastor. 

“Would you like to be mine sha?,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his face now planted on your chest as his face nuzzles on it, you can see movement under his coat but you ignore it in favour of looking at him.

“Well… uh…”

“Please…? Please be mine…”

He moves his face close to you again, his breath tickling your lips, tempting you to kiss him again. Your response gets stuck on the tip of your tongue, but luckily, you don’t have to respond as his body flops onto yours, his weight fully on top of you. You can hear his leveled breathing as he dozed off, cradled against your neck, a sign of him now being asleep.

Well shit. You’d have to drag this 7 foot deer up his room, and you pray that he doesn’t remember anything from tonight.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, suggestive with toji, mentions of his hard dick, toji smells your panties after taking them off you, mentions of smoking with stoner!choso, cuddles with choso and sukuna, back massage with toji, confessions, jealousy towards a stuffed bear, toji calls ya mama, sukuna teases you and calls you pet, true form!sukuna, plenty of kisses, they are all soft for you how can they not be your wonderful babes, established relationship

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @akumuprincess I'm so sorry to hear that you're having a shit day😭🥺 I've recently been imagining really often about the jjk men holding you (me, us, the reader, everyone idk how to text😭) after a hard day, because I've had it pretty rough the last few weeks and just imagine them hugging you and holding you close while stroking your back or hair! I feel like Toru would drown you in little kisses all over your face while caressing your hair and cooing sweet nothings at you. Suguru would have you sit in his lap, holding you as close as possible, letting you talk about your worries and frustrations, humming and stroking your skin softly until you relax under his touch. Toji I feel like would give you a relaxing massage and then let you bury yourself in his huge chest while you lie on top of him! I think even our mean king of curses would be softer if you've had a rough day, letting you be more affectionate and clingy, he'd still bully you about it, but wouldn't let you go off his grasp, trapping you in the bed with him hoping it'll make you feel better. They'd be just so gentle and sweet aah, I really hope you feel better by the end of the day, I'm sending you hugs and kisses 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Oreo; thank you for this cute idea! I’ve been thinking about choso a little too much! Toji has a little sexual tension to it, but he does his best to behave. After writing this I realizing that sukuna in true form would give wonder massages

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

Gently, slowly trailing kisses up the side of your face, to the middle of your forehead, down the length of your nose. Cupping your other cheek, lovingly kissing you. Slowly swiping his thumb along your cheek.

Pulling away, “Let’s cuddle on the balcony, look out at the smoke n’ watch the stars try to be as beautiful as you.” Kissing your cheek.

Squeezing Choso’s slim, sculpted waist, hard underneath your squishy thighs. “Don’t let me go.” Slipping your fingers into his soft hair, freeing it. Lightly dragging your nails along his head.

Choso half open, eyes are blood shot, full of admiration and love for you. The way he looks at you has you forgetting the rest of the room. When he smiles down at you, “Never dream of it love dove. I'm your’s forever.” there is only him.

He stands up, holding up the bong for your to carry before picking up his black rolling tray from his bedside. Kissing where his tattoo stretches into his cheek. “I can't believe I get to be your’s.” He flicks on the fairy lights strung along the balcony’s ceiling.

A soft kiss on your forehead and the last of the tension is melting from your body. “Who else could I hope to belong too but a perfect Angel.” Stepping out into the cool autumn air. Sitting down on the sofa looking out at the tree line.

You slip your hair out of his hair, kissing his forehead. Turning around in his lap, grabbing the tray from him, setting it down the bong down. “Lean back for a moment love dove let me make sure your cozy in a blanket. Don't want you to get a chill.” Resting on Choso’s warm, broad bare chest.

He grabs the neatly folded blanket next to you, spreading the blanket over your lap. “Thank you handsome, you’re wonderful I love you.” He squeezes your soft side, his gentle large hands comforting. You’ve never felt so secure in yourself or in a relationship before Choso.

“I love you too love dove. You’re my everything.” Another kiss, and you want countless more. Closing your eyes enjoying his soft lips on your temple.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

“I’ll be good but I can’t promise that my cock won’t be hard.” Sliding your underwear off, holding the messy part to his nose, taking a deep breath. “I’ll use this lace piece to jerk off when you take a nap.” Looking into your eyes, “Missed ya mama.” Tossing your underwear behind him.

Running your his hard, “I missed you too, couldn’t wait to get home when I got your text. And how is that behaving?” He stands up, leaning over you, kissing your forehead. Grabbing your hips and squeezing. Toji’s loving, gentle kiss and his warm large hands on your soft body is everything you need.

“I could’ve licked ‘em clean like I wanted.” Kissing your cheek, sliding his hands up your waist. “Lay down on ya stomach beautiful.” You stretch out on the bed, turning your head to the side. The smell of his conditioner clinging to the pillow.

After three weeks had started to fade from the large black sweater he lasted wore and from his side of the bed. It didn’t feel like home without him.

Closing your eyes. “If ya fall asleep then I’ll clean ya up n tuck ya n, I’ll be smokin’ on the balcony watchin’ tv if ya need me.” Straddling your ass, making himself comfortable. His hard dick resting on your cheeks. “If ya take a nap after we can order some take out get in the shower together whilst we are waiting.”

Toji leans over kissing both your shoulders, slowly smearing lotion up your back with his large warm hands. “I’ll wash ya up, give you one of my shirts spray ya in my cologne.” Relaxing your shoulders, not realizing how you’ve been tensing up throughout the day. He works on the tight pinch between your shoulder blades with one hand.

Lifting your head, “Will you take my make up off?” Your head hits the pillow, holding it up being too much effort. Closing your eye, smiling at Toji’s heavy sigh, picturing his pout.

Kissing the top of your head. “Lucky I love you.” Focusing on the knot between your shoulders. Gently messaging up towards your neck, letting out a soft sigh when his large fingers wrap around your neck, gently kneading.

“Thank you handsome, I love you too.” Wiggling your cheeks, he lifts his hips up. Grabbing more lotion pouring some on your back. Smearing it towards your sides, squeezing.

You are admired, beautiful and loved laying on your shared bed with pouty Toji giving you a message. “Teasin me with your beautiful ass how is that fair?” Gently messaging your lower back finding the knots there. “Now stay still, lemme take care of ya mama.”

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“You sure you want me? That giant Teddy Bear of your’s seems to be-oh!” Sukuna intentionally stumbles forward onto you. Calculating his fall onto you to involve shoving your stuffed animal off the bed.

Caging you in between two of his large hands, grabbing your hips. Nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing you into the bed. Sukuna lightly bites making your squirm. “Didn’t look like you needed me since you picked the bear.” Leaning away, cupping your cheek, the mouth on his hand giving you a soft kiss.

His cheeks flushing pink. “Without a thought of coming to see if you could cuddle me.” He glances down at your lips when you smile for the first time since coming home. Letting go of your face, grabbing waist, lifting you off the bed.

Sukuna lays down, setting you down on his lap. He is shirtless like always, part of the population is seeing him traversing around town half naked. “The great, powerful, handsome sukuna is,” siding your hand down his bare chest enjoying the warmth of his hard pecs.

“Is what? Spit it out pet.” He gently slips his fingers underneath your chin to tilt your head up to admire your face. Sliding both his hands down your thighs, squeezing them. He’s been getting handiser, unable to keep to himself.

You love it, the softer he gets for you the more you fall for him.

All four of his hands comforting, warm, and big. One of the mouths on his hands peppering kisses along your side. “Jealous of a teddy bear blushing pink because he doesn't know how to handle the feelings he has for one measly little brat.” The mouth across his abs vanishes, you lay down, resting your head on his chest.

“You know people are scared to breathe in my presence.” His chest rumbles when he speaks. Kissing his chest, the resting your heard, the heart pounding of his vessel pounding faster.

“Back in my day, ok old man.” Sitting up, kissing his cheek, whatever happened earlier today no longer matters for the moment. All that your concerned with is the beautiful monster beneath you. “I love you.”

Sukuna smirks, “I know ya do pet. What else would explain your baffling behavior. When you first saw me and smiled I knew you were a dumbass.” He pinches your nose shut wiggling your head, gently flicking your forehead.

Grabbing his wrist and biting his finger. Letting go when his hand on your thigh bites back. “I'm your dumbass! I wonder if I'll get to hear you say it back.”

He leans in and softly whispers, “I love you.” Leaning back his expression indifferent, crimson eyes cold which his cheeks are redder than. “Now don't think about trying to hear those stupid words from anyone else.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

part two; gojo, geto, nanami

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.3)

W/C: 3.1k #SFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, mentions of death, yuuji has entered the chat, gojo has entered the chat, idky this got sad tho lol

A/N: This bit made me very sad please suffer thank you!!! Also the main story will be wrapping soon (I think next part will be the last part?) and then after that, it'll probably be drabbles! There might be a 'sequel' that touches on the culling games tho because b r u h they've got some down time during that arc so hfhfhfhfhghghf imagine what I could do--

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

A strict no-contact order had been placed on Yuuji, and, subsequently, Sukuna. Neither were to come into contact with you while you recovered, and neither were to be alone with you considering the control-slip incident. 

Still, the curse had been rampant in the young man’s mind, constantly pacing back and forth just behind his consciousness, waiting patiently as a predator should for Yuuji's guard to go down. Granted, even if Yuuji was caught by surprise, it'd still be near impossible to overtake the peppy twenty year-old. Sukuna didn't have an explanation, but it was what it was. 

He would have gladly seized control now, when you'd somehow managed to slip away from your recovery prison and get comfortable in Itadori Yuuji's bed. Sukuna would have slaughtered everyone at the academy for a second to touch you again, to breathe you in.

But the brat finally realized something was off, and woke to find your head tucked under his chin, his arms slung across your waist. Your breath fanned across his collarbone, tickling the sorcerer's touch-starved skin and feeding the fire burning in his cheeks–Sukuna, though, didn’t seem pleased his host was the one touching you. Yuuji counted that as a victory. 

Suck it, dickhead.

Hm? A stranger’s voice rippled instead of the king's. 

Yuuji jolted, his blood growing cold for a second before recognizing that voice–it came from that tidal wave of memories. But it didn't tick him off the way Sukuna's did. It was…nice.

Uh…you can hear me? Yuuji wondered. He tried to envision his voice as loud and clear as possible to help it reach you. 

Your brows twitched in your daze. Yes, I can hear you. There's no need to shout. 

Oh. Sorry. Uh, how'd you get in here? 

The door. 

Oh. Cool. Yuuji shifted a little. I'm not really supposed to, y'know, make contact with you or–

But you're warm. Your nails lightly dragged across his back, leaving trails of tingly pinpricks dancing across his skin. Yuuji swallowed a moan. God, why did the littlest touches feel so nice? 

Y-Yeah? My grandpa used to say I ran hot. Like a furnace or somethin’. 

I agree. You burn like firewood. And you smell warm. Like cedar and honey. You stretched languidly, and the younger stayed put, not strong enough to pull away from your praise and touch. Your teasing fingers raked through his hair daintily, and this time Yuuji did moan. Just the slightest bit before he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip. 

You leave me wondering how you taste. 

“What?” Yuuji squawked. Your eyes lazily opened a crack, seemingly put off by the sudden break in room silence. It gave the sorcerer an opportunity to admire the golden glints of divinity hidden in the hue of your iris. 

But he found fear in that moment, too. Yuuji knew what most didn't–the curse sealed inside of him thought you to be his equal. You were the only beast Sukuna would bow before, the only one whose attention he craved and sought in his reign. 

You were, in a way, a king yourself.

Do you think I'll eat you, Yuuji? 

“I–uh–you–well–” Yuuji fumbled exceptionally, choking on flustered words. “I just--Sukuna ate people, right? So, uh. Maybe you did too?” 

You looked him over for a moment. Your gaze traced the cute curve of the younger's nose, the petite fangs worrying at his bottom lip, the caramel swirl of his eyes. He looked so much like Sukuna. It made you wonder. 

I've eaten humans, yes, You agreed, nonchalant. Do you want me to eat you?

“Eat me?” Yuuji deadpanned, unsure if he should feel just bothered or hot and bothered. “I, well–”

No. Sukuna’s voice cut like ice through Yuuji’s mind. For a second, it scared him. It reminded Yuuji of what exactly Sukuna was. What he’d do. 

So what would you do?

“Hey,” Yuuji started, suddenly calm, serious. “Why’re you on Sukuna’s side? You don’t seem like a bad person.”

You took a deep second to think before sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. Your tails curled weakly around your clothless frame, swallowing up any spot a young man’s curious gaze might wander in the secrecy of night. Maybe you’d been in this situation before. 

“‘Good.’ ‘Bad.’ We all have different definitions.” Your voice rattled and scraped out your tired throat, yet you didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I do what pleases me: garden, sew, eat. Sometimes, I may cause harm in the process. I care sometimes, and I don’t others. Does it make me evil to choose what I care about?” 

Yuuji’s head started to ache. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up with your fancy, archaic way of speaking, but he was sure as hell gonna try. 

The younger sat up, too, and ruffled up his hair. “I mean. Don’t you wanna try to, y’know, not hurt people? Not cause harm, ‘n stuff?”

“Is fire wicked? Or does it simply exist?” You posed. “In the control of man, it is sacred. It cooks food, illuminates the dark, cloaks you with warmth. Yet it burns down trees. Swallows homes. Devours crops. Kills.” 

You looked at Yuuji, rose-wrapped eyes resentful of something the sorcerer could not know. “Man regards fire as a blessing when controlled, yet it is a curse when it runs free with nature–existence, the black and white of the world, is in the eye of the beholder.” 

Yuuji didn’t like how much that made sense to him. Objectively, Sukuna was bad. He killed. He murdered for fun. He ate people–

Yet your words, your pretty way of speaking and philosophies gave Yuuji pause. It didn’t click, despite igniting grim sparks in the cogs hidden far behind his eyes. He already made his mind up about good and evil, yes and no, white and black, and yet–

You poked him in the forehead, between his eyes, and Yuuji blinked. 

“It’s merely food for thought, Yuuji.” Why did you know his name again? “Don’t burden yourself with making decisions or anything of the sort. I suppose my answer was long-winded in regards to your question.” 

“Yeah, kinda,” he laughed, rubbing his cheek. “But, uh…it helped, I guess.” Yuuji pulled your hand down from poking him. “You don’t think Sukuna’s bad,” he concluded.

“I think he was a force of nature.” Your head tilted. Your eyes softened. “A monster to some, a god to others.” 

“‘N to you?”

Your eyes caught the morning light, iris reflecting with waking embers. 

“He was everything.”

Gojo thought you were pretty in the same way Getou was pretty; you were handsome with fine features, you radiated with odd power, and you spoke with unmatched poise and purpose it almost made the man’s ego swoon. 

But you looked tired as Getou had, too. Skin void of blushing warmth, eyes distant and hazy, dark circles pulling your gaze away from him. He didn't like it. It made him remember that cold hand ripping his heart to pieces. 

“Look who’s awake!” Gojo cheered as he sauntered toward you, hands in his pockets and a smile adorning his face. “Hungry? I could getcha some–”

“You were listening, were you not?” You wondered, running your bony fingers through matted fur systematically. Your split nails picked and clawed through tangles and knots thoroughly, as though it’d make a difference in your beat-up appearance. 

Gojo tilted his head before settling down in the seat beside your bed. “Hm? Me? Listening? To–”

“Yuuji and I.”

“Ah! You mean the night you snuck out to do some naughty, naughty things with my student?” 

You deadpanned fiercely, looking at him the way someone else used to. “Ha. Hm. Surely you jest.”

Gojo waggled his brows as much as he could, hoping they’d peek out over the top of his blindfold. “Hah, you think I don’t know what my sweet, precious Yuuji does behind closed doors? I know everything! I’m–”

“You misunderstand,” you cut him off, looking more and more concerned with each passing second. “You are a teacher? Why? How? This does not seem ethical.”

Gojo died. Rather, his pride did. Which was essentially his lifeforce. 

“What are you–okay, I’m just gonna chalk it up to you being cranky after getting woken up, alright? I’ll give you a pass. Just once!” Gojo nodded as a benevolent creature should. “You should thank me.”

“I’d rather not.” You sighed and returned to your grooming. “If you wish to interrogate me, I require food first. Tofu, specifically”

Gojo laughed. “Man, you are one high-maintenance god. Alright, you want normie tofu, or agedashi tofu?” 

You blinked and looked at him, curious. 

“Agedashi tofu?”

You really liked agedashi tofu. You liked the little sauce it came with, you liked the other random shit Gojo bought to try and win over your compliance–well, honestly, he also just wanted an excuse to shower someone with the food and snacks he liked. It’d been a long time since he’d had the privilege to. 

“So,” Gojo said as he popped the marble into the ramune bottle for you and handed it over, “About you and Sukuna.” 

“Mhm?” Your eyes glittered in fascination as you took the drink and examined it from all angles, carefully tilting it here and there to watch the blue bubbles rise to the top as the glass ball rolled and spun in its tiny prison. 

Gojo almost lost his train of thought watching you, but he reigned it in quickly.

“Seems like you were close.” Were was important. You'd referred to the menace in past tense when speaking with Yuuji–clearly, you didn't realize the curse resided within the young sorcerer. Best to keep it that way.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment.

“I suppose. Why?” 

“I'm just nosy!” 

“I know that already. But there exists intelligence behind your annoying behaviour.” Your gaze slid to him, staring through the veil of fabric and straight into his eyes. “You're a monster like he was, aren't you?” 

“Hah?! Rude!” Gojo whined, but regained composure just as fast. “Seems your intuition is pretty good, huh?”

“It's simply an understanding of nature.” 

“Is that what pulled you to him? His nature?” 

“No. I was given to him. As a gift. By a clan of sorcerers.”

“Huh. A gift.”

“Yes. The harvest festival required as much. He was revered as a godly creature. Something to be feared.” 

“And so were you,” Gojo guessed, and you frowned and looked away, instead picking through the treats and snacks brought to you. 

“The people saw us very differently.”

Sukuna didn't walk through the city below often–not until you decided you liked it down there. 

Finding out that you walked through those streets alone sent a trill of something unpleasant up Sukuna's spine; knowing you were alone, vulnerable and under the eyes of so many that so often cursed Sukuna and wished him dead made him…uneasy, maybe. You could handle yourself. Sukuna simply couldn't handle the disrespect.

But things weren’t as he assumed.

You walked through town, and the people revered you as they would Amaterasu incarnate. Most didn't address you, but all saw and accepted your presence with grace and kindness, nodding or flickering small smiles as you passed by with the king trailing behind. 

Sukuna could understand; you'd become something astoundingly breathtaking. Lush, full tails dipped and swayed as you walked with the poised elegance of royalty, the feeling only enhanced by the careful, intricate way you presented yourself in your attire. Sukuna knew you felt beautiful. You were beautiful. 

“It's (Name!)” A child cried, and Sukuna fought the urge to punt the little shit into the restaurant across the road when the tiny human grabbed at your clothes. 

But you smiled. You actually smiled when you patted the girl on the head and said your sweet hellos before ushering her along after her mother. The corners of your eyes crinkled for once, showing that, yes, you'd aged and felt joy and become so perfect because of it. And when you cooed sweet farewells to passing little ones, your fangs flickered against the colour of your lips, just for a second. 

Your gilded gaze caught his carmine stare, and you tilted your head. 

“Sukuna.” You held your hand out to him, and he took it. He had no choice. He was only human, and you were God. Walking through a city of mortals.

He let you lead on, wandering to the shops where you bought thread and fabric for your stupid little projects with money he didn't even know you had. You could have just taken everything you wanted, especially with the king stood right by your side, but you eased the shopkeeper's nerves with kind words and ample pay. 

Sukuna all but picked you up and launched you both back home the second you were done meandering. He had a job to do; he had to fully commit to siring a runt.

Now, Gojo didn't need to know all that, but it didn't stop your mind from wandering to that night; it was the first time he looked at you like that. It was the first time he decided against lording his power over you, instead holding you close and taking things slow. You missed it. You yearned for the night he stopped seeing you as a toy and saw you as you. The night he finally learned your name.

“They viewed me as something divine,” you continued, digging out of the warmth of memories. “Perhaps because I walked alongside someone like him.” 

“Well, only gods can walk through a volcano and come out unscathed, no?” Gojo smiled a bit as you looked away, embarrassed. 

“That's a poor analogy.”

“Eh?”

“How would one walk through a volcano? None would even think to get close enough to do so.”

“W-Wait–”

“You would be underground, would you not? With limbs melted, oneself ablaze? And one would not walk but wade through lava.” 

“It's just a metaphor!” Gojo wailed. 

“A poor one.” And you continued to pick through snacks, unbothered that you'd just destroyed the strongest man alive as you munched on cheese-flavoured rice puffs.

Gojo laughed, though. ���I can see why he liked you. Supports the theory he's not the one who put you in the coffin.” 

“It wasn't him,” you snapped. Your ears flattened against your skull as you shrunk in on yourself. “At least…not directly.” 

Oh? Gojo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together.

“Then who was it? What happened?” 

“I don't fully understand it myself,” you confessed. Your voice was a whisper, cold and lonely like a far North winter. 

“Maybe I can help.” 

You looked to him and back down again. 

“There was a man. A sorcerer. I don't know his name–I never cared to learn it. He was odd.” You tore up little bits of hi-chew wrappers as you spoke. “He asked me if I would sacrifice myself for Sukuna.” 

“And?” Gojo prodded. 

“I would not,” you said. “Sukuna would never need my sacrifice, he'd never need my aid. He was the strongest.” A light frown tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That creature thought otherwise. He mentioned something about additional wombs, but I don't know what that means.” 

Fuck. Gojo nodded politely. “Gotcha, gotcha. What'd this guy look like? You remember?” 

“Unremarkable, save for the odd sutures across his forehead.” 

“Oh? Interesting. Alright, last question, my cute little kitsune–”

“(Name),” you cut in. “Address me as (Name).”

Gojo sparkled. “Waaah, I think our relationship just leveled up to A-tier! One more level and I can romance–”

“Please do not make me hurt you.” 

The white witch whined and deflated against his chair. “Boooring.”

You huffed and flicked your ear. “Ask your question, goblin.” 

Gojo took a breath before he spoke. 

“Are you with child right now?” 

The world changed suddenly. Seal papers coating the walls drowned in bones and flowers as the pungent sweetness of orchids and decay curled around Gojo. Around you, a cage began to rise, jutting out from the earth and encircling you like thousands of rigid arms holding you in an embrace. And your eyes–they shone with abhorrent divinity, outshining even the nine, pristine tails breathing with blackened fire. 

But there was screaming. Two voices intertwined. Little and distant, warped and outraged at–at something. Maybe Gojo? Maybe his accusations, his questions? 

Just when the sorcerer was about to act, your clasped a hand over your stomach, and you whispered with the thrum of a thousand voices:

“Be still.” 

It all moved slowly, then. The phenomenon–the apparent domain expansion–reversed, sinking back into the floors and walls with the soft sound of chittering and cooing taking the place of wicked screeches. You, too, cooed back to the twin voices, placating them with maternal ease. 

Your divinity faded with the last shreds of the illusion. Now, your colours faded further, painting you in desaturated tones of exhaustion and worry. Gojo hated that palette. It'd been used too many times on too many he doted on. God was stupid like that, creating such sad, worrisome colours.

The sorcerer took a deep breath in the silence of the room. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. He was never good at this kind of thing. His other half was much better at this. 

But he had to try. The look on your face told him he had to try. 

What would he have done?

Gojo’s hand reached out as he leaned forward, and he caught your scarred, bony hand in his own. You didn’t pull away, you didn't fight him, you instead curled your fingers around his and held your breath while your gaze became unseeing, your heart ceased beating just as your breathing had. For a moment, you died.

“I'm sorry,” Gojo whispered. And you nodded. Somehow, he knew it meant, ‘me too.’ 

It was then, touching you, that he could feel the negative energy thrumming beneath a shell of divinity. Two different un-lives coiled inside of you, filled with bitter hate for man and undying love for their mother. For you. It wasn't unlike the bond shared between Yuuta and Rika, but this was not as simple. 

“Your ilk did not approve of Sukuna siring children,” you murmured. Your grip on his hand turned poisonous. “If you try to take them from me–”

“What'll you do?” He asked, knowing they'd never be born. 

“--I will turn everything to ash. Set fire to the skies. Just as I have once already.”

“Good.” Gojo smiled. “You'd be a good mother.” 

“I hope I one day can be.”

The masked menaced nodded again as he idly soothed his thumb across your knuckles. “Never say never, yenno? We'll figure something out for you. If you can do something to help the school–”

“I can give gifts. Once I have the energy.” You didn't sound like you did. Gojo wasn't sure if you ever would.

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked anyway. 

You looked at him, weak and defeated, yet still clinging to life. 

“My divine favour.”

[appocalipse]

hello! can I please request "I really, really want to kiss you right now." with steve and our shy!reader friend?!

here you go my love! hope you like it ♥ 1.3 k

The rain catches the two of you by surprise.

It pours down relentlessly, the cold droplets stinging your skin as you and Steve hurry towards his car, sadly parked way too far away from the charming flea market you had somehow dragged him to earlier that afternoon. 

Well, not really dragged exactly — Steve himself had volunteered to give you a ride the moment he heard you telling Robin how much you wanted to go and see if you could find some new furniture for your apartment, maybe even some decorations. But you felt as if you had dragged him there because, c'mon, what kind of guy thinks walking around a flea market with a friend is any fun?

And to top it off, the summer rain had come out of nowhere, sending everyone desperately running for shelter somewhere. Some lucky vendors had their tents already set up when it started, others began trying to cover their wares with tarps or whatever else they had at hand. A good number of them simply started to pack up their things to leave though, as did most of the potential customers who had been taking a look around — you and Steve included.

He had left his BMW in the parking lot of a closed store. It had seemed much closer before than it does now, as you and him run through the rain, palms over your heads to try to shield your faces from the relentless water.

You accidentally step into a puddle. Water splashes around your ankle, wetting the bare skin all the way up to your calf. You mutter a curse under your breath, deeply resenting your decision of wearing a summer dress today. "Oh, great." 

Steve chuckles, looking over his shoulder to you. Then what you can only assume is instant karma happens, and he slips and falls into a larger puddle, splashing water all over his pants and shoes.

You try to hold back, you really do, but the laughter is already building up inside of you, threatening to come out. And besides, he makes no move to get up, sitting there on the ground all wet, looking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

You giggle, which makes him laugh as well. 

"Sure," he says, "go ahead and laugh."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you choke out, trying to hold back your laughter as you approach him, offering one hand to help him up. "Are you okay?"

But of course he is. Except for the blow to his ego, that is. And now, in addition to just being wet, his jeans are also partially stained with mud.

And the t-shirt — which is white, no less — starts to stick to his skin, giving you a view you didn't ask for but that's certainly hard to ignore.

Steve accepts your hand, but you use both hands and too much force to pull him up, so he almost collides with you when he finally stands, his face inches from yours. You both laugh, because it was supposed to be funny — his head almost bumps into yours — but he grabs your shoulders and the remnants of the laughter from before slowly die when you realize without a doubt that he's looking at your mouth.

And you at his. In the rain. Doesn't get any more romantic than this.

Except for the fact that Steve is Steve, the former King Steve, the boy who had a pretty girl on his arm every week, while you are...you.

You're not sure who pulls away first, who clears their throat, changes the subject. But before you know it, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's car, staring at the dashboard as lightning cuts across the darkened sky in the distance, a storm clearly brewing.

And it's worse. This feeling you have whenever you look at him or he says your name or anyone mentions his…it's somehow worse like this, in this moment, inside this car.

As if that wasn't enough, he offers you a jacket that he takes from the backseat. His jacket.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking the jacket and putting it on. It's warm. You remember the last time you saw him wearing it and resist the urge to close your eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent that still clings to the fabric. It's like a mix of laundry detergent, soap, and something uniquely Steve.

You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

He hasn't started the car yet, you notice. Perhaps  he's considering waiting to see if the weather will get a little better? It doesn't look that bad that it's not safe to drive, you think.

“Sorry for dragging you here for nothing,” you say, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.

“You didn’t drag me,” Steve assures you, sitting half to the side to look at you. "And what do you mean, for nothing? You wanted to look at the furniture, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't buy anything and now you're all wet."

He chuckles so quietly you almost don't hear. "I didn't come here to buy furniture."

You think about asking what he actually came for, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it? A hope of hearing something that he probably won't say. He came so you could buy what you wanted. He's a good friend like that.

Still, when you turn your head to look at him, there's something different in the way he's looking back at you. You smile, hoping to God he doesn't notice the nervous edge behind it, "What?"

Steve opens his mouth. He's pretty sure he didn't give those words permission to come out, and yet they come out anyway,  hoarse and low, "I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You watch his lips move as he speaks, but it's like your mind can't process the words. 

And once you do, you blink, not quite sure what to say to that. Your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest, a wild thing thumping against your ribs. But there's something else in there too. Something warm. Something you haven't felt in a long time.

The front seats are close enough, so Steve reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. "I've wanted to for a while now," he whispers, leaning in closer.

You feel hot all over, the air in the car suddenly too thick to breathe. 

Steve's fingers trail down your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip, teasing you. It's a slow, deliberate movement, as if he's memorizing every inch of your face, every second of this moment. "Do you want me to?" he whispers, and the teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flip over. 

Your mind is spinning, but somehow you manage to force out the words, "Yes." You mean it. God, you mean it.

Steve's smile grows in that charming, lopsided way he has when he's happy. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leans in closer, closer…and then his lips are there, pressing softly against yours. Feather-light at first, like he's testing the waters, making sure this is what you want. But when you part your lips, letting him in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him.

And then, all too soon, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "Was that…was that okay?"

You smile, leaning as close to him as you can without jumping over the gearshift.

"It was more than okay."

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