#the show gives him like two on each arm two on each shoulder

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Light On

summary: when you reach out to joaquin waving the white flag, you realize how broken he's been.

pairing: touch starved!joaquin torres x ex!f!reader

contents: exes to lovers, food and alcohol mention, angst, canon typical trauma/trauma responses, get back together fic, kissing

wc: 1,988

an: i combined my idea for touched starved!joaquin with this request about yearning. sorry it took so long anon and i hope you like it <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

He’s late to the housewarming. Not by much, but enough that he has to squeeze through a half-shut gate and slip past a crowd already buzzing with drinks and music. His shoulders still feel tight from the last mission—three cities, too many close calls, and not enough sleep. He almost didn’t come.

But when he saw your name at the top of the invite sent only to him, group chat, no passive-aggressive message he could say no to you. 

It read simple and gave him a glimmer of hope:

I hope you can come. it’s not a trap. peace offering. 

He doesn’t deserve the invite or your kindness, not after how he’d withdrawn so abruptly 8 months ago. He thought ending things before he could truly disappoint you or worse— scare you with one of his missions was the right thing to do. But now he can’t convince himself that this invite isn’t some sort of chance to at least make things right. Better.

Inside, the lights are warm, soft, glowing off glasses and muted green walls. There’s someone laughing in the kitchen, someone singing too loud on the patio. He catches a glimpse of you through the open door—perched on the porch bench, the setting sun’s rays on your cheeks, telling a story with your hands. 

Joaquin’s heart stutters.

 Just the sight of you makes him feel like it’s been an eternity. He hadn’t forgotten how beautiful you are but clearly he had let the weight of it slip away to protect himself. 

You look up, like you feel him before you even see him. And when your eyes meet, something in his chest aches. That’s all it takes for everything he’s been trying to outrun to come flooding back. 

How safe and understood he felt when the two of you did nothing but lay under the clouds. How warm his heart got at the sound of your laughter. How easy it was until he got into his head about being right for you. 

You smile at him. 

It’s not the same smile as before, but it’s not cold either. Cautious and familiar, but no less warm. Because you’re happy to see Joaquin, but now in the face of him you’re afraid everything you’ve worked for will come crumbling down. 

“Hey,” you say softly, walking inside from the deck toward him with a drink in hand. Your voice is light but not performative as you try to play it cool. “Llegaste.”

He nods. “Yeah. I couldn’t—yeah.”

You don’t hesitate. You step right up to him and wrap up your arms around his middle. It’s causal, natural and despite your past, you don’t even think about the possible impacts. 

The simplicity of it all hits him like a wave.

He stiffens for just a second, like he wasn’t expecting it. Like he’s forgotten what it feels like to be touched gently, without purpose or urgency. Or violence. Then his arms come up slowly, almost uncertainly, and he lets himself hold you—just enough so that it’s not awkward. Not enough for everything he wants.

One of your hands slides up his back once, rubbing tenderly. It’s a tiny gesture but he swears he could cry.

“Estas bien?” you ask, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He nods again, softer this time. “Ahora sí.”

You try not to show that his words affect you, simply giving him the best smile you can before untangling yourself from him. Gesturing for him to follow you, you make your way into the kitchen fishing out a beer and handing it to him. “Here.”

He takes it, fingers brushing yours, and his grip tightens on the bottle like it’s an anchor. “Thanks.”

Later, after a few brief hellos and introductions, you sit beside each other on the porch. He’s barely touched his beer but neither of you have noticed. 

There’s easy conversation on your part, starting with how you found the house and decided it was the one you wanted. You tell him about the chaos in the kitchen earlier tonight, a spilled pitcher of sangria. About the neighbor who brought way too many folding chairs.

He barely says anything, he simply listens. Listens like he’s afraid he’ll miss something if he blinks, like he’ll wake up from a dream. 

He watches the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The way your knee bounces when you’re excited. The way you don’t flinch being this close to him, how you lean closer. You aren’t afraid to touch him, a nudge of shoulders here, a brush of his knee there when you say something funny.

 It seems like it comes easy to you and god, has he  missed this.

“I miss this,” he says quietly, gaze fixed on the beer bottle in his hands. Then, after a breath: “I miss… you.”

There’s several beats of silence. He doesn’t have the heart to look up at you, to see the surprise on your face.

You look at him, cheeks warm, stomach twisting with anticipation. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that when he was the one that ended things the way he did. 

When you speak again your voice is quiet but firm. “Not here.”

Even then, you touch his knee—just a brush of your fingers—but it feels like a jolt. He follows you without thinking.

You lead him down the back steps, past string lights and potted herbs, to the edge of the backyard. There’s a small pond there, still and starting to glow under the emerging moon. 

You’re a ways away from everyone else. It feels like you're a world away, a veil falling between you and Joaquin and the world. Everything else is muffled, distorted. It’s just the two of you. 

You turn to face him, your eyes guarded. “I miss you too,” you say. “I never stopped wanting this. You were the one that…”

His chest tightens, but before he can reach for you, you add—gentle, but unwavering:

“But, I’m not doing that again. I’m not getting close just to watch you disappear when things get hard. If you want me—really want me—then you have to stay. You have to try.”

He swallows hard, the words sitting heavy between you.

You can see, nearly hear the gears turning in his head. There’s conflict, something soft and something so scared in his eyes as he lets your words sink in. You step forward then, and when your arms wrap around his shoulders, he goes completely still. There’s a breath he doesn’t take. A flicker of disbelief in his eyes. Like your touch might vanish if he moves too fast.

This time you notice.

��Què te pasa? Hmm, baby bird?” You ask tenderly and it breaks something open in him. 

Slowly, shakily, he lets go of the tension. He leans in—into you—and his arms finally wrap around your waist. His hold isn’t tight, but you can feel the starved urgency in his fingertips. 

His face presses into your shoulder, and the sound he makes is quiet, but wrecked. A broken exhale like it’s the first breath he’s taken in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I thought I was doing right by you. Letting you go. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You hold him tighter, and his grip flinches like he’s not used to being held back.

“I know,” you say softly, your hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. He shudders under your touch and your heart squeezes again. “I know, baby,” you assure him gently.

You brush your lips against his temple, and he tenses just slightly at the contact—like it overwhelms him. His breath hitches, grip tightening around your hips like he’s afraid to let go now that he’s here in your arms.

“Next time,” you murmur, fingers sliding further into his hair, “you just talk to me.”

He nods into you, arms wrapping so tight around you, holding on like this might all slip away.

You stay like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other, warm and quiet. Until the party noise fades into background hum and there’s only moonlight and the hush of the pond.

Eventually, you both sit in the grass, your shoulders brushing. He finally starts to talk to you, to tell you everything he’s endured. Why he pulled away and what plagues him now; months apart and they’re still the same thing.  

He talked about the missions. The pressure. The exhaustion.

About how he didn’t know the full effect of what it was doing to him until he stepped back into your orbit and felt seen again.

Your fingers drift over his hand as he speaks. When he falters, you gently trace one of the faint scars on his knuckles. He goes completely still at the contact—like even that touch is more kindness than he’s used to.

“You have to take better care of yourself,” you say with a half-smile, nudging him gently. “Or I’m calling Sam.”

That finally earns a real laugh—small, tired, but real.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” you tease. “I’d guilt him into dragging your ass back here for a proper nap and a shower.”

He nudges your knee with his, smiling. You both fall quiet; it’s comfortable.The pond glows beside them. The world slows down.

And for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel like he’s on borrowed time.

He just feels… held. Seen and understood. Like he’s home, in a way that matters.

—

Later that night, after most of the guests have left and the house is dim and quiet, he helps you carry in the empty bottles and leftover snacks. The porch lights hum low behind them, and the kitchen smells faintly like lime and basil and whatever candle someone brought as a gift.

You’re both barefoot now, toes brushing the tile. He hands you the last bowl and leans against the counter like he doesn’t want to leave.

You sense it immediately, glancing over at him. “You okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. I just… don’t want this to end.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. You step closer, fingers brushing his wrist, and this time he leans into the touch like he needs it to breathe.

“So don’t let it,” you murmur. “Don’t push me away again.”

He swallows. “Would it be too fast if I said I want to see you tomorrow?”

You smile deepens. “Are you asking me on a date, Lieutenant?”

Joaquin grins, soft and sheepish. He finally looks like himself. “Yeah, I am.”

“Well then,” you say, stepping in and tilting your chin up, “you better kiss me goodnight properly.”

You don’t give him time to overthink it. You press your lips to his—soft and warm, lingering just enough to make his breath catch. He kisses you back like he’s still afraid he’ll mess this up, but you thread your fingers through his and holds him close.

When you pull back, he exhales shakily.

You tap your fingers lightly against his chest. “Pick me up at seven. And wear something that says ‘I’ve stopped being emotionally unavailable.’”

He throws his head back with laughter, then groans like that’s going to be a real task. “That narrows my wardrobe down to, like, one shirt.”

Gripping his shirt playfully, you pull him a little closer. “Then wear it.”

Somewhere between getting home and putting his phone on the charger, Joaquin sees the text from Sam. Seems you had followed up on your threat to tell Sam about tonight. 

Sam: I heard you finally stopped being stupid.

Joaquin stares at it for a second before the typing bubble pops up again.

Sam:Bout damn time. You owe me twenty bucks. And a six-pack.

He shakes his head, smiling down at the screen. His reply is simple:

Worth it.

And when he turns off the light and sinks into bed, his heart is full.

let me know if you'd like to be on sfw joaquin torres taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl, @blackwomanchronicles

[love--and--venom]

Protective Instincts: Stray Kids

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, if I missed anything lmk

Trying out a different format for skz and ateez since i'm writing for all eight members of each group. lmk how it is

Protective Instincts Masterlist

Bang Chan

We all know that Chan is protective. We’ve seen the way he is with his members. He gets angry on behalf of others, people that may not be able to stand up for themselves. So imagine how he reacts when some random dude is standing way too close to you, either oblivious or ignoring your clear discomfort.

You’re meeting Chan for lunch, waiting for him outside of the diner, and that’s when this guy comes up out of nowhere and starts flirting. Very poorly, in fact. You’re doing the thing most other women do in situations like these: smile, nod, and laugh awkwardly until he leaves. Only you don’t have to wait for him to lose interest. Chan takes care of the issue for you, sliding in behind you and placing a hand on your waist like it was meant to hold you. It stays there even after the guy is intimidated into leaving. Chan keeps you tucked close to his side up until you’re at the door to your apartment. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his protective nature- not to this extent. Your face is burning by the time he releases you and you swear he has the smuggest, most self-satisfied grin on his face right before you shut the door.

Lee Minho

You wouldn’t even know the strange man was trying to approach you. Minho spots him weaving through the crowd of the company party and easily joins the conversation you’re having with your friend. He throws an arm around your shoulder, which is a little odd for him, but you certainly don’t mind. So while you and your friend are gushing about a new show on Netflix, he’s staring daggers at the other man as he continues to approach. That’s until the guy notices Minho’s glare and stops dead in his tracks. We know that Minho is a huge softie under his quietly intimidating exterior, but this guy does not. You lean into his side like it's second nature, giving the stranger yet another reason to turn tail. Your friend notices this, and Minho’s satisfaction afterward, but stays silent when he narrows his eyes at her. She snickers behind her hand, which has you looking between the two of them in confusion. You ask her about it, but she insists it’s nothing despite her knowing smile. Minho rolls his eyes at your friends not-so-subtle hints. He stays by your side for the rest of the night, barely containing his giddiness from your immediate acceptance to his sudden affection.

Seo Changbin

I don’t think Changbin would step in until absolutely necessary. You’re a very capable person, so he knows you can handle yourself in most situations. But he draws the line when a man tries to use his larger stature as a way to scare you into doing what he wants. Maybe you and Changbin are at the gym together. He’s refilling his water bottle and this other guy uses the opportunity to approach you. Obviously Changbin notices, but he doesn’t rush over immediately. You know how to handle yourself. That flies out the window when this man backs you into a corner, looming over your shorter frame. Changbin yanks the guy away from you before he has a chance to grab your arm. He shoves himself between you and the other man, and he has to suppress the satisfied smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth when you instinctively grip the back of his shirt. He may be shorter than the other guy, but that certainly doesn’t make him any less intimidating. This guy might have height, but Changbin has more power, more strength. The size of his biceps alone when he crosses his arms is enough to make the other guy falter. It doesn’t take much to get him to back off. Changbin keeps you close after that, occasionally brushing a hand over your lower back or your hip. It’s more than just the workout causing your flush, but you definitely don’t complain about the lack of space between the two of you.

Hwang Hyunjin

Oh boy. The level of pettiness from Hyunjin is unreal. And he doesn’t even try to hide it, either. You’ve been totally oblivious to his flirting, brushing it off as Hyunjin just being Hyunjin. It’s okay, he’s patient. He’s fine with being slow and subtle. For now. But then one of the employees at the museum he brought you to is trying way too hard to impress you with his facts about the artists- which are all totally wrong, mind you. Hyunjin’s irritation, as well as yours, is growing larger the longer this guy rambles on and on. He’s lingering a few feet away, trying so fucking hard to stay calm cus he doesn’t want to be overbearing. This goes on for a few more minutes, until you lean back slightly to look at him around the employee’s shoulder. The defeat in your eyes makes Hyunjin scoff and shake his head. He’s had enough. So he returns to your side, shoulder-checking the employee in the process. Hyunjin doesn’t let the guy get a word in before he goes off. He’s glaring and his voice is dripping with sarcasm as he asks the employee “did you need something from my girlfriend?” The employee looks like he wants to argue, but Hyunjin’s completely flat, unimpressed expression coupled with his tight grip on your waist has the argument dying in his throat. He keeps his hand on your hip throughout the rest of the museum exhibits. You can see just how flustered he is still, but he’s not going to talk about it until you guys have some privacy. Once you’re at your apartment? You guys do a bit more than talk, iykwim.

Han Jisung

You know how sometimes people with anxiety can push it aside in order to help someone else? Like when your friend’s order is wrong, but they’re too nervous to say anything, so you suddenly have the courage to speak up for them. That’s how it is with Jisung. Neither of you are good with confrontation and you’re both already a little nervous from the amount of people at this party. It’s really no surprise that you stick together for pretty much the entire night. Obviously you’re not gonna escort each other to the bathroom, so you stay glued to your spot near the corner of the room while Jisung goes to the restroom. He’s gone for less than five minutes, but in that time a guy he vaguely remembers from the company has made himself a little too comfortable as he stands a little too close to you. Jisung sighs and looks around the room, contemplating whether he should leave you alone or silently return to your side. Turns out, the answer is neither of those options. Not when you shrink in on yourself with tear-filled eyes. Jisung’s jaw sets and he marches over, muscles tense and spine rigid. Even though his own heart is pounding wildly in his chest, it doesn’t show on his face as he hooks a finger in your belt loop to pull your back to his chest. He’s completely confident as he tells the guy to fuck off and leave you- his girlfriend- alone. Luckily, the dude walks away without much of a fuss. With him gone, Jisung’s thoughts finally catch up to his actions. Both of your faces are bright red, but neither of you make any moves to put some distance between you.

Felix Lee

Felix is unfairly and almost supernaturally pretty. He isn’t intimidating, not until he opens his mouth. He knows that his voice doesn’t match his face and it’s pretty entertaining to see people’s reactions to the deep bass in his voice. The “Felix effect”, as Stays call it, happens all the time when he meets new people. It’s something he’s gotten used to and it’s not something he ever thought he’d need to use on purpose. See, you easily convinced Felix to come with you to a new bakery in town, which is not somewhere you expect to find an arrogant man that can’t take no as an answer. Unfortunately for you, the hypothetical man in question is very real and apparently has a sweet tooth. You and Felix are waiting at the pickup counter when the man saunters up to you. He completely ignores Felix as he pesters you for your name, how old you are, if you’re from around here, and your number. It’s making you uncomfortable and grating on Felix’s nerves. So when the man asks if you’re single, Felix seizes the opportunity to interrupt with a “no, she’s not” while lacing your fingers together. He practically growled it, now glaring at the man, who was caught off-guard by the blonde’s deep ass voice. The man that was just talking your ear off is now suddenly very quiet. You’re saved from the awkward situation by the bakery employee calling out your name. Felix tugs you away and picks up your order. You leave the bakery with Felix mumbling something about eating the sweet treat at a nearby park, leading you there hand-in-hand.

Kim Seungmin

Don’t let Seungmin’s outward nonchalance fool you. His annoyance doesn’t show much on his face, it comes out in the form of extreme sarcasm. The two of you are catching up over lunch at a little cafe, chatting happily at a little table in the back corner. Your peaceful two-person conversation is unwillingly changed to a three-person when some dude stops at the side of your table. He’s looking directly at you with a creepy ass smile while he goes on about how you're so “tight and fit”, saying how he can show you a real good time if you ditch your little boyfriend. That’s the moment Seungmin’s composure snaps. He rolls his eyes, cutting the guy off as he stands and scoffs. It didn’t show while he was sitting, but Seungmin is a few solid inches taller than this guy. Seungmin tilts his head as the man stumbles back a step. He’s got a shit-eating grin as he asks the guy why he’s so scared of your little boyfriend. In the man’s silence, Seungmin continues, saying that a lowlife like him could never treat you the way he does, could never make you feel as good as he does. Your jaw drops and your cheeks burn red from the innuendo. You’re stunned by his cockiness as he sinks back into his seat after watching the other guy scurry away. He raises an eyebrow at you, gently shutting your mouth with a finger under your chin. Seungmin picks up on the way you’re struggling to hide your squirming. He only makes it worse when he promises to show you that he definitely wasn’t lying once the two of you are back at your apartment.

Yang Jeongin

Just like his animal counterpart, Jeongin tends to be cunning rather than aggressive in his jealousy protectiveness. He gets just as angry and annoyed as the rest of the members, but for the sake of your safety he tries to keep it under control. He succeeds for about two minutes. He wants to watch and analyze the situation before rushing in. After all, if he read the signals wrong, it would be extremely embarrassing for both of you if this other guy wasn’t actually causing trouble. That decision is made for him when you flinch away from the guy’s attempt to touch your shoulder. Jeongin is on his feet without another thought. Keeping his composure be damned, he isn’t gonna let this rando make you uncomfortable. His fox-like eyes cut into the other man as he slid up to drape an arm across your shoulders. He stares the other guy down and there’s an edge to his voice when he asks “who’s this, babe?” You lean into his side, looking up at his profile to mutter a quiet “I don’t know”, giving Jeongin the fuel he needs to cock an eyebrow at the unknown man. He doesn’t even need to say anything else. The malice hidden behind his smile was more than enough to send the message: stay the fuck away from her. The guy nods and clears his throat awkwardly, lying about a friend calling him so he could make his escape. With the man gone, Jeongin sighs and lets his shoulders relax. He pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist and muttering something about not leaving you by yourself. And when you agree (very enthusiastically), a real smile spreads on his face and he can’t find it in himself to hold back as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

Permanent Taglist @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway @kpetts

Stray Kids Taglist @cristy-101 @queen-in-the-shadows @thegingerthatwaited @pineapplekitty3-16

[fresidoll]

★ TANGLED IN LOVE, STUCK BY YOU FROM THE GLUE. tsukishima kei

.ᐟ Content summary: Boyfriend Tsukishima headcanons.

.ᐟ Includes: Tsukishima x fem!reader

.ᐟ Word count: 1.4 k

.ᐟ Content warnings: none, just fluff, sfw, kinda realistic?)

.ᐟ A/N: i’m never understanding why people see Tsukishima as someone completely mean, without feelings and horny all the time. The title of this are lyrics of this song of beabadoobee btw.

☆ His glasses have small stickers you put on them, sometimes they are in the lenses in a place where they don’t block his vision of course, or sometimes they are in the temples part of the glasses. Tsukishima never takes the stickers off, he lets them fall on their own and when this happens he always casually lets you know so you put on new ones. He doesn’t mind at all if the stickers are glittery, or pink, with strawberries or something girly, he doesn’t care as long as those stickers are chosen by you for him to wear everyday until they fall off.

☆ He learned origami out of boredom with youtube tutorials and learned to do several animal figures that he threw away after making them, usually he makes origami when he needs something to fidget with when he’s watching a tv show or a youtube video so the figures don’t matter. But then, he learned to make origami flowers and instead of throwing them away, he started to give them to you. The first ones he gave you were made in plain white paper and then he bought a pack of paper in different colors so the flowers would look more real. He usually hands you the origami flowers without comment and tries to be nonchalant as if it wasn’t a big deal but it’s obvious he gets flustered when you smile and tell him how pretty the paper flower is, he would grumble about how it isn’t a big deal and they are tedious to make, and yet you’ll receive another flower from him not too long after that.

☆ Tsukishima is not someone who likes PDA, so he won't be kissing you and hugging you in front of other people or in very public places, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t affectionate. In public he shows you his affection in small touches like holding your hand, staying close to your side, letting you cling to his arm and when he has to leave your side he’ll discreetly kiss your temple or your cheek. In private he would be a little more touchy but not too much because he’s shy, okay? In private he would be more comfortable in placing his arm around your shoulders or around your waist, he’ll rest his chin on the top of your head while hugging you and he’ll even peck your lips sometimes.

☆ The dates Tsukishima likes the most are picnics in the park, museum visits, going to the movies and having a movie night at his place. He likes the kind of dates that don’t require a lot of planning and are more spontaneous and in which you can be comfortable so you both enjoy each other's company, if you like dates like dinners and all that, he wouldn’t dislike them at all but the kind of dates that are more chill are his favorite ones.

☆ One of his favorite activities to do with you, is building lego sets. They don’t even have to be those expensive official lego sets, the cheap ones that are figures of anime characters or sanrio characters work perfectly fine by him. Usually you take turns in buying the sets either online or in a store, you always get one or two for each of the characters or things you like. Usually, the day of your lego date it’s in the weekend when neither of you are busy; you order food and get some snacks to eat, while building you talk and watch a show or youtube videos. Tsukishima actually loves to be doing something he enjoys to do with the company of someone he cares a lot for.

☆ He gets nervous and hyped everytime you go to his games.Your presence gives him a boost to do his best in the matches to show you how much potential he has, but at the same time he gets nervous of you being there in the public because he doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself in front of you. It makes him flustered everytime he hears you cheering for him, the tips of his ears get red and he tries to ignore the funny looks the rest of the team gives him or else, his face goes completely red. Even so, he actually smiles big and feels a little giddy when you hug him after a match, and tell him how amazing he looked and how well he did it.

☆ If you’re part of the team, he tries to focus on the match but at the same time keeps an eye on you and it’s quick to let you know what you should be improving during the game so the team can win. Of course, he doesn’t tell you what you should be doing better in a bad way, he just wants the team to win and wants you to exploit your abilities in the best way possible so if you don’t win, you won’t blame yourself. After the game, he will hug you and tell you you did a good job, he will tease you by faking to be arrogant when you compliment his performance but he will actually feel happy that you think he did good, it makes him feel good with himself to know that he was useful to the team.

☆ He's not the jealous type, but he is wary of other guys getting too close to you. He doesn’t like it when guys get too touchy or too close to you, it makes him uncomfortable and kind of self-conscious. He knows he isn’t the most nice people out there, or the best good-looking, he knows his personality it’s one of his biggest flaws and he’s afraid that you might realize all of this things and leave him for some guy that it’s better than him, that’s why he gets tense when other guys tries to flirt with you or gets too close. He has never tell you this because he thinks it’s embarrassing and dumb, and he can only hope that you don’t realize all his flaws, or that at least, you don’t mind them.

☆ He got matching bracelets for you. Tsukishima is not someone that likes matching clothes so he went with something basic like matching jewelry for both of you, but it made it meaningful so it wasn’t just an ordinary thing. He got two affordable bracelets first in the same color, then he bought two pendants that matched for the bracelets that would resemble you and him respectively, he went with pendants with the first letter of your names with a little fantasy diamond encrusted. When you were given the bracelet, you never took it off and neither didn’t he. It was an obvious but subtle way of letting everyone know that you two were together and that you belonged to each other, that was why Tsukishima bought the bracelets, he loves to see you wearing his initial and also loves the fact that everyone can see you are with him and only him.

☆ One of the songs that completely describes what Tsukishima feels for you it’s Glue Song by beabadoobee. The first time he heard the song, was kind of accidental but as soon as he heard the lyrics and searched for it’s meaning, he found a meaning to all of that he felt for you inside his heart. He can not describe all of what he feels for you or how important you are to him, but as the song says, he found himself being attached to you in a very unexpected way and soon enough, you became one of the most special people for him, it’s something he has never felt before. He can’t bring himself to be away from you, or to let you go, he just can’t even imagine it without feeling a heavy stung on his chest, so he is planning on spending his whole life with you, he knows it’s soon to be taking a long term decision like that one but he is sure that he wants to put a ring on your finger and spend his whole life next to you. You are just like glue and are stuck with each other, and if you ever consider to split up, Tsukishima would try his best to glue you two back together.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Rest - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader Rating: We all need fluff right now and that's what this is. Word Count: 1133 a/n: I hope everyone is surviving out there. In an attempt to halt my near-constant crying I wrote this. Note that there are two little references in here that will hopefully help everything feel a little bit better are also little spoilers for Part II, so if you want to avoid any and all spoilers, let that be known. It's pretty darn tiny though.

"Joel?"

Your voice is soft, but it still feels obtrusive as you sneak your way past the door to his office. It's actually pretty spacious, the space his brother has set up for him amidst the growing town of Jackson, but in the quiet of the night, even though you know you're not bothering him in the slightest, it still feels almost like you're intruding.

He's at the desk, though, right where you expected him to be. His glasses are perched low on the bridge of his nose and you can see the tension in his neck and shoulders, a sure sign that he's been focused on the plans in front of him for far too long.

"Hey," he breathes out, looking over at you with what seems to be relief. You knew from Maria that he's been bombarded all day with everything from questions to problems to Tommy's constant insistence that they have to work faster. You and Joel could both easily admit that there was an obvious need for additional homes, but you were also aware that construction takes time. One would think Tommy would understand that, especially considering his own background and the fact that none of this is what it was before, but you'd also known from the look in Maria's eyes and the lateness of the hour that Joel was the one putting it on himself to try and make it happen.

The door closes softly behind you as you move to his side, setting down a thermos on the desk next to the multitude of renovation plans. "Brought you some coffee. I thought it might help."

"Come to check on me is more like it," he jokes, but he's already taken off his glasses and is reaching to draw you into his lap. You don't argue, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you settle onto his thighs, a light kiss pressed to his forehead as he buries his face against your neck.

"Maria told me Tommy was on your case today," you explain simply, fingers running carefully through his curls.

Joel nods. "Maria and I met this morning about the houses on Clark Street, but then her idiot husband had to come in here and give me a debrief of everything we'd already covered because he missed the meeting. Wasted nearly a fucking hour of my day."

It makes you laugh, the way the rivalry between the Miller brothers seems to transcend all reason, even if at the heart of it you knew they love each other more than either would be willing to admit. "Is that why you're still here working when he's at home?"

There's no response from him, just quiet, and you know you've hit the nail on the head. This isn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last, that Joel took the needs of the town on his own shoulders. You needed houses and somehow he always made it happen, even if it meant stretching himself too thin.

"You know what? Come on," you continue suddenly, pressing another kiss to his hairline before standing. "Let's go home."

The protests begin immediately. "I really need to..."

"Joel," you return sternly, already grabbing his coat off the hook. "Home. Now."

There's a long sigh and then he stands, turning off the desk lamp and crossing to take his jacket from you. He shrugs it on and then his hand finds yours, fingers woven together as you lead him from the office and out into the cool night air.

Spring hasn't quite set in yet, but the harsh realities of winter are finally behind you. It's one of the reasons the council has been pushing for new houses, almost too aware of the fact that construction is easier with the warming weather and with new people showing up every day it's become a necessity to move as quickly as possible.

Not that Joel needs to be thinking about that right now.

"I made some chicken for dinner," you tell him, swinging your arms about just slightly in the way that makes you both feel like you're simply two lovers on an evening stroll. You do your best to find these kinds of moments, the ones that remind you of the good, because if you didn't you'd simply spend your whole existence dwelling on the opposite. On the constant weight of ensuring the survival of a community twenty-seven years after the end of the world. "I could heat it up for you when we get back."

"Sounds nice," he returns, his pace slowed to match yours as you make your way home. There are still a few people out and about, but not many, and it almost makes your town feel small again, in the way it had when you'd both first arrived. You're quiet, even as you pass to the edge of town and eventually find your way along the dirt path that will guide you home. The house you share sits in the distance, unassuming amidst fields that will soon blossom into a lush green landscape.

He doesn't let go of your hand until you're both through the door, only relinquishing his grasp after you kiss him quickly and head to the kitchen to find him some dinner. You hear him sit on the bench by the door, removing his boots with a huff, and then the unmistakable creek of the floorboards as he transitions to the living room.

You talk to him absentmindedly all the while, about your day, about watching JJ for Dina and Ellie, about what you're hoping to plant in the garden this summer, but it's only when the chicken is plated that you realize he hasn't said a word.

"Joel?" you question, making your way back to the living room. "Baby?" you ask again, crossing the threshold to find him sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep.

It's peaceful, really, the way he seems to soften in slumber, and it makes you relax, too. Your feet carry you to his side, abandoning the food on the counter as you grab the blanket from the back of the couch. You shift him slightly, just enough for you to wedge onto the sofa next to him and drape the afghan over both of your bodies. He wakes, ever so slightly, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back against him, nose tucked into the back of your neck as he drifts off once more.

And the next day, when you wake to find him already gone, the blanket wrapped tightly around your body and a note on the coffee table that reminds you he loves you, all you can hope for is that the coffee in the thermos still on his desk isn't too cold.

[skyward-floored]

16 with legend and wind? (both had dream adventures)

16 in dreams

Wind and Legend shared dreams.

Neither of them knew why, at least, not at first. Wind figured it out pretty quickly once they heard more of each other’s stories, and he was certain Legend had as well, but they... didn’t discuss it.

The dreams they shared were never pleasant ones.

The first time it happened, Wind found himself in a sewer, rain pouring outside, the edges of his vision faded and uncertain. He’d turned around at a noise, and seen Legend crying silently over a body, holding a sword to his chest as tears dribbled down his cheeks. Wind, utterly confused and panicked about what was going on, went over and hugged him.

Until the dream suddenly broke.

Both of them startled awake, and when Wind saw the dampness reflecting off Legend’s cheeks, he resumed the hug in the real world, Legend too shaken to protest.

It happened again a few nights later, but with their roles reversed. Wind cried out as Ganon threw him backwards, his laugh echoing as water poured around Wind and Tetra, the two fighting for their lives. Except it wasn’t going well, it was going worse than before, they were losing—

But then Tetra was Legend, and Legend was gripping his shoulders and telling him to close his eyes and look away. That it wasn’t real. Even when Tetra came back and Ganon cleaved a sword through her chest, and Wind couldn’t help his scream.

The dream fell away right as Ganon swung at them, and Wind threw himself into Legend’s arms with a sob, Legend lightly rocking him as he cried.

Normal dreams never seemed to be shared between them, and sometimes several nights would go by between them showing up in each other’s minds. But whenever Wind or Legend had a nightmare, the other was witness to it, sometimes able to affect things, but not always.

But they were always there.

Wind replayed twisted versions of his adventures, bird talons and monster claws, tentacles that overtook people’s minds, all with Legend at his side, standing strong through his nightmares. And Wind had a front row seat to Legend’s as well, never the same twice. Someone screaming as she was snatched away, Ganon staring at the two of them with yellowed eyes, a trident piercing his leg, countless monsters and villains that flew by so fast that Wind couldn’t keep track of them all.

And a calm ocean, with a redheaded girl that Wind couldn’t see the face of no matter how hard he looked.

That one seemed to scare Legend more than any of the others, and after they woke from it, Wind sat up with Legend the rest of the night while he choked out the story of Koholint.

Wind told him of the Realm of the Ocean King in turn, and silently snuggled up to Legend when both of their words ran out, and the stars began to fade with the coming dawn.

Legend was shaking, and Wind might have been too, but he held Legend close, just like he would Aryll after a bad dream.

“I hate this,” Legend croaked, and Wind only held him tighter. He didn’t know whether he meant the nightmares, or the fact that they were each forced to be witness to them, but he agreed.

“Me too. But I’m glad we can at least help each other,” Wind whispered shakily back. “You... you help me know they’re not real. Not... not like the adventures were. That these are just nightmares.”

“I still hate it,” Legend rasped, and Wind squeezed him, not sure what to say, but determined to give him comfort nonetheless.

Legend silently hugged him back, faintly trembling, and neither of them said anything further the rest of the night.

[darlingweareatragedy]

his new high

Warnings: DUB-CON, Organized-Crime, Drug (Shimmer) Use, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness

Summary ~ You soothed his pain in a way shimmer never could, and now he’d rather destroy your dreams than watch you leave his arms.

The first time Silco saw you, it was in the fading light of a backroom chem lab. You were bent over a half-conscious man, stitching his torn arm with mechanical precision. His screams filled the room, curses and desperate pleas, but you remained calm, steady, your voice soothing. There was no hesitation in your movements, no tremor in your hands. You didn’t look up when he entered. Not even when the room fell into that particular kind of silence, the delirious ramblings of the injured man fading as he slipped into unconsciousness. It was the kind of silence that settled when someone powerful walks in.

You didn’t fear him. That was your first mistake.

“Most people flinch,” he said eventually, his voice a smooth rich timber. One eye gleamed with an unsettling interest. The other was ruined, unblinking.

You tied off the final stitch and set the needle aside. “Then most people aren’t busy saving someone’s life.”

Silco smiled, it wasn’t a kind smile.

He started showing up more often, sometimes to have you patch up one of his men, stitch a wound, or set a broken limb. Then came the calls for help with research, concoctions, healing. Gradually, he began to trust you enough to assist him in administering shimmer to his red eye. He always had a reason. But over time, those reasons began to wear thin. You were sharp enough to notice

“You don’t need me, Silco,” you told him one evening, after his lieutenant left with freshly bandaged ribs. “You just want something.”

He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and oil clinging to him, the faint metallic tang of shimmer still lingering around his skin.

“And you’re so sure that’s a bad thing?” he murmured. “Wanting something.”

The obsession wasn’t sudden. It was a drip. Slow. Poisoned.

A package on your desk one morning, a vial of rare solvent, only available in Piltover, wrapped in black silk. A gift of soft velvet-lined gloves, with a note: “To protect your hands. We can’t afford to lose them.”

A word to your landlord, suddenly, your rent dropped to nothing. "Consider it... gratitude," Silco’s voice had been like a velvet noose, tightening around you.

You told yourself you weren’t his. But his people stopped calling you by name. They started calling you Silco’s medic. Then, simply, Silco’s.

He kept coming back. Each time, it was a new wound, a dislocated shoulder, a burned hand, a poisoned operative. But he never left right after. He lingered, watching you as you worked. Sometimes, he brought rare supplies, claiming they were for your patients, but he always insisted on giving them to you directly.

He learned your rhythms. What made you laugh, when you skipped meals, how your brow creased when you were focused, how you chewed your lip when you were uncertain.

And somewhere in that quiet obsession, shimmer began collecting dust.

You never saw the moment it shifted. The moment his need for you went from admiration to something darker. Something possessive. Addictive.

One day, while you were restocking shimmer, you mentioned it, absently. “I’ve applied for a fellowship in Piltover. Medical sciences. If I get in... I’ll be gone for a while.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

You turned slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze, a cold burn against your skin. Silco was staring at you like you’d just ripped the breath from his lungs.

Piltover. The word alone was bile in his mouth.

“You want to leave?” he asked, too calm, like it was a simple question.

“For a year. Maybe two.”

“For them?”

“No. For me.”

He stepped closer. You could feel the heat of him now, the tension building between you. “You don’t need that. Everything you’ve built ... we've built, it’s here. These people need you. I need—”

He stopped himself, like he was choking on the words.

You stared. “You need...?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, before answering coldly, “The undercity needs you.”

But the lie hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like smoke.

After that, things changed. The guards around your clinic doubled. Your mail stopped arriving.

And one morning, you found a letter from the Academy , torn at the seal, empty, discarded in your trash bin.

You confronted him, and he didn’t even pretend to be innocent.

“You belong here,” he said, his voice low, trembling with a quiet madness that chilled you. “They’ll use you. Break you. Strip you of everything that makes you... you.”

“And you won’t?” you shot back.

He stepped closer. So close that you could feel his breath on your lips. “No,” he whispered. “I’ll worship you.”

“You belong here,” he said, the words trembling with a quiet madness that sent a chill skittering down your spine. “With the undercity. With me. Piltover would ruin you.....strip away everything that makes you… you.”

“Ruin me?” you shot back, your voice rising as you took a defiant step toward him. “You’re the one caging me! The guards, the missing mail, this—” You thrust the torn letter toward him, your hand shaking. “You don’t get to decide my life!”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t I?” he murmured, closing the gap between you with a predator’s grace. The heat of his body was suffocating, the scent of him, smoke, oil, and that faint metallic tang, wrapping around you like a chain. His hand rose, fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt like a lie, a trap disguised as affection. “Everything I’ve done, the rare solvents, the gloves, your rent, it was for you. Because you’re mine.”

You jerked away, but the examination table pressed against the backs of your thighs, cold and unyielding, trapping you in his orbit. “I’m not yours,” you said, your voice wavering despite your resolve. “I’m not some… thing you can own, Silco. This is obsession, it’s not love. It’s control.”

His hand froze, his expression flickering...pain, anger, then something deeper, more unhinged. “Control?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “No, my dear. It’s devotion.” He stepped closer, his body crowding yours, his breath hot against your lips. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The way we fit. The way you calm the storm inside me.” His fingers slid to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair, not pulling but holding you in place, anchoring you to him. “You’re my salvation.”

Your heart pounded, a traitor that refused to still. You wanted to push him away, to scream, but his proximity, the raw intensity of his gaze, stirred something within you, fear, yes, but also a flicker of something else, something you couldn’t name. “You’re wrong,” you said, but the words lacked conviction, your voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed the pulse point at your throat, and you hated the way your body responded, a shiver racing through you, warm and treacherous.

“Liar,” he purred, his lips grazing your ear, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “You’ve never flinched from me before, not when you stitched my men, not when you held my gaze while dosing my eye. Why now?” His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of your throat. His lips brushed there, a fleeting kiss that made you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing his coat, unsure whether to push or pull. “Because you know what I want… and part of you wants it too.”

“No,” you said, louder, shoving against his chest. But he was immovable, a wall of lean muscle and unshakable will. His free hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist, possessive and warm. The touch was electric, and you shuddered, caught between revulsion and a spark that flickered low in your belly. “Silco, stop,” you said, your voice trembling. “This isn’t right.”

His eyes softened for a moment, a glimpse of the man who’d once brought you rare supplies, who’d watched you work with quiet reverence. But the darkness surged back, drowning that fleeting light. “Right?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through you. “Nothing in this world is right. But you… you’re perfect.” His lips crashed against yours, not gentle but desperate, hungry, as if he could consume you, bind you to him through sheer force of will.

You turned your head, breaking the kiss, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved to your jaw, your neck, leaving a trail of bruising kisses that drew a whimper from your lips. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up to expose the soft skin of your stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs with a reverence that belied the coercion. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were a plea, not a command, and he heard it.

“You say no, but your body begs for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with triumph. His hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your undershirt, his thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to a peak. He groaned against your skin, the sound raw and primal, and you hated the way it sent a pulse of heat between your thighs. “You’re mine,” he said, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, his touch both gentle and demanding, a paradox that left you dizzy.

You pushed at him again, but your hands faltered, your resolve fraying under the onslaught of sensation. His other hand moved lower, deft fingers unbuttoning your pants, slipping inside to find you already wet, a betrayal that made him groan low in his throat. “See?” he said, his voice a dark caress. “You want this. You want me.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch with a heat you couldn’t deny. His fingers teased you, slow and deliberate, coaxing pleasure you didn’t want to feel. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were softer now, your voice breaking as he pushed you toward an edge you didn’t want to cross.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, pulling back to meet your gaze, his good eye dark with need, the ruined one a void that seemed to swallow your protests. “Tell me, and I’ll make it good for you.”

You stared at him, torn between the fear in your heart and the heat in your body. “I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what you wanted. The uncertainty was a crack in your armor, and Silco seized it.

He kissed you again, softer this time, but no less possessive, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers worked you, pushing you closer to a precipice. When he pulled back, he lifted you onto the examination table, the cold metal biting into your bare skin, baring you to his hungry gaze. His hands were everywhere, on your thighs, your hips, your breasts, claiming every inch of you as he spread your legs and stepped between them.

His trousers were already undone, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, and you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, unsure whether you were pulling him closer or pushing him away. “I’ll worship you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he positioned himself at your entrance. He entered you slowly, deliberately, each inch a claim, a promise, a curse. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you, the stretch both painful and intoxicating.

He moved with a reverence that belied the coercion, his thrusts deep and measured, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something sacred. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a low chant as he drove into you, each movement pushing you closer to an edge you couldn’t escape. And as pleasure built despite your protests, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the storm that was Silco, his touch, his voice, his obsession.

He didn’t shoot shimmer anymore.

He had traded one addiction for another.

You were his new high now.

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

It had been a week. A week since the crash. A week since Darry’s world fell apart. It had been a week and Darry hadn’t even let himself cry yet. How could he? He had too much to do. He had to transfer to mortgage to his name, he had to make sure he got a job, he had to drop out of school, he had to get custody of his brothers. Shit. Custody. That was the hardest one. The social worker stopped by today to let him know he’d been granted temporary custody of his brothers as well as to give him a huge stack of paperwork he needed to do to apply for permanent custody.

Darry ran a hand through his hair and tried to quiet his mind for a moment. First things first, he needed to check on his brothers. He knew they would be in his room cause the three of them had been sharing his queen bed for the last week. They needed the comfort of knowing the others were close and safe. So Darry twisted the handle to his room and saw both his younger brothers curled into each other on his bed.

Darry felt a wave of softness hit him as he watched the gentle rise and fall of his brothers’ bodies as they slept. Lord, they looked so peaceful and so young like this. That thought felt like a stab through his heart as it hit him that mama and dad would never get to see them like this again. He forced out a shaky breath and kissed the side of Ponyboy’s head and rubbed Soda’s shoulder before creeping back out and quietly shutting the door.

He longed to join them in sleep. He wanted to slide into the bed and wrap an arm around each brother and hold them close and protect them from the world, but he couldn’t. So he would settle for doing everything he could to keep them close to him and keep them safe. He would give up anything and everything and he would work to the ends of the earth to keep his brothers warm and fed. Because that’s what you do when you love someone, you do whatever it takes.

That’s how Darry found himself sitting at his kitchen table at midnight sorting through piles of paperwork. Custody came first, that was most important. It was also going to take the most time and would be the hardest fight. Not for Soda, they had the same blood. But Ponyboy was another story. Darry had to prove that he was not only fine to care for him, but he was the best. He had to show that even though the same DNA wasn’t in them, even though their blood was from two different parents, they were brothers. He needed to prove that it would be best for his baby brother to stay with him instead of being taken away.

Just the thought of Ponyboy ending up back in the system made Darry’s stomach roll. That boy deserved to be kept safe and loved more than most. Him and Soda deserved to be cared for and with someone who loved them more than any other people in the world. Darry knew he might not be the best person but damn it the selfish part of him needed to keep them cause if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what the hell he’d do without them.

Shit. What would he do if the state didn’t let him keep his brothers? What would he do if they took them to a boys home? What if he couldn’t get a good enough job and his boys went hungry? What if he wasn’t good enough to take care of them? What would mama and dad say? Would they be disappointed in him? Would they hate him if he ever did wrong by his boys? God, how could he ever even try to be even half as good as they were?

He couldn’t. That was the truth, plain and simple. He would never be good enough to try and come anywhere near close to filling his parents’ shoes. Glory they’d only been gone a week and he already felt so lost. He didn’t know what to do. He looked for them every time he felt unsure and all that he found was empty space and reminders of the loss.

He wanted them back. He still needed them. He was scared.

That was the first time he’d let himself admit that. Darry felt his fingers begin to tremble and he felt his nose start to burn with the sensation he knew meant tears would follow. Fuck. He shouldn’t do this. He can’t do this. He can’t cry now. He still has so much to do. Darry tried to squeeze his eyes shut and force the tears away as he picked up the pen he’d dropped and tried to start filling out the paperwork again.

He thought he’d be fine. Then he got to the bottom of the first custody form and it asked him to sign his name. The moment he finished the “s”, he felt his eyes burn again. This time, he put down the bend and just buried his face in his hands, unable to hold back the tears this time. His vision blurred and his body ached as he tried to keep himself together. He couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not when he still had so much to do.

But the tears fell anyway. They felt like fire across his cheeks. He felt his chest tighten and his breaths quicken. He missed them. He missed his mama. He missed his dad. He needed them right now more than he ever had before. He needed them. He needed his brothers. He needed Paul. God, he just needed someone. Someone to hold him up and hug him tight and promise him that everything would be ok. He needed to not be strong for just a minute. He wanted to be held. But there was no one here to hold him anymore. Glory, the things he’d do for just one more hug from his mama or pat on the back from his dad.

But he was alone. It was past midnight and Darry was sitting at the kitchen table in the dim light crying. He needed to, a small part of him knew that, but he also knew that he needed to be strong now. Mama and dad weren’t here to take care of them now. He had to be the protector. He had to be the provider. It was his job now and that thought alone paralyzed him with fear cause how the hell was he, a kid hardly out of his teenage years, supposed to raise his brothers?

He couldn’t dwell on that thought too long because he was snapped back to reality when he heard the horrifying scream of Ponyboy waking up from a nightmare. Shit. He tried his best to wipe the remaining tears from his face and prayed that it would be dark enough that neither of his brothers could see. In less than a minute, he was up and practically sprinting to his room to try and comfort his baby brother because that was his job now. He was now the one who needed to hold his shaking brother as he choked out sobs while looking so out of it.

Right. His job. Another reminder that his parents were gone. Another reminder that he couldn’t fall apart anymore. He was the strongest now. He was the biggest. He was the protector. He couldn’t be just Darry anymore. He couldn’t just be the fun big brother who flung a brother over his shoulder or ruffled his younger brothers hair or always complained about bein on a team with his baby brother anymore. He needed be the grown up. He had to be like his dad. Darrel didn’t fall to pieces. Darrel fixed things. Darrel provided and did everything he could to protect his family. He needed to be Darrel now.

[justaragdollysblog]

The whole tadc cast having a sleepover in kingers fort, complete with comfy pajamas thanks to Caine :3

Circus Sleepover!

HI GUYS!! we’re almost at 100 followers so I wanted to go ahead and post some requests!! i’m so sorry about the lack of content lately!!

——————————————————————

The circus was hardly a place of community or relaxation.

The bright colors that left your (and everyone’s various eye/eyes) aching, the ringmaster’s effervescent persona blaring at all times of day…

The hustle and bustle of it all wore on every single member of its unwilling (and in Zooble’s case, un-participating) troupe more weary and disoriented than the last day.

But, the cast of wacky and zany characters found themselves united under one common goal: A sleepover in the coziest member’s pillow fort.

Ragatha, Jax, Pomni, Gangle, Zooble, and the titular Kinger sat in his oversized ‘impenetrable fortress’, each adorned in a different cozy and aptly assigned nightwear.

Ragatha, who was curled up happily on the eastern corner of the fort, wore her powder blue frilly nightgown with pride. It flowed down her plush frame with pale yellow ribbons to accent it.

Pomni was free from the trials and tribulations of her pesky jester hat, now sporting a red and blue striped silk shirt and plain pajama pants.

Jax snickered to himself as he grabbed Zooble’s arm part to scratch his back. After he had attempted (read as: tried to beg) Caine to let him go shirtless, he was stuck with a breathable shirt and sweatpants.

“Ugh! Give that back, dip[BINK!]!” Zooble hissed as they snatched the removable limb back. Zooble had on a graphic tee and shorts, while Gangle messed with her frilly pajamas.

Jax’s ears twitched as he watched Zooble pop their arm back into place. “Okay, okay. Are we getting this show on the road or what?”

“Oh, yes!” Kinger happily answered, only wearing a nightcap atop his chess head. He pulled out a small projector machine he had asked Caine for long ago.

As he flipped the switch to the ON setting, the pillow fort lit up with a starry display.

Galaxies, universes, planets..they all dotted the homey fort as the cast members gasped in awe. Purples and yellows danced across the plushy walls, comets swirled by Pomni’s head…

everyone was absolutely entranced. “Oh…it’s beautiful…” Gangle mused through her tragedy mask. She reached out a ribbony hand and stardust dotted the red paper.

Pomni nodded in agreement, her pinwheel eyes as wide as her sclera. “It’s..amazing, Kinger. It’s almost like..we’re really there.”

“…Really where?” Kinger murmured.

Pomni shook her head fondly, leaning it on Ragatha’s shoulder as the two watched with visible awe and wonder.

Gangle wrapped her ribbons around Zooble, also cozying in for the night. Zooble chuckled affectionately. “Do you plan to use me as a bed all night?”

Gangle smiled sleepily through her ever present tears. “You shouldn’t be…so comfy if I wasn’t supposed to…”

Slowly, one by one by one…the cast’s eyelids (or lack thereof) began to droop and close. Soft snoring filled the small igloo of pillows as sleep took over.

—-

The next morning, Caine appeared just as usual for his performers. He had a doozy of an adventure cooked today!

NPCS? Check. Daring and dangerous puzzles? Check. Existential dread? Double check!

Devoted and dedicated performers? Che-

Wait. Where were all of his delightfully dedicated donuts?!

He buzzed around with a frenetic energy. “Oh no! I need to find them! To have a show without a cast is unfathomable!”

He checked all around, searching every nook and even cranny to find his beloved billowy bulldozers. Until, finally, his heterochromatic eyes landed on the fort.

He adjusted his suit and tie, fixed his hat, and floated over. He gently pushed open the ‘door’ to the fort, peering inside.

His cast was soundly asleep. Everyone seemed to be cuddled (was that the right word? He wasn’t sure.) on top of each other.

He chuckled softly and warmly to himself.

“Sleep tight, superstars.”

_______________________________________

WE ARE BACK WOOO

i hope this didn’t take too long!!

reblogs are appreciated!! see you guys next time!!

[angel-writes-here]

Love You, Goodbye

Daesung x F! Reader Synopsis: How do lovers properly say goodbye? Warnings: SMUT, oral (both receiving) unprotected p in v (plz be smart) Angst A/N: If a part 2 is wanted, please comment and let me know💜 Requests are OPEN

You sat on the couch, nervously fidgeting with your rings on your fingers as the clocked ticked by slow as molasses. Daesung would be over after his show with a box of your things and then the two of you would officially say goodbye.

It wasn’t one person’s fault; you had just grown apart. Life got in the way as it often can and it just seemed that the two of you couldn’t find your way back.

You’re halfway to dream land when you hear a knock on your door. It’s a little after nine pm. You stand up, sighing as you go to open the door.

“Hey,” he said box in hand.

“Hi,” you purse your lips.

“You can uh, come in and I’ll grab your stuff,” your voice is quiet, solemn and defeated. He sets the box down on the table, little nic-knacks and a few picture frames sticking out of the top. Your feet pad down the hallway, every step feeling heavier and heavier as you get closer to the box.

Back in the kitchen, Daesung can’t hardly hold it together, as soon as your back turned he had to wipe a stray tear. Neither of you wanted this, but if you couldn’t find your way back, what was the point in chasing something that was already gone?

Daesung blinks back tears as he see’s you exist your room. He takes a deep breath. You hold the box out to him and he takes it. He glances inside it, noting some of his personal items like his hair brush and a couple of folded t shirts.

“Thanks,” his voice is the same as yours, weak, solemn and defeated.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly after a moment.

“’s ok.” You shrug but he can see it. He can see the desire in your eyes to fix it. The longing in them to try to keep something alive. But he turns to the door, the box under his arm as he’s about to turn the knob.

“Can I ask something of you?” He speaks just over his shoulder.

“Hm?” your voice cracks slightly.

“Would you dance with me one last time?” The request makes your heart swell, the two of you would always slow dance when you were together at his home or yours. It was your first date, having dinner at his house, and a soft, intimate dance in his living room where the two of you shared your first kiss.

“I’d like that,” you say quietly and he turns on his heel, placing his box down next to yours.

He turns on the stereo and a soft instrumental ballad plays.

He holds out his hand and you take it gently, his hand fit to yours like a glove. He pulls you to him, your bodies flush against one another, it’s not professional, hell its barely dancing. You more so sway to the beat with your arms wrapping around each other, holding each other for what feels the last time. Your head rests against his chest while his is on the top of your head. You feel a drop of something on the top of it and you hear the tiniest sniffle from him.

Instinctively, you hug him to you tighter before you look up at him, his eyes not yet puffy, but watery and you can see the stain from the tear on his cheek. He gives you the weakest smile you’ve ever seen. Another tear slips from his eye and your hand, as if it were muscle memory, goes to his face to catch it, wiping it away before it could fall from his face.

“You know,” he begins, voice soft and broken, “I had no idea the last time I kissed you,” he pauses for a brief moment, “would be the last time I kissed you.” You purse your lips into a thin line.

Slowly your hand goes to the back of his neck, and you softly tug him down, your lips connecting in a sweet kiss. Its slow at first, testing, until he deepens the kiss to a more intimate level. His lips are soft as satin on your mouth. His grip on your waist tightens and your hold on him is firm. Neither of you want to break away, because once you do, it’s over.

Your now breathing in between kisses, the ferocity of them becoming apparent.

“I want you,” he murmurs on your lips. You sigh from your nose in response.

“One last time, let me say goodbye properly,” he practically begs. You don’t say no, and he tests the waters by dipping his hands under your shirt, when you don’t move them, he continues.

“Wait,” you say finally having to pull apart from him.

“What?” he looks terrified that he’s done something wrong.

“Bedroom,” is all you say before you’re pulling him with you. He helps you remove your shirt, and you unbutton your pants as he discards his clothing, the two of you left in only your underwear. Your lips find their way back together and Daesung lays you down against the mattress.

He kisses down your body, slow, savoring and desperate. Its as if it’s an act of worship the way he runs his tongue over your skin. His tongue flicks over your nipples, each one getting its own personalized treatment. When one is in his mouth, the other is being rolled between his index finger and thumb. You writhe a little beneath him, his eyes are closed as he feels his cock strain against his pants. He leaves open mouth kisses down your torso, goosebumps popping up on your skin from his touch.

He kisses up your thighs, gently, patiently as you watch his every move. He places a kiss to your clothed pussy making you whimper softly. He smirks to himself as he hooks his fingers into the waist band of your underwear.

He pulls them off swiftly, tossing them behind him onto the floor. He looks over you in awe, his eyes tender and caring. Remorseful almost.

“Jagi,” he whispers as he takes in your bare frame. You blush under his gaze.

“God you’re so beautiful.” He says before he takes a finger and spreads your folds. His tongue flattens, hot and moist, slowly licking a stripe. You gasp at the contact, your eyes closing as the pleasure courses through you. He chuckles at you as his mouth attaches to you like you’re his last meal.

“Oh, fuck,” your hips jolt from the mattress as he adds two fingers into your wet hole.

“Oh God,” you gasp as he speeds his fingers up. You grind your hips against his face, wet sounds filling the room as he continues to mercilessly pump his two fingers in and out of you. Your hips are rolling meeting his fingers as they thrust.

“God you’re doing so well,” he groans as he watches how your body responds to him, his hips involuntarily rutting against the bed. He groans at the subtle shift on his cock. He feels your walls begin to clench around his fingers and he stick his tongue out and swirls it on your clit sending you over the edge.

“Oh fuck yes,” you moan out as you feel your orgasm take over your body. You pant, catching your breath as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean. You sit up, once you catch your breath, and kiss him passionately, your hands automatically going to the waist band in his pants.

You slowly begin to stroke him and he shutters, pleasure causing him to lose focus on your lips. His hips softly twitch forward into your hand and you smile, kissing his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

“Feel good?” you whisper before running your tongue along the shell of his ear.

“So fucking good,” he moans. You chuckle in his ear.

You remove his boxers, his cock springs out hard and leaking. You moan at the sight, causing his eyes to close at your noise.

“Be a good girl and wrap your pretty little mouth around it,” he whispers to you and you squeeze your thighs together at his words.

You kiss down his chest, fingers briefly ghosting over his nipples making his mouth hang open.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans as you kiss his v-line.

Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up each side before it does the same thing to the underneath of his cock. He chokes out a moan, as he feels your moist lips wrap around his head, the tip of your tongue teasing his slit and collecting his precum. His head pushes back against the pillow.

“Fuck,” he pants. He gathers your hair for you, helping you keep it out of the way. Your movements are slow as you sink your mouth down on him, wanting him to feel every single ounce of pleasure.

“Fuck baby,” he does his best to keep his hips still so he doesn’t make you gag, but he can’t help it, they shift forward, the sound muffled that comes from you.

“Fuck I’m sorry, but this,” he groans again as you slowly come up.

“Fuck this feels too good.” You pick up your speed, your head bobbing up and down repeatedly.

“Ah, fucking shit,” the pleasure in his body builds to a point where you can feel his thighs shake beneath your hands, his stomach muscles go taut and you see his face scrunch up and he lets out broken pants.

You go at a speed that you almost swear could break your neck and it’s not long before he unravels. His cum shoots down your throat, hot and warm.

“Fuck, he breathes out shakily. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, allowing the stars to disappear from his vision.

You swallow everything he gives you, gently kitten licking around his cock as to not overstimulate him too much, cleaning him up.

“Fuck,” he laughs breathlessly as he pulls you to him for another kiss. Your tongues mingle together, exploring each other’s mouths. He grabs a condom from the drawer.

“I want you, not that,” you whimper against his lips, your arousal already pooling in between your thighs again.

“Are you sure? We’ve never gone without one.”

“It’s our last time,” you say looking him in the eye, “I want to feel you, every long, thick inch.” You say and he takes a deep breath.

He sets the condom down on the table and obliges to your request, turning you on your back.

“You’re wish is my command,” he says before lining himself up at your entrance. Painfully slow he pushes in deep, letting you feel exactly what you said you wanted.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan as he fills you to the brim. The flesh to flesh contact warm, pleasant and exciting. He stills inside you, resting his forehead on yours. You feel him pulse inside you. He stares into your eyes for a moment, before lacing your fingers together, slow and deliberate strokes that cause your body to jolt upward on the mattress. Your eyes shut as your mouth hangs slightly agape from the feeling.

“Look at me,” he whispers as his hips speed up.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you force your eyes open.

“I want to see your eyes when you cum,” he tells you and you bite your lip as they roll back for a moment.

You whimper as he takes lets go of your hand. He puts it underneath one of your thighs, bringing it and your hip up slightly to give him better access while he still hovers over you.

“Oh God,” you whine as you feel it. Every thrust hits your g spot each time with precision.

“God, yes keep going,” he feels your walls clench around him and he whimpers at how tight it feels.

His curls start to bounce from the velocity of his movements, both of you feeling that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Baby I’m close,” you whimper as your hand goes down to rub inconsistent circles on your clit.

“Me too,” he pants out and with another thrust you feel it, the euphoria bursts through you, your back arches off the bed and Daesung isn’t far behind. He cums inside you, filling you to the brim with every last drop. He pants desperately as he comes down from his delicious high. He tosses himself on his back, both of your bodies are covered in a layer of sweat.

That’s when you feel it, the feeling that things between you are done. Really done. This was the last time you’d have him like this, maybe ever. Tears prick your eyes and he hears your small sniffle.

“Jagi?” he raises up a little to notice a stray tear.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers and pulls you to his chest.

“I love you,” you sob into his chest. He kisses your forehead with the tips of his fingers rubbing down your arm.

“I love you too,” he says glumly against your skin.

“But I have to go,” he says and you nod, wiping your face free of tears.

“Yeah, I-I know.” He hugs you to him one last time before slowly getting up to get dressed. He helps you get cleaned up, still taking care of you, and helps you get dressed again.

You walk him to the front door.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He murmurs. He dips his neck down one last time, your lips meeting for a sweet, intimate kiss. He sighs as he turns his back to you and walks down the hall.

“I love you,” you whisper as tears stream down your face.

Tags: @breakmeoff

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[lyragrayson4ever]

Spilled ink (Lyra x Grayson) (javery) (Max x Xander)

Max is telling a story that should absolutely be illegal, involving a city councilman, a flaming pastry, and a karaoke machine.

Avery and I are crying with laughter. Actual tears. I have glitter from Max’s eye makeup on my sleeve and lip gloss on my water glass. It feels like home.

I lean over to Avery and whisper, “If the apocalypse happens right now, at least we’ll go out chaotic.”

“You say that like you didn’t start half of tonight’s chaos,” Avery mutters with a smirk.

“She definitely did,” Max says, tossing a french fry at me like it’s a microphone. “Exhibit A: the twinkle in her eye.”

Grayson’s hand is tracing constellations on my thigh under the table. Warm. Steady. Dangerous.

“You’re plotting something,” he murmurs, low and close, mouth almost brushing my temple.

I glance at him. “I want to do something permanent.”

A beat.

“I’m listening.”

“Come with me. Now.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

GRAYSON

We slip out of the restaurant like shadows.

No announcement. No goodbyes.

She grabs my hand and leads me two blocks down to a hole-in-the-wall tattoo place with a neon sign that reads: Spilled Ink. It’s the kind of place that screams impulse decisions and forever at 2 a.m. It’s perfect.

“I have an idea,” she says, spinning to face me on the sidewalk. “We each write something—anything that reminds us of each other. We don’t show it. We give it to the artist. We then get it tattooed. Blind.”

I laugh. “Are you serious?”

“I’m completely serious. You in?”

“Lyra,” I say, brushing a hand over her jaw, “you could ask me to tattoo a grocery list on my back and I’d probably say yes.”

She beams.

We write. Trade. Don’t look. Hand them over.

While the artist preps, she’s bouncing her knee, practically buzzing. “You’re not gonna hate me if it says something totally unsexy like ‘bagel boy,’ right?”

I lean over, low and smug. “Oh, you think I’m bagel boy?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t write ‘absolute asshole .’”

“Touché.”

LYRA

When the artist reads the tattoos after it's done, my heart actually skips.

Grayson’s lyric on my skin: “I’ve had a list of lovers, but none of them matter to me except you.”

Mine on his: “You’ve had a long list of lovers, none of them matter to you except me.”

Same lyric. Same song. Sesame Syrup. Just flipped.

My jaw drops. “NO WAY.”

He blinks, then laughs under his breath. “You’re kidding.”

“I didn’t tell you to pick from that song.”

“I know. I didn’t either.”

We stare. Then burst out laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him.

“You’re mine,” he replies.

GRAYSON

We stroll back into the escape room like nothing happened.

Max is elbow-deep in puzzles. Xander has a spyglass and a monocle. Jameson’s interrogating a cardboard cutout.

“Where were you?” Avery asks instantly, clocking us like the bloodhound she is.

“We… took a walk,” Lyra says, way too innocent.

Max narrows her eyes. “You two snuck off. I felt it.”

I roll up my sleeve. “We got tattoos.”

Lyra follows, showing hers.

The room goes silent. And then—

“WHAT?!” Max screams.

“You left us for a TATTOO?” Jameson gasps like we betrayed the crown.

Avery blinks. “You didn’t even tell us?”

“We wanted it to be just us,” Lyra says, shrugging.

Xander reads the lyrics. “Wait. You both chose that? The same lyric?”

“But reversed?” Avery finishes, stunned.

Max puts a hand on her heart. “I need a minute. Maybe a drink. Possibly a movie deal.”

“Or a wedding invite,” Jameson mutters.

Grayson slides his arm around me, soft and smug. “Matching ink. Matching minds.”

I elbow him.

He grins, all wicked warmth. “Or what? You’ll make me get your name tattooed on my forehead next?”

Max screeches. “YES DO IT.”

Avery just laughs, bumping her shoulder into mine. “You’re insane. But that’s kind of why I love you.”

“Same,” Max chimes in. “Ride or die. Forever.”

I glance at the girls, at Grayson, at this whole strange, perfect night.

Some chaos is worth keeping forever.

[maethegay]

All Camp Game

Summary: it’s the all camp game but your girlfriend is on the other team. Your very competitive girlfriend. The problem with that is you’re just as competitive.

Warnings: kinda giving freaky (no smut tho), light cursing, use of baby, use of y/n like once

I was on blue team. So obviously the better team. But across from me I saw Morgan a streak of red painted across her cheek, a bandana notted around her upper arm and a sleeveless red shirt showing off her shoulders. A smirk also painted across her face. Excessive? Maybe. But damn. I mean DAMN she looked good. I looked better of course.

“You’re going down,” I mouthed to her. She rolled her eyes and looked at me with a look that said ‘you’re joking right’.

“You wish” she mouthed back. She flipped head down before pulling her hair into a messy bun. I’m not afraid to admit I stared the whole time. She looked good, you can’t blame me for that. I bit my lip looking at her and she smirked. Damn it. Caught. Again. For the third time. Today. 

“CIT y/n come here.” CIT Will called to me, I looked over at the floppy haired boy. I nod and ran over to him. He handed me a blue bandana which I tied around my waist. He used two fingers to wipe a strip of blue face paint from my eye down to my cheek. “Hell yeah that’s tough. If I was lesbian I’d hit that.”

I grinned at him before putting the paint on him. I quickly snapped a picture with my digital camera before shoving it in my pocket. 

“Cmon we have a game to win”

It was Fourth of July week. Debatably the best week of camp. And It was July 4th. Also know known as game day at camp. A very very important day for every session. The biggest show down to see which team is the best. Each kid gets drafted to red or blue team. And they compete in games all day. Including kickball, footrace, and most importantly the all camp game. 

The all camp game is also the most important game of the night. This years was like capture the flag. It was pirate theme week. So the game was called treasure seekers. Cheesy name? Maybe. But it will sure as hell be fun. Being a camp of 250 kids plus counselors you have to make it more intense. Every team has ten “gems” also known as painted rocks hidden around their territory that they have to protect from the other team. But there are also decoys. 

And you don’t just have to get the gem into your territory you have to get it all the way to your treasure chest without being caught. But you can pass them off.  There are also special jobs people have. For example LIT (leader in training, like baby CIT’s) are medics or scouts. Medic’s who can free a teammate every two minutes without being tagged. And scouts who gets planted on the other team secretly to find out where the gems are. Only problem if they get found out the other team gets 2 minutes to rehide gems. 

CIT’s like me are bombers or decoys. Bombers we can throw bean bags which freeze everyone near them for 5 seconds. But they only get to carry two bombs with them and only get a new one every 10 minutes. Decoys are the only people who can carry fake gems to distract. 

I was a decoy. So obviously the best position. But I had no clue what Morgan was. She didn’t tell me. Typical. But I lied about what I was, so I can’t say anything. All I knew is I’d have to distract her. I eyed Morgan across the field zoning out of the plan. There were five captains all CIT’s each in charge of a unit of kids. If it was one person trying to tell 100 Kids what to do. Will was with the other CIT’s deciding our game plan. 

“You got all that?” He asked me. I nodded even though I heard none of it. It’s intense capture the flag. How hard can it be?

I went over to my squadron of kids and told them my own game plan. Run fast, don’t drops the rocks, tag anyone in red. But not Morgan. Morgan is for me. 

the whistle blew and everyone was off. I sprinted through the back parts of the woods, then I saw it. A blue rock tucked under an old camp fire. Really no one guarding it? A hundred meters from no man’s land, it had to be a trap. But I didn’t let that stop me. I’m faster than any of these red team dorks. I sprinted forward sliding in to grab it. I quickly got back onto my feet and sprinted back into our side of camp. I heard the snap of twigs behind be. I looked back and saw 3 kids ages young teens chasing behind me. 

I grinned running through the trees to our treasure chest which was about 600 meters into the territory. Thank you mid-distance training for this endurance and speed. I sprinted into the deep part of our territory and dropped the blue rock into the chest. Boom. Suck it Morgan…I mean suck it red team. This isn’t just about me and Morgan. Just kidding. If I lose, I will never and I mean never live it down. 

Plus it’s the last year of camp. I cannot let her beat me this year. I’ve one every single year and that is not changing now. And to make it worse who ever lost had to wear the other teams color the next day at the camp talent show. No way in hell I will be doing that. 

Last year I almost let her win. Last summer we weren’t together, she had kissed me the first time ever. I had the last gem in my hand, but I dropped it. Luckily Jaidyn was there for my back up and we still won. If I had lost because of that stupid kiss… Well I wouldn’t be mad but trust me I would’ve been highly annoyed. 

I walked out to know man’s land since that was were the water and electrolytes were. I chugged a Gatorade cup and leaned against the tree. There was Morgan standing right in no mans land. Clenched jaw.

“Sucks to suck” I mouthed to her shrugging my shoulders. I smirked taking a sip from of water cup. Before crushing it between my hands and tossing in the trash. 

“Kiss my ass.” She mouthed back. She smirked and then sprinted into the our territory. What the hell? No break? I sprinted in past her considering our defensive line of 8 and 15 years old was not gonna stop a d1 athlete. Mother fucker. I thought.

“Hey” I found Morgan a half mile into our camp a red “gem” in her hand. She smirked at me. But she was tired I could tell by the way she breathed heavily and stood in a slouch. She was stalling.

“Hey” I said uncertainly inching closer to her. “Put the gem down and I’ll let you. You won’t have to be embarrassed by going to jail.”

“You really think I’ll fall for that?” She smirked tossing the rock between her hands. “Hell no”

“Worth a shot,” I darted towards her. I didn’t go for her hands where the gem sat so close to my reach. But instead I reached for her waist. I pressed my lips against hers and pushed her against a tree. Her breath hitched, but I didn’t give her a chance to catch it. I tried to keep it softly but Morgan is so addictive. Her fingers tangled into my hair. I pulled away. Even though I really really didn’t want to. “Tag” 

I whispered the second our lips detached. Her eyes darkened but she smiled and playfully shoved me off of her. 

“You bitch.” She placed her hands up and grinned “I’m not even mad. But I’ll get you back. You’re lucky I like you, or I’d destroy you.”

“You already do, just not in the field.”  Her face was red. Out of exhaustion or being flustered I don’t know.  She thinks she’ll

get me back? Funny. Jokes on her. She would, I guess. But that was all apart of the plan. 

                                  ~

Two gems left. One of ours and one of theirs. Almost everyone was stuck in jail. 10

Minutes left of the game. I had basically just been playing against morgan the whole game. I had tagged her 5 times and she had tagged me once. Embarrassing I know, I tripped on a rock, not my fault. She did miss it better through.

Any way. It was final count done time. Luckily me and Will made a plan just for this. Our scout had told us the last Gem was hidden all the way in the back of their territory.  Will and I stood crouched behind some bushes on our side. My skin was sticky with sweat and dirt caked my legs from falling. I had discarded my shirt a few minutes earlier. My skin itched from bug bites but there was no time to worry about that. I was about to win

“You gonna kiss her again or are you actually going to win this time?” Will asked as we watched the kid guarding the section we needed to get to run off.

“Hey we won last time. And can’t I do both.” I smirked at him the nodded towards the woods. We both took of sprinting through the nearly empty woods. We reached the gem I grabbed the gem tossing it to him. 

“Drop it.” Morgan said appearing in the clearing. Will and I turned around with matching smirks. I held up a finger signaling Mo to wait. Then placed my hand on Will’s shoulders I used the other to place my palm face up. 

“Leave this to us. If I don’t make it. Avenge me and beat these suckers on red team.” Will smiled and placed the rock in my hand. He walked past Morgan who didn’t even give him a second glance.

“Cmon baby, you know I’m not letting you out of here.” She said stepping closer. Her shirt was tucked up in her bra, messy strands of hair framed her face and she was flushed with red around her face. She looked beautiful.

“You sure about that?” I teased, stepping closer, I looked over to the left. Almost a clear path to my side. Her eyes followed mine. She stepped closer and grabbed my chin making me look at her.

“Tag,” she mumbled before kissing me. I let the rock drop. Morgan’s hands went behind my thighs lifting me up into her arms. I kissed her softly pushing my self into her. She detached her lips from mine and kissed down my neck.

“Mo..” I mumbled pulling her chin up. She looked at me hazy eyes drunk on my skin. I got myself free from her arms “You lose.”

Just then blue fireworks shot up into the air signaling Will had gotten the last gem back to our chest. Her jaw dropped she looked up then back at me then back at the sky.

“You’re kidding. Wha- how? What?” I picked up the rock from the ground showing the bottom was marked as a decoy. Morgan threw her head back annoyed. I grabbed her hands running my thumb over be knuckles.

“Hell yeah Will!” I yelled out, I got a hoot in response from no mans land. “Hey you technically did tag me though.” I joked looking at her, she looked at me with an annoyed expression.

“Yes. But you won.” My smile grew, she is just so easy to tease. I had to hear it again.

“What’s that? I what.” I cupped my hand ear leaning in to listen. 

“You won.” She grumbled and leaned in to kiss her. This time I felt her anger. She wasn’t kissing me for fun, she was kissing me to get her anger out. I’m also a great kisser. So you know. I cupped her cheek and brushed my thumb over it. Her lips were wet and sweet with the flavor of red Gatorade.  “Even though you lost you’re still a good kisser.”  I tease 

“God you are infuriating. You piss me up.” She said, her hands went under my shirt running her hands over my abs. I shivered I don’t know if it was from the cooling night or her touch. Probably the later but I kissed her back, I wanted to rip that stupid red shirt off of her. Unfortunately we were in a very public place and unfortunately Morgan wasn’t enough of a freak for that. Tragic I know.

“Ba-baby-ba” I tried to speak but was cut off my Morgan pressing her lips into mine. I pressed a hand into her chest holding her back. “Baby. We gotta go back.”

She groaned but let go of her hold on me, she looked at me with an annoyed expression.

“Oh don’t give me that. You will survive. And I will be getting my winners reward…later.” I offered my hand to her and she took it a grin on her face.

“What kind of reward?” She asked practically skipping next to me.

“You wearing my color tomorrow.” She looked at my with an annoyed expression “And…nothing tonight. If you can be patient.” 

“Oh I can be patient.”

[sakachichi]

Drabble!Choso

Thinking about you and Choso having a faceless onlyfans account that unexpectedly blew up lol. Originally it started as a joke, or like a test, to see if the money you make on there is worth it — times are desperate right now, moneys tight, any income is better than no income. It was a random Wednesday night, the two of you were sitting on the couch, talking about how expensive everything was these days — and as a joke you said, “we might have to make a OF, cuz from the looks of the world…” and the way he snapped his head towards you was shocking, you flinched, “I heard you actually make good money there.” He added, nodding and raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, but I don’t think we’re that desperate.”

Right?

Wrong!

A whole month later you guys are making thousands of dollars! It started off as just the OF account, then a twitter account, and then people started reposting your stuff, and then an instagram page was created. It went very fast, and you guys were financially stable for the rest of your lives. And it all started with one video — out of the several ones you’ve posted. You two had just came back from dinner, Choso was clinging to you more than usual, following you all over the house as you got ready for bed. You were washing your hands in the sink and he trapped you in between his arms, his breath fanning your neck as he breathed you in, taking in all your sweet perfume. “You smell so good, are you wearing the new one I just got you?” You nod smiling at him through the mirror, his hands creep down your thighs and under your lacy nightgown — fingers dancing around the fabric of your panties.

You smirk as you roll your eyes, knowing what he wants. Later he has you riding his dick, digging his face in between your tits — not getting enough of your perfume, leaving behind small kisses. Your fingers thread through his long black hair, head thrown back as he keeps digging sooooo deep inside you. Out of nowhere he hands you his phone on a tripod, already recording, “here — put this behind you, doll.” He says, watching you as you turn to angle the camera perfectly. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you down to lay flush onto him, lips connecting with yours as starts to thrust up into you. That nasty creamy squelch of your pussy colliding with his swollen balls fills the room in a beautiful symphony with your moans, giving the camera a lewd angle of your bodies. And when he cums he doesn’t stop thrusting, pushing his sweet seed deeper and deeper each time.

“Baby I-I don’t think I-“ you whisper into his ear, “give the people a show, c’mon, I know you can last longer~” Choso coos, caressing your hair back, looking into your dilated eyes. Moments later he peeks just enough over your shoulder to get a view of the camera, watching as he places a hand on your ass to spread you a little wider — the sight making him whimper. “I feel you, you’re close, cum for me doll.” And you do, it’s like he put you on a spell, making cum soooo hard. But he still doesn’t stop! It amazes you how much stamina this man has, both hands now spreading your cheeks apart, he has you jumping on his cock while he’s still thrusting his hips. “Ch-Baby! Fuckkk~” you gasp, feeling your essence gush from your cunt, you giggle as you watch Choso’s eyes widen.

The next morning Choso edits and posts the video, hours later you guys are trending on OF. Desperate times call for desperate measures ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[z0mbbiegvrl]

kenny x fem/gen reader

dating headcanons

✮⋆˙ KENNY MCCORMICK DATING HEADCANNONS

↳ pairings: kenny mccormick x reader (can be read for fem/gen)

↳ an: hope you enjoy this! kenny is my fav so it's cool i have a lot of requests for him!!

↳ cw: some suggestive ideas, but this is fluff

↳ mlist

It didn’t take long for Kenny to admit he liked you a lot. He noticed how different it was, realizing he didn’t like you in the way he just wanted to have sex with you, then move on, but he wanted to see you more, hug you, kiss you, see you smile, and take you on dates. (definitely still wants to sleep with you, but this time there’s no time frame)

Kenny is the type to act like the playboy of the school and has the reputation of one. Kenny usually goes for the girls who he knows have the same mindset as him, or he’s heard things about them, COUGH the ring episode COUGH. But when it comes to you, he doesn’t try to hook up; he instead goes back to his flirty ways.

When his flirting attempts work, he’s taken aback for sure, which flips a switch in his brain, and that whole playboy attitude is GONE. That’s when you’ll see him stutter, go red in the face, or go completely silent until he finally gathers up the courage to ask you out.

A BIG supporter of whatever you do, will spend his free time following you to practices if it’s that type of deal, go to your shows, games, whatever you’re doing he’s there without a fight. sometimes will just show up even if you forgot to tell him!

He works a lot, so expect a lot of late-night visits, but he never turns up empty-handed. If he’s working at a restaurant, expect him to bring you leftovers from the kitchen to share while watching movies. 

PDA CRAZED, but he will be blushing the moment you do anything back to him. Hand in your back pocket, hand holding his, arm around your shoulder, literally anything he can do to display you to the world, he’s doing it. But the moment you kiss his cheek before going your separate ways to class, he will blush and walk into the wall as he leaves. Practically, the factory resets him for a second.

To Kenny, there is no such thing as moving too fast in life; by your second date, he’s already planning for the long run. Breaking up isn’t even a thought in his mind (not in the Yandere way) when he plans out the future. His friends bully him for it, he just knows you’re it for him, even if something did happen, he’d always want you in his life because he cares about you a lot. 

LOVES LOVES loves, adventurous dates. The more fear-inducing of being kicked out, the better.

He’s super protective of you, no matter how late you two are out, expect him to walk you home each time. No ifs, ands, or buts.

weirdly super good at doing hair; learned from having a little sister. If you have a different type of hair texture, style, trust he will spend the time to learn how to do hairstyles to try on you! I just like quality time.

He’s very attentive; he can figure out something is wrong with you with a glance and immediately pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back. Or if that’s not what you like, he will find a way to calm down how you feel, and give you that silence you need, but he will insist on holding your hand. 

Obsessed with kissing you- I mean, it’s Kenny. He’ll lean in for a quick peck on the lips, see you smile, and go right back in for a much longer kiss. He’d be a sloppy kisser, though, not in the gross way, but he just tends to lazily kiss you if you two are lying together.

He’s very crafty with gifts. We know Kenny doesn’t have a lot of money, but he doesn’t use that as an excuse not to give you things. Most of his gifts are flowers he picked or stole from places- all have little love letters attached. Kenny isn’t at all afraid to sound cringe in those letters. 

Right away, he introduces you to Karen, and without any struggles, she loves you right away. If you go to Kenny’s house, she drags you away from Kenny to show you her new doll that Kenny had gotten her. Kenny doesn’t mind this; in fact, he is so content with it. His two favorite people are getting along. Though sometimes, he’ll pretend to feel lonely and pout until you give him attention, too. 

He’s a good cuddler. Yeah, he might smell like smoke all the time, but if you don’t mind, then cuddling is very peaceful for both of you. He unzips his parka for you to lie against his shirt before zipping it up again, making you stuck against his chest. 

Overall, Kenny is an amazing boyfriend!!

[lucydixon]

how do you think euro, faust, and pelle differ (and relate)when it comes to cuddling and showing affection for their partner?

Oohh, I like it. I think that the boys would each have very different affection styles and mannerisms when it comes to displays of affection and cuddling.

I don't think that Pelle actually enjoys cuddling all that much. Being that physically close to another person is overwhelming for him, and makes him hyperaware of every little thing, like the feeling of your sleeve touching his bare arm, and how the fabric is a little scratchy, but he doesn't want to move because you look so comfy and the last thing he wants to do is upset you, so he'll sit there and fixate on it until you realise just how stiff and uncomfortable he is and give him a little bit of space.

He's more of a hand holder.

The closest thing to cuddling that he enjoys is when you're both lying on your sides, just close enough that your knees brush up against each other. Your hands would be intertwined, resting on the mattress between you while you stared at each other in the moonlight or early morning sunbeams streaming through the windows, just as the sun is creeping over the horizon. Eye contact and hand holding feel more intimate to him than cuddling ever could.

That being said, Pelle would absolutely enjoy hugging and nuzzling the side of your neck with his nose at random times, scrunching it up cutely when strands of your hair tickle his face. I also think that pressing your foreheads together and staring into each other's souls would be a favorite pastime of his. He could sit there for hours, trying to read your thoughts and just enjoy being close to you.

I also think that he would bring you little gifts all the time. If he saw anything that reminded him of you, he'd scoop it up, shove it in his pocket, and just set it down in front of you the next time he saw you, immediately looking away. You'd have a collection full of little bones and rocks that matched the colour of your eyes that you cherished greatly. He'd draw things for you, too. All the time. Pelle would hold your hand and kiss you no matter where you are or who's watching. It makes no difference to him whether or not there are other people around. All he cares about is feeling that connection with you and he couldn't give less of a shit if the boys made fun of him for it.

Unlike Pelle, Øystein would want to be touching in some way 24/7.

When you're alone and nobody is watching, he can be so soft and cuddly. The second you crawl into bed, you're being pulled into his chest, and he'll hold you in those big, strong arms of his while pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You're sitting on the couch? He's got you in his lap before you can blink. Trying to cook? He's wrapped around you, hugging you from behind and kissing the side of your neck sweetly, then not so sweetly when he starts to get himself worked up...

Good luck getting out of your bed in the morning, because that man will cling to you in his half-asleep state, groaning and burying his face in your hair, trying to convince you to just stay in bed for a little longer.

Øystein would never call it cuddling or admit to enjoying it if anyone, even you, asked. He'd get all pouty and embarrassed about it, grumbling 'What? I can't just hold my girlfriend? We're not cuddling. Don't say that.'

When there are other people around and he feels like he has to play the part of Euronymous, he'd be more grabby and possessive so that everyone knows that you're there with him.

He wouldn't hold your hand. He'd prefer to keep an arm draped over your shoulders or his hand in your back pocket while you walk. There would be a lot of grabbing you by the belt loops and pulling you down to sit in his lap at bars or in the basement at Helvete. He'll sloppily make out with you and keep a hand on your ass or thigh at all times.

I think that Faust would be somewhere in the middle of the other two.

He would be very gentle with you when it comes to affection. This man would hold your hand all day, every day, and wouldn't want to let go for anything, but gets a little shy about being overly affectionate and soft around his friends, especially the ones he looks up to, like Euronymous. Don't get me wrong, he'll still hold your hand. He'll just clam up a little if anyone points it out, and his cheeks will warm into a rosy blush.

This does not in any way stop him from lifting you up to sit on the counter at Helvete and making out with you all the time. When he's kissing you, it doesn't matter who's watching or if they're making comments. He can't hear them anyway. Can't focus on anything but the feeling of your lips against his.

When Faust hugs you, it's a full-on, arms wrapped all the way around you, clutching you to his chest while his chin rests on the top of your head so he can smell your shampoo, type of hug. I think he's got a thing for smelling your hair. He'd constantly have his face buried in it, not only when you're hugging, but when you're sleeping or cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, too. It's almost compulsive. He'd get all embarrassed about it if you asked him what he was doing or if he'd really just sniffed your hair? You'd never be angry or annoyed, always smirking and poking fun at him for his strange fixation.

Faust would love cuddling. His favorite place in the entire world is to be cuddled up in bed or on the couch with you, watching his obscure horror films while taking breaks every so often to rub up on you and lazily make out.

One thing that I think all our boys have in common is that they all get so incredibly clingy and cuddly after sex. Even Pelle will wrap himself around you and not want to get up for anything.

They'll follow you around if the two of you can't stay in bed until you fall asleep, and be hanging off of you the entire time, being grabby and overly affectionate.

In their own ways, they're all completely whipped and mushy.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[mummgraenjoyer]

wonder where they're goin 😳

[tonycries]

We Neva Play!

Synopsis. Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, séx pollen, innappropríate use of jujutsu (like a LOT), pússydrunk Gojo, limitless, both are teachers, creampíes, oraI (fem), síxty-nine, banter, breaking the bed, FÉRAL Gojo, pússy-slappíng, BRÉEDING, spítting, reader’s CT mentioned, Yaga’s had enough, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.3k (cries)

A/N. Lacked Gojo in the manga so I present to you more Gojo <3

“Gojo, I will kill you before that curse can-”

“Aw, man!‘ Yuji whines over Nobara’s cackles, reluctantly slapping a few thousand yen onto her outstretched palm. He thuds his head frustratedly against the cool vending machine they were crouched behind, “That was rigged!”

The girl scoffs, counting her hard-earned winnings victoriously, “I told you they wouldn’t even make it until the school gates before fighting. It’s not rigged, it’s common sense - not that you’d know anything about it.” Satisfied, she sneaks a look over the side of the machine at the shrinking backs of you and a too-happy Gojo Satoru. “Besides, we’ll get a rematch soon enough. My money’s on her, double or nothin’.” 

“You really think they’ll kill each other before the mission is over?” Yuji muses, eyes locked on Gojo’s infamous smirk - only widening the closer he drives you dangerously towards an aneurysm. “I bet-”

“No.” Megumi’s deadpan interruption startles them both. And as much as he’d like to pretend he wasn’t cramped with the two idiots stalking their squabbling teachers, he unfortunately, very much, was. “I bet ten thousand yen they kill each other before the mission is over. Or worse - end up dating.”

---

“A love hotel.”

“A love hotel~” Gojo echoes, with a hand clutching faintly at his chest. Swooning over you with each word, “Now, usually you’d have to take me out to dinner first, but for you I will make an except- mmpf-”

Now, Gojo knew he could’ve easily blocked your attack - hell, he didn’t even have to bat an eye to activate limitless. But where was the fun in that? Giving into your elbow digging sharply into his side, he’s only cackling at your venomous words, “I could take down both you and those special grades, y’know?”

“Oh yeah?” he hooks a long finger underneath his blindfold, showing off that infuriating wiggle of his snowy brows. “If you’re so great, then why did Yaga have you assigned with me, pretty girl?”

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples, “Only because someone-” And oh, if he had the most renowned eyes in all of jujutsu, then you had the most withering glare. “-completely skipped out on his last mission to stuff his face with sweets, n’ now I’m wasting my time babysitting. So this time, I’m in charge.”

Ah, a woman after his heart - in more ways than one, for sure. 

“Yes, ma’am~” 

Dramatically, he mimics the zipping of his lips shut, readily following you towards the flashy building standing out amongst the bustling Tokyo street. Walls painted such a suggestive pink, neon lights flickering special discounts at passersby - it would have almost been scandalous to be caught outside such an obvious love hotel such as this - if it hadn’t been for the mission, that is. 

“Didn’t think our first date would be at a love hotel.” he chuckles as soon as you reach the gaudy, perfumed reception. And that flickering, wide-eyed stare of the woman behind the counter is enough for Gojo to prattle on, “Now, tell me what room you want, honey-” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, you’re pressed helplessly against his toned front. “-they’ve got candy-themed, anime-themed- oh, they’ve even got a train station-”

“Best to keep our train station fantasies to ourselves-” You simper, subtly stepping on his foot with your own, but that only topples you against him. Instantly, another strong arm snakes around your waist to support your weight, as if second nature, “-isn’t that right, dear?”

And you swear, you could spot a tiny dimple when the ends of his mouth curl even wider into a saccharine sweet grin. “If my memory serves me right, you were the one that dragged me here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shivers run down your spine - ones he runs the soft, rounded pads of his fingers up and down along. You’re sure you looked like a disgustingly loving couple to the poor lady working at the counter. And to put her out of her misery, if anything, you recite, “A-anyways- apologies. Room 143, please.” Managing to plaster on a weak smile, it only falls flat when the receptionist hands you your key - and two complimentary condoms along with it. “I- uh- thank you?”

And it’s all you can do to not just shove off the 6’3 thorn at your side when he steers the two of you to the elevator with a disbelieving, “Only two?” 

Though, you’re sure it wouldn’t do much against him, anyway. It never has - because ever since you’d stepped foot through Jujutsu High’s towering gates as its newest teacher, Gojo Satoru seemed to make it his mission in life to get on each and every single one of your nerves. The only mission he’d willingly do, mind you. Insisting on interrupting your classes, hiding you little sweets in your office, pushing your buttons in front of-

“Well, that went as inconspicuous as ever.” Gojo hums, reeling you out of your little reverie. “Of course, it did, thanks to me.”

“‘Inconspicuous’ my ass.” you groan, hastily punching in the ground number for your room. Yaga had said that the veil was already completed around the entirety of the curse-infested floor by now, good - the faster you could get away from Gojo, the more intact your sanity would be. “If it wasn’t for me smoothing things over, she’d be filing a complaint against the sleazy man in a bad Kakashi cosplay at this very moment.”

“Hey! I didn’t see you putting on any Oscar-worthy performances. And my Kakashi cosplay is gre-”

DING!

The elevator doors open to a seemingly normal, barren hallway - not a hair or person out of place - though, you knew better. And as much of a fool as Gojo acted, he did, too. 

His steady arm drops from your side when you stretch out your limbs in preparation - shit, you forgot it was still there. “Watch and learn, Gojo.” you hum.

“Hell yeah, I’m watching.” 

A beat of silence. Two. 

With his thick blindfold, Gojo’s expression was almost indescribable - but your skin prickles with the slow, sultry sweep of his eyes down your figure. But before you can snap back at his loaded tone, it happens- “Don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

Curses burst out of the fourteen heavy, wooden doors along the narrow corridor - some small, some big, all crushed easily under the power of your cursed technique. And neither of you had to utter a word to know you’d both be trying to best the other. 

You’ve got one slobbering mess of a curse trapped underneath your heel, locked in combat when Gojo calls out from somewhere across the hallway. “Still stuck on that grade one?” Your jaw ticks, pressing the curses face deeper into the carpeted floor of the bedroom, “I’ve already located one of two special grades- better keep up.”

Fuck, curse him and his six eyes. 

Not wasting any more time, you easily exorcize the remaining curse, feet carrying you door after door. Most of the infestation had been cleared out by now by the both of you, splatters of red and limbs lining along the hallway - you only felt bad for Ichiji having to organize a clean-up after this. 

The next time you saw Gojo’s flash of cerulean eyes was from outside another bedroom. Goading, “Heh, need a little help, Gojo?” 

“Oh fuck-” he wraps two arms around the special grade’s flowered horns. Powerful legs bowed, cloudy hair mussed, blindfold dangling somewhere around his neck - he was beautiful. And it was fleeting moments like this that you held an ounce of begrudging respect for him. Ripping those offending appendages, “-off. Roughed up the other special grade for ya since you were so slow, sweetheart - consider it a lil’ gift for this date.”

“Oh, fuck you-”

In the midst of it all, Gojo still manages to flutter his long lashes your way, “Well, we are in a love hotel, after all. Just say so if you wanna get those pretty hands on me.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Earth, Gojo Satoru.”

His loud bout of laughter follows you to the final hotel room - 143, coincidentally. It was decadent, almost-spotless - had it not been for the towering curse hunched over in the middle. You could tell that Gojo had been here, because its pink, scale-like skin was already bruised.

You slam the door shut behind you, better to keep the property damage to a minimum. Hastily getting into action - it wasn’t anything new, after years of exorcizing curses you’d grown used to predicting their pattern of attack. But it was only after a pressurized, finalizing punch of yours lands right on the curse’s thumping neck that you find yourself growing weary. Cautious of the tiny, red flower that’d sprouted out of thin air on its skin. Immediately, you think back to Hanami, because it was blossoming - unnaturally fast - petals unraveling to explode in sparkly pollen-

Shit. Your head whirled, eyes watery at the heady scent, “Wh-what the fuck-”

It takes only that split-second of distraction before more blooms pop! pop! pop! all down the curse’s figure. It just heaves with fatigue when they all burst out the same powdery substance from before.

“Fuck- what is this-” your thighs clench together, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. You stagger back towards your opponent, and it seems this last-ditch Hail Mary caused more damage than good. Because the curse was lethargic, barely even flinching when you’re back to pummelling it with your cursed technique. Again. And again and again-  “-if only you’d taken to making perfumes- instead-”

It falls to the ground with a last ringing screech, the flowers withering away instantly. 

But the damage was done.

And you’d never felt so drained - even after your most difficult of missions. Never sinking down onto your knees this way, skin heated, mouth salivating. The air in the room was just thick with something so delicious - syrupy, with hints of pine and cherry - traitorously, you find yourself inhaling deep, addictive lungfuls of the scent. 

“Smells so-” your brows furrow, digging a hand into the plush bed beside you to clamor back onto your feet. “Smells like-”

Gojo. 

Your entire body jolts with something so dark - visceral, gasping when you feel your underwear just drench. Mind such a melty mess filled with only Gojo Gojo Gojo - and before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the door-

Bang! 

The aroma only grows heavier near the door, blood thunders in your ear at the deafening crash from outside. Shit, had you locked the door- 

Bang! Bang! BANG-

Fuck, neither of you were making it out alive. 

It’s the first clear thought headlining through your mind for the first time in what feels like ages - only several, syrupy-slow seconds later does it follow up with the realization that you’re now standing face-to-face with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Who looked absolutely crazed right now - teetering unsteadily on his feet, his head was bowed, fingers trembling. The mahogany hotel door in mere splinters under his hands.

“F-forgot you could teleport?” It comes out a yelp - pained, almost - and the very first note of your strained voice is enough to have his entire, powerful body wracking with a gasp. Goosebumps pricking along his milky skin, he finally - finally raises his eyes.

Shit, he’s finally lost it.

Because Gojo’s gaze was burning, lids hooded, dark pupils blown so wide that his eyes looked almost black. He didn’t look at you with that usual teasing glint, no, he looked like he was going to rip you apart. Twitchy, drinking in a shaky, drawn-out gasp of the scented air. You almost had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade masked as your coworker. 

But it’s real - it’s so, so real and you can’t deny it when he’s baring you with such a vicious grin. Plump lips pulled back to show off those glinting canines, “You.”

“Satoru.”

His lips are on yours - pressing and pressing so hard you were sure it bruised. But fuck- you’re kissing back - because how could you not? The candied seam of his mouth was addictive, breathing you in like his last breath of fresh air.  

“Kiss me-” he spits into your slack mouth, as if he wasn’t already. Two hands surging forwards to cup your cheeks even deeper, “Kiss me kiss me kiss- fuck-” That last little swear almost comes out as a whimper, and you can only keen when Gojo wraps his pretty lips around your tongue, sucking lewdly. “Y’smell so sweet- taste so sweet-”

“Sa-t-toru-” you’re managing out. It just then hits you how weak your knees have gotten, sinking down to straddle his muscular, jutted-out thigh. It makes him throw his head back when you’re just dragging your hips in a long, languid stripe. “Look what you’ve- what you’ve gotten us into.”

Pulling away to lick lazily up, up, up your neck, his teeth bite just at your thundering pulse. “Me?” he hisses out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m the one fuckin’ responsible for this?” It almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “I’m responsible for this-” And his startling eyes sink down to the darkening wet patch on the middle of his leg, your flimsy panties sticking to his uniform. “-am, I?”

“Yes.” your defiant fingers are trailing down the hem of his shirt, ripping apart those buttons in hasty, urgent tugs until it was off completely. “If only you hadn’t half-assed it with this special grade then-”

Gojo huffs out in humorless laughter into your lips - the same one he’d give a persistent little curse, and it makes your hairs stand on end. Wondering how high the kill count would really be. In the hundreds? Thousands? “I thought you were supposed to be the babysitter, huh?”

Millions. 

“And aren’t you the strongest?” A trembly hand of yours ventures its way down his flexing body - down, past those plush pecs, past his flinching abs, dipping teasingly just above where you could feel the hiking tent in his tight pants. “How did you end up this hah- bad?”

You’re holding back a groan at the long, solid inches straining to break free of his thick fabric, you could feel the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing length under your palm. Fuck, water was wet - Gojo Satoru, unfortunately, had a big di-

“You.”

It’s low, ragged - so quiet that for a second you think you almost imagine it. 

“You.”

His lips are sagging open once more, greedy gaze widening - and you knew it was glowing now. Tiny flickers of blue lightning flickering at the ends of his eyes with every mindless gyration of your palm down his bulging, clothed shaft.

“It’s all because of you.” 

Yeah, you would be lucky number one on his kill count when he breaks - or maybe he would be on yours

Your back is hitting the mattress, and the buttons of your poor uniform are hitting the velvety floor - absolutely nothing against the strongest, who was now tearing through your clothes the same way he was ripping apart those curses from before.

Shit- did he teleport you two?

“Don’t know-” Gojo pants out feverishly, and at that moment you weren’t sure if you’d simply babbled your thinking out loud or whether he could read your mind. “Don’t- don’t know- fuuck.” Low, feral groans crack at the back of his throat with each inch of your exposed skin, and before you know it, he’s surging forwards into the naked valley of your breasts. Breathing you in so filthily, “Just know that I need you- fuck m’gonna fuckin’ kill someone if I don’t-” 

Each spat out little word is punctuated with an intoxicated push and pull of Gojo’s hips. Angrily rutting in-between your thighs until it was just a clingy, syrupy mess of slick and precum between you two. 

“Oh-” your lips drop into a soft gasp, reaching out your fingers to smear a sinful sheen down them. It glosses all the way to your wrist with each newly beaded wave of his precum. 

It feels so dirty the way you’re pushing the very tips of your fingers into your mouth. Gojo can only look - can barely even breathe when you slur, “You taste so good, too, Toru.”

Oh, that was it.

Gojo Satoru had finally thought he was getting control of his sanity - he finally thought the effects of that cursed technique were wearing off. But now - at that little nickname - he feels something snap. The lamp on your right bedside table shatters.

And usually, Gojo’s taunting was tinted with a little laugh, an inkling of fondness in them - but right now they sounded pained. Wrenching out of his broad chest, “Fuck you. Need you- do you know what you’ve done.”

Your useless skirt - along with your soaked, see-through panties - are ripped off of your squirming body. And for once in his life, he’s speechless - eyes almost bulging out of his skull, nails digging into the plush of your thighs. 

Your clothes end up in a pile of sad tatters on the floor, and you felt a strange inkling that maybe you’d end up much the same. 

Smack!

Two, large fingers slap down harshly right on your drooling cunt, slobbering down a glistening coat of your pretty juices down his wrist. “Pay attention.” He’s pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neglected nipples, your stomach, down, down, down in a flurry until the very tip of Gojo’s nose was nudging at your pulsing clit. “Because if m’losing control I need you to stop me.”

The dim hotel lights flicker when Gojo meets your cunt in a sultry, self-indulgent kiss. And through it all, one thing burns into your dizzy mind - his eyes. Maddened, gleaming with slight blue cursed energy in-between your legs. 

“Oh.” you’re gasping at the sheer burning stretch of your thighs being pushed to their limits. Gojo didn’t need that much space - he just loved the way you whined. “You’re s-so much better when you shut- hah!”

His tongue shuts you up by flicking harshly over your puffed-up clit, letting your syrupy juices slide their slow way down his eager tongue. “There we go- good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Hah- all it took was some shitty curse to get you hah- honest like this f’me, huh?” 

“Don’t act like- ngh!” you’re barely able to drawl the words out, which makes him grin a dangerously content grin. Sharp teeth clenching teasingly around your angry clit, throbbing and slicked glisteningly with his spit, “Don’t act like I’m the only one- this way- hah-”

It was true - every hollowed-out suck on your needy clit had him grinding onto the mussed-up mattress. Those silken sheets hiking up with every drag of Gojo’s weepy erection down onto the bed - imagining you underneath him. It wasn’t enough - it never will be. 

That realization was enough for him to break out into a drunken grin, hot tongue smearing open your folds over and over- “Yeah? What about it? Does it scare you that I want to fuckin’ break you, sweetheart?”

He was crazed. 

Dangerous. Depraved. 

“N-no-” you give such a harsh pull on his soft strands, he’s leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. Looking for the life of him so used - you just knew there’d be thousands that would kill to see the strongest so fucked-out, ear blearily blinking open, flushed your favorite shade of pink up to his cheekbones, mouth chasing those thin spit strands to your glossy pussy. “Jus’ think s’unfair how I’m the ah- only one havin’ fun right now.”

You’re shutting up his pussydrunk protests about how he is having fun and to “please, please, please don’t stop” by crashing your soft lips against Gojo’s. Wrenching him upwards, he lets himself be so used. 

“Need you-” you’re gasping, biting into his pouty lower lip. Nosing slowly up his bobbing Adam’s apple, you gasp in that heady combination of pine and candied cherry. “Wanna see if you hngh- taste as good as you smell right now.”

“No fuck- fuck you.” he hisses, wrangling you to straddle his angrily fidgeting hips. 

Running a hand down to fumble with his metallic belt - already loosened. But you don’t have the patience - or the sanity - for that right now, because you’re tugging, shredding. The tell-tale buzz of jujutsu fizzing at your fingertips when you tug down the entirety of Gojo’s pants. Kneading the soft peaks of your palm over that sensitive divot on his head, “Who’s fucking who?” 

“Me.” And there’s another smack! to the heated place of your cunt, Gojo’s own fingertips having you see stars with his power. 

He takes the distraction to just drag you upwards like some ragdoll, easily maneuvering you around. “Turn- turn around f’me- thaaat’s right, fuck-” You’re jostled until your shaky thighs straddle either side of his head, puffed-out pants condensing hotly against your cunt. Your own coming face-to-face with the fat head peeking out from the hem of Gojo’s boxers. Head swimming with how angrily pink he looked, already winking with a drenched sheen of precum up at you. “Arch that cute back a lil’ more- lemme see.”

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders to catch the fucked-out grin on his lips, dragging his tongue out to lap up every bead of your sweet sweet juices, he tilts his pliant head back against the pillows to let it slide down his bobbing throat. “Y-you’re really that pussydr- hngh!” 

Another branding smack! leaves you gushing even more down his tongue. “Yeah, s’what I fuckin’ thought.” he spits out a thick wad of spit into your messy cunt. Gliding his wet fingers over the dripping mess that puddles onto the his chest below. “-can’t even run your mouth- so desperate f’me. Taste so good-” Using his inhuman strength to haul you down onto his pretty face.

Before he knows it, he’s slotting the thin tip of his tongue past your quivering hole. Taking him so greedily, the elastic ring of muscle stretches all around his form, clamping down as if to milk something delicious. 

And Gojo knows - he thinks with whatever’s left of his rationality that maybe he should slow down, take a second to fuckin’ breathe. But, no, he’s making out with your ravaged pussy like he’s angry he hasn’t done this before - way back when he first met you.

A slender fingers pushes past your swollen folds to curl deftly into your gummy cunt, molding up into that easy divots at your walls. He’s feeling around so depravedly for your g-spot, aching to make you feel just a drop of the sheer need he does. 

“Fuck!” Your velvety walls come crashing down around his fingers, knuckle-deep inside your ravenously swallowing cunt. Only getting faster - dipping perfectly to press up against your spongy sweet spots. Shit, he really was good at everything, huh? “You’re so…”

“What was that?” Gojo’s tittering, “Can’t hear you over your cute cunt, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer - you don’t need to, because all the breath in his lungs exhale out in a low cascade. Hiccuping around your candied clit when you take Gojo’s thick, weepy tip just past your lips. Wrapping just around the sensitive slit, it makes him gasp, it makes him keen, it makes him spit out some sloppy swears into your cunt.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over my cunt, Toru–” you bat your lashes, humming around his velvety head. Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have taken longer admiring him.

Because he was so massive, so pretty with prominent veins thumping at the roof of your mouth. Girthy, rotund end a throbbing red, gradiating into a creamy pink that meshed in delicately with those neat tufts of white at Gojo’s toned pelvis. So delicious. Big enough that you were already wondering just how you were going to walk out of this bedroom - if either of you are in a walking state - or even alive - that is. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” his mouth refuses to part with your puffy pussy lips, even if it was to talk back to you. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ think this is-”

The new angle has his sharp jaw grinding up into you, jostling your body up and down all over his face. He’s whining - heaving - at this point with every sultry swirl of your soft tongue around his twitchy head. Coating down every inch of your silky soft mouth with a hot sheen of precum, he tastes so good on your tastebuds - slightly salty, with a tinge of something so sweetly Gojo. 

Powers acting before him, he doesn’t even realize it before he cheats - just a little. Eyes burning with power when Gojo uses his six eyes to plunge scarily accurately into the plushy bullseye of your g-spot. Greedy fingers hitting it again and again and-

“Satoru!” your scolding tone has his globular tip twitch ferally into the back of your throat. “That’s not- I can feel your jujutsu, y’know. S-so-” 

“What? Good? Heavenly?” Gojo rattles off. You’re fucking your drooling pussy back into him - you can’t stop the mindless, shallow little grinds in an attempt to meet his mean pace. “Never said anythin’ about a jujutsu ban, pretty- you’re sounding like a sore loser to me.” As if on cue, your cunt is gushing out in more silken sweet juices all down the lower half of his face, squelching so obscenely. His droopy eyes admire your glistening cunt, riding his face to his insanity. “Well- not this cunt, of course, in fact- I think she’s gonna cum.”

He didn’t have to tell you - you already knew, with the trembling in your thighs, and the white-hot pleasure stemming from his incessant making out. Without answering, you only swallow up a few more solid, rock-hard inches of his painfully hard cock, lips stretched obscenely. 

“Y-yeah- fuck, now I definitely know you’re close, pretty girl-” he’s lolling out his tongue to let you drag your pussy across harshly. “Don’t be stubborn- cum f’me,” Rough patches of his tastebuds massaging you just right, fingers still pumping recklessly. “Cum f’me- please. Wan’ it on my tongue- want you- want you to use me- please.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re finally cumming, fucking your high over and over Gojo Satoru’s pretty face. He’s wrapping a free hand around the small of your back, just crashing you back into his drunk mouth over and over and–

“F-fuck, Toru–” you whine, toes curling with each crashing wave of pleasure. It was so violent - so dragged-out, like no orgasm you’ve had before. And you didn’t know whether it was because of the technique or the lazy drag of Gojo’s mouth all over every beading inch of your pussy. Your fist tightens around the thick, heated base of his cock, “Need- need you to-”

“No. Fuck-”

In the fleeting millisecond it takes you to blink, your front is being pushed back onto the now-damp sheets again, a grinning Gojo hovering over you. He looked so ruined - smile gleaming with your trickling, dripping precum, eyes crazed. Suddenly, you almost understand why every breathing thing fears him - almost. His eyes were blazing, flushed angrily. “I’m burning- think m’gonna die if I don’t fuck this cunt right now. Fuck-”

“Havin’ to use your powers for everything?” you’re quirking a brow over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the only reason you brag about being so hah- good in bed is because of that?”

He’s narrowing his glowing eyes, tiny sparks of lightning flying furiously, “Ohhh s’that a challenge, sweetheart?” Gojo’s sharp canines tug on your bottom lip, and you moan into the messy clash of a kiss - all spit and teeth and the taste of you two. “Tell me.”

“So what if it is?” you’re managing to push back against his slender waist. “Without those stupid powers, m’the better…”

Whatever insult was on the tip of our tongue dies down at the glint of the foil in his hand - the condom from before. That tiny square looking so pitiful held between two fingers, “The receptionist gave me an XL, funny, right?” Gojo murmurs, so dark. “Such a shame it won’t fit.”

One daring glance downwards proves him right - because Gojo was sitting so heftily sandwiched between your swollen folds. Painfully beading needy pearls of translucent precum all over your front - fuck, your cockdrunk self from before didn’t recall him being so large. Big enough that you were sure any rubber would be on the verge of shattering into little pieces.

So then go in raw- you think. But before the words can tumble out of your mind, he’s giving a slow, slippery slide on your cunt, “S’alright- with these ah- ‘stupid powers’ m’still gonna get a taste of this pretty cunt.”

And then you can’t breathe - fuck, you can’t even think straight.

You feel like you’re being split-apart, because Gojo’s just barely pushing in the fat, round girth of his head. Managing to pop in his long shaft past that sensitive slit, before his body starts moving in hurried, impatient little grinds. Frantically trying to squeeze himself in deeper- “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, even with limitless you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Limitless - fuck, that’s what it was. You could feel the slight pinch of the pressure around your body, the way he was reaching in so deep inside your velvety cunt despite not even being halfway inside yet. 

“Satoru-” 

“No-” his flickering eyes bore deep into yours. “Not that- call out f’me properly now, I know that smart mouth of yours can do it.”

Your words are barely a whisper, “Toru–”

The remaining lamp at your left goes out - cracking into tiny shards. And that’s all it takes for him to push and push in, distantly, Gojo knows he should slow down, maybe give you a second to relax - to think. But he could feel his sanity dancing away with every fucking inch fed into your sopping wet pussy, your elastic walls contorting to massage every ridge and vein of his so heavenly. Fuck- he’d fight a thousand more of those special grades just for another taste of this feeling. 

“Oh-” Gojo’s jaw hangs slack when he finally bullies past that feeble resistance of yours. The very top curve of his head nudging deeply in a glissading glide down your spongy cervix, heavy balls kissing against your ass. 

He lets himself be pulled, used like some filthy toy when your hot tongue cranes to lap up the trail of drool down the corner of his drunken mouth. 

“Wanna feel you-” you’re gasping through each thorough, steady ram into your snug channel. “Wanna feel all of you.”

Another memorable slap! resounds through the heady air, sending sparks exploding behind your lids. “Heh- s’this your way of hah- having me stop using my powers?” he chuckles. “I’m onto your dirty, dirty tricks, y’know.”

Truly, he wasn’t. Gojo didn’t think he had enough of his brain unfried to even contemplate that right about now. But it was just so much fun to watch you mewl in protest, your cunt dripping even further down his twitchy balls with each taunt. 

“Please- fuck m’burning up-” you spit. “Scared s’gonna have you c-cumming early?”

As a punishment - or maybe a little reminder about who really was the strongest, Gojo infuses his next sharp smack on your clit with an ounce of his jujutsu. The curve of his thumb gliding over in tiny circles to soothe over the buzz, “Talk to me when you can say “cumming” without hngh- stutterin’-”

“Talk to me when you-” Growling into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do right now to bow his hulking body even deeper into yours, kneeing apart your stutteringly closing thighs. There’s a sloppy, milky ring forming where your folds kept smacking repeatedly against the sharp lines of his pelvis, “-can fuck me without your limitless going haywire.”

Fuck- fuck, how he wanted to prove you wrong. To have you crying out for mercy.

But Gojo’s throat drags out in what almost sounds like a cry when his limitless flickers on and off - just for a second. The mere touch of your slippery soft walls around his hot cock making him just slam down an arm on the headrest. It breaks - shattering into tiny wooden pieces, though, neither of you notice right now. 

He’s maneuvering the two of you so easily to push you onto your back. Stuffing your gaping entrance back full again, this time throwing your limp legs onto his broad shoulders to pummel you in such a mean mating press. Just the sight of your fucked-out, pretty face has his ragged breath hitching, “S-sweetheart…” 

Whatever answer you give is tangled up in Gojo’s drunken tongue, lapping at your words. His cock feels so heavy, so hot shoving between your legs. And the stretch - fuck, the stretch was something you’d always remember. Stretching out that tight hole into the very girth of his shaft - all the way down from his leaky, flinching head to the thick circumference of his hilt. “I don’t think I can- fuck, can I feel- please, m’dying to know what this cunt feels like-”

Your nails rake down the pale display of his back, those red, red jagged lines making him rut even deeper into you. “Do it then-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh.

Fuck. 

It’s like something shatters - maybe limitless, maybe his restraint. Because Gojo’s eyes just fall shut in pure ecstasy, aching cock growing even larger inside you - as if that was even possible. Expanding tautly at your walls, he’s forming you so sinfully around his shape. 

“Oh-oh– fuck you feel- how the fuck do you feel so good?” His free hand dips down to roll a depraved thumb over the nub of your neglected clit, catching on your bulgingly-stretched folds. “Holy shit- think m’gonna pass out- think m’gonna die.”

“Hah-” your back arches up sluttily into his around the fifth consecutive time his rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, fingers buzzing with electricity at your clit. “You’re s-so weak-”

But it didn’t matter, did it? Because all you could do was hiss out a few wet gurgles into Gojo’s mouth, blinking in the sinful sight of him with his eyes so hooded, cheeks burning with a scorching blush, mouth dangling so addictively open while he sucked your tongue. Like he didn’t even realize what he was doing - how each pressurized thrust into your gummy pussy had the lights overhead flickering, sparks of blue lightning bolting from the corners of his mouth at the same sloppy staccato as his hips. How it made you cum. 

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body. Convulsing up over and over into his weighty body, “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” 

Crack! 

And then it’s dark.

Hell, Gojo barely even realized when he does, too, shooting out creamy white ribbon after ribbon of seed with a soft, shuddering gasp of your name. And it’s the only thing on his usually-sharp tongue - voice cracking pathetically, when he whines it like a little mantra over and over and-

“Oh-” his five, long fingers splay out across your lower stomach - right where he could feel his own cock twitching wildly at the very bottom of your gooey pussy. Pressing down, hard. “Oh shit- just look at how you’re painted white from the inside-”

The lights were gone out - in all the wards of Tokyo, actually - and yet in the light of the slight flickers of electricity surrounding you two, you could spy the slow, syrupy glob of his cum down your thighs. Coating his hilt in a milky gloss, it sticks to the two of you like a sloppy second skin. “And you expect me to- hah- not go insane.”

You manage out a wet chuckle, too tired to notice how the bed was missing a headboard now. How all the furniture in the hotel room was trashed - as if it’d been slammed down from several feet above. “Hah- b-blame it on the sex pollen.”

The technique has him cumming more than usual, every new wave sloshing at your insides is followed by another - and another until Gojo’s cock felt so raw. Twitching sensitively in a way that brought big fat tears pricking at his eyes, and yet, he still fucks you so harshly into the mattress. Sucking out every remaining dredge of seed in those fat, cum-filled balls thwacking! at your skin. Sloppy. Depraved. Oh, he looked so ruined - like a man that crawled back from death, only to drag you down with him. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gojo drags his swollen lips down your earlobe. Voice shot, “I don’t think the sex pollen is done yet.”

---

“Trashed all across the floor, trashed furniture - especially in room 143 - Hokkaido still doesn’t even have power.” Yaga’s bellowing voice has you sinking ashamedly further and further into his office seat. 

Gojo, however, only beams, throwing an arm around the edge of your chair, “Damn- we should really try to send out the power in all of Asia next time, huh, my pretty girl?”

“Out!”

Across the hallway, three first-years eagerly (well, two of them and a reluctant Megumi) peer into the tense meeting. Wondering what exactly happened in your last mission that caused a record-level amount of property damage and the power to still flicker on and off throughout the day.

Yuji is the first one to speak up, “Well, no one’s dead but- why does the air seem so-” he gestures towards the almost non-existent space between you and Gojo - not anything out of the usual, sure, but the one thing different was the lack of threats. “-weird.” he finishes. 

“Tell me about it. That Gojo almost seems…” Nobara shudders in disgust. “...happy.”

And of course, at that very moment, the man of the hour himself turns to look straight at the first-years doing a poor job of hiding themselves behind the door. Sighing overly-loudly, “If you say so, Yaga~” Intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you up with him, “We had a date anyway.”

“A date?”

“A date?!”

“I win.” All eyes - including yours and Gojo’s turn towards the usually-quiet Megumi, his lips turned into the beginnings of a smile. Almost. “You both owe me ten thousand yen.”

A/N. Hope you babygirls have a good weekkkk!!!

Plagiarism not authorized.