#x men x yn

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[lanae111]

The only reason I haven’t slept with this man Is because he’s playing hard to get.

(He’s fictional btw)

[lustrexia]

tw: nsfw, breeding, minors dni.

— Jude Bellingham’s Size

• Unapologetically big. And thick too, he just knows it, he has a big dick. Maybe it has some veins too.

• It's difficult for you to fit his dick in your hands, you will need to use two hands if you want to suck him off or give him a blowjob.

• Big bulge, even bigger when he's horny. He'd smile at you knowingly when he catches you staring, he knows.

• He loves it when you choke on it, or when you try to deepthroat; because you can't, it's so thick you can barely fit it in your mouth, and it stretches your lips lewdly.

• Maybe it’s the fact that it makes a bulge on your stomach when he’s deep inside of you, or maybe that he insists of going in raw, you don’t know what it is about him, but it gets you filled up and satisfied at the end of the day, so you let him fuck you knowing that he will probably get you knocked up.

• Ever wanted to be stretched and bred hard by a big cock? He’d be the one to do it. He’d talk you through it, saying you should just lay down and take it.

[kurikurikur1]

⋆. ☆ ˚ bestfriend!choso who whines and cries when he first enters his cock inside you, holding the urge to not just burst out his cum inside your wet, plush walls cause’ goddamn—he never expected his long-term childhood best friend, you, to be straddling his thighs, clothes pulled off and on to the ground, your soft tits with your perky nipples out, right then and there while your cunt was swallowing, squelching and milking the life out of his cock.

I mean—all of this wouldn't have happened if he hadn't confessed his overbearing crush towards you ever since you were just little kids. Just so—20 minutes ago he'd overflow you with his heart-warming words that were definitely practiced, only to be cut off as you pressed your plump lips against his, oh, just how he'd love to ask for your cherry lips again for him to kiss and suck on, remembering the taste of you made him even more infatuated. Thinking of kissing you again added to the urge for him to cum and fill your pussy to he brim with it.

As you reach down to peck his reddened lips who he bit down on to hold his load, bestfriend!choso interrupts you with a loud, high-pitched whine as he grabs your naked hips with his pale, thick hands, a tight grip on your flesh, lifting you up—his own hips start erratically thrusting himself in your sweet pussy, hard and fast enough that his hips that were slapping on the inner most of your thighs that he left a painful red tint on. He moans out a continuous—”m’ sorry, m’sorry- sorry- sorry baby-”

As bestfriend!choso keeps penetrating your sticky cunt with his throbbing cock, he notices your lust-dazed eyes piercing through his, he gulps, not sure if he could hold his cum with you staring at him like that, he's close and you know it. His sweaty pale chest heaving up and down as a desperate try to catch his breath, his hands gripping your hips oh-so-painfully tight, his loud whimpers of plea coming out of his mouth while his already fucked-out eyes look at your bouncing breasts as you rode him, desiring to suck on them, the head of his cock pushing itself onwards to your cervix. “I- m’ close, m’ close, please-” he begs you to cum, wanting to get your permission to, because he just wants to be good to you. “gonna cum- gonna cum-"

bestfriend!choso who actually cries out tears once his cock spurts out, filling your tight cunt with his seed, letting out a loud whine as his head throws back and his eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming orgasm he just received, his whimpers harmonizing with your small moans as you chuckle at the sight of him disheveled, and absolutely ruined.

“y- you didn't get to cum? r -right? w.. why don't I try and r - return the favor, baby?..”

lmao first post—: divider made by kuri (me) last minute

( actually a repost because of the change of theme )

[tteotlma]

Panic and Proximity

-- Trapped with Logan in a safe room, your biggest weakness reveals itself.

(Wolverine/Reader) 1.7kw

a/n: it's been like six years since i posted a fic.. smth short and sweet

TW: anxiety, panic attack, mentions of vomit, close spaces, forced proximity(?), CLAUSTROPHOBIA, tight spaces

"Bobby!" you yell over the deafening roar. You dig your heels into the dirt, pivoting to run towards your friend. A Sentinel has Bobby pinned, ice against ice. Suddenly, the ground opens beneath him, swallowing him whole. Your heart leaps into your throat, but in the next instant, the sky above the massive monster splits open. Bobby drops out, ready to swing full throttle.

You glance back to see Kitty sprinting towards you, Logan not far behind.

"No, run!" she screams, grabbing your arm as you both dash into the building.

"But Bobby—" you start, turning to look back at your friend. He seems to be holding his own, but for how long?

"It's okay, he's coming," Kitty pants as she phases you through industrial shelving.

Logan's gruff voice surprises you. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm gonna get him," Kitty replies, pulling you deeper into the building. "I just need to make sure you guys are safe first."

"And how are you gonna do that?" you ask, breathless. Your feet pound the floor in rhythm with theirs, legs aching. Only the adrenaline coursing through your veins keeps you going. 

"This way," Kitty hisses, yanking you towards a narrow corridor. The building's layout becomes a maze of twisting hallways and locked doors. Alarms blare, red emergency lights casting eerie shadows.

Logan sniffs the air. "We've got company. Multiple hostiles, closing in fast."

"There's a safe room," Kitty says, her voice strained. "It's small, but it'll have to do."

Your stomach tightens at the word 'small'. "How small are we talking?"

She doesn't answer, instead phasing through another wall, pulling you along. You emerge into a dim, cluttered storage area. At the far end, a heavy metal door stands ajar.

"In there. Now!" Logan growls, glancing behind you.

The thundering footsteps of your pursuers grow louder. Your heart races as you approach the door, catching a glimpse of the cramped space beyond. It's barely larger than a closet.

Kitty pushes you forward. "You don't have a choice. Get in!"

You hesitate, your breath catching in your throat. The walls seem to close in already, even from outside. But the sound of gunfire erupting behind you slowly convinces you to enter, but not fast enough. Kitty grabs both you and Logan and before you can protest, she phases you through the thick steel door. 

“Don’t go anywhere.” Kitty demands before she walks through the other side of the closet just as quickly as she put you in here. 

A small “no” escapes your lips as you reach out to touch the walls. You try to find any crevice to show your not completely shut off from everything but its no use, it’s too dark and from what your fingers can feel there’s nothing. The steel is stainless, and smooth. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, suddenly becoming too aware of your heart beating in your chest, and you suddenly feel lightheaded. You try and catch your breath but you can’t, you try and breathe but your lungs cant open enough as it hits you, your world shrinks to the size of a coffin. You try to take a deep breath, but you keep coming short.

"You okay?" Kitty whispers, her voice too close in the blackness.

You want to answer, to say you're fine, but the words stick in your throat. The walls are too close, the air too thin. You're trapped, and panic begins to claw its way up from your chest.

You try to soothe yourself, eyes squeezed shut, desperately imagining a vast field. Hoping to enhance the illusion, you peel your hands from the walls. Suddenly, a loud boom shakes the room, steel groaning around you. Logan tenses beside you, a stark reminder that danger still lurks beyond your confined space.

Your breathing becomes more erratic. Sweat beads on your forehead as the small space seems to shrink even further. Your fingers tingle, and a wave of nausea hits you.

"It's okay, it's okay," you mutter, but the words sound hollow even to your own ears. You take a step back, trying to escape the wall, only to collide with Logan's chest. He finally notices your distress.

"Hey, you alright?" He shifts, touching you lightly. You flinch away instinctively.

"Sorry," you pant. "Would now be a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" You attempt a chuckle, hands fumbling to steady yourself. Eyes clenched shut, you feel saliva pooling in your mouth. "I think I'm gonna barf," you whisper.

"Hey, hey!" Logan turns you around to face him. "Look at me." You briefly open your eyes, making out only his shadowy form, hunched over. You quickly shut them again.

"Are you hunching over because the ceiling's too short?" you ask, still dizzy. Your fingertips find his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his solid torso. He shifts, followed by a soft thud.

"No," he says.

"You're lying." You clench your hand, pressing your fist against his stomach. The rhythm of his breathing slowly anchors you, pulling you back to reality.

"Maybe, but that's not important," he says, his voice closer than before. You feel him shift, moving nearer.

Your fist sinks deeper into the muscle of his stomach as his heavy hands rest on your shoulders, grounding you.

"Why are you just saying something now?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"I-it never seemed to matter," your voice shakes, your other hand wrapping around his forearm for support. "Until now." You feel tears forming in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry."

"Oh," you hear him breathe out softly. "Oh, Y/N." He sighs, a mix of concern and understanding in his tone.

Suddenly, his arms envelop you, cradling your head against his chest. The gesture, though meant to comfort, unfortunately intensifies your panic. Your breath hitches as the feeling of being trapped increases, despite the warmth of his embrace. You try to pull away but his arms don’t budge. 

Your breathing becomes more rapid against Logan's chest. The warmth of his embrace, meant to comfort, instead fuels your panic. "I can't—" you gasp, your fingers clawing at his shirt. "It's too tight, too close."

He cuts you off, shushing you. 

“Yes, you can.” He reassures you, his hand stroking your head.

"Listen to me," Logan says firmly, his gruff voice softening with an unexpected gentleness. "We're gonna try something. Focus on my voice and breathe with me. Can you do that?"

You manage a small nod against his chest, your forehead pressed against the rough fabric of his shirt. Logan must feel the slight movement because he shifts, adjusting his stance to better support you.

"Good," he murmurs, the word rumbling through his chest. "Now, feel my breathing. Try to match it."

Logan takes a deep, deliberate breath. You feel his chest expand against you, the steady rise and fall a stark contrast to your own erratic gasps. He holds you close, one hand splayed across your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. His calloused fingers are surprisingly gentle, grounding you in the moment.

"In through your nose," he instructs, his voice low and measured. You struggle to comply, your breath hitching. "That's it," he encourages. "Now hold it for a moment."

You feel the pause in his chest's movement, a moment of stillness in the chaotic swirl of your thoughts. 

"Now out through your mouth," Logan continues, his own exhale warm against the top of your head. "Slow and steady."

As you attempt to follow his lead, you become acutely aware of other sensations: the faint scent of cigar smoke clinging to Logan's shirt, the steady thud of his heartbeat against your ear, the warmth of his body contrasting with the cool metal walls surrounding you.

"Again," Logan says softly. "In... hold... and out. You're doing great, kid."

Gradually, your breathing begins to sync with his. The vice-like grip of panic on your chest starts to loosen, ever so slightly. In this small, dark space, Logan's presence becomes an anchor, a point of focus beyond the suffocating walls.

"That's it," he murmurs, a note of approval in his voice. "Just keep breathing with me. We'll get through this together."

You nod, one hundred percent sure that if you were to talk right now, it wouldn't be heard. Closing your eyes, you lean more of your weight against Logan. You take in his scent—a mix of cigar smoke, leather, and something uniquely him—his warmth seeping into you, his solid presence anchoring you in the moment. You melt into him, relishing the feel of his muscular body against yours.

In this intimate moment, your mind drifts to all the times you've admired Logan from afar. He's always been the ruggedly handsome mentor, the forbidden fruit that made your heart race during training sessions. You've caught his lingering glances, felt the electricity when his hand corrected your stance, noticed how his eyes seemed to soften when they landed on you.

There's always been something there, simmering beneath the surface. An unspoken connection, a tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You've told yourself it was just a silly crush, that Logan saw you as nothing more than a student. But the gentleness in his touch now, the care in his voice—it speaks of something deeper.

This moment, trapped in this tiny space, feels like a test of your limits. The boundaries between mentor and student, between longing and reality, seem to blur. Your racing heart isn't just from claustrophobia anymore, and you're certain Logan can feel it.

But now isn't the time for these thoughts. The danger lurking outside this safe room, the mission at hand—it all comes rushing back. You know you should pull away, regain your composure, focus on the task at hand. Yet, for just a few more seconds, you allow yourself to stay in Logan's embrace, drawing strength from him in more ways than one.

As your breathing finally steadies, you reluctantly begin to pull back, ready to face whatever comes next. But not before you catch a glimpse of something in Logan's eyes—concern, certainly, but also a flicker of something else. Something that makes your breath catch for an entirely different reason, you realize you're still pressed against Logan's chest. You step back slightly, looking up at him in the dim light.

"I... Thank you, Logan. I don't know what I would've done if..."

He cuts you off with a gentle squeeze of your shoulder. "We all have our demons, kid. The trick is not letting them win." His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. "You did good."

The moment is interrupted by another distant explosion, reminding you both of the pressing danger.

[slttygeto]

helloooo i've been reading your work and i really like how you write so i was wondering if you could please write about toji taking care of the reader whos in/just go out of the hospital?? feel free to make any changes ^^ im excited to see how it turns out!!

༉‧₊˚. wisdom tooth removal ! FUSHIGURO Toji

content warning: mention of bl00d, anesthesia.

genre: fluff.

word count: 475

note: this was so cute and so refreshing to write. thank you for the request cutie!!!! hope you dont mind the small changes that I made!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

"Eat."

Normally, Toji's stern voice would elicit a gasp out of you. A pout would make its way to your lips and Toji would have the time of his life poking fun at you for it, calling you a spoiled brat and ruffling your hair in an affectionate manner. The lack of reaction was making his heart break.

"Doll," you hear his voice and it sounds defeated, you look up from your bowl of soup with tears coating your lashes. "You have to eat it."

"I don't like soup..."

"Yes, you do. It's pumpkin soup."

"But...the seeds, they're drowning," under normal circumstances, Toji would say 'what the fuck'. He would then give you the most confused look and go on about his day. But this wasn't normal. And you weren't exactly sober.

You had just gotten your widsom tooth out, and so the anesthesia was still kicking in your system, making you a little too delirious. So your words were jumbled, lacked any sense and you were far more emotional than usual.

"Baby, the seeds aren't drowning because they're not people."

"How could you--" you almost choke on your saliva, your tongue still swollen. "How could you say that about them?"

"What can I say, I like to be political."

"You'll... go to jail for this."

"Jail doesn't scare me, doll." He sits on the chair next to your shared bed, staring at you with a fond expression. He would've never thought that he would find himself in a position where he would be taking care of another person. Not when he thought he needed the help more than anyone else.

Life had been rough to him up until recently--until he met you. A breath of fresh air, the personification of warmth. A second chance at life gifted to him through your soul getting intertwined. You held out your hand to the man from the day you met him, there was no hesitance on your face when you locked eyes with him, flashing him a gentle smile. The glimmer of worry in your eyes when you caught a glimpse of his scar, eyebrows furrowing so cutely that Toji wanted nothing more than to brush his thumb over your forehead to ease the tension there.

You meant a lot more to him than he let on.

A loud sob pulls him out of his train of thoughts, and he panicks when he sees that you were struggling to breathe.

"Hey--hey, hey, breathe or else you'll choke."

"You'll go to jail?" you ask through sobs and Toji has to hold it together as he wipes the blood that trickles down your chin.

"Wha--no? why would I?"

"'cause you killed the seeds!" he chuckles, leaning in to peck your swollen and bloodied lips, your nose then finally your forehead.

"I know a good lawyer."

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[caffeineaddictwriter]

The wolverine with reader who has a bunny mutation

reader has a bunny mutation, so they can form a bunny tail and ears that are both white. Can jump incredibly high and kick hard. There hearing can reach miles when ears are out.

Warnings: smut, p in v, breeding kink, hint of violence, some fluff.

•oh boy.

•Logan will take the piss out of you for the first while when yous first meet. After all you’re a “wild animal”.

•”so your most defenitly a stripper in disguise”

•but after a while he comes to love your bunny features.

•”cottontail”

•”thumper”

•”carrot eater”

•always coming up with new nicknames for you even if some of them piss you off but it’s all in good nature.

•once got many weird looks when he asked you if you cut holes in your pants for your tail. While in public.

•he won’t admit it but he thinks your the most adorable thing he’s ever fucking seen.

•instead of smacking your ass when he walks past you he squeezes your tail making you squeal and hit him playfully. He loves it.

•will run a finger up the spine of your ears to make you shiver.

•once tried to train with you. He thought you’d be to soft to take him on. You kicked him through the wall. He didn’t try to go easy again.

•buys you a carrot cake for your birthday to be ironic. You slammed a slice into his face but ate the rest.

•booped you on the nose once and you refused to have sex with him for three months.

•if he’s been away on a hard mission he enjoys how your cute little ass takes care of him. He’ll set you on his lap and just stroke your hair and ears.

•a lot of people think the look is cute. Especially guys in the bar when you’re with Logan. Logan is a very jealous man and won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of anyone that’s getting to confident.

•”my fucking bunny, you got that bub”

•loves watching you kick people with your strength. Also gets turned on by it.

•the first time he witnessed you kicking some ass hole across the room he was incredibly confused on why he got a boner.

•will stroke your ears when yous are making out just for the hell of it.

•will use your amazing hearing to his advantage. Will make lude sounds when your in the shower to make you either horny so he can come have you in the shower or make you get out faster so he can have you on the bed.

•now with the term “fuck like rabbits” he takes that literally now. He’ll be bending your cotton ass over any surface.

•he’ll hold your tail as he pounds into you just squeezing it ever so tighter when your getting close.

•”oh fuck that’s my good bunny~”

•”you take me so well just like a wild animal aye bun”

•most definitely loves taking you from behind so he can see your tail bobbing as he pounds his dick into you.

•if you go into heat you bet your ass he’ll be right there fucking you till you can only drool his name out your mouth.

•breeding kink can’t tell me otherwise. This man loves the idea of you filled with baby bunny’s.

•once when you were sucking him off he called his dick a rabbit so you bit it softly making his claws fly out.

•will buy you so much white lingerie. It goes with your ears and tail and it’s just so hot to him.

•laughs when you get in the shower or bath and your tail gets wet so you blow dry it or shake it like a wet dog.

[emmyrosee]

“Baby!” You squeal, and he turns around as a wave crashes around him, seemingly unphased by the frosty water.

“What!”

“It’s cold!”

You shiver at the feeling of water lapping at your ankles, the chill of it turning your feet playfully numb. He merely smirks back at you, eyes covered by the sunglasses nestled on his nose, and walks backwards deeper into the water. “It’s not that bad,” he calls, shrugging his arms out. “You’re just a big baby.”

“A baby who’s going back onto the towels,” you giggle, stepping backwards. He calls a quick “chicken!” out at you, but just as you open your mouth to retort, Mother Nature takes care of him, and a massive wave sneaks behind him and takes him down, panic crossing his features as his knees bend and he plops square under the water, disappearing under the waves.

You cackle at the karma, hands clutching your sides at his expense, and he comes back to the surface, at first unamused as his hair is flattened to his forehead and his sunglasses are skewed. His skin glimmers in the sun at the droplets of water clinging to his skin, his trunks are clinging to the muscles and bones of his hips and thighs; he looks ethereal, had he not just been taken down by a wave all of 14 seconds ago.

At your laugher, he shakes his head and stands, glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “You think that’s funny?” He says, annoyance in his expression but amusement in his voice. “Huh?”

“Yes,” you manage. “I do. Karma told you to shut up, and you did.”

“I’ll teach you to shut up,” he barks, and the signals in your brain cross as he starts to make a mad dash towards you, grinning. You scream and try to make a sprint away from him, but the sand is soft under your feet, and you can’t get proper footing to get away fast enough.

“NAAAAOOOOO!” You shriek, hard enough your own head hurts, as two long arms wrap around your torso and hoist you into his arms, your arms instinctively wrapping around him and legs flailing wildly. You curse his strength, the strength you love so much, for him doing this to you. “LEMME GO!”

He doesn’t listen, as he wades back into the water, and as you brace yourself for impact of being thrown in, it never comes. Instead, he lowers you both into the ocean with so much as a shiver. You whine as the chill envelopes your entire body, but he shushes you with a kiss on your cheek.

“See?” He says softly. “It’s not so bad, right?”

“C-Cold!” You clench, but your arms wrap around him tighter and you giggle, his own body cold with water, but your heart warmed with love.

He hums and nips your ear, “maybe it is just a little cold.”

——

hq!: osamu, atsumu, suna, aran, hinata, kuroo, oikawa, iwaizumi, bokuto, sakusa (but don’t tell anyone)

bnha: kirishima, midoriya, hawks

jjk: geto, gojo, yuuji, ino

plus ur faves 🫶🏻

@reverie-starlight I know how you feel about some of these boys so I hope you don’t mind the tag 🥺

[laroserie]

— Various x-men characters, baking with reader

— characters ; Scott Summers. Rogue. Logan Howlett.

— warning ; no particular tw. author is not great at baking but he had a baking phase so. very sweet / fluff and self-indulgent. can be seen as platonic or romantic. reminder that author has not read the comics (only saw the films + is watching the animated series, xmen evolution and 97) and doesn't know much about some characters ( ex Rogue ) so author is doing his best to characterise them. author has favorite and it's shows. author says a cake count as a pastry and a pastry is basically any baked goods (if you do not agree. soryr that suck)

– Scott Summers.

Scott seems to be the kind of guy to be very open to baking, depending on what you want to bake.

Simple things like, cookies or a chocolate cake ? Sure. He is your man, he will be very happy to bake with you.

Now if you want to do something more complicated like, macarons or hell a pie, he will pat your shoulder and say 'Good luck with that' and walk out of the room. He is not even attempting to bake things that are too hard.

Why should he, when he can make simple things that taste good. There is no need to try some extravagant bakeries that most likely won't end up being very tasty the first time.

But with enough coercion and 'begging' (which you could call 'annoying him to no end') he will concede, but don't get him wrong - he is not at fault nor taking responsibility if it end up being disgusting.

Scott is the type to be very commending even in the kitchen, he is still the 'leader', here he will give you instructions and let you do it - until he does it himself because 'you aren't doing it properly' (he is trying to fix this habit up, don't get too angry at him).

He is also the type to follow the recipe and measurements extremely close, but if he's, for example, measuring flour and there is a bit too much but you have your back turned, he'll just let it be, let it slide, because no one else but him is aware of it, so it's fine !

He is still fun to bake around with, of course, but, he is still very, ... himself while doing so.

Once you are done, Scott is most likely to let you have the first bite - he is staring you down waiting to hear if you like it or not before trying for himself.

If the outcome isn't exactly the greatest - Scott will make it his personal mission to master it. He will not be beaten by something as simple as a pastry.

– Rogue.

If you have Rogue to bake with you, she will be overjoyed. She could be so happy that you want to bake with her, baking is an activity you usually do with people you are close to, so in her eyes you wanting to bake with her, show that you see her as someone you are close to in the very least.

She'll tell you to wait a few seconds, be gone and come back with a binder with handwritten families recipes and ask you if you wanna try one of them.

Unlike Scott, she is the type to not really care about measurements, she try to follow the ones from the recipes but if there is a bit too much flour, she won't scoop some out of it, because after all, that shouldn't change the outcome right ?

But that is, if you follow a recipe, if you don't ... let's just say there will be enough cakes - or whatever you both made - for weeks. She isn't really great at guessing how much is too much or how much is not enough.

She is absolutely the type to tease you while baking, if you are making something that requires meringues, she will do the meringue test (the meringue test is that if you take the bowl it's in and flip it upside down and nothing drop - it good, if it drop it's not) but not take any precautions, like doing it over the sink or counter. She will give you small heart attack.

Even if you don't really follow the recipes and have to change a few ingredients in the middle of the process because there isn't enough or because you didn't have it, the outcome will taste quite good most of the time. Rogue, will go and make everyone in the manor have a taste - because everyone should have a bit of what you both spend time on.

– Logan Howlett

Okay, now, baking with Logan is something that could only happen once in a blue moon. If you ask him to bake with you, he won't answer you and just give you a look that scream 'do i look like a fucking baker to you ?'.

Now that said, if you do go on your plan of baking - without him - there is a high chance that he will watch you do so, he will lean on a counter and watch you go about your baking.

He will comments on what you are doing and says snarky remarks about what you are doing - that's in his opinion - wrong.

Logan may help you when you are struggling - you are supposed to mix something together but it's a bit too hard for you, he will extend his hand and tell you to give it to him. But that's as far as he will go - and giving you the sugar that's in the cabinet next to him.

If you are making something like cookies, he will take one without asking, because after all he 'assisted' you (told you, you really sucked at mixing eggs and flour and telling you to be more organised when you bake because you are making one hell of a mess).

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.8  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.10??

p.9

AN: this took a minute, but I was finishing the outline for a few of the other chapters and a few other works I've been doing. I was off from work for a bit, went back, had a set of traumatic back to back days. and well, writers block is one hell of a thing, y'know? aaaand with the seasonal changes I'm just tired maybe a bit down. but thank you guys for your love and support!

warnings: this story may cover sensitive and uncomfortable topics. please read at your own risk, violence, lashings, blood, mental breakdowns, yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside your moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

threats and cwuddles

an: i said what i said

How utterly pointless.

There he was, standing before the pathetic excuse for a man—the one you called uncle, the so-called leader of your disgraceful clan. The ridiculous get up had him holding back a joke, as the man seemed to sneer down at him. His expression oozing disdain—as if he wasn't even worth the effort of a proper glance.

Toji nearly laughed at the sheer audacity.

This man, puffed up with self-importance and brimming with hollow authority, presumed to have the upper hand?

Absolutely comedic.

Toji let his eyes drift over the man slowly, deliberately, as if assessing a weak opponent in a fight he knew he’d already won. Everything about him screamed mediocrity wrapped in false power—his carefully pressed robes, the practiced tilt of his chin, the way he held his hands behind his back as if it really added weight to his presence.

But Toji saw through it all. He always did.

Authority like this was a farce. A staged act meant to instill fear in those who’d never known freedom. And Toji? He was already a foot out the door. And he didn’t play by their rules. Not now. Not ever.

He could kill him in seconds...if he really wanted to. 

"So," Toji said, his voice dripping with derision. "This is the man in charge, huh? Can’t say I’m impressed. You look more like an angry little chihuahua guarding a bone that isn’t even yours."

Your clan leader's sneer faltered for a second at his blatant disrespect. It wasn't often someone so ill-mannered showed their face in his estate, let alone had the audacity to open their mouth in front of him.

But they were all the same to Toji—weak, predictable, and utterly worthless.

Toji wasn’t the type to be a hero—never had been, never would be. Kindness just wasn’t in his nature, and every decision he made came with a price. He didn’t hand out favors for free, and he certainly didn’t involve himself in someone else’s mess out of the goodness of his heart.

So why was he here?

The answer was annoyingly simple.

you.

Maybe it was because, technically, he was your husband. Sure, it was only in name, but the fact remained. Or maybe it was because of Megumi—his dumb, lovesick son—whose actions, if not his words, made it painfully clear just how deeply his affections for you ran. 

From the surface, Toji could make excuses, just how he may have when he first picked you up from this clan. But deep down, way below—in the dark recesses of his mind, Toji understood the real reason.

It wasn’t about obligation or some half-hearted attempt to help Megumi.

It was the moment you'd broken down in his arms.

Sobbing, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, your back covered in those deep, fresh lashes—five if he counted correctly. Clinging onto him, in a way you hadn't ever done before, even when Megumi had been ignoring you. And he could see the scars from previous lashings. Some faint, a light pink indention, and others a solid light purple.

He wasn’t good at comforting people—really. And what good was an assassin in that situation?—but something in that moment had made his head snap. And a mix of different memories and bottled-up emotions compelled him forward. He'd never made impulsive decisions. And Toji Fushiguro was never one for kindness.

But now, here he was. Standing in front of your uncle, the so-called leader of your clan, ready to do something he knew was reckless. Something that could potentially mess things up for both you and his son. A defensive action like this could easily hint at a deeper relationship between the two of you, which was not something he really wanted. These geezers weren't brand new to mind games, but neither was he. And, sure, he could just kill the guy, but that seemed like way too much effort. A few choice words should handle it.

"So, tell me...why is the Toji Fushiguro bothering to grace me with his presence? I can’t imagine you're here to meet the in-laws?" He was fishing, hoping he would rise to the occasion, hint at any personal glimpse into the killer before him.

Toji didn’t take the bait. He just stood there, calm as ever, his face giving nothing away. God, did he hate these clan politics. His dark eyes casually swept the room, clearly bored—not impressed by the fancy decor, not intimidated by the guards at the doors, and definitely not by your uncle. Honestly, he'd rather be back home, digging into some of your homemade yakitori. This whole thing was turning out to be a real drag.

"What’s the matter? Are you just here to puff your chest and waste my time?" He's getting antsy now,

Toji’s lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk. His gaze razor-sharp, locking onto the older man. There was a pause as your uncle locked eyes on Toji's. Unmoving, unflinching, before Toji took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance just enough to make the clan leader stiffen. "You know," Toji said, his voice casual, almost conversational, "it’s funny. For a guy so full of himself, you’re awfully quiet about those welts you sent her home with."

Your uncle's eyes widened—but only for a moment, leaning back with mock nonchalance. "Welts? I have no idea what you're talking about. And what's it to you anyway? Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings for her?"

"Feelings? Don’t kid yourself. I’m not here to play hero, and I’m definitely not here for her." Toji shrugged casually, tossing his head to the side and leaning back to give him some room, his eyes flicking over the clan leader, as if taking his question seriously. "But let’s be honest—she doesn’t look as hot in bed when she’s got all those welts. Kinda ruins the mood, you know?"

Stunned, the clan leader chuckled uneasily, trying to regain some semblance of control. He shouldn't have been too surprised given the Sorcerer Killers stellar reputation for the debauched lifestyle. You were technically his wife afterall, "Ah, well—that makes more sense. Using the whore for what she's worth, I guess." Toji could practically hear your resale value dropping by the second, as the clan leader processed this thought before continuing in an almost thoughtful murmur. "Just here to make sure your toy stays intact."

"Call it whatever you want. I don’t care. But if you think I’ll let you mark her skin up again, then you’re even dumber than you look."

The clan leader’s sneer returned, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. Much like a petulant child, not getting his way. "And if I don’t? What then, Fushiguro? You’ll kill me?" Now lets not go putting ideas into his head...

Toji let out a low chuckle, shaking back in laughter at the fear creeping into his voice. "Kill you? Nah. You’re not worth the effort." He paused, feigning a change of heart as his voice dropped, leaning in again for the kill, his words a hefty weight. "Actually, maybe I’ll stick around. Tear this whole place apart just for fun. I hate this sorcerer bullshit anyway. Watching your precious clan crumble might actually make my day."

The clan leader’s face twitched, his bravado faltering again under Toji’s unrelenting gaze, his words hanging in the air-message loud and clear.

"Fine," he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. "If it means that much to you, no more marks. No need to make this a bigger deal than it is."

Toji smirked, satisfied. He stepped back as he turned toward the door. "Good. Glad we could see eye to eye," he said oh so smoothly.

With that, he strode out, leaving your uncle in an uncomfortable silence. Toji knew the man wouldn’t see him as anything but a threat, and that was exactly what he wanted. As long as they kept their grubby hands off you, he didn’t care what they thought—or what he had to say to make them believe it. And hopefully your home clan wouldn't go around making decisions on this calculated move alone.

Now, it was time for some well-deserved meat.

Thankfully, your clan visits were few and far between.

The trip home that day had been nothing short of brutal, and your clan head’s disdainful disregard for how you might explain the aftermath to your husband lingered in your mind like a bitter aftertaste.

The weeks dragged on, and before you knew it, the seasons had shifted. Fall gave way to winter, winter melted into spring, and eventually, summer arrived again. Yet, Megumi’s absence remained a constant despite the seasonal changes. 

Determined to stay connected despite the distance, you’d picked up a cell phone not long after Megumi left. Toji had handed over both his and Megumi's numbers with his usual air of indifference. “In case of emergencies,” he’d said, tossing the paper onto the table like it was no big deal. But to you, it was. Your focus had been on one number only: Megumi’s. He was the hardest to reach anyways. 

What would you even say? Hi, how are you? Too formal. I miss you already. Too much. The hesitation gnawed at you. After a few moments, you settled on something simple and sent it off, heart pounding in the silence that followed.

Megumi’s replies, however, had been scarce—short, distant, and frustratingly neutral. You tried not to let it sting, reasoning that he was busy adjusting to his new life at Jujutsu Tech. He had training, studies, and an entirely new world to navigate. But the lack of insight into his world left you feeling unmoored and oh so helpless.

Did he eat well? Was he overworking himself? Did he even want to hear from you? The unanswered questions piled up, an invisible weight pressing on your chest.

When his birthday came, you’d agonized over whether to call, but the fear of interrupting—or worse, being brushed off—kept your fingers from dialing. Instead, you texted him, wishing him a happy birthday in a message that felt far too impersonal. Hours later, his reply came: a simple thank you.

It was polite, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t tell you if he was happy, if he’d smiled at your message, if he’d even thought of you beyond that brief acknowledgment. The distance between you felt larger than ever, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was slipping further away—or if you were.

You hoped—prayed—that he’d found some happiness at school. That maybe the time away had helped him grow, helped him heal in ways you couldn’t. You wondered if his sharp tongue and stubborn attitude had softened enough to allow for real friendships. Did he smile more? Did he laugh? You pictured him in that new world, surrounded by people who might understand him better.

As summer approached, anticipation and unease twisted in your chest, a slow, suffocating knot that tightened with each passing day. The thought of seeing him again stirred a mix of emotions—excitement, yes, but also a quiet fear that plagued you. Would he still look at you with that same guarded expression? Would the distance he’d created remain? Would he persist with questions you couldn't answer?

His parting words haunted you, echoing in the quiet moments when your mind wandered too far. You replayed that last conversation over and over, dissecting every syllable, every pause, every look. The unspoken questions lingered like ghosts: Had you done enough? Said enough? You’d wished, countless times, that you’d found the right words to ease the tension before he left.

Now, with the summer sun creeping closer, you could only wonder if it was too late to mend what had been broken—or if it had been broken at all.

And then, one quiet afternoon, he came home.

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt through you. Without thinking, you found yourself halfway down the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you saw him, you froze—and so did he.

He stood in the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. A faint breeze followed him in, tousling his hair and leaving it slightly messy, adding to the disheveled charm he carried so effortlessly. His piercing eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away.

Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, laden but charged, his gaze lingering on your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. He looked different—older, his features sharper, his presence more commanding. You still found yourself struggling to recognize him each time you saw him—such a common occurrence now that it was almost expected. There was something in his eyes, something softer, more vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to say something.

“Megumi,” you whispered, full of hesitance. Your voice almost broke under the weight of the moment, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

He didn’t move, his hands still gripping the straps of the bag slung over his shoulder. For a second, you thought he wouldn’t respond. Then he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he stepped further inside.

“Hey,” he said softly, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you like a balm. It was a simple word, but it carried so much—a mixture of relief, uncertainty, and something deeper—something unfamiliar, that made your chest well up.

You’d missed him more than you dared to admit. More than you’d allowed yourself to feel during the long months of silence. And now, standing here, the space between you felt both impossibly vast and achingly small.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without a second thought, you closed the space between you and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened, caught off guard, before slowly, his arms came up to hold you, and to your surprise, he hugged you back. Not hesitantly or awkwardly, but fully, his arms wrapping securely around you and pulling you close, almost flush to him. His head dipped down, his nose brushing against your hair as he held you firmly against his chest.

“Welcome home,” you murmured, unable to keep the brittleness from your tone, your cheek pressed against him. The words felt fragile, as though the moment might shatter if you spoke too loudly.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him exhale, a deep, contented sigh that seemed to come from somewhere buried deep inside. His nose pushed further into your hair, and his grip tightened just enough to knock the breath out of you.

“I missed you,” his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness. You hadn't expected it, the sentiment not lost on you. It'd been too long, the texts too short, and the emptiness of the house too loud. But the way his arms enveloped you, strong and protective, took away all of those negative feelings.

Your arms tightened around him in return, head still laying on his chest. The words slipping from your lips, practically dripping with affection. “I missed you too.”

Finally, after what felt like both seconds and forever, he shifted slightly, loosening his hold just enough for you to pull back. When your eyes met his again, you couldn't help the small smile plastered on your face. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, and it sent a bittersweet ache through your chest, a feeling you didn’t quite know how to name.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “You text a lot, you know that?”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you. “And you’re terrible at replying.”

“Dinner’s already started,” remembering the pan still on the stove. “You’re probably starving.”

He didn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering on your arms as if reluctant to let the moment end. “Yeah,” his voice low, as a faint flush crept up his cheeks, he finally stepped back. “Starving.”

You gave him a warm smile, brushing your hand lightly against his arm before turning toward the kitchen. Even as you moved away, you could feel his gaze lingering on you from behind—heavy, unrelenting, and more present that he previously was. Whatever walls had been between you before—whatever distance he’d tried to create—seemed to crumble in that quiet, intimate moment. Just what happened while he was at school?

Dinner that night was warm and comforting, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in what felt like forever.

“So, how was school? Are you making any friends?” you chirp, pacing around the kitchen, so aware of his eyes tracing your every movement. The excitement in your tone was impossible to miss, a lightness that hadn’t been there in months. After so many quiet dinners with only Toji for company, the thought of someone else at the table made you relieved. Even if the two of you had been getting along better recently.

Megumi glanced up from his plate, pausing for a moment before answering. “It’s...fine,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I’m focused on my training. That’s what matters.”

You hummed, a small smile tugging at your lips. You don't miss the evasiveness of his answer. “Still, I hope you’re finding time to enjoy yourself, even just a little.”

He didn’t respond right away, fiddling with his food, his gaze briefly dropping to his plate.

“Make any friends?” you try again, gently.

“A few,” he admitted, his tone reluctant but not dismissive.

“Really?” you hum out again, glancing over your shoulder at him. You wanted him to open up to you, but with his nature it wasn't exaclty going to be easy to get him to talk. “Anyone special?”

He shrugged, eyes still downcast. “Not really,” he replied, his voice neutral but you saw the way he trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him, deciding to press a little more. “C’mon, Megumi,” you teased lightly, turning back to the stove. Your tone intentionally unserious. “I know you’re not that antisocial. You’ve got to be opening up a little, right?”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the expression didn’t quite land. “It’s fine,” he groaned, though his tone softened slightly, as if the question hadn’t entirely annoyed him. “I’ve been busy.”

You hummed again in acknowledgment, not pushing him further, but your smile lingered. You were just glad to have him here, back where he belonged. Actually talking to you. Even if he wasn’t saying much, his presence spoke volumes.

Your questions continued easily—about school, his classes, his life outside of the house—and though his answers were typically grumpy and brief, you didn’t mind. It was the fact that he was answering at all, the fact that he wasn’t shutting you out, that made it all feel worthwhile. You didn’t dare bring up the tension from last summer, not wanting to risk spoiling the fragile good mood.

Toji was out for the night, leaving the house blissfully quiet, and Megumi made no comment on the food, though he cleaned his plate for the second time. It was a small victory, but it still left you smiling as you settled onto the couch afterward.

Megumi surprised you by sitting beside you. He didn’t say anything, just crossed his arms and leaned back, his expression neutral as you put on a movie. Sure, he'd sat near you before, but the long months that followed his absence made you tense a bit. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the movie you put on, but you heard no complaints.

At some point, exhaustion crept up on you. The day had been long, and the warmth of the room, combined with Megumi’s quiet, steady presence, lulled you into sleep. Without realizing it, you shifted slightly, leaning toward him, your head eventually coming to rest against his shoulder.

Megumi, of course, noticed immediately.

He stiffened at first, his entire body going rigid as he felt the soft weight of you curling against him. His breath hitched, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break out of his chest. His mind screamed at him to stay still, to not move or make a sound.

But then he glanced down.

You looked so peaceful, so utterly at ease with him, and it sent a surge of emotions through him that he could barely contain. Warmth, nervousness, longing—it all tangled together, leaving him frozen in place. The faint light from the television cast soft shadows across your face, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You trusted him so much, leaned into him so easily, and it made him ache with something deep and primal. He didn’t know if he deserved this—if he deserved you—but he couldn’t stop himself from savoring the moment.

Tentatively, he allowed himself to relax, his shoulder shifting slightly to give you more room. His fingers twitched in his lap, aching to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from your face, but he held himself back. He couldn’t ruin this.

He stayed like that, unmoving, as you curled closer, your breathing soft and even against him. Every part of him burned with the overwhelming need to keep you like this, to hold you, to never let you go. 

When the movie ended, and the room fell into quiet stillness, he carefully reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. Gently, he pulled it over you, his hand brushing your arm as he tucked it around you. The brief contact sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to pull away.

He refused to leave, wanting to be with you like this as long as possible. 

p.1

p.10

come home

[satorusugurugurl]

Can i request modern au!sukuna and reader just making out in the living room during gojos house party🫠 established relationship of course🙏

I Got You

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x FAB Reader (MODERN AU)

Word Count: 1,983

Content Working: alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, anxiety attack, making out, suggestive

A/N: This request was so flipping cute! Loving this Modern!Sukuna AU! Like always send me suggestions!! I love hearing about your chaotic horny brain worms!

“Hello, welcome, welcome!” Gojo Satoru yelled over the bass booming from inside the house. “Step inside my humble abode!” You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘humble abode’ as you and Sukuna stepped inside Gojo’s mansion. “I am your gracious host, sober as per usual! Beer pong is in the back; spin the bottle has turned into strip poker, so that's been moved into the basement.” Your blue-eyed friend peered over his dark sunglasses. “There's pizza, edibles, and drinks in the kitchen! Have fun, don't fuck in my room again. Suguru and I are chilling in the hot tub if you need us!”

With the completion of his speech, your host was off towards the back, dodging several drunk people. Gojo’s house parties were always the best. Hell, it's where you met Sukuna. They were full of chaos, laughter, and lots of memories. Usually, you'd be dragging Sukuna to the kitchen by now and snacking on edibles, nursing a rum and coke.

But you were a bit anxious.

Work has been so tense this week. Endless piles of paperwork, long days. Every day was the same: get up, go to work, come home, and make dinner before passing out in bed. You’d been so stressed it didn't help that you hadn't even spent time with Sukuna all week. So when Gojo invited you for a small get-together, you jumped at the opportunity. A party with your closest friends would ease the tension in your back.

What you walked into was not at all a small get-together. This was a full-ass Gojo Satoru party. It had probably started as a small get-together, but word probably spread, and Gojo would never say no to a good time. The more the merrier! But as the smell of weed and shouting echoed through the house, you were beginning to regret your choice.

Sukuna peered down at you from the corner of his eye. He could see the stress etched into your features. He had offered to take you to dinner, something quiet and calm after your hard week. But when you said you needed to blow off some steam, he didn't fight you. He'd been there, raising his two brothers. Work and school had him running to parties like this all the time before he met you.

If this is what you needed, he'd support you.

“Hey,” he bent over next to your ear, “you good? Want to get a drink?”

“Mmhmm!”

Taking your hand in his, Sukuna led you through the crowded halls into the kitchen. You searched for Nanami, Shoko, or anyone you knew, but you saw a sea of strangers. This was fine. It was okay; Sukuna was here. You were going to be OK.

“Want a rum and coke?” Sukuna yelled over the blaring music. His hand released yours. “Or something else?”

In the instant he was no longer holding you, you felt it. Your hands were shaking, and your index finger twitched—the telltale signs of an anxiety attack for you. Quickly folding your hands behind your back, you swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears. You needed to get away, to find a quiet spot, but the last thing you wanted to do was make Sukuna worry about you.

“Surprise me!” You yelled back, looking around. “I'm going to go use the restroom!”

Your boyfriend had just started towards the drinks when you shouted at him that you were going to the bathroom. When he turned around, he watched you push through the growing crowd, clenching your left hand as you did. Sighing softly, Sukuna headed for the fridge to get what was needed.

You were shaking, eyes darting through the smokey halls, searching for privacy. The bathroom was locked, couples blocked the stairs, and people flooded through the front door. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you needed to get away from the noise and calm down! You rushed down the hall, finding the living room empty, except for a beer bottle on the coffee table. This must have been where Spin the Bottle was being played earlier. Thank fuck it turned into strip poker.

Plopping down on the couch, you stared down at your shaking hands. The index finger and middle finger twitched, pulsing as waves of anxiety slammed into you. To fight back tears, you shut your eyes tight just as your leg began to bounce. This was a nasty attack. Calm, stay calm. It would be okay.

Why didn't you listen to your boyfriend?! From the second you got in the car, you felt off. Something was going to happen, but you had no clue what it could be like a shadow figure was stalking you, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. Now that you were in the midst of your anxiety attack, it all made sense.

“Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.” You whispered to yourself. “Don't cry.”

Despite telling yourself that, it didn't prevent the tears streaming down your cheeks. Fuck. This was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night. Poor Sukuna wouldn't want to spend the night like this, either. He was stuck taking care of his weak-ass girlfriend, who couldn't calm herself down. He deserved more. Before your thoughts could spiral further, the couch dipped under someone's weight.

Turning your head to see who it was, you gasped as Sukuna cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. Your heart skipped a beat as you kissed back. He pulled back, thumb brushing against your cheek before his lips were firmly against yours once more. The second kiss was deeper as he gently eased you back into the corner of the armrest.

Whimpering against your boyfriend's lips, you lifted, still shaking hands to his shoulders. Your fingers trailed over muscles as his own hands moved down the curves of your body. Sukuna’s grip was firm, holding you tight and reassuring you that he was here. That you weren't alone.

Sukuna’s tongue darted out, gently licking at your bottom lip, begging for you to allow him inside. You obeyed simultaneously, opening your mouth. His tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the already passionate kiss. Furrowing your brows, you pulled him on top of you as you laid back. Obliging your wants, Sukuna followed you, his body pressed against you. In all of the movements, never once did he break the connection.

You hadn't had a drink of alcohol or eaten one of the edibles, but you felt hazy. All thanks to Sukuna’s tongue buried in your mouth. He massaged your tongue gently with his as his hands mapped out the dips and curves of your body. Making mental notes of all the places he touched that made you squirm. The second he got you home later, those spots he would pay extra attention to. He'd mark them up, suck on them until you were begging for more.

That would be for later on. Right at this moment, you were his sole concern. He paid close attention to your body and how the tension melted away. Trembling that was driven by anxiety shifted into trembles of pleasure. The kiss meant to ground you slowly twisted into a kiss the two of you found yourselves lost in.

Your hands ran through his soft hair, pulling him closer to you. Your tongue moved against his, gently prodding and massaging it, tasting the faint traces of mint and rum. God, you felt high, so high off of him. Off of the Ryomen Sukuna, the man you were so lucky to call your boyfriend. He left you breathless in every way, shape, and form.

Which is why you pushed him back, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you gulped down the air. While you recovered from the breathtaking kiss, Sukuna eyed you. His chest heaving as he sat back, giving you some space. Fuck, he looked good. His hair was in disarray, his shirt wrinkled around the collar, and his eyes dark with lust. The two of you were drunk off each other, and you had the urge to get wasted, to drown yourself in him and nothing else.

You sprung towards him, sitting in his lap as your lips found his. This kiss wasn't as gentle as the first (if you could call it gentle). You nipped at his lips, causing him to groan against your mouth, his eyes rolling back into his skull. His hands ran up and down your back, encouraging you to keep going. You cupped his face, kissing him like your life was on the line.

Sumina moaned as you made out like teenagers on the couch. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging Y/H/C strands as you sucked and bit at his bottom lip. Fuck, you felt like a teenager. It felt good to lose yourself in his kisses.

“Sukuna! Hey, I couldn't find my ice pack—oh!” you pulled away from Sukuna’s lips, panting heavily. Gojo was wet, towel around his waist as he held a bag of frozen peas. “Well, huh, I guess you have it covered?” Your white-haired friend asked, tossing Sukuna the peas.

Suluna caught the bag, glaring at Gojo with flushed cheeks. “Yes, now go!”

“Okay, okay! Just remember to wrap it up!”

“Fuck you, Gojo!” Sukuna yelled after him as he rushed off. “Stupid fuckin’ bastard.” Sukuna sighed, leaning his head back against the couch, his very hard erection pressing against you. “Ruining the mood.”

You cocked an eyebrow, eyes darting from your boyfriend to the peas, trying to put the two together. While your mind tried to connect the dots, Sukuna sighed. The sound rumbled in his chest as he picked up the bag, pressing it gently against the back of your neck.

The cold jolted down your spine, making you jump, your hips rutting against him. “Fuck! That's cold!” Sukuna hummed, eyes wandering over your face.

“Good means it's working.” Words trailed off before he looked away, flushing a deeper shade of red. “You feelin’ better?”

“Huh?”

“You were having an anxiety attack, right?”

You blinked at his words; he knew he had seen it. “How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, I’m your boyfriend.” His signature cocky smirk graced his lips. “Plus, you kept clenching your hand, taking super deep breaths, and I noticed your fingers twitching.” God, how embarrassing was this? You groaned, pressing your forehead against his. “Hey, it's okay, I got you. I would have been here sooner, but I couldn't find any ice packs.” his hand gently rubbed circles into your thigh. “So, I had to use my kissing skills to get you to hold your breath.”

“You do listen.” Holding your breath to stop a panic attack was something you and his brother Choso had talked about weeks ago over dinner. He had seemed bored, rolling his eyes as you both excitedly gushed over a paper he was writing for school.

“Of course, I listen.” His hand squeezed your thigh. “I've been listening to you since we played Seven Minutes in Heaven six months ago.”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I think you mean an hour in heaven.”

Sukuna pulled the bag of peas away, shutting his eyes as he smiled. “An hour that changed my life completely.” His words had you biting your lip.

“Say Kuna~” you rocked against him, pleased to find him still hard. “What do you say we play that again? I want you to kiss me until I see the pearly gates.”

You didn't have to say it twice. The pea bag was thrown across the room, and frozen green peas rolled in every direction. You squealed as you were thrown over your boyfriend's shoulder, getting carried off to a more private location. You were squirming in excitement when his hand firmly smacked your ass.

“Oh no, look at that. Gojo left his door unlocked~!”

[miss-cincaide]

Pretty Broken Things

Summary: Toji Fushiguro was a cruel, possessive man who didn’t like it when someone played with his toys. He was especially unhappy when someone touched his favourite toy. The last straw was when you decided to not do as told. it was just jealousy, pure and simple.. Or was it?

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Toji Fushuguro  Kinktober prompt 5: Jealousy sex:  WC: 3.7 K Warnings: Dark Content, Minors DNI!This fic contains: toxic relationship, Toji is a huge red flag & yandere, dirty talk, object play in mouth and v (weapon), hj, dub-con, yandere behaviour, dirty talk, alcohol and cursing, mystery and murder (side char) Author note: Am I ever gonna write a healthy, green flag Toji? Honestly, not sure.. But what I am sure about is that, that day is not today!  Enjoy

Toji had the emotional maturity of a pre-schooler!

The spoiled brat kind with a ton of games and toys always cried for new ones, yet once he got them, he’d play with them for a week before discarding them in the back of the closet, never to be touched again. At least until someone paid attention, or, god forbid, played with them. In that instant, Toji would have a change of heart, and those unused things he hadn’t touched in months became the very best things in existence. 

Except toys weren’t toys, but human beings and unused things were the countless women he seduced with his bad-boy persona. All those poor bitches who thought they’d be able to change Toji. To melt his jackass persona, to claw their way into his heart and nest there for life while he burned the world that wronged them. Be special to him, his ‘one and only princess’.

Fucking idiots. Including yourself. 

Still, you knew that no matter how many women he eye-fucked on the dance floor, how many women he had in his lap at the drinking booth or how many throats he shoved his tongue down, the second someone showed interest in you, you would have his full and undivided attention. You were his ‘favourite’ for a reason, after all. 

So you knew exactly what you were doing when you sat at the half-empty bar beside a suit-clad man instead of joining the other fawning girls at Toji’s booth. Before you even managed to get comfortable, the man turned to face you, flashed you a smile and leaned just a little too close for comfort. “Hey, pretty, you alone?” 

You saw his eyes trail down your cleavage, which moderately showed through the little black dress you picked for the evening. The dress was moderately modest and stopped a few inches above your knees, but it hicked up deliciously up your leg as you crossed your legs in your seat. The man’s eyes dropped instantly to your bare thigh, then back up to your face. The lewd grin on his face clearly said he appreciated your beauty. 

You, in turn, resisted the urge to slap that smirk and wiggling eyebrows right off his face. If the bastard thought he could pull off Toji’s signature move, he had another thing coming. Instead, you just gave him an awkward smile that looked a lot more like a grimace. That didn’t deter him; if anything, the man seemed to relish in your smile- the lack of an immediate rejection was taken as an invitation to continue. “Tell you what? Let me buy you a drink, and we will get to know each other a little better.” 

The hell no died on your lips the second you felt Toji’s menacing stare in your back. The scalding glare made you shudder. You knew he disapproved without turning around and seeing his frowning expression. You straightened your back a little and turned your entire body to face the stranger. Then you leaned against the bar and rested your head on your propped-up arm as you looked him up and down with a slightly more pleasant smile. “In that case, an old-fashioned, on the rocks.” 

The man whistled lowly, “A woman with character, I like that; I’m Tom, by the way” he motioned for the bartender to fix you your drink and put it on his tab, completely oblivious to the approaching threat, aka Toji, who abandoned is booth and made his way towards the bar. His baritone voice and the girl giggling on his arm enough on an announcement to draw heads, either in jealousy or frustration at his shameless loud behaviour. You heard him and the girl settle a few chairs away from you and order drinks of their own. 

You saw Toji from the corner of your eye, the unmistakable tension in his jaw and the warning stare that so obviously ordered you to quit playing about. Flipp the wus you were with and come over to him like a good girl. Be good. Be obedient. 

You turned your back more to him, avoided his stare and focused on the man in front of you. But you knew precisely what you were doing as you reached forward and accepted the drink. And then another one and a third. With each promile of alcohol, you became more and more relaxed, your smile less forced, and you even genuinely laughed at Tom’s awful jokes. 

You were entertained, far from happy, but at least you weren’t wasting away another day attention-less and pitiful, waiting for the off chance that Toji decided he was done whoring around and came back to you. 

You snorted at the thought, at your own damn foolishness, and masked by the half-quiet music of the bar and the clang of ice in your glass as you finished yet another drink. You turned expectedly back to your companion. Rather than refill your glass, he flashed you a toothy smile, then wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “How about we take this somewhere private?” 

You gaped. You also heard Toji snort into his drink. That was all the motivation you needed to agree. You let Tom help you off your barstool, then trail behind him towards the back exit of the bar. You doubted the two of you would make it very far from there. As you passed Toji, he froze you with his mere sideway glare.

“You’ve had your fun, doll” Toji growled, his dark blue eyes almost rage-black. “Behave.” 

You stepped in Toji’s direction, and his interest returned to the drink and the older woman that clung to him like a school girl. If you were pathetic for being hung up on Toji; this woman was just pitiful.

Tom glanced over his shoulder, noticed you didn’t follow him and stopped walking. An awkward look on his face, his hand in his hair as his eyes flickered from you, to the woman and then Toji. “Do you know this man?” 

You tore your eyes away from your competition to the stranger, then to Toji’s smug expression as if he expected you to settle on his other arm or replace the old hag he got bored of. Maybe, if you did it cleanly and with a good cat-fight, he’d even get you a drink as a reward. You glanced away from Toji, unable to look at that condescending look that clearly stated you weren’t going anywhere without him. You were His doll, his property through and through. 

 “No clue who that is.” 

You didn’t look at Toji, didn’t spare him a second glance, or even acknowledge the hackling woman on his arm who loudly made comments about you. Clearly, she was familiar with Toji’s favourite routine and intended to provoke you into a catfight. To secure her place beside him for a few more hours. To feel mighty that she could beat someone clearly 20 years younger than her, and to feel better about her own shitty self. 

You followed Tom outside the bar. You tried to look calm, but inside you were freaking out. What the fuck did you just do? God, you just knew Toji was going to make you regret it. Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. You should not have said that. Maybe there was still time to go back and apologize? 

You realized you were fucked.

The stranger pulled open the flimsy metal back door. It gave away with a squeak and your numb legs carried you into the cold outside. You felt sick to your stomach; anxiety spiked to unimaginable levels. You wobbled, stumbled, caught yourself last second without making it far from the damned bar. Tom came to stand in front of you; his hand on your arm steadied you.  “Hey there, you’re looking kinda–” Pang

You didn’t have time to react before hot blood sprayed over your hair and face, some of it dropped on your clothes. Your ears rang, the sound from the gunshot behind you deafening. For a second, everything was still, and your mind could not comprehend what had happened. You just stared at Tom’s face—how the concern look morphed into shock. His mouth opened and closed, a gurgling sound was all that came out. His hand tightened on your arm, then let go, and his body collapsed backwards onto the concrete floor with a ‘duns’. 

The reality came back. Your panic was unmistakable and unmanageable anymore.“Ahh-” 

“Shut up, whore!” Toji’s authoritative tone came from behind you, inside the bar, instantly silenced you. You glanced over your shoulder through the open door. The sight of him with his gun raised will forever be embedded in your memory. You swore it was still smoking, the comic-like white smoke poofing off the nuzzle, but it couldn’t be; that’s not how guns worked… did they? 

Toji stepped towards you, and that small act snapped you out of your trance. He was gonna kill you too; you were sure of it. Your legs moved towards the exit without registering it. No, you weren’t ready to die, you weren’t— 

Slam 

Your back slammed against the wall as Toji pounced on you; his entire weight restrained you with ease. Like a rag doll, he could manoeuvre you how he wanted to with practiced ease. “Owi-” Your whine was cut off as you caught sight of the gun, fliched as he brought it to your face. You could feel its heat and weight on your lower lip, the barrow aimed at you, angled at an awkward angle up. Would he shoot you in the face too? Shoot off your face? 

You froze, too afraid to move. To stunned to make a pip. 

“What don’t you fucking understand, whore? I said Shut. It.” Toji was furious; his eyebrows frowned, and a storm brewed in his expression. Such fucking jealous fury that you could have thought you had pissed in his cornflakes and then hand-fed it to him. A fury not warranted of you leaving a bar with another man. 

“ I decide what’s warranted you brat.” Toji snapped, having easily read your thoughts. “And I told you ‘behave’, loud and fucking clear, didn’t I? DIDN’T I?!” 

“ Yes”, you breathed, your eyes flickered to the side, your gaze landed on Tom’s lifeless body.  Your stomach turned, and bile rose in your mouth until Toji pulled back an inch and then slammed your body against the wall again. Stars danced in your vision, the need to be sick faded as your eyes landed back on his face. Another pained moan fell from your lips. 

Toji used that opportunity to push the gun barrel in your mouth. 

“ You look at me when I’m talking,” he growled, pushing the gun as far in as it would go. “The heck I’m supposed to do with you? Tsk. I turn my fucking head for a minute, and you’re whoring yourself out to some slimeball. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” 

You couldn’t tell what made Toji more furious; the fact that you were ‘whoring yourself out’ or the man you had picked for the occasion. Why the latter would matter you had no clue but you weren’t about to question him when he was in that mood. 

Seconds ticked by, yet to you they felt like agonizing years.

You swallowed thickly, the only movement you dared to do. Toji’s eyes flickered to your throat, then back to your face. The furious expression shifted into a toothy grin. “What are you waiting for? Special fucking invitation? You wanna slut around, then go on, suck this fucking gun like it were that filth dick.” 

“W-what?” You gasped; the words came out muffled. Surely he didn’t just-

“Suck it!” 

He did.  Fuck. How did you even..? Okay, no choice, you had to pretend it was a dick. Or a dildo. Yeah, that could work. It wouldn’t be the first time you sucked off an inanimate object. You just need to get your head in the game, focus, make it look sexy. Believe it. Or you’re done for. 

You took a deep breath through your nose, forced yourself to think of the last time you gave a blowjob, then shifted your head back just a little to give yourself more room to work with. Just a dildo, you told yourself before you started. You bobbed your head back, stuck your tongue out and ran it over the warm metal. Wiggled it over the barrel, lingered on the opening, and then took it back in your mouth as you could. Your eyes water,  lips brushed against Toji’s calloused fingers, then moved back as they twitched. 

You repeated the movement until the anger in his face melted into something carnal. Until you felt his bulge pressed against your thigh. You shivered despite yourself. Fuck he was getting off on this, wasn’t he? You glanced up at his face, and Tojil looked ready to fuck your brains out. 

 “Mmm, good little bitch. Rock that mouth. You look like such a slut sucking on my handgun.”Toji hummed; his eyes never left your. His gaze flickered between your eyes, your lips and the drool running down your chin“God, your mouth is the best thing bout you, isn’t it? Can’t wait to have it on me.”

You flushed, your hand moved from your side to him. You wrapped your fingers around his cock through his sweatpants, the material loose enough for you to grasp him firmly. You could tell he wasn’t fully there yet but fuck he wasn’t soft either. You moaned; Toji bucked into your hand, and you twisted your wrist in time with his thrusts. Your breathing grew laboured, closer to his. He slapped your hand away from himself before he could cum in his pants like a teenager. “Not gonna ah happen.” he rasped, punching the wall beside your head to clear his mind. 

You jumped, flinched off the gun, a string of saliva between you and the barrel. “You say that but...” 

“ Take it back; I like you quiet,” Toji trailed off, readjusting the grip on the gun. His fingers of his other hand over the barrel of the gun gathered some saliva from the corner of your lips and rolled it between his thumb and finger. His eyes ran you up and down before he kicked your legs open. Those coated fingers went straight under your dress, rolling the damp digits over panties, then under in slow, steady circles right over your clit until you threw your head back, moaning.  “Such a nasty slut, I own” 

“Hmmm” you groaned, cracking an eye open as he pressed a kiss to your puffy lips, pushed his tongue it, swirled it in that breath-taking way that only Toji could. You broke the kiss first, panting pitifully. “L-lets go home, baby?” 

“mmmpgh. Nasty sluts don’t need privacy.” Toji sneered; although he was smiling, his eyes still showed nothing but pure jealous fury. “You were gonna fuck that bastard in this very alley, no need to get shy now” He pulled his hand back, gripped the fabric of your panties, then tore them open. “Dumb sluts will fuck anything and everything, won’t they, Y/N?” 

You gasped, whined shook your head; your eyes grew to the sizes of saucers as Toji grabbed your free hand and forced it around the momentarily forgotten gun. The hilt felt warm and clammy, sticky and much heavier than you imagined.

 “T-toji What?” you gasped, shuddering as he trailed your finger over the trigger. 

“Press here, bunny, and you’ll blow yourself a fourth hole, got it?” You didn’t manage to react as Toji lowered the gun between your legs and pushed it in. 

“Toji!” You screamed, bucking away from the metal. His hand, with yours in it, followed your movement.    

“Shh, shh shh like that doll, just like that” The gun pushed deeper into you, coming to a stop at the hilt. He leaned back and took a look at your, your petrified expression, the gun in your pussy and cursed. “That’s it, doll, Treat it like a small dildo, c’mon no need to look so scared, you’ve handled bigger.” His hand let you go and you almost dropped the gun, but Toji caught it and pushed it back into your hand.

 “You drop it- you’ll shoot us both.” Toji growled, waited until you nodded before he removed his hand from the hilt. Your hand remained frozen, unmoving. Toji didn’t care. His fingers went straight back to your clit, rubbing quick circles on it until you arched your back and clenched, then lowered yourself, seeking release on the metal. 

“Ahh y-you’re a monster Toji.” You twisted your face away from him. Toji chuckled and dropped his head on your shoulder, biting at the exposed flesh. 

“ The worst one.” He agreed his fingers picked up speed, so did your hips. Your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around the gun, hand trembled. A little more, a little– “N-nnooah” you threw your head back; despite your protest, your pussy did the opposite, gushing around the gun. Gushing turned to squirting as Toji’s fingers kept going; his other hand dropped down to your hand and the gun and thrust it in and out of you.

 You screamed, and dug your nails into his forearm, the only thing that kept you upright. 

“Fucking nasty” Toji bit your earlobe until you listened. “ You think some random stranger can get you off like this? Match your freak, babydoll? Squirting on my loaded gun in your pussy.” Toji chuckled. “Will you start creaming if I take the safety off too?” 

You mewed, then heard the harrowing click you hadn’t realized was on. Knowing it was off, however, was a completely different story. Your eyes widened, pleasure replaced by panic. He was still jealous? Still not done?!

Fuckfuckfuck. 

“I get it, I am sorry Toji, Please, please forgive me!” you sobbed, your thighs shaking as much as your hand on his arm. 

He was gonna kill you. He was gonna fuck you then kill you. Humiliate you, then pull that fucking trigger straight in your pussy.

FuckingFuckFucktown.

You didn’t want to die; you weren’t ready to die. And you most certainly didn’t want him to pull the trigger inside you. “I’ll do anything just.. Just give me another chance. Please baby, To-bear” 

Toji hummed, his teeth left your skin and his head dropped on your shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Hmm you’re lucky I like you.” He whispered, waited, then twisted the gun a little inside you. 

“I love you, I love you too Toji!” you squealed. 

“ Good. Now then out of love here’s what we’re gonna do, doll” Toji pulled the gun out of your pussy, and stared at the slick dripping thing before he returned it to its holster on his hip. “We’re gonna walk back to m’car, take a trip, and you’ll show me just how sorry you are. And if this happens again-” 

“ It won’t, I promise!” you stared up at Toji with earnest eyes, ready to beg and plead you case as many times as it took for him to go from this to the less manic usual. 

Silence passed until he chuckled, took half a step back, and pulled you to his side. His arm around your shoulder and your face buried in his side, almost as if he tried to shield you from the corpse behind you. “That’s a good doll, don’ make me regret it, cuz if you do��” 

Toji didn’t need to finish that sentence. He didn’t need to. You knew that if you disappointed him again you and the left-behind body would have a lot in common..

— 

The last of the warm sun rays set and were replaced by barely-there moonlight before anything changed in the small behind-the-bar alley. The metal door to the significantly livelier bar creaked opened, and a pair of heel-clad feet stepped out and then shut the door behind them. 

The owner of the feet stood still for a moment, sighed, and then moved closer to the chilled body. As she drew closer, she raised her shoe and kicked the man hard on the fancy dress shoe.

“Oj how long are you gonna waste time laying in the middle of the shitty alley?” A female voice carried through, shortly followed by the light of a cigarette. She made a few more steps, came to a stop in front of her face, and stared down at the man with a bullet wound in his head. She took a deep drag of her cigarette before  she flickered some ash sight onto his chest “And what kind of cover name is ‘Tom’ anyway?” 

“Hey, don’t disrespect the dead, Shoko,” ‘Tom’ cracked an eye open with a lazy grin. He stretched his limbs as though he had just taken a long nap before he slowly sat up, each bone and muscle groaning in protest from laying on the hard pavement god knows how long. Reaching up, he wiped the blood and gunk off his face onto the back of his fancy suit sleeve “- And what’s wrong with ‘Tom’ anyway?” 

“ I’d respect you if you were actually dead. ‘Tom’ sounds like you’re over compensating for your lack of personality with a foreign name. ‘Toru would have worked just fine”, Shoko replied, ignoring his silent request to help pull him up. Satoru whined in response. “Now, let's go before someone actually calls the police on a ‘deadbody’. Last thing I need is to type up another death certificate for you-” 

“-Please do! Then I catch a break from the higher-ups-” 

Shoko kicked his leg, making sure to dive the heel into his thigh until he yelped and shut up. “-Shut it and lets go. Jesus, Toji is a horrid influence on your already awful personality.” Shoko grew tired of waiting for Satoru to pick himself off the ground and turned to leave, not waiting to see if he’d follow.

“ Aww, love you too Shoko, Owie, ow ow ow everything hurts.. huh-hey! Wait for me!” 

Author note: Well this is my attempt at two things at once, Dark dark content and Mystery. Well what do you think? Why was Satoru under cover (Tom?) and was Toji really 'just jealous'?

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[lustrexia]

for me dom!top jude is just >>>>>

(loved the one-shot xoxo)

tw: nsfw, minors dni

— Dom! Jude Bellingham

• He’s totally a Hard! Dom, he’s going to make you obey. Jude would even enjoy giving you commands he knows you can’t fulfill, it’s your desperation to do so that makes him really hard.

• Would use degradation rather than encouragement, he’d tell you how much he likes to use your defenseless body all the time, that you were practically made for being his. Or maybe he would say that you are practically asking for it, that you’re a slut. His slut.

• Jude does a have a thing for calling you a good girl/boy if you act right, but only if you behave. He’s going to deprives you of all praise if you choose to brat, he’d fuck that right out of you fast.

• Will take care of you, but he needs to train you first. Mean and domineering, like you need it.

• Even if you struggle and say no, he’d just taunt you saying “No isn’t a safe work”, all harsh. Jude would totally keep fucking you like he hates you.

• He’s really into his own cock bulging in your stomach. It’s like he’s claiming you, like your body is molding just for him. He totally owns you by that time.

• Bellingham would make you cum and keep going, overstimulating you just because he likes to hear you whimper. He’d use his tongue or his dick to do it, all aggressive and rough.

• Expects for you to obey instantly. You don’t? He already has a punishment planned for you then. Maybe he’d be extra rough, choking you, using his big hand to keep you in place while he uses your fuckhole, or maybe he’d slap your face, calling you degrading names.

• Brat Tamer.

At the end of the day, he’s a good dom. Aftercare his something you can really look forward to with Jude, he’d do everything in his power to take care of you after playing and using your body.

(…)

— Thank u anon! 🩷 I’m also really into him as a dom, it’s so hot… also oh my god his dick is so big in the middle Pic of this post I am going insane.

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Toji is 100% the older, rich boyfriend that will throw money at any of your problems because he actually hates seeing you upset when it comes to finances.

Being a university student and working part time, you have a lot going on and a decent amount to pay for. You are not estranged from your parents per say but they aren't ones to help out either. You never ask for help because that's what you're used to but you also feel bad asking for money so you never will.

Toji came back to your shared apartment. He of course had to practically pry you out of your old sketchy apartment because you didn't want to 'burden' him. You had insisted on paying half of the rent, bills and groceries but Toji just wanted you to be comfortable. You had worn him down for groceries and paying your car and phone but that was it.

"Angel? You in here doll?" He hunted through the apartment looking for you. Finally he found you in the bedroom, hunched over your laptop quiet tears fell from your eyes.

Your eyes snapped to him when he came in the room. You forced a smile, sniffling. "Oh you're home early. How was work?" You spoke so nonchalantly as if you obviously weren't crying.

"Why are you crying?" Toji tried to see what was on your laptop but you snapped it shut and wiped your face.

"Oh, I'm not I just keep yawning." A very forced yawn came out of you and you wiped your eyes again.

He almost wanted to clap at your attempt to cover it up. You moved off the bed and went to walk past him to the bathroom but his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you against him.

"What's wrong doll? Tell me who's got you upset so I can fix that real quick." His mischievous smirk made you giggle through the sniffling.

"It's nothing. It's stupid anyway." He tilted your head up to look at him. "I don't care what it was angel. Tell me."

You knew he wouldn't relent. Sighing, you looked down at your hands as you spoke. "My school offered me a month abroad for a course.... but then I found out that my sponsor pulled my funding and now I don't know if I can afford it and I really wanted to go and ugh it's stupid. I just applied too so now I don't know whether to pull my application or try to make it work somehow." Toji's features softened as you rambled on. He did remember you telling him about all the abroad courses and he agreed then and now that you deserve to go.

He chuckled, cradling your head as he pulled you against his chest. "Baby, you have a sponsor still. You're going on that trip. So, stop the tears, alright?"

You sighed and tried to pull away from him. "I just told you I don't have a sponsor anymore."

Toji picked you up and threw you to the bed. You laughed as you bounced. "Close your eyes angel." You rolled your eyes at him before closing them.

You tried to focus on your hearing to tell what he was doing. You opened your eyes as you felt objects softly hit your skin.

"Toji!"

Toji was quite literally throwing money at you. Then after there was no more cash, he dropped a handful of different bank cards into your lap.

"Like I said, you're going. No more tears and I don't wanna hear any arguments or I'll go to your school and pay for it myself." He softly gripped your chin, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

~ ~ ~ ~

random draft i just never posted, am working on requests so THANK YOU SM FOR SENDING i just want them to be good so im taking my time <3

[southside-otaku]

So being back on my Nightcrawler fixation after watching X Men ‘97, I’ve gotta say it….

During intense sex with Kurt, he teleports…and yall are slamming each other into desks, walls, doors, windows, CEILINGS, wherever in the room and if nobody is home EVERYWHERE is a fucking surface!

Thanks that’s all. (For now)

[zobix]