#the nicest thing anyone said…today

[sincerelyrf]

you had to be there but when I say Dónal Finn's performance of If It's True this afternoon was the most powerful fucking version of that I've ever goddamn heard I need you to believe me

[loverboybrightsideghost]

computer define underdog

[kavehayati]

“Look at you you’re such a doll you’re so cute and the things you talk about are so entertaining and lively and fun and you’re soft spoken with a soft heart it makes people want to stay with you …apart from when you complain”

THAAAANK YOU ! You see this is why I never speak. I have been hearing this complaint from everybody. Am I as a human being not allowed to be upset and complain about things ?! This is why I bottle everything up. Ykw it’s my fault for that because I AM easy to talk to so it invites everyone even those who are intolerant to everything. Let me get mad let me be upset and complain UGH.

[phagodyke]

someone at climbing came up to me specifically to compliment my determination I will be riding this high for weeks 🤭😚

[ep2nd]

Greetings. This is your reminder that your children love you(/p). That is all.

Awwwwq, that's so cute!!

Thank you, best way to end the school week

Love yall too<3<3

[nanamiskentos]

★ ☄️🪽 ARMAGEDDON ! jujutsu kaisen. 呪術廻戦.

prologue ⋆ ★ what if gojo satoru was the king of curses? or nanami kento, the suave n' disdainful cult leader? ryomen sukuna, the strongest at jujutsu tech? welcome to alternate reality jujutsu kaisen.

pairings ⋆ ★ gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab/she+her!reader, fíngering (f), metaphysical séx, reader is called 'whóre', the most incorrect use of unlimited void ever, óral (m), consensual éxhibitiónism/voyéurísm (nanami), mentions of violence, wall séx, hate séx (choso), jealous séx, car séx (toji), ríding him to tears, córruption kink, overstím, angry séx, lore swaps in a way that would make shonen jump blacklist me forever

word count ⋆ ★ 5.1k a/n ⋆ ★ been teasing this since november last year and i lost motivation and forced myself to pick it back up and get it togetherrr 😭 my formal apologies extended to gege

GOJO SATORU ៹. the king of curses

"i h-hate you, i really, really do!" funny, isn't it? how the words that fall from your kiss-stung lips don't quite match at how you're writhing and squirming in the lap of a being that could easily snap you in two, should he so wished.

clearly, gojo satoru seems to find you, his vessel, just as amusing, for he thinks he's grown rather used to your antics. to the way that you claim to detest him, and that you'll never entertain his offers ever again. and yet here you are, always crawling back to the king of curses when the long hours of the night don't allow you to rest.

"that's possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," gojo coos, chiming sweetly while two fingers work their way through your insides, crooking and curling to find your sweet spot. sighing as though he wasn't affected by your bare form, draped across his throne, "you know what i really admire about you? your unshakeable principles. how you say that you just can't stand me, heh, and yet, always beggin' like a whore for me."

"fuck, gojo, r-right there, –" eyes rolling to the back of your head, revealing the whites, as translucent gloss practically drips down one of the demon's four hands.

"yes, yes," gojo mutters, "i'll get to that, jus' gotta' be patient." luckily, your back is pressed against his bare chest, the muscles and flesh littered with bold, ivory markings. the very edges of ice-kissed hair tickling at your cheek as sharp fangs sink into the shell of your ear, almost tender.

each push and pull of gojo's slender, sturdy fingers between your swollen folds leaves a resounding pop! that echoes through this...well, you're not quite sure where you are. all you know is that, as gojo satoru's vessel, you're prone to sharing his domain — particularly when you're trying to sleep. frankly, you should be a little more concerned about the frequency of these metaphysical meetings, but it's hard to think of little else but how his fingers are so thick, hitting all the right spots in you.

"hey, have i ever told ya' about unlimited void?" gojo suddenly murmurs, jostling right over the nasty bulge that the king of curses packs beneath those loose robes. you tiredly droop your head back, too busy rolling your hips, so close to that dear climax that you've been chasing ever since your soul popped up in gojo's throne room. your eyes meet four blue irises, each one cunning and sharp.

"is t-this really the time for a, hah, a lesson?" you scowl, feeling gojo stiffen and curse underneath you when your pretty cunt sets a steady rhythm over his clothed shaft, "you were no help earlier today, y'know that, right? when that c-curse was –"

gojo nips at your neck, those strands of snowy hair kissing your neck once more, "you were doing just fine without me, always got somethin' to complain about, don't you, eh?" lifting your hips to hiss at the arousal that's leaking out from underneath you, pooling in his wide lap. muttering something about how a human and a lowly vessel like you should be honoured to receive a teaching from the incarnated king of curses, "now pay attention, 'cause i'm not gonna' be repeating myself. 's about t-time you learnt more about this domain."

bleary eyes cracking open to try and capture the sight of a floorless throne room, as though the night sky had been captured to form the base, flickering often as a starless, yet stormy sky, "i k-know unlimited void," you whine, "always showin' off in my head 'bout it," seething as gojo stills his fingers inside you, tutting as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.

two beefy arms still hold you aloft, while one has fingers buried within your cunt, and the fourth? deft, rough pads of his fingers begin rubbing soothing, tight circles over your clit, rendering most of your mind to mush, "not just a realm, sweetheart. heh, guess you could say it's a curse. at least for anyone foolish enough to find themselves trapped there –," patting your thighs gently, "present company excluded, of course."

resuming his gentle, punishing pace once more, still curling upwards where he's most eager to reach, that special spot that will see you falling apart so beautifully, "see, when most lesser beings enter, it's like – mhmm, how should i put this?" gojo's musing, voice curling melodiously behind you, slapping away your eager hand that reaches for his cock, "not yet, where was i? well, unlimited void stretches one's mind, traps ya' in an endless sea of information. trust me, yer' gonna' know every atom and particle out there."

"ah, gojo!" lashes fluttering with crystal tears that pull at the corners of your eyes, for he's hit the arrowhead right on the mark, right where your climax is poised to wash over you any second now.

but gojo's ignoring your needy cries, two fingers flexing so tense against your gummy, sticky walls, "so the mind can't really handle unlimited void, and most are just...shut down. but only when i activate it, does that make sense?" he's musing, not waiting for your answer, "yeah, it does, hah. but we are not most lesser beings, right?"

you're not even sure what on earth he's going on about, desperate to chase the orgasm that teases you, licks flames at your groin, "n-no, we're not, fuck, gojo, 'm so –"

"close?" gojo chuckles darkly, and you should have known. truly, you should have guessed that he would have never been so generous with your pleasure if he wasn't planning something. for just as you ripple with the dazed pleasure, you can feel gojo crook one finger in you, one behind the other, curling the digits just so he can mutter something you only catch when it's too late.

"unlimited void."

what follows next is earth-shattering, for you feel as though its the ultimate surrender to the king of curses, where time and space, and thought all blend together into something overwhelming perfect, rather than suffocating. your lips part, soundless as a silent cry is ripped from you, your thighs quivering atop gojo satoru's muscular lap, release absolutely spraying and gushing out from your swollen, eager folds.

you've never had a release that's quite so...clear and inviting, and you can hear gojo's amused, aroused laugh against your back, and if you didn't know better, you would assume that the king of curses is running pale claws through your hair, letting you ride out the crystalline wave of your orgasm.

"hahh, oh my – oh my god, satoru," you're probably babbling, clinging and creating a bigger mess over gojo, who just narrows all four eyes, tipped with white, long lashes. he's smiling, as though he knows something that you don't, and he looks almost pleased, "should we continue the next lesson tomorrow night?"

NANAMI KENTO ៹. the cult leader

you should have known better, you really should have been a bit smarter about all this, about flouncing into the hall where nanami had been holding court, or rather, cult. for the mats had been set up the previous day for the wealthiest benefactors to come and see the great, golden man in the flesh.

and you doubt your husband had been...pleased, when you had poked your head past the great sliding doors, clad in nothing but an open robe in swathes of rippling navy. so all those who turned their head would have caught sight of nanami kento's beautiful wife, nipples pebbled in the cool air, drawing their line of sight to the apex of your thighs. so, that's how you found yourself here, lips pursed around the fat head of the cult leader's shaft.

"she's doin' so well, isn't she?" nanami intones, gentle hand guiding the nape of your neck, loving even. well, he always was, despite the games that the two of you played. the show that he was always eager to put on, hazel eyes gazing over the gaping maws of the benefactors who could only watch, shifting on their mats as you lifted your head up with a pop!

he's chuckling to himself, running a limp hand through thick waves of amber hair, "heh, 's okay. no-one needs speak, i need to be hearing her properly." her being the slick sounds echoing from the hollows of your mouth, the lips that you used to press creamy kisses onto his cock.

"doing, mmph – doing good?" you mumble, that heavy slurp! of your tongue against the broad underside of his cock sending him to heaven and back. he's adjusting his glasses, guiding a shaky hand to the base of his cock, where golden curls coil thickly, slowly sliding his member from your pretty mouth. smearing your waiting lips with the translucent smears of pre that you've pulled from him.

"the best," nanami assures you, patting at his thick, muscular thighs for you to lay your head, "and t-they all think so too, i bet." he can see the gleam in your eyes, knows that you're enjoying this just as much as he is.

wondering at all the creative ways that he can take you right after this, perhaps splayed out on his lap for all to see, back against the teal robes snug on his chest, so the benefactors can see his cock slide between the fat folds of your cunt. tempting.

you're pursing your lips once more, wiping a stray, clingy strand of nanami's arousal from your chin, before diving back to the head task at hand. each wet, sloppy sound of your glistening lips against the fat, blushed tip of his cock has nanami's thighs shaking, quivering. determined not to whine and lose composure in front of the men who fork over billions of yen to his...temple each month.

but it's your hands that are the most dangerous, nanami concludes, for while you flatten your tongue against his tip, your fist tightens around the base of his cock, teasing gentle fingers against the folds of skin right underneath, and his mind goes absolutely blank.

shooting ropes after ropes of thick, buttery release against your lips. watching with glimmering, hazy eyes as your fingers catch the droplets of his release, reaching in between your thighs to slicken your cunt further with his climax, god, nanami truly thinks he's going to burst.

there's a faint, muffled groan from someone in the audience, and he can see the pitying, disapproving look in your eyes. for someone's broken the golden rule of silence, and well, the whole room is gonna' pay for that now. and miss out on a truly magnificent show, he'd wager. what a shame, but no big loss. he's truly extracted whatever funds they had, so these men are of no use to him now.

he gently runs slender fingers over your chin, dipping at the plush flesh of your lower lip, helping you up, "come, my love. i don't want you seeing this," pulling your open robes tighter across your heated flesh, he's guiding you to the door, past the rows of slack-jawed men. nanami kento certainly doesn't want the love of his life hearing the sounds of errant curses ripping flesh apart.

CHOSO KAMO ៹. the assassin

you not really sure what's stopping you from plunging the tip of a blade into the throbbing veins that bulge against choso kamo's neck. it would be so easy, and well, it would be fair too. you could claim self-defence too, for had the sorcerer killer not arrived to take your life?

but fate has a funny way of doing things, for there's a hazy smile playing across your lips, fingers twisting into loose strands of dark hair that fall to choso's shoulders, gasping as he rickets his hips into you, greedy as his cock drills you against the damp alley-wall.

"you're not t-that good at y'job, are ya'?" you're teasing, gasping as you can feel every inch of choso's thick shaft pressing disorderly pecks against your cervix, deeper than you really thought possible. and god, the assassin looks ruined. how ironic that you were the one who took him out instead, with nary a weapon but the one that he loved between your thighs.

the taller man's groaning, amber eyes misty, squeezing shut as dark lashes flutter across pale, blotchy skin like brush strokes on an oil canvas. "s'good, oh, f-fuck," choso's lips bloom a pretty shade of bruised pink, "yer' killing me, baby."

he's jerking his head back, partly from the sheer pleasure running through his veins, and partly due to your nails bestowing a harsher, tighter tug to the back of his head. it's got him sheepishly giggling, utterly pussydrunk on you, "sorry, bad choice of words, huh?"

whatever retort was blooming on your open lips falls apart when you feel the cherry head of choso's cock punch at you, pistoning slick smears of pre against your sweet spot, hot and heavy. he's filling you up in the most delicious way imaginable, and you take the moment to run your hands over his back. over the tight top that clings to his build like a second skin, melded into the ashen pallor of his bulging upper arms.

choso's effortlessly got you poised on one arm, jostling and cursing as his fingers loop around thick, coiled chains dangling from the spear strapped to his back. he's fumbling for a split second, throwing the weapon on the ground with little care, all so he can hold you better. cold fingers pressing against your mouth, a waiting command for you to wrap your tongue around the tip of his finger. tasting yourself, from when you had first guided his hand to the apex of your thighs.

"c-close?" choso murmurs, questioning and chasing after your lolling tongue, looking equally wrecked, as he slams the very last of his inches into you. bottoming out with a thick, sticky pop! the final push has him hitting the perfect spot to make you writhe and squirm. sealing him into a kiss this time to muffle the whine that threatens to erupt from you.

knowing that that choso's got you pinned to the wall of an alley in one of the most run-down districts of the city, where none travel save for ill intentions, and yet, anyone could still turn the corner and see exactly where the base of choso's cock meets your hips in clingy slaps of arousal and pre swirled up together.

"the f-first time i've never been able to finish the job, heh," choso muses, his tone almost gentle despite the mean way that he's delving into your walls, "don't think i can face m'boss after this, tch', o-ouh, fuck," choso's leaning into the crook of your neck, sinking pointed canines into soft skin. leaving marks that will surely bruise and bloom in shades of deep violet, when he separates his tacking, syrupy lips from the juncture of your swan-arch.

you groan, unabashed, when choso stills for a second and bestows you with a heady kiss, all before plunging right back in to you, "who would have thought i would be the o-one to bring the sorcerer killer to his k-knees?"

choso's giving you a half-lidded, lazy look, flushing a brilliant shade of blossom-pink, as though he's got all the time in the world, smoothly dragging his hand down further until its patting at your mound, "p-patience, i'll give ya', that too."

TOJI FUSHIGURO ៹. the office worker

"oh, it's you." that was your disappointed, flat intone when toji fushiguro pushed through the elevator doors after you, earlier that day. the man was the office's terminal underachiever, barely even showing up on the clock, but it was hard to complain when he proved such a delicious sight for the eyes in a rumpled black dress-shirt, rolled up to reveal glorious thick forearms dusted with faint, dark hair.

"oh, it's t-too big, toji!" and that's how you somehow ended up, practically pressed flat into the most brutal, nasty mating press in the backseat of your car. toji's large hands splayed across your thighs, legs achingly hooked over his bent form — but the ache between your legs was far more pleasurable. glossy strands of slick snapping and clinging to your skin where his thighs snapped against yours, steady at a pace that wouldn't rattle your isolated car too much in the basement lot.

"didn't think i was gon' show up today, doll?" toji groans, slowly bucking his sharp hips forward so every inch of his cock explores the walls of your pretty, pretty pussy. "that's why y'were flirtin' with that stupid –" the man's muffling back a heavy moan, "that stupid worker on the s-second floor?"

you're not quite sure how toji manages to do it. defying the laws of physics and matter to somehow reach in between the two of you, to slap around the treacly mess gathered at your pressed groins. toji's circling your throbbing clit in faux pity, all as you heave, "you're jealous? t-that's what this is, hah?"

toji's jade, sharp eyes narrow as though he's hesitant to put a name to the emotion, settling to roll and pinch at your swollen bud, hoping that you can feel every vein and fold of skin rummaging through your syrupy cunt, "n-no." but the quake in his voice gives him so brutally away, and it has you grinning. pulling toji fushiguro down for a clash of your lips against his, so that rough scar brushes against your skin, twitching almost as though toji's smiling into the kiss. what a bastard, you hate how he's ensnared you.

you hiss, pulling at soft, silky strands of raven hair, "keep it down, fushiguro –" heart racing with every ricketing motion of your poor car, swaying back and forth, tucked away in this dim little corner of the office basement lot, "s-someone could see, could fire us, hnghh', b-both."

it's clear that toji fushiguro doesn't quite share your concerns, that shark-like grin beaming in brilliant ivory, nipping at your neck, tugging the corners of your blouse with his teeth, "someone, as in – fuck, ya' got a killer grip, doll. someone, like that fucker on the second floor?"

you roll drenched hips further into toji's abdomen, feeling dark hairs tickled at the very lowest base of your own groin, "if ya' wanna be exclusive, t-toji, just say so." head thrown back for toji to bestow heated kisses all along the expanse of bared skin, tossing your employee lanyard aside.

toji punctuates his answer with a sharp tack of his hips against your clit, "yeah. exclusive, you n' me, doll." the burly man must be close for he's flushing, babbling at you as though you're undoing every stitch holding his slacks (and sanity) together, "i'd do a-anything. clean up my act for ya', show up every day jus' to see that pretty fuckin' face."

your own hazy, shaking climax washes over you, just as toji stills, pumping rope after rope of translucent, creamy cum right into you. creating an awful, sticky mess that leaves you writhing, panting toji's name into his open mouth, "do all that, f-fushiguro, and y'can have me in any way you want."

GETO SUGURU ៹. the death painting

"please," the half-curse is whining now, prattling as you run hands over the dark, cotton robes that envelop him, "dunno' what this is, but it feels so –"

you're cooing, pressing soft and slick kisses to the corner of geto's pink mouth, "feels good, suguru? i guess you could say, hmm," running nails through the dark, silky strands of the death painting's hair, "you could say it's pleasurable, right?"

geto's nodding, adam's apple bobbing as his peach-fine features flush the most beautiful shade of crimson. looking nothing like the hardened warrior with an arsenal of special-grade curses, those of his own blood, at his side. he looks positively ruined, and you can feel the curve of his bulge underneath your teasing hands, running softly over the clothed shaft in the most innocuous way possible.

"can you, ouh –" geto stutters when your lips press a searing kiss into the throbbing vein on his creamy neck, where his shaky pulse jumps in staccato, "touch it? feels s-so good, love."

you're batting your lashes, tilting your head as though you have no idea about the effect you hold over the half-curse, "what? touch, oh!" slipping your hand past the band of his loose pants, underneath the deep violet fabric cinched at his waist, "here?"

resting your hand against the very base of his abdomen, right above where he craves you most. geto's bucking his hips up desperately, hoping that you'll get the hint and move past where you've hovering, right over a thatch of raven-curls.

you thinly smile, feeling the heat of his skin sear into you, before you've even touched his muscular, broad thighs. to think that you've got quite the warrior begging underneath you, well, it's got your own thighs damply clenched together. but that's a lesson for another day, for today, you want to see geto suguru gasping in your hold.

"hmm, suguru, y'know you've gotta' be a bit more specific," your nails run dangerously against his shaft, and you won't admit this to him yet, but the sheer length is making you gulp. all before you've even laid eyes on the magnificent inches that he's packing away underneath his robes, "do y'trust me, sugu'?"

geto nods, quickly and sharply, already shivering from your touch, "of c-course, 'course, i trust you." and the admission makes your pussy flutter, the idea of having this girth packed in you, drilling into you until the two of you see stars.

you press another gentle kiss to the corner of his lips again, reaching up to free his hair from the clingy knot resting on the back of his head. marvelling as ink-dark hair pools in sleek swathes, falling to his waist, giggling as geto chases after your lips, "hah, 'm gonna make you feel so good, baby."

you gently tug his robes to the side, revealing an expanse of chiselled skin, and clear-cut muscle. giving geto a coy look as you pull out his weighty, hot shaft, searing in your hands. it's just as pretty and big as he is, crowned with an angry-red head that seems to throb and pulse in your grasp.

"fuck," geto gasps, already looking drunken from your touch, "keep doing t-that, don't stop that, please." he's addicted to the way that your fist starts gently pumping him, slowly applying more pressure as you move from base to tip. dipping your tongue to taste the first, clear drops of pre that have already escaped.

you clearly didn't account for the physiology of those with cursed blood in their veins, for geto's already making a mess. you're certain that barely no time has passed at all, but there's already slick, gooey strands painting your hand. creating loud squelches as you roll your fist, thumb pausing to flit at his weeping slit.

"hey, suguru," you're murmuring, experimentally parting your lips over his bulging tip, "what would happen if i –"

you get your answer when you're barely enveloped his shaft, thick wads of stringy cum exploding out in glossy torrents, painting your chin in slow, clingy drips of geto's seed. geto, who's twitching and flushed in your hold, ears beaming red as he gnaws at his lower lip, "baby, you shoulda', fuck, should have warned me." pausing to give you a shy look, "wanna' try again?"

RYOMEN SUKUNA ៹. the strongest

"what the fuck was that?" you've never quite seen sukuna like this, this furious. this loss of composure just didn't quite suit ryomen sukuna, the strongest sorcerer that walks the earth in this day and age (though, rumours say that he may even hold a candle against gojo satoru, the famed king of curses).

over a decade you've known the gruff man, graduated alongside him, worked and fought alongside him at jujutsu tech, and yet you've never, ever seen sukuna as he is now. not even when itadori yuuji broke his favourite mug before class.

he's blinking crimson eyes in some sorta' haze, dark lashes fluttering as his mouth hovers an inch away from yours. you're not sure what sort of lecture this is, but the throbbing in your groin is a dead giveaway that you don't mind.

a large hand is resting on the nape of your neck, as though sukuna's not sure whether to pull you away or towards him, numerous silver piercing clinking as he shakes his head, "what did i say to ya' earlier, hmm?"

"erm..." no, not your best work.

but it's truly hard to focus when sukuna looks this good, painted in the evening light that filters through the window of the abandoned classroom, long after the students have retired. toned, deceptively fierce arms pushing against the navy jujutsu uniform, rose-pink hair mussed — no thanks to that special grade that was giving the two of you a hard time not so long ago.

he's pushing closer against you, and you're catching that scent, intoxicating and heady, "wasn't a rhetorical question, woman. didn't i tell ya' one important thing?"

you realise how easy it would be to wrap a leg around his slender waist, to pull the tall man in against the two of you were pressed flat against the desk but you tamp the lecherous thoughts down, time and place, yeah? "you said...," you falter, wandering if it's worth tilting your head to brush your lips against the man, "y'said not to get in the way."

sukuna's long fingers are curling at the shell of your ear, running over a stray strand of hair that's come undone in the earlier scuffle, "mhm, good girl. and what did ya' do, then? when i was busy using dismantle n' cleave?"

you sigh, already feeling sukuna's temper roll off him in waves, "yes, i got in the way," intoning flatly, looking anywhere but the concentric rings in sukuna's eyes, "look, if you're gonna' chew me out, can you make it quick? i ended up you helpin' anyway, and i dunno' why you're so pressed about –"

sukuna presses his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in a kiss that leaves you whimpering, moaning at the desire (and something else that you know sukuna's gonna have a hard time naming) that erupts. bruising lips meeting yours with a fierce urgency, teeth scraping, and hands pulling your own uniform to the side, as though sukuna may lay down his life if he doesn't get to feel you this close to him.

sukuna's muffling something into the kiss, calling you senseless (well, hey! not true) and oblivious (maybe) and gorgeous (true enough, that's fair). you're not sure when his large, tattooed hand managed to pry its way up to your thighs, but you gasp at the feeling of your suddenly drenched panties being torn off with little bravado. sukuna's grinning, all sharp fangs, as he tucks them away into his uniform pocket.

"fuck me." you're groaning, gasping at his thumb hooks over your clit, rubbing hot, tight circles into your most sensitive spot. you're not sure if it's exasperation or a plea colouring your words, but sukuna seems pleased, quirking a brow, "yeah? that's what you want? think it'll get ya' off the hook?"

"please fuck me," you correct yourself, reaching for the metal buckle at sukuna's hips, fulfilling that vision of hooking sukuna in. rocking him closer to your bare, dripping core so he can align his fat, heavy tip against your glistening entrance.

your eyes flit down to the very base of his cocks, where coarse, pink hair teases your flesh, and — oh. sukuna's tracking your line of sight, flushing when he sees your eyes widen, taking in the dark, tattooed ring encircling the base of his shaft.

"don't ask," sukuna grunts, ears flaming red as you giggle, nipping at your ear, "hold on f'me now, can ya' follow that instruction, at least?" the man truly thinks he may lose it, right then and there, watching how your puffy folds bulge around the head of his cock. how it's you, the woman that he's been in love with for ten years, giving him a dazed, lopsided smile when he finally, finally slides it in.

"fuuuck," sukuna groans, pale-pink hair tickling at your forehead as he leans in, "yer' taking me well, heh. not too big for ya'?" he's grinning, even when you swat a droopy hand at him, clenching hard around his girth, "don't flatter yourself."

but it's only when he starts rocking his hips back and forth, imprinting his cock right against your walls, that sukuna begins to lose his mind, losing all sense of other duties and responsibilities. thoughts of the report that he has to submit to the fuckass higher ups, the quizzes he has to grade for the dumb, little first years, oh god, the bills he has to pay. poof! gone, vanquished by the sticky-sweet hold of your intoxicating cunt.

"wanted this for sooo long, woman," sukuna grunts, "you got no idea, wanted you," he punctuates his words with a sharp tack of his hips, "only you. always you, only one for me, heh. i'd take out anyone who says otherwise." and your sweet, pretty whimpers in his ear only make him all the more desperate, ready to slam bullseye on that sweet spot. thank god, classes are over for the day and the campus is empty, for he's got you allll to himself now.

[psycholuvrgirl]

that's just how i talk

featuring... megumi!

summary: megumi doesn't like that you flirt with everyone you meet, you have to make it up to him

warnings: NSFW content; oral (m!receiving) (all characters are aged up)

a/n: bimbo!reader is just me i fear

“thank you so much sweetheart,” you beam, lashes fluttering at the barista as they hand over your iced drink. “you have the nicest hands. like you could totally be a hand model.”

the barista blinks, then smiles a flustered sort of smile. “oh, thanks!”

you wink. “don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, cute stuff.”

and just like that, megumi is clenching his jaw and nearly breaking through his own cup of coffee.

you turn back to him, all sunshine and lip gloss. you smile when you spot him and make your way back to where he’s waiting stiffly by the wall. you offer him a sip with a grin. “want some, baby?”

“did you just flirt with the barista?”

“what? no.” you look genuinely confused. “i was just being nice.”

“you complimented his hands.”

“they were good hands, baby. did you see ‘em? should i go get him?”

megumi inhales slowly, counting to ten under his breath. you sip your drink, unaware and unbothered by the faint twitch in his jaw.

“being nice is fun. you should try it sometime, gumi.”

“i am nice.”

you look him up and down. “you scowled at a puppy this morning.”

“it bit me.”

“it licked you.”

“same thing.”

you giggle, linking your arm with his as you leave the café. “you’re so dramatic, baby.”

(says the girl in the rhinestone-covered miniskirt and knee-high pink boots.)

megumi sighs. “can you maybe not flirt with everyone who breathes? especially when i’m standing right there.”

your glossy lips part. “you thought i was flirting?”

he gives you a flat look.

“that’s just how i talk,” you insist, laughing. “baby, i call the mailman ‘cutie patootie.’ it doesn’t mean anything.”

“another request: please stop saying ‘cutie patootie.’”

“no promises.”

he shakes his head. “you do it with everyone! waiters, clerks, gojo—”

“oh, come on. i’m not flirting with gojo.”

“you told him his eyelashes were longer than your patience.”

“they are! and i have very little patience, so that’s impressive.”

megumi pinches the bridge of his nose. “that doesn’t even make sense. that’s not impressive if you have a little— whatever. i’m just wondering, do you not see how that sounds?”

you lean in close, voice soft. “aww, baby. are you jealous?”

his ears go pink instantly. “no. i’m annoyed.”

“mmhm.”

you pout at him playfully, tugging on his sleeve. “you know you’re the only one i actually flirt with, right?”

he looks skeptical. “are you sure?”

“duh.” you reach up and tap your finger against his chest. “i don’t say anyone else looks hot when they’re mad.”

“you said that last week when i yelled at that curse.”

“exactly,” you say, bouncing up to smack a glossy kiss on his cheek. “and you’re the only one i cover in my gloss!”

megumi pauses and you smirk. he hates that you have a point.

***

later that evening, you’re curled up in his bed, freshly showered and smelling like vanilla, wearing one of his hoodies that hangs off your shoulder. megumi’s reading, or at least trying to. you’re draped across his chest like a weighted blanket, chin propped on your hands, watching him.

“are you mad at me?” you ask sweetly.

“no.”

“then why do you look like that?”

“like what?”

“like you’re debating whether to kiss me or murder me.”

he closes his book. “i’m just wondering how someone with that much lip gloss gets away with flirting with half the city and calls it ‘being nice.’”

you gasp dramatically. “half the city?! i would never.”

“name three people you didn’t flirt with today.”

you pause to think, a long and painful pause. “yuuji?”

“he wasn’t even with us. doesn’t count if you didn’t even see them today.”

“oh.” you blink. then you gasp and smile. “i didn’t flirt with nanami!”

“you called him a dilf.”

“oh. right.” you slump. “but he didn’t even know what that meant, so it’s not really flirting.”

“yes it is,” he says, rolling his eyes.

you shrug. “well, i flirt with you the most. so that counts for something, right?”

megumi stares at you.

“tell me you don’t love it. go on. lie to my face.”

he opens his mouth, then closes it. you beam.

“it’s just hard sometimes,” he says. “everyone always looks at you and you talk to them like they’re special. it’s like i’m not even standing there.”

you blink. “oh.”

megumi doesn’t look at you.

you sit up on your knees, cupping his jaw with both hands so he has to.

“baby,” you say, voice suddenly quieter, “sure, i talk to them like they’re cute, but i talk to you like you hung the damn moon.”

he blinks.

“and when i flirt with you, i actually mean it.”

“so you admit you flirt with them?” he asks, raising a brow.

you let out a giggle. “sure, if it makes you happy, grumpy-pants.”

he narrows his eyes. “you’re exhausting.”

“you love it,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“i love when you don’t flirt with people.”

“oh, come on,” you whine, rolling your eyes. “i already told you it’s different! i only mean to flirt with you. i love you the most.”

he continues to give you a flat look.

your eyes twinkle with mischief. you push him gently so that he leans back, crawling over to straddle him. you get close to his ear. “need me to prove it?”

his breath hitches the second you say it, eyes flickering up to meet yours like he isn’t sure if you’re serious. but you’re already sliding off his lap.

“wait,” megumi’s voice is a rasp, but your fingers are already hooking in the waistband of his sweats. “you don’t have to—”

“i know.” you look up at him, lips plush and already parting, pupils blown wide with heat and sincerity. “i want to.”

your hands are sure as you tug his pants down enough to free him, fingers grazing the soft skin of his hips as he hisses under his breath. he’s already half-hard, and your eyes gleam at the sight.

“all that brooding,” you murmur, wrapping your hand around the base and giving a slow stroke, “you just need some attention. yeah, baby?”

megumi tips his head back against the pillows, jaw clenched.

“and you think i’m the dramatic one,” he mutters, breathless.

you just giggle, then lean in and press an open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock. it’s featherlight and sweet, tongue flicking just enough to make his thighs tense. his fingers dig into the blanket.

you look up through your lashes, voice syrupy and soft. “let me take care of you, baby.”

he doesn’t answer. just nods once.

you wrap your lips around him slowly, sinking down inch by inch, feeling him twitch against your tongue as he curses under his breath.

he always forgets just how good your mouth feels until it’s back on him. he knows it’s good, but imagining it never lives up to you doing the real thing.

you’re not just soft, but you’re eager. like you love having him in your mouth, like it’s your favorite thing in the world.

and maybe it is.

you moan a little around him, just enough to make his hips jerk. one of his hands finds your hair, gentle at first, fingers threading through the strands as you take him deeper.

you pull back with a wet pop, spit glistening on your lips. “you always get like this when i flirt with other people,” you tease, stroking him slowly. “so serious. so jealous. it’s kinda hot.”

“not jealous,” he growls, eyes hazy. “just hate sharing.”

“mmm.” you lean in again, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock. “you’re not sharing. you have me.”

and then you take him in again. deeper this time, one hand stroking what you can’t fit, the other gripping his thigh as you hollow your cheeks and suck hard.

megumi curses softly, raggedly and lets his head fall back.

“fuck, baby.”

you hum around him, letting the vibration roll through your throat. his hips buck. the hand in your hair tightens instinctively.

you bob your head, setting a rhythm fast enough to make his breathing hitch, slow enough to make it last. you love watching him like this. love how wild he looks when he loses control. the way his eyes fliutter shut, the muscles in his stomach tightening.

this isn’t about teasing anymore. this is about proving your point.

you don’t flirt with anyone like this. you don’t kneel for anyone like this. only him. always him.

you pull back again, spit dripping from your lips as you catch your breath, eyes sparkling. “still think i don’t mean it?”

megumi stares down at you, flushed and panting. “you’re ridiculous.”

“say you like it.”

“i love it.”

you grin, then sink down again, this time taking him all the way until your nose brushes the base. he groans, deep and guttural, both hands gripping your hair now, eyes wide like he still can’t believe how good your mouth feels.

you gag once, then pull back just enough to breathe, your lips swollen and slick.

“you gonna cum for me?” you whisper, stroking him faster now, tongue flicking over the tip. “wanna taste it, baby. wanna know you believe me.”

“jesus—” megumi’s voice cracks, hips jerking once before he gasps, “fuck, i’m—”

it’s hot and sudden on your tongue, thick and heavy as his whole body shudders beneath you. you take it all, swallowing around him as he comes down in sharp breaths, body twitching with every aftershock. you stay there for a second, resting your cheek against his thigh, letting him catch his breath.

he looks dazed. completely destroyed.

“still mad at me?” you ask sweetly.

he drags a hand over his face without responding. you giggle, crawling back up to kiss him. it’s slow, open-mouthed, and filthy. 

when you pull back, your eyes sparkle again.

“i’m still gonna flirt with the barista tomorrow.”

megumi groans.

[lnracer]

➵ Pairing: Single Dad! Lando x Flower Shop Owner! Reader.

➵ Warnings: None.

➵ Word Count: 1.200k.

➵ a/n: Of a little scenario that came into my mind. I hope you like it! 💐𖹭

The bell above the flower shop door chimed softly, announcing a new visitor.

She looked up from the arrangement she was working on, tucking a loose strand of one long, shiny lock of neatly arranged hair behind her ear. The warm, rich scent of roses and fresh greenery filled the shop, mingling with the sunbeams pouring through the windows.

It was in those simple but meaningful moments that she found comfort in the vivid flowers; in that almost secret garden that seemed like a lucky find amidst so many sophisticated restaurants and designer stores on the busy avenue.

A man stepped inside — young, maybe mid-twenties — tall, with messy, honey-brown curls, sharp but kind features, and that almost nervous demeanor she’d recognize anywhere: someone who wasn't used to buying flowers.

At his side was a little girl, no older than four, clutching the hem of his jacket shyly.

She wiped her hands on her khaki apron, with a small daisy flower embroidered in cream on the front — as well as the name of the store — and approached with a warm smile.

“Hi there! Welcome to The Bloom Room. How can I help you today?”

The man returned a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey. Uh, I was hoping to get some flowers for my mum’s birthday. I’m... not exactly an expert, as you could probably tell.”

His voice was soft, a little raspy, and charmingly unsure.

She felt a soft warmth bloom in her chest. This, unfortunately, was not a very common occurrence these days — men buying flowers for their mothers. It was sweet.

Crouching by a bucket of freshly misted peonies, she looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes crinkling with a kind glow.

“You seem like a really good son,” she said lightly, the soft but subtly appreciative tone, meaning every word. “Not many men walk in here for their moms anymore. She’s lucky to have you.”

She caught the way his gaze lingered on her — not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but like she was a painting he couldn’t stop studying.

Lando felt a little stunned, honestly. The moment he saw her — crouched among the blooms, rosy-cheeked, soft smile lighting up her whole face — it hit him square in the chest. She was beautiful. Ethereal even. Like she didn’t quite belong in the real world.

Before he could muster a proper response, a tiny voice piped up.

She turned slightly, noticing his daughter had tiptoed closer to her, her big blue eyes wide with wonder.

Lily clutched the hem of her skirt shyly, and in the sweetest little voice, whispered,

“You look like a Disney princess...”

Her heart completely melted.

Setting the peonies aside, she crouched lower so she was on Lily's level, smiling so softly it felt like the whole shop glowed.

“Well, that’s just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever told me,” she said, gently offering her hand for a high-five. “And you, young lady, must be my favorite customer today.”

The little girl giggled and gave her a tiny, proud high-five, before quickly scurrying back to her dad’s side, hiding her face against his jeans.

Lando let out a low chuckle, ruffling her hair.

“She’s not wrong,” he said, his voice rougher now, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

She looked up at him — cheeks pinker now, lips curved shyly — and Lando swore the peonies weren’t the only things blooming in the room.

She helped him pick out a bouquet — peonies, soft garden roses, and a sprig of eucalyptus — all the while sneaking little glances at each other, sharing shy smiles whenever their hands brushed accidentally.

When he left, a bouquet carefully wrapped in brown paper and tied with a satin ribbon, Lily waved a tiny hand at her, her smile missing two baby teeth.

“Bye, Princess!”

And Lando, glancing back over his shoulder one last time, thought maybe he’d just found the perfect excuse to come back to The Bloom Room — again and again.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

It had only been three days since Lando and his daughter had first walked into The Bloom Room, but here they were again — the bell chiming as they stepped inside.

She looked up from behind the counter, immediately brightening when she saw them.

"Back so soon?" she teased lightly, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Forgot something?"

Lando gave a boyish, slightly sheepish grin.

"Sort of. Someone," he said, nudging Lily gently, "decided she needed flowers in her room too. Couldn't say no to that."

She smiled wider, heart already melting all over again.

"Well, we absolutely must fix that, then," she said warmly, coming around the counter.

Her luscious waves framed her face as she crouched again — always meeting Lily at her level — showing her a colorful selection of daisies, tiny pink spray roses, and little sprigs of baby's breath.

Lily’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she picked carefully, her little hands hovering over each bloom with great consideration.

Meanwhile, Lando watched — or tried to, when he wasn’t hopelessly distracted by her.

The way she spoke so gently — clearly a natural with children, he mentally noted — her voice soft and encouraging.

The way she handled the flowers like they were delicate little secrets.

God, he was done for.

As she wrapped the tiny bouquet for Lily in a lilac colored tissue paper — handpicked by the little girl herself — and twine, Lando moved to the counter to pay. His wallet was already out, tapping the card against the reader.

But before he could finish, he felt a little tug at his jeans.

He looked down to see Lily holding up a single, perfect red rose in her small hand, standing on her tiptoes, stretching to reach him.

"You want this too, munchkin?" he asked, amused, reaching for it.

Lily shook her head seriously, brown curls bouncing.

“No, Daddy. It’s for you... to give to the princess!” she said in a loud, earnest whisper, glancing bashfully towards her.

Lando froze for half a second, caught so off-guard that his mouth actually dropped open a little.

She, meanwhile, had heard every word, cheeks turning a delicate shade of rose that rivaled the flowers around her.

She ducked her head, pretending to busy herself with Lily’s little bouquet to hide the giddy smile blooming across her face.

Clearing his throat, Lando crouched down slightly, still holding the rose.

"You sure, Lily?"

She nodded, big, serious eyes staring back at him.

There was no saying no to that.

When Lando straightened up, he turned to her — and before he could let himself overthink it — he held the rose out, a crooked, boyish grin on his face.

"For the princess," he said, voice a little shy, a little rough.

She giggled softly under her breath, heart skipping a beat, and took the rose from him delicately, her fingers brushing his for a moment too long.

"Thank you, my brave knight," she said, playing along with a warm, teasing twinkle in her hazel-green eyes.

Lando swore, right then and there, that he'd find a reason to come back to The Bloom Room every single week — if only to see that smile again.

And maybe — just maybe — the princess would let the knight stay.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Reader x Rafe. They have been dating for about 2-3 months and have been intimate, but it’s always been on the rough side. This very day, Reader is doing something sweet/ thoughtful for Rafe “cus she thought about him” and it just melts his heart, and he realizes he is in love with her. So he makes love to her and is really really sweet. Hehe xx

𝒮𝓉𝓇���𝓃𝑔𝓈

warnings: smut, mdni, p in v, sweetheart reader, like one use of the name baby, unedited

a/n: wooo I’m getting back in my grind. anyways I loved his request so much it was so sweet ugh.

MASTERLIST

dividers by @/plutism and @/xurengu0

Rafe was always rough. That was a fact. And you didn’t mind it. But today was the day you saw a change in him.

He’s out on a business trip, you’re sitting on the bed, making a bracelet for him that, waiting for him to come back any minute now. You looked up from the strings in front of you and at the clock, then picked up your phone. Nothing new.

You just sighed and continued to finish the bracelet, glancing up at the clock every once in a while. Finally, you held it up in front of you. It had both of your initials on beads on it, along with a little heart bead in the middle. You smiled at it.

Even if you felt like he probably wouldn’t wear it, you would.

You heard the door open, and you jumped at the noise.

“Y/n?” He shouted from downstairs. You pocketed the bracelet, practically running down the stairs. He was putting down his stuff when you came running to him, jumping into his arms. He laughed, patting your back with a smile, he moved to kiss you on the lips, his hands grabbing your face.

“Missed you too.” He remarked, you rolling your eyes and leaning in to kiss him again. It had only been a few weeks and yet, it felt like years.

“I made you dinner.” You beamed up at him when you pulled away, hands on his neck. He nodded. “Let me put this shit up real quick and I’ll be down, yeah?” He said, you nodding and getting off of him, and going into the kitchen.

You put the food onto two plates, putting them onto the table. You began to eat, scrolling through your phone a bit as you waited. He finally came downstairs, in nothing but his grey sweatpants on his hips. You quirked an eyebrow as he hopped into the chair opposite of you.

“Mm. This is good.” He murmured after taking a bite, looking at you. You smiled at him, both of you eating while he talked about his trip and you talked about what you did while he was gone. You both talked even after the food was gone, just sitting back and laughing with each other.

You both stood up, and went into the bedroom. You both cuddled on the bed when you suddenly remembered the bracelet you made.

“Oh! Also, I uh…” you reached into your pocket, fishing for the bracelet. You grabbed it and pulled it out with a smile. “Made this for you.“ you held it out for him. He took it, examining it. “You don’t have to wear it, I guess, I just got bored and I thought about you. But-“

“No, no, no, no,” he stopped you. “I love it.” He smiled at it. He put the bracelet on his wrist, tightening it with the strings. “It’s nice.” He said. And fuck, it tugged at his heart strings. That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him.

He finally turned his head up to you, looking at you with a soft smile. “I love it.” He told you. Your smile widened, feeling relieved that he didn’t hate it.

“C’mere.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss you. His hand caressed the back of your head, and you let out a low moan when he slid his tongue into your mouth.

He moved so that he was now hovering on top of you, his lips still connected to yours. Your hands gripped his face, his on your sides.

You both pulled away, slightly out of breath when Rafe told you something you never quite thought you’d ever hear him say.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth going agape. “I…love you too.” You replied.

His hands went to your shorts, taking them off and throwing them somewhere on the floor. His rough lips were against your soft skin, gently sucking and kissing your neck.

You had a hand on the back of his head, his free hand below him shoving off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock was pulsing, the tip red and spilling out pre-cum. He pulled away from you, lips just above yours as he looked down.

He ran his cock up and down your pussy, you letting out a moan when it hit your clit with pressure. He smiled at your noises, looking back at you. He collected your juices on his cock, before slowly lining himself up with your entrance.

You cried out his name and he let out a groan, your arms wrapped around his body, nails digging into his skin as you breathed heavily against the boy.

He looked down at you, kissing your forehead. He wasn’t rough with you this time. He was being sweet, gentle.

He let you adjust to his size, waiting until you nodded until he slowly started to move. His cock slowly pushed against your walls, his hands moved to yours, lacing your fingers with his as he pushed in and out of you, his mouth agape.

His thrusts were slower, while still hitting deep. It was heaven.

“I love you.” He repeated, his hips meeting yours again. “Missed you… so fucking much.” He breathed out after, eyes boring into yours, looking at your face, memorizing every detail, listening to every sound that escaped your pretty lips.

“I got the… sweetest fucking girl on the island, don’t I?” He asked with a crooked smile. You looking back up at him, his words bringing you only closer and closer to that feeling.

His hands went down to your clit, you arching your back and letting out a moan. He rubbed slow circles on the button, you throwing your head back against the pillow.

You felt the pressure build up in your stomach, and he felt you clench down on him. He leaned down, kissing you again.

“Rafe.” You cried out.

“I know, I know baby. Cum for me.” He muttered, that was all you needed for the band to snap. You moaned out his name, and he let out a groan. He came inside of you, his seed painting your walls.

He sighed, pulling out and leaning his forehead against yours.

You started to giggle, causing him to furrow his eyebrows. “What?”

“I love you so much.”

[goldenkiwistyles]

Bring your kid to work day OP81

It was another busy Thursday at the McLaren garage, with preparations well underway ahead of the weekend. The scent of fresh tires lingered in the air, engineers buzzed from station to station, and the sound of power tools was almost melodic to those who called this place their second home.

But today, something was different.

Walking beside Team Principal Andrea Stella was a tiny girl in a bright-orange McLaren hoodie, her steps quick to match her father's long strides.

"This is Isabella," Andrea announced with a rare smile as he stepped into the briefing room. "School had a plumbing issue so, she’ll be joining us today."

The room was quiet. Until someone broke the silence.

“Awwww!” cooed Lando Norris with a grin. “I didn’t know we had a junior test driver in the building!”

Oscar Piastri, ever the quiet observer, gave a small wave to the girl. “Hey, Isabella. You like race cars?”

Isabella blinked up at him, one pigtail slightly crooked. “I like papaya and Daddy says you’re very fast.”

Oscar chuckled. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

-

Isabella sat next to her father during the engineering meeting, colouring in a printed telemetry sheet with a pink felt tip. Every so often, she'd raise her hand and interrupt with deep questions like:

"Why are tyres always black? Can’t we have rainbow ones?"

"Do race cars have nap time?"

And the toughest one of all:

"Why does Lando talk so much?"

Andrea pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is... curious.”

The team, however, found it charming. Even the typically stern Chief Engineer chuckled when Isabella loudly declared that a new aero update looked “like a duck.”

-

After lunch, Andrea had a debrief to attend, and Isabella was starting to get bored. Before anyone could panic, Oscar casually offered to hang out with her for a bit while he did some sim work.

Andrea hesitated for exactly half a second. “She doesn’t bite. Much.”

Oscar led Isabella to the sim room, where she immediately climbed onto the sim rig seat.

"Are you going to drive now?" she asked, legs swinging off the edge.

"Only if my co-pilot says it's okay."

Isabella. nodded solemnly. “I’m your boss now.”

Oscar smirked. “Yes, boss.”

He ran a few laps while Isabella told him to “go faster,” “don’t crash,” and “press the button that makes you win.”

Eventually, she curled up on the lounge sofa with a juice box while Oscar quietly adjusted settings on the simulator.

“You’re nice,” she said suddenly, watching him. “Are you gonna win this weekend?”

Oscar paused, genuinely touched. “I’ll try. For you.”

She beamed. “Good. 'Cause if you win, I’m allowed to have ice cream for dinner.”

-

Andrea returned to find Isabella sitting on Oscar’s shoulders, steering his head left and right like a race car.

“I see everything’s under control,” he said dryly.

Oscar gave a lazy salute. “Smooth as ever, boss.”

-

Race Day:

On Sunday, as the team stood on the grid, Isabella—dressed in a miniature McLaren race suit, held a sign that said "GO OSCAR GO! (Win so I can have ice cream!)" written in wobbly letters and covered in glitter. When Oscar crossed the finish line in P1 after a fierce battle for the win, the cameras caught a moment that melted hearts around the paddock: a five-year-old girl cheering louder than anyone, perched on her dad’s shoulders, chanting:

“ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!”

-

this took forever to write

[stevenose]

don’t bring me down (18+)

day four of the august writing challenge

today’s word: scary

contents: jealous!steve!!; reader with breasts and a vagina; reader referred to as steve’s girl <3; fingering, spanking, etc but make it tender and full of tension xox; a single use of calling reader a slut

thanks for helping me choose this one guys :) i hope you enjoy!!

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he’s fumed like this.

He wasn’t exactly pleased with your outfit. A skin tight, black velvet dress with a low back that rested at your mid thigh. It was right for the venue and location, some upscale place in the city, where Robin had just had her first orchestra concert.

“Little much, don’t you think?” he had said. You shouldn’t be looking that good anywhere other than with him, at your shared apartment, in your shared bed.

But he was so easy to sway when you kissed him, arms wrapped around his neck. Murmuring about how you’re only dressed up like this for him. A little piece of eye candy while you both spent the next two hours listening to classical music, which was absolutely not his thing.

His hand had been on your thigh the entire night in the dark, crowded theatre. Had the same hand on your back when you walked to your seats and when you left the venue to head to the restaurant.

Mine, he kept thinking. So pretty and all mine.

He should have known better.

Now he’s sitting in the nicest venue he’s ever been to, chandeliers overhead and warm, dim lighting. It’s much better than Enzo’s in town. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be planning your next date here.

Instead, he’s watching you hit it off with some dick across the table from you. A goddamn loser named Nick who played drums. Robin introduced him, and it seemed that you were drawn to him instantly.

Nick. What the hell kind of name is that?

Steve’s hand is on your thigh, but it’s like you don’t even care. You keep chatting with the guy, laughing at his horrible jokes, scrunching your nose and Christ, Steve thought you only looked at him like that.

It’s scary, how it makes him feel.

He tries desperately to listen to Robin and a girl she’s been obsessed with talk to him. She plays the trumpet, too — or was it clarinet? He won’t ask for clarification. He’ll be happy for Robin later. For now, he’ll nod absently and laugh when it seems appropriate while his anxiety and anger grows.

Steve looks at you again, and it’s like a bomb went off in his chest. You’re leaning forward, propped up on your crossed arms. Your smile is so genuine and your eyes are so bright and he’s biting back tears, swallowing the ache in his throat.

He can’t swallow his anger, though.

And this guy — Steve can see right through him. Jesus, anyone could. His face is flushed and he’s listening intently to you, trying too hard to make you laugh. Eyes raking over your body every so often.

Steve’s hand grips your thigh harder. Fingers digging into the flesh. You glance over, eyes dropping to his hand. You don’t even acknowledge it before turning back to Nick.

Now he’s homicidal.

Robin kicks him gently under the table, looking concerned across from him.

She asks with her eyes. Are you good?

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes. He knows he’s being unfair, but his pettiness clings to him with a vice-like grip.

“Right, Steve?”

His head snaps towards you. “What?”

“I was telling Nick that you were the captain of the swim team.”

He clenches his jaw. He will never let that name slip past your pretty lips ever again.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he was actually co-captain.

You finally lace your fingers through his, resting on your thigh.

Too little, too late.

“He was really good at it, too,” you continue, squeezing his fingers. “How long can you hold your breath? Over a minute, right?”

“Wow,” the guy laughs. “That’s pretty impressive. I can only do, like, thirty seconds.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s voice is sharp. He glares, postures himself so that he looks bigger than he is, more menacing. He’s considering his chances in a fight against this prick. He’s certain he can take him.

You look at Steve. It’s evident that you’re trying to hold back your shock at his tone. And it just pisses Steve off more, as if you don’t know what you’re doing. As if you can play innocent.

He seethes a little longer, watching your conversation dwindle out. Your grip on his hand loosens, and then it slides off entirely. He feels guilty, truly, but it’s overtaken by his jealousy.

Steve’s jaw aches by the time everyone starts grabbing their things. When you stand, Steve’s hand is immediately on the small of your back again, firm, guiding you. He’s kind enough to let you say goodbye to your new friend, standing beside you the entire time, looming.

With his other hand, he slips you the keys.

“Go turn the car on for me, honey, I’ll be right out.”

You listen with apprehension, staring at him for a moment before reluctantly walking towards the exit.

Steve turns. Extends his hand. Nick takes it, surprised, and they shake. Then Steve pulls him in, leans towards his ear.

“You ever look at my girl like that again and I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out.”

He turns around and leaves. He takes a momentary break from his self pity to give Robin a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Promise you’ll get home safe?” he asks.

Robin smirks. “Don’t worry, Little Nicky isn’t taking me.”

He hates when she clocks him like that, and he hates it even more when she rubs it in. He scoffs, but still ends with a call me in the morning.

Gravel crunches under his feet as he makes his way to his beemer, the engine on. Night air fills his lungs as he takes a deep breath before opening the door and slinking into the driver’s seat.

He can be cool. He has to be cool. It’s really not your fault that you’re so pretty, even if you did dress like a little slut.

But he’ll still fuck himself into your memory, make you remember who you belong to.

“I love you,” he says. “Do you know that?”

“I love you too,” you reply softly. You take his free hand and lace your fingers through his, pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “I love you, Steve.”

That’s precisely what he wants to hear. Over and over like a devotional prayer.

When you’re home, he’s still gentle with you. Helps you take off your jewelry and heels at the foot of the bed while his heart hammers in his chest.

But he doesn’t help you with your dress. Instead, he places his hand on your back again and presses you forward until you’re bent over the bed.

Your dress rides up and rests just under your ass. You whimper — a cute, surprised, eager little whimper that goes straight to Steve’s cock.

He leans over you, body draped over yours. He places gentle kisses along your jawline.

“Did you think you were being cute back there?” he asks softly.

You laugh. “Is that what this is about? Thought you were over it.”

His hand slides up your ass, dragging your dress up with it. Then he spanks you. Hard.

You gasp, gripping the sheets, and Steve continues pressing tender kisses into your skin.

“Should’ve never let you out wearing this,” he murmurs. “Should only be wearing this for me, got that?”

He can tell you’re winded already. “I - but I - but I did wear it for you.”

“Yeah?” a kiss on your shoulder. “Then why were you letting that asshole eat you up all night?”

“Steve —“

Another spank. He soothes it with his palm but lets his blunt fingernails dig into your sensitive skin, watching you shiver.

“Only I get to see you like this. Touch you like this.”

His hand finds your cunt and he cups it. He’s relieved — so relieved — to find your underwear dry. At least you weren’t getting off on the attention.

“Yes, Steve,” you breathe. Your legs shake.

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and continues rubbing your clothed slit up and down, applying more and more pressure with each stroke. You moan softly under him.

“Should have invited him over, yeah? Let him see what I do to you? How pretty you sound when you’re begging?”

“Oh, Steve—“

This time, his palm strikes your cunt. You gasp and keen, and Steve takes the opportunity to gently wrap his hand around your neck and tilt your chin up.

“You get off on getting me worked up like this?”

“I wasn’t trying to —“

“Let’s see.”

His fingers tuck under your underwear and part your slit to find you soaked. His digits slide easily up and down, teasing your hole and circling your clit.

“Oh, so you do,” he observes. “You like getting me bent out of shape to see what I do. This what you wanted?”

Steve pinches your clit and his cock twitches when you moan. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he wants to really get his hands on you. Hold you close enough, hard enough, until your soft skin is bruised. Until his fingerprints are embedded into you.

He slips two fingers inside of you before you can anticipate it. You clench immediately at the intrusion, crying out, trying to move your hips away. He knows you can take it, though. His fingers follow you until you can’t get away, and he doesn’t move. Lets you get used to the stretch of them, knows how much it hurts.

“Such a shame he doesn’t get to feel this pussy.” He curls his fingers ever so slightly and grins when you gasp. “Doesn’t get to hear the pretty sounds you make.”

“Don’t want him to,” you groan. “Shit, Steve, move.”

He doesn’t want to pull out of you to give your pussy a little love tap, so he slides his other hand down from your neck to your tits. He gropes at you, finds your nipple through the fabric and pinches.

“I was patient with you all night. Let you talk it up to that ugly freak. You had your fun for today, don’t you think?”

But he does move, his fingers working in and out of you slow and deep. The feeling of your walls is something he could never possibly get tired of. Soft, hot, wet.

You nod. “Yeah, yes, Steve.”

“Who do you belong to? Who’re you gonna come home to at night, hm? Who makes you feel this good? Who loves you, baby?”

He feels you tighten around him. “You — ah! — y-you, Steve!”

And he can’t it anymore. He flips you over swiftly and kisses you, just as slow and as deep as he was finger fucking you. Like he wants to swallow you whole.

His big hands push your dress up around your hips. He lingers at your neck to kiss hickeys into it, then kneels.

Steve kisses the sensitive skin at the inside of your shivering thighs. “You tired, honey?”

You shake your head.

“Good,” he grins, kissing up and up and up until he presses a chaste one against your clit. “Going to fuck my name into your pretty, smart brain til it’s all you can think about. Got it?”

You sigh, pleased. “Yes, sir.”

[confessionsandcreampies]

bachira hated midterms. not because he was bad at school, but because everything always seemed to pile up at once. exams, papers, training schedules, blue lock check-ins and extra conditioning from the university coach. it felt like every second of his day was already claimed before he even woke up.

and lately he hadn’t even been able to sleep. his brain just wouldn’t shut up. constant thoughts about his place in the league rankings, whether he was falling behind, whether his monster was getting bored. on top of that, he hadn’t seen you in three days, and it made his chest ache.

he hated that the most. you weren’t avoiding him. you were just busy, same as him. projects, presentations, study groups. he knew you were stressed too, but knowing that didn’t make it easier. he didn’t hesitate when you texted him.

i have 45 minutes. meet me in the art building stairwell?

he ditched his protein shake and practically jogging from the gym building with his hair still damp and a cramp forming in his side. it didn’t matter. not when it was you. not when he could already hear your voice in his head, soft and bright and warm in all the ways he missed. when he reached the stairwell (the tucked-away one near the sculpture studio no one ever used) you were already there, sitting two steps up, earbuds in and laptop on your knees. your hair was messy. your hoodie was stained with highlighter. you looked perfect. he exhaled in relief the second he saw you.

you looked up and smiled like it was instinct. “hey megs.”

“hey.” his voice cracked a little… from breathlessness maybe, or something else.

you scooted over to make space on the step, and he sat beside you, shoulder pressed to yours, still warm and a little sweaty from training. you didn’t care. he leaned his head against your shoulder with a tired sigh, eyes fluttering shut. for a minute, neither of you said anything. it was quiet enough to feel like the world had stopped.

you let him rest there for a second and let him breathe. you asked softly, “is it bad today?”

he didn’t answer right away. he sighed again. “yeah.” you nudged your knee against his. he turned his face into your shoulder and groaned. “i wanna punch the coach. or scream. or maybe just curl into a ball and disappear into your closet.”

you snorted. “why my closet?”

“it smells like you.”

you laughed softly and he felt it in your body, the way your chest rose and your arm bumped against his. and for some reason that tiny, unfiltered laugh undid something inside him.

he looked up with soft eyes. “i think the best part of my day is hearing your laugh.”

you blinked. “meguru.”

he sat up, rubbing at his neck awkwardly. “i mean it,” he mumbled. “like… my brain’s going so fast lately, you know? always screaming at me to do better, go faster, be more. but then i hear you laugh and it’s like—” he made a soft whoosh sound, miming an explosion with his hands. “all the pressure just… pops. like a balloon. i can breathe again.”

you stared at him for a long second, eyes glassy. “that’s… that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

bachira tilted his head, a goofy grin sneaking up on his lips. “then i’m not saying enough nice things. i gotta step up.”

you laughed again, this time through your nose, shaking your head and bachira beamed. he needed that sound. it was like a reset button in the middle of his chaos. you closed your laptop, shoving it back in your tote and nudged his thigh.

“come here.”

“hm?”

“lay down.”

he raised a brow but obeyed, stretching out along the stair landing with his head in your lap, curls spilling across your hoodie. you threaded your fingers through his hair. he melted instantly, eyes closing, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

“mm. this is nice.”

“i missed you.”

“missed you more.”

you massaged his scalp slowly, your thumb tracing the curve of his temple. “i think,” you whispered after a while, “that the best part of my day is seeing you soften like this. when you let me in. when the monster sleeps for a bit.”

he opened one golden eye to peek at you. “you see him too?”

“of course i do,” you smiled. “he’s loud. but you’re louder.”

bachira closed his eye again. he breathed, slow and even, as your fingers carded through his hair. and for the first time in days the noise, the stress, the pressure faded. it didn’t disappear. but with you there laughing, holding him, softening all the sharp corners, it felt manageable.

you were his safe place. his reset button. his best part.

[gaspshichat]

extremely long pearl appreciation post except this time i'm maintagging bc i want her to see this. she deserves to see this

she is the kindest soul ever. every bit message, every sub message, every gifted sub, and as many chat messages as possible are read. she genuinely doesn't want anyone to be left out

pearl had a rough start to stream today with a bunch of bots saying really weird things and someone revealing private information of hers which is weird. i have choice words for them but i'll keep myself pg for this post

it resulted in her having to turn on sub only mode which she said upset her. what did chat do?

they gifted probably around 200-500 subs to the community

pearl kept saying how bad she felt that she was practically forced into turning on sub only mode but she also said she didn't want her community gifting so many subs bc of an awful situation. they still did

i will always say that pearl is the nicest person ever. anytime smth bad happens to someone in chat, she's sympathetic and kind and gives them a message. anytime smth good happens to someone in chat, she's very excited and happy for them

it takes someone who is genuinely kind and selfless to do that. pearl does not have to read every bit message and sub message. but she does

her community reflects this kindness. i got broken up with two hours before valentine's day and told chat [bc streams for me are 6am-10am]. chat was so kind and gave me ideas on what to do with the flowers [which i did what they suggested!]

i've been in fandom communities for almost ten years now. pearl's is the kindest. there are so many people in chat i recognize [secret agent, sapphicwhimsy, kawaiitron, voxkeys, cardmoney, etc] that i look forward to seeing in chat. usually i dread seeing what happens in twitch chat's

not hers. hers are so full of kindness bc she is full of kindness and it just radiates and spreads to her community. yes it's fairly no nonsense, her deleting any weird messages, but that's to make sure it's a good place to be

i've been having nightmares and flashbacks recently due to reasons i wish to keep private. very few youtubers/streamers are able to help me sleep without those issues. pearl is one of them. her community is genuinely safe

i tell everyone interested in mcyt to watch pearl. i've been spreading pearl propaganda [/silly]. she deserves so much more than she has. pearl deserves the world

this is an extremely long post but i need to get my point across to her and anyone else, whether they're a pearl fan or not [yet]

pearl, we all love you and are proud to be part of the community. you are such a genuinely sweet person who deserves all the kindness in the world. i'm so sorry you had to deal with that bullshit [pardon my language]. it does genuinely suck but i hope the ~300 subs helped make you feel better hehe 🫶🫶

[juniper-petunia]

The Meyers Sisters Chapter 1:

Heart Grow Fonder

Julie slumped herself onto the bed, afternoon light shining in long parallel beams through her bedroom window blinds, and started to cry into her pillow. This was it, this was supposed to be a big deal, her final day of highschool finished! Granted the actual graduation ceremony was in a week but today was the final day she would ever attend class in the high school she had been in the last 4 years, and yet all she felt was disappointment and loneliness.

Julie wasn’t unpopular per say, just not as extroverted as many of her peers. She had made plenty of friends (or at least acquaintances?) in her years at Marshwell High, and was never lacking for a lunch table like some of the more unfortunate kids were. It’s just that she had never really had a real connection to anyone, no best friends or boyfriends (or girlfriends for that matter). She wasn’t even sure she knew what her sexuality was, come to think of it. The only time she had felt that kind of way for someone… best not to think too hard on that. Julie simply felt like there was something off with her, something her classmates could see that she couldn’t, something that marked her as undesirable to anyone with a social standing, but between the theater club friends she had made and the sweet group of nerds that would play her in Smash 3DS at lunch she was never really lonely.

All Julie ever really felt towards her school friends, however, was indifference. They were nice but it all felt very surface level, and she knew what it felt like to like someone more than they like you, so she didn’t let herself get attached. It wasn’t until today, the final day she had to see any of them, that her inability to make connections caught up to her. She had seen page after page of notes in her friends' yearbooks as they passed them around, paragraphs full of distinct memories and phrases, and she was so excited to get hers back and read what they had written about her. She flipped and flipped, but all that was signed were low effort “Have a great summer”s or in the worst cases just a name with no personal note… one person wrote “i signed ur crack” on the spine of the book with no name attributed. She felt stupid for it but she had to hold back tears for the whole day until finally being able to let loose on the drive home, heaving sobs drowning out her shitty radio.

Lying with her face in her pillow she let out the last dregs of her sobbing into the plush fabric, deep breaths in and out as she calmed herself down. Flipping over onto her back she grabbed her stuffed dalmatian in her arms and pulled her phone from her pocket. Whatever, nothing else to do today, moms working late, dads probably at the bar and big sis is… right. She still couldn’t get out of the habit of wondering where she is or when she’d get home. God, she had even caught herself a few times walking to knock on her door when she would remember, seeing the now barren bedroom across from hers. She clicked her phone to life, a bright image of herself on the screen, a stupidly huge grin on her face, next to a slightly taller girl with cropped bright blue hair and piercings, Gwen, looking cool as ever with her arm slung around Julie’s shoulder.

Julie loved her big sister! Not, like, in that way of course! She just thought she was the prettiest, nicest, kindest, funniest girl in the world! And there’s nothing wrong with looking up to your big sister, right? Julie was happiest when she got to spend time alone with her big sister, after all they were the only stable thing in each other's lives. Gwen was Julie’s best friend in the world, and Julie had thought she was Gwen’s, too… now that she wasn’t even coming home for graduation Julie had begun to wonder if she was once again just projecting her feelings. It’s not like she would call or even text that often now that she was at college upstate, and she had always said it was just because it was a lot harder there, the course load was killing her. Julie had even been allowed to visit a few times, but as Gwen’s course load grew the amount of times she invited Julie up to visit had dwindled to nothing.

Whatever, it’s all bullshit, Julie thought to herself. Julie had never seen her sister struggle with anything academic in her whole life, she even helped with Julie’s homework most nights, there was no way the work at college was that much harder! She probably just had friends she liked to hang out with more now, probably went out every night to go pick up girls… maybe she even had a girlfriend now… that’s… that’s fine if she does… why would I care… she can have her fucking girlfriend or whatever, why would I be jealous?? We’re sisters so why would it matter to me if she was dating another- dating a girl.

Dismissing her incessant overthinking, Julie began to scroll mindlessly, barely even registering posts that weren’t pictures. Her eyes were glazed over, and dry as hell from all the crying, the unstimulating dashboard just enough visual noise to distract her mind into a sedated state… god she wished she could smoke right now. Of course Gwen was the one who always got their weed too, so as soon as she was off to college Julie was on a forced tolerance break unless one of her friends was nice enough to share, and most of her “friends” were lame narcs anyway.

She remembered one of the trips she had taken up in Gwen’s freshman year, sitting on the empty balcony floor together, no light save the dying embers of their last bowl. Gwen and Julie had huddled close to each other to keep warm, the chilly November air breaking through their jackets with wild gusts. Gwen had noticed Julie’s shivering and offered her hoodie, and Julie was practically engulfed by the already-oversized-for-Gwen sweatshirt.

“You gotta get closer,” she had said, “I can’t light that shit if you don’t help me block the wind.”

And Julie had complied, coming within a foot of Gwen’s face as she held up the lighter to her glass pipe. Looking Gwen in the eyes this closely caused Julie’s stomach to drop, a familiar feeling she usually got when being this close to her sister, but she powered through the anxiety.

“Ok ready?” Gwen said, “Only take as much as you can, don't try to clear the bowl this time.” She snickered.

“Oh my god,” Julie replied, lowering the pipe from her mouth, “it was like one time, can you give it a rest already?”

“Ok, ok!” Gwen giggled back, “Sorry I brought it up, it just kills me!”

“Whatever, asshole, just light it…”

“��Light it’ what?”

“Oh you can’t be serious.”

“No come on, use your manners, light it…?”

“Fuck you.”

“Ooo, swing and a miss, Jules! I’ll give you a hint, we’re looking for the magic words! Light it…” Gwen pantomimed a drum roll in the air and made a crude noise with her mouth to match.

“Now! Light it now, asshole!!”

Gwen made a buzzer noise, “Ooo, sorry Julie-baby but we were looking for ‘please’, you know that one right?”

At being called ‘Julie-baby’ Julie had gone stiff, feeling suddenly like a fish pulled from the water to the freezing air. All fight leaving her immediately, she sucked in a breath through her teeth and looked at Gwen.

“Light it for me, please?”

Julie looked up at Gwen with the wettest, saddest eyes like a puppy begging for scraps, a small pout forming on her lips.

“Ok ok ok!! Stop, stop, enough with your puppy eyes!” She giggled to Julie, “C’mere.”

Julie was once again sitting on her bed, staring at the wall, thinking back to that night with tears in her eyes. It was like any number of nights they had spent together, but it had been so long since they had even had the chance to even see each other, she worried things wouldn’t be the same. Julie missed her sister. She held tighter to the dalmatian plush as she let out a quiet sob. God, she missed her so much. This couldn’t be right, it couldn’t be healthy for her to feel this way about her own sister! She felt pathetic! Especially considering she hadn’t even heard any kind of congratulations from her or anything on finishing high school. When was the last time Gwen even texted her? Looking back through their texts she could see as Gwen replied less and less to the texts she sent, then eventually there were texts Gwen just never responded to. The last time Gwen had texted first was over a month ago.

Julie felt tears in the corners of her eyes as she started typing a text out, then erased it, then typed something out again, then erased that. She wrote an entire paragraph about all of her worries and thoughts and how much it hurt to be forgotten like this, and then thought better again and erased it. Almost 30 minutes of typing and erasing later and she decided to just say what she wanted to say the whole time and she wrote “i miss u” into the text box and hit send, flopping back on the bed and facing the wall to wallow more in her own pity.

“Awww,” a voice cooed from her doorway, “well I miss you too, Jules.”

Julie shot up and searched for the source of the noise, already knowing full well who she would see. She couldn’t forget that voice in a million years. Her big sister, her Gwen, stood in the doorway, newly dyed stark black hair in a shoulder length choppy cut, black band tank and grey sweatpants and she looked like absolute hell. Dark bags under her eyes, a paler complexion and nails chipped almost to the point of being gone told a clear story: Gwen was exhausted.

“Oh my god,” Julie started, getting up to go to Gwen, “oh my god oh my god oh my god!!!”

Julie practically jumped into her big sister's arms, grabbing tighter than she’d ever grabbed her before, and Gwen returned the hug just as strong. They both took in deep breaths and just held each other, breathing in the familiar scent. No amount of holding each other would make up for the time they missed together, but it seemed like they sure were going to try!

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” Julie practically sobbed into Gwen’s shoulder, “I- I thought your exams didn’t finish ‘til the end of the month!”

“Hey, hey,” Gwen tried to soothe Julie, “it’s alright, Jules, I’m here, I’m here…”

“I missed you so bad,” Julie sniffled, “where were you? I needed you…”

“I know I know, I’m sorry, Julie, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t realize how hard this was on you.” She sounded genuinely choked up at this, was she crying?

Julie grabbed tighter and let the tears flow, she didn’t need to hear any more right now, she didn’t need to yell or ask questions or get mad or anything, she just needed her big sister, and her big sister needed her. Gwen held her back just as tight, rubbing her back up and down to soothe her. She kissed the top of Julie’s head softly, taking in the scent of her hair, the same old citrusy shampoo smell filling her lungs.

“I missed you,” Julie whispered to Gwen.

“I missed you, too, Jules,” Gwen whispered back, “more than you’ll ever know.”

[anastasiabowe]

𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙏𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏?! — Toji your MMA fighting husband wasn’t a man of pure morals. He often teaches his son, Megumi, not so great things for a little child, and you got a taste of what he was teaching him, and you were not happy.

note: Enjoy

Content warnings: Language and swearing in front of a child

Soft thumping grew louder as little Megumi waddled himself down to the basement, or your home gym. Toji put the weights back on the rack, since he was ending his morning workout. He looked up and saw his little boy walk up to him.

Megumi looked up as high as he could to make eye contact with his dad.

“What’s up, bud?” Toji grabbed the towel near by, and ruffled his hair with it, trying to dry the sweat that was dripping from his hair.

“Can I ask you something?” The little raspy voice confidently spoke.

“Sure, what is it?” Toji sat down on the bench, and pulled the boy onto his knee.

“What do you do when the bad guys you fight make-" megumi coughed, "make you mad?”

Toji stared blankly at his son. Where was he going with this?

"bad guys?" Toji asked the little boy.

"yeah! Bad guys, the guys you fight!" He pushed his little fists out into the air to kick the little clips you've shown him of his dad during a match.

“Why?” Toji asked skeptical.

“Just curious.” he blinked so innocently.

“Why?” Toji asked again.

“Can you just answer?” The little boy whined and sighed heavily, making Toji want to laugh.

“Well, when they make me upset, I usually use that anger to fight them.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “I already know that, daddy. But what do you do?”

Toji thought carefully. Should he be blunt, should he sugar coat it?

“Well, I usually try and knock them to their feet to weaken them, then try and knock them out.”

“Can you show me?” Megumi smiled thinking about how cool his dad was.

“On you?” Toji looked at the mini him.

Megumi shrugged and hopped off his lap.

Toji laughed and stood up. He walked Megumi over to the mat that covered the entirety of the floor. Toji got into a fighting stance, encouraging Megumi to copy.

Once Megumi was in “position” Toji softly kicked his foot into Megumi a left leg that he was pushing his weight on and made the little boy fall out of balance.

Megumi giggled, and Toji helped the little boy up to his feet.

“Again!”

“Nah, let me show you something else.”

Once Megumi was in position again, Toji brought his fists very gently to megumi’s jaw. He lightly tapped there with his fist and said,

“I usually try to hit here. Yeah it can break someone’s jaw, but I prefer to win, and winning isn’t always the nicest way. But if anyone makes you upset, just give them a little punch here, and you’ll be the coolest kid on the block, okay?”

Megumi smiled, and punched his dad in the abdomen. Although his tiny fists didn’t even land enough impact for a sting, Toji pretended like it hurt, and fell to the ground, Megumi jumping and punching on his dad.

-

-

-

“Megumi baby, come up to eat!” You called down the stairs, and you heard him yell a little “okay!”

“Toji, you too!”

“I’ll be up there in a minute, I got to finish my workout!” Toji lied. He truthfully just wanted to be down there and watch his opponent for his upcoming match latest fight, get some details on him, but he didn't want to hear you lecture him on how he should save his research for when he's at work.

Megumi soon came up for lunch, and you gave him his plate of Mac and cheese, with applesauce and mixed vegetables.

Megumi gratefully ate only the apple sauce and Mac and cheese.

You thought the vegetable hatred from kids was an exaggeration because you never had any problems with it, but here is your own child outright refusing to eat his veggies.

“Megumi. This is not a game, eat your vegetables or you don’t get any dessert today.” Megumi rolled his eyes, making you scoff. He was turning into his father.

“Megumi..” you warned. He only challenged you more by sticking his tongue out.

“No iPad for 2 days.”

Megumi still held his ground. You clicked your nails on the table across from him, waiting for those broccoli, peas, corn and carrots to be eaten.

“We will sit here until you eat them.”

“Bite me.” Megumi bit back. If he wasn’t a little kid that you loved too much, he wouldn’t even know what was coming for him.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him in disbelief. You stood up and walked around the table and sat next to him. You grabbed his fork and stabbed the vegetables.

“Open your mouth. You want to act like a a baby, I will treat you like one.” You moved the fork closer to his mouth, he turned his face and you were becoming angrier by the second.

“Open. Your mouth.” Your voice was as stern as it was going to be, and here is your child not fearing you at all.

You grabbed his face as gently as you could, but strong enough to force open his mouth. You quickly tried to put the fork into his mouth but then you felt a solid fist hit your jaw, and it hurt (somewhat).

Megumi just punched you in the jaw. You grabbed your jaw and dropped the fork onto the table.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from pain, but from the shock and anger from your child just hitting you.

Megumi’s face was full of fear and regret, and you only clenched your jaw.

Fucking Toji always teaching him shit. You took a deep breath and stood up calmly. You grabbed megumi’s wrist and dragged him with you as you made your way down to the basement.

“Toji fucking fushiguro.” You yelled out to your husband when you finally made it to the basement ground. He looked up from his phone, and your anger was illuminating from you.

You angrily stopped walking, Megumi hiding behind you.

“What the fuck did you teach Megumi?!” Toji looked between you and Megumi, and he was actually so confused.

“What do you mean ‘what did I teach megumi’? What the hell are you talking about?” Toji pulled out his AirPod, and you wanted to light something on fire.

“Did you teach him to hit his mom or is that all on him?” Toji scoffed knowing where this is coming from.

“Megumi.” Toji’s voice growled as Megumi gripped harder onto your sweat pants.

“Come here.” Toji’s voice was now deeper and more demanding. It wasn’t loud nor condescending, it was rather scarily calm.

Megumi slowly came from behind you, and you crossed your arms, ready to hear what he was going to say.

“Megumi, did you hit mommy?” Toji softly grabbed the little boy’s hands and pulled him closer. He looked down at his feet. “Look at me when I am speaking to you.” Toji cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean to, she was making me mad!” Megumi tried to excuse. You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Toji looked up at you, and you licked your lips, calming yourself down. He was only 5.

“Megumi, you know you can’t just hit people when you’re mad, especially mommy.” Megumi whispered a little “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Toji tightened his grip on his hands a little. “If you think what I taught you today is an excuse for when you’re mad, it wasn’t. It should only be applied for my circumstance with professional practice. I'm sorry if what I said confused you, but you do not just hit people when you're mad, I don’t just hit people when I’m mad, I know how to and when to, you don’t.”

Megumi’s eyes were wide with tears welling in them. Toji couldn’t help but think how much he looked like you right now. You both made the same face when you're sad.

“I’m sorry.” Megumi softly said.

“Don’t apologize to me.” Toji let go of megumi’s hands and megumi softly turned around. He rushed over to you and hugged your legs, wiping his teary face into your sweats.

“I’m sorry mommy! I shouldn’t have hit you! I promise I won’t ever never ever hit anyone again!” You smiled softly, picking up the little boy.

“Mommies not mad anymore, baby. I just want you to grow big and strong by eating your veggies, that’s all. So are you going to finish your vegetables for me?”

Megumi sniffled and nodded. You kissed his face repeatedly making him giggle.

Toji stood up and followed you both. After all, it was lunch time.

[kajibunny]

⋆🌷🫧⋆｡° intrusive thoughts 💭₊˚ෆ (hayato suo x reader)

collab piece for amor's event, ORQUÍDEAS

PENSAMIENTOS INTRUSIVOS - yesterday, today, tomorrow; unwanted thoughts oftentimes linger through your mind. after rough experiences with love, he's more than ready to show you how much he loves you to make those intrusive thoughts fly away.

✿ contains: very suggestive content (towards the end), mentions of previous toxic relationships, slight angst (with comfort), f!reader, suo being a hopeless romantic (fluff) ✿ a/n: first time joining an event (so honored to join, thank you amor!) and writing a full piece dedicated for suo ♡ for my suo girlies out there, ya'll are among the sweetest and nicest people! you deserve suo's unconditional love~ ✿ wc: 1.1k

yesterday ── ✧

you've never known a guy as mature as suo. in fact, all you've ever known are rowdy immature guys who have no plans, no vision for the future, and no idea how to treat a woman right. 

however, suo is a pure contrast to all of them. at first glance, one would say he's an absolute gentleman. disciplined, extremely intelligent, perceptive, and not to mention handsome. truly the perfect package.

the only catch? he is too good to be true. suo is the most mysterious and enigmatic person you've ever met. it also didn't help that he has a reputation for being a tease and a bit of a liar. 

it's true that he has lied quite a lot, but never about his feelings for you. 

suo professed his love for you months ago, and had started courting you for quite some time now. he knew you wanted him as well, even though you refused to give in to him out of your own personal trust issues with men in the past, which made it difficult for you to believe him.

you didn't believe suo when he told you he could treat you right, like the empress that you are. 

you didn't believe suo when he said he'd give you the world, make you feel special like you deserve.  

you didn't believe suo when he said that things would be different with him. he says that he would love you with his whole heart, and take you up the staircase to adulthood, whatever that meant.

"prove it to me." you challenged, with no expectations in your thoughts, as flowery words only meant so little to you. 

his reply was steady, full of confidence. 

"of course, darling. for you, i'll do whatever it takes." 

he calls you his 'darling' like he means it, and looks at you like you were the most precious rare jewel in the world.

suo’s words were promising, but you knew better than to fall for mere promises. you had been let down one too many times before. if he wanted your trust, he would have to earn it.

actions spoke louder than words, so he would have to find a way to convince you. you've been through so much heartbreak and toxicity that you just found yourself so hesitant to let anyone else in. 

today ── ✧

they definitely didn't call suo a "master of negotiation" for nothing. 

he showed up to your home with a large bouquet of flowers, a mix of reds and purples, which perfectly complemented his burgundy toned hair.

"what's this for?" you ask, perplexed at him suddenly gifting you with such an eloquent set of flowers. they seemed like they cost a fortune too. the bouquet was wrapped in embossed paper and high quality silk ribbons, because suo wanted only the best for you.

"these orchids are a symbol of your elegance and beauty, these roses are a symbol of my passion and desire for you, and the heliotropes represent my everlasting devotion." suo explains, handing the flowers over to you.

he is obviously well-versed in flower language. could this man be any more perfect? 

a mixture of wonder and disbelief were reflected in your eyes. "for me?" you admire each beautiful fresh flower, softly running your fingertips through the petals. 

none of your past lovers had ever gotten you flowers before, and one of them even once forgot your birthday. so this was something totally new to you. 

"you told me to convince you, so here i am, trying to convince you." he smiled, his charming, captivating, signature suo smile. 

you blush at his gesture. "thank you suo, you really didn't have to, but that's very thoughtful of you." 

"do i get a kiss as a token of gratitude?" suo asks, a playful grin spreading across his face as he leans in slightly.

you roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "don’t push it, hayato." you reply.

suo’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback not only by the way you casually used his first name but also by the unexpected moment when you tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

maybe suo really is a better negotiator than you thought. well, he certainly had his way of convincing you, that's for sure. 

tomorrow ── ✧

you weren't certain when you started to notice it, but the pain of heartache that had once felt so overwhelming now seemed like a fading shadow. gradually replaced by a quiet sense of peace, as if your heart was finally learning to heal and make room for something new, something better.

something like hayato suo. 

both of you were definitely ready to take the next step, imagining a future together. (maybe this was what he meant by the 'staircase to adulthood' that he kept talking about so much.)

he cherished you dearly, his kisses always so soft and gentle. he held you with tender fingers, like you were fine china. night after night, he lapped at you hungrily, like you were the sweetest tea he'd ever drank. in suo's bed the both of you lay, him basking in your beautiful afterglow. 

"you're so cute." he said, stroking your hair. "but you know what would make you even cuter? if i kiss you right now." 

"is kissing all you ever think about, hayato?" you sigh.

suo shrugs. "ever since i fell in love with you, yes, i believe it's all i ever think about."

"how did you end up falling for me, hm?" you nuzzle against his chest, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

"i'm not sure, either. maybe you put some type of love potion in my tea?" he replies to you, his hand reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers with his. 

"stop, i did not, that seems more like something you would do, hayato!" you giggle, playfully giving him a light shove on the shoulder. 

he chuckles in response and leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "the ancient spirit in my eye says we should kiss now."

curious, you tilted your head and ask, "did it now? tell me, what's really under your eyepatch, anyway?" 

"darling, you already saw what's under my clothes and now you want to see what's under my eyepatch, too?" his gaze locks in with yours, a teasing glint present in suo's eye. 

before you could respond, he presses his lips against yours. afterwards, suo proceeded to place a kiss on your ring finger that is adorned with an antique promise ring. a matching set to his antique earrings, which he slid around your finger the moment you told him you were ready to accept his affections. 

you have suo totally and irrevocably wrapped around your finger, literally and figuratively. he has always promised himself to you since yesterday, today, tomorrow, and always.

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