#I dunno if I want the full answer right away

[neversetyoufree]

Thinking about her always (whatever the hell happened to Noé's eye while he was with the human traffickers)

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[00kittenz]

── inked. ( cbg ) 💉

๑ You ask your boyfriend, Beomgyu, to give you a tattoo. Who was he to decline ??

pair: tattoo artist!beomgyu ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: fluff, beomgyu kissing you through the process, suggestive content, praise, break-time visit, sketching | words: 1.1k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“i’m still shocked you just showed up here without texting me.” beomgyu says as he drew out some of his clients ideas on a sketch-sheet. his voice low, full of concentration.

“what? so i can’t surprise visit my boyfriend now ? is that what you’re saying?” you dropped your vivienne westwood bag on his desk, peering over his shoulder to look at what he’s working on.

“yes, thats exactly what that means,” he spoke sarcastically, raising his brows, “y’know you’re welcome anytime.” “what about this ?” his arm lifted to show the man in the chair a few different designs. “go sit over there baby, i’ll be done in a quickie.” he rubbed the small of your back, kissing the crown of your forehead before walking across the room.

“okay.. ” you knew it wouldn’t be a long wait since the sketch seemed to be of something simple, like a name. you’d gotten comfortable on the couch for about an hour. most of the time you were occupied on your phone or studying beomgyu and his work environment.

you’d always wanted a tattoo, but upon watching a couple videos of people everytime you got curious— the cringe your body would feel after seeing them wincing in pain, you’d rather not. though, having an extra detail on your oh so very plain body wouldn’t be so awful. you could just picture yourself with a tattoo, something so small being well over enough to drastically change your appearance.

you caught yourself glancing over at the client, watching his facial expressions as beomgyu marked his pale skin. he hadn’t really made any look of discomfort. you weren’t that surprised though, he was full of ink. quite literally.

you’d be lying if you said some of beomgyu’s own tattoos hadn’t inspired you. his were so pretty and well put together. he had a full sleeve of ink and other random ones scattered all over his body, which he did most of them himself.

the noise of the door shutting awakened you from your trance. you watched as your boyfriend swept some of his hair out of his face, fixing his bangs to get a better look at you. “all done ?” you ask, body moving on it’s own, like a chunk of metal to a magnet. you caressed his figure, kissing his chin.

“yeah, for now, i have no more scheduled clients.” tongue grazing his lips before they latched onto yours, humming against the plump skin. “i’m on break right now though.” he smirked.

“‘s that so ?” you teased, caressing the side of his jaw.

“but you’re not here for me ? are you?” he laughed, seeing right through your intentions.

“well, no.. but yeah..” you showed your set of pearly white teeth once hearing his contagious laughter.

“what’s on your mind bun ?” he sat on his chair, motioning for you to come sit on his lap.

“well, you know— i dunno..” you shyed away. what if he didn’t want you ruining your skin, he’s always said he liked the pure look you gave off. what if he’ll be unattracted to you once you ruin it? you felt his hand caressing your thigh. he knew you were nervous, and he gave you all the time you needed. “what if.. i got a tattoo ?” “could i have one ?..”

he looked at you with furrowed brows. “why’re you asking me, you’re a grown ass woman.” he chuckled.

“but—”

“i don’t care what you do to your body baby, i’ll love it either way.” he cut you off, kissing your knuckles. “if you want one, i have nothing against your decision.” you had a sulky look upon your features, hearing how he spoke about you.

“i don’t know what i want though..”

“what are your looking for ? simple ? bold ? big ?”

“simple, for sure.” you quickly answered. his arms circled around you before he placed you down on the raised chair. he was quick to start sketching simple drawings, some cutesy ones you might like. he even wrote your name in a few different fonts.

“baby.. don’t you think that's a little narcissistic.” you giggled, eyeing his pen.

“have you seen yourself ? if i looked like you i’d be the biggest fucking narcissist.” he pursed, earning a grin from you. picking up the paper, displaying it before you. “choose wisely.” watching as your eyes curiously scanned the paper.

“hmm, i want this one !” you pointed at a star design. it was simple, small, but also gave off y2k vibes which you adored.

“you sure ? remember, there’s no going back.” he warns again, getting an alcohol wipe from his drawer. “where?”

“gyu, how come you never ask your actual clients these questions before you tat them ?” you pointed at your lower hip area indicating that’s where you wanted business done.

“i don’t know those people, who am i to tell them not to put some stupid shit on their skin.” he shrugged, lifting up your shirt, taking the cold wipe to your skin.

“valid— shit, that’s cold baby !” you caught his hand in your hand.

“my bad, princess.” he threw the wet tissue in the trash bin, taking the gun checking and shaking the ink that remained inside. “sit back and relax, kay ?” he kissed you after changing the tip on the machine.

it wasn’t until then that your breathing hitched. “baby.” he said sternly, looking at you. “just look at me. think about ponies or something.”

“shut the fuck up.” you rolled your eyes, “let’s do this already.”

he giggled before he took the tattoo gun to your skin, eyes shifting from the sketch and back to your skin.

surprisingly, it didn’t hurt but for a second. it just left you with a burning sensation once he finished. wiping the excess ink from your skin with another alcohol wipe, making you gasp for air.

“aaand we’re done cutie !” he grinned at his work, spreading a protective coat easing the warm area. “you did so well for me,” he kissed your head, helping you get up from your seat to look in a long mirror. “look at my beautiful girl.”

you weren’t in shock or anything, you knew you’d look hot with a tattoo— just kidding you were phenomenal. “woah, it looks really good ! thank you baby!” you clapped after flexing your waist in your reflection. “okay, now how do i care for it ?” you turn around to face his hovering figure.

“why do i need to tell you ? i’ll do it myself.” he wrapped his arms firmly around you.

“rightt.. well how much was it baby?”

“nothing at all.” he cheesed, admiring how pretty you looked.

“c’mon on that’s not fair ! let me pay !” you pout.

“no !”

“fine…how about a tip ?”

“just take care of mine..”

๑ ๑ ๑

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remember how Ford made himself a target during weirdmageddon by admitting that he knew the equation to collapse the barrier on gravity falls to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t go after his family, even if that meant he’d go through a f*ck ton of torture?

I think he did the same thing back in the 80’s when he realized Bill was evil but didn’t go to you for help. Sure, maybe half of it was him not believing he had any right to reach out to you for help after he essentially ghosted you for months because of Bill’s influence, but the other half was definitely him wanting to keep you as far outside of Bill’s reach as possible.

If we’re being real, Bill likely threatened to possess his body and hurt or maybe even off you, so as much as it pained him to stay away, he believed you’d be safer if he did.

The sad thing is, you got hurt regardless.

Dunno if this answers your ask or not, I’ll let you decide.

I imagine that Ford has like a two page spread dedicated to you in his journal, very much in the same way he had a page dedicated to heavily debating whether or not he should reach out to Stanley for help.

But instead of the page being full of cons why Ford shouldn’t contact you, it’s him admitting to his biggest and most stupidest regret he’s ever committed: pushing you away and how he truly believes that in order to keep you safe he had to cut connections with you and go non contact. His hand ached like hell from when Bill tried to punch and scratch the door to the portal but the ache in his heart was ever greater than that.

The page would be covered head to toe in drawings of you and your sweet smile, maybe even adding a picture of you both when you were younger. Bill might’ve been his muse for a while but you were his lifelong muse that he has tossed aside for something temporary.

You grew up with him and Stanley and knew him better then he knew himself in most cases and instead of repaying the favour, Ford fucked off to gravity Falls and dedicated himself entirely to his work, isolating himself from anyone and everyone and would often double down on this when confronted about it.

Though sooner or later the regret settles in his chest as he soon realises that he was on his own after Fiddleford left.

He had let bill consume him from the inside out and made him believe that no one outside of them both should matter or be worth a second thought; Even you, his once dearly beloved. The one who didn’t see his six fingers as an abnormality but a gift, a blessing even to his distinct uniqueness. You gave him your all and he gave you nothing in return. How selfish of him.

Ford wouldn’t be surprised if you had forgotten about him or had your heart sour at the thought of him and moved on after awhile. he couldn’t blame you, he never could as he felt it was a befitting punishment for never having bothered to reach out and respond whenever you asked him if he was okay, or taking care of himself. All you wanted was for him to be safe and enjoy Gravity Falls for what it was and not what he wanted it to be and Ford didn’t even do that.

Ford was certain you’d be ashamed of him and the things he’s done alongside Bill, or the things Bill did while possessing him. You’d probably wouldn’t recognise him anymore even if he did reach out to you.

He wanted to reach out to you, he really did but he didn’t feel as though the reception he would receive wouldn’t be a warm one. You wouldn’t smile at him lovingly or call his name with a fondness and hug him tightly, but instead look at him as though he was the cause of all your misery because in some aspect he was, and never had he regretted it more then he did now when his own loneliness became evident and hard to deny.

Bill would’ve made multiple threats to Ford that he’d kill you or torture you while possessing him so that it would look like he was the one hurting you if he ever thought about reaching out to you, and he’d make sure that it would haunt him for the rest of his life knowing that he couldn’t do anything to protect the one he loved the most. Bill would make a point with your theoretical death as to keep Ford in line.

Ford probably even have hallucinations of you dying or dead before he could even reach you and would believe that this was a sign to not get you involved in his mess. He has no right to reach for you after being silent for so long, which is why he decided to take the risk and reach out to Stanley instead, only with the promise that he didn’t tell you what was going on no matter how hard it maybe for him to not do so, as he knew Stanley has a weak spot for you -his honorary sibling or in law should Ford have actually married you- and it had been that way since you were kids.

However despite all the risks Ford has put himself through, you were still nursing a broken heart over his lack of communication ever since he moved to Gravity Falls. Maybe he had forgotten all about you during his stay, or finally felt relived that he was leaving town that he forgot you were the reason it was bearable? Whether the reason it didn’t stop your heart from hurting knowing that the perfect man you’ve known since childhood had left you in the past while he headed towards his future, alone.

You’d love him, you’d never stop loving Ford and you don’t think you ever could and what hurt the most was that he might’ve felt something, or nothing at all for you, but you’ll never get that answer from him directly so you decided the answer for yourself and have been living with a broken heart ever since.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 51 || The Resolve

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst if you squint, & heart-tingling fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE TRUTH, CHOSO deserves to know the truth. After all he’s told you about himself the very least you could do is give him that. He’s earned it hasn’t he?

“Six,” You murmur honestly, your heart rate spiking as the word leaves your lips.

He repeats it as if he didn’t hear you, “Six?”

“Mhm, I’ve slept with six other guys since meeting you,” You explain in full, facing forward and avoiding looking at him.

Choso’s eyes are all over the side of your face and he takes a second, processing what you just said. “A-And that includes Geto… Sukuna, and the other guy you have feelings for, right?”

You nod and things get quiet for a second. The only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart. He hates you, doesn’t he? He thinks you’re disgusting and is seconds away from kicking you out of his car right?

You should’ve told him earlier, maybe he could’ve helped you. It’s too late now though, the silence told you everything. You basically just told him you’re a wh-

The sound of Choso letting out a relieved sigh is heard, “Thank god.” He mutters, earning the turn of your head.

“T-Thank god?” You whisper, “You’re not… You don’t… Choso, I-“

“I mean, in total, six isn’t terrible is it?” He hums casually, meeting your widened eyes, “If three I already knew about, what’s three more?” He says with a shrug.

You blink, “Choso… You can’t be serious right now?”

He tilts his head innocently, “Why not? I mean we’ve known each other since when, like, September? It’s February now, baby. If you break it down, honestly, aside from me that’s one guy a month, no?”

The way he just responded as if it’s literally nothing makes you feel like a fool for worrying so much, “You’re serious…”

“Plus, we weren’t dating so,” He shrugs.

You sigh, “D-Do you want to know who-“

“Nope, absolutely not.” Choso cuts off, shaking his head instantly.

A slight chuckle leaves you due to his reaction, “Why not?”

“I don’t need any more images in my head.” He hums, “I know who two of those six are so, that’s enough info’.”

“Right…” You murmur, nodding slightly. That went entirely different than you were expecting, “Well uh, your next question, then?”

“That was the main one I think,” Choso sighs, “I can’t imagine there’s anything else I should know that could possibly change the trajectory of our… uhm, situationship?”

“You…” You blink, “You don’t want to know who the other guy I have feelings for is?”

A brow is risen and Choso doesn’t quite understand your offer, “Does it matter who he is?”

“I don’t know…” Your shoulders raise a little.

“I mean,” Choso moves his head and glances away in thought, “I can’t imagine it being someone I know since I only know a handful of people.”

“Uh, can I ask something then?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Does the name…” You pause wondering if you should really ask your question but after a second or two, you get it out, “Does the name Gojo Satoru mean anything to you?”

“Gojo?” Choso echoes, giving you a skeptical look as he smiles a bit, “Gojo Satoru? Uh, didn’t Geto mention him earlier?”

You swallow, “Mhm…”

“Does the name mean anything to me? I dunno, I mean, I know him but-, wait…” His eyes narrow at you, “Baby…”

“Y-Yes?” You squeak out nervously.

Choso tilts his head a little, “Is he…?”

“Is he what?”

He pauses, then he swallows and meets your eyes with an intense gaze, “Do I wanna know?”

“Wanna know what?” You ask for clarification.

“Do I wanna know if that’s my competition?” Choso explains simply.

You’re still not used to such easy and quick answers to your questions, “I d-don’t know, do you?”

He stares for a minute before shaking his head, “Never mind then, I already told you, I don’t care who it is.”

“But-“

“What would knowing who it is change?”

Well, it’d give you an opening to explain the list… But then again, do you want to explain the list?

“Baby,” Choso sighs, “What I don’t know won’t hurt me, right?”

“It might…” You mumble.

His brows furrow, “How?”

That’s a damn good question. If you tell Choso that Gojo’s his competition then proceed to explain how you only slept with all those guys, including Choso himself, because of a list you were blackmailed into completing— how would he react?

No, really think about it. One, Choso might feel like a tool. Even though you know you talked to him that day in the hall because you were genuinely interested in him, he might never feel that way. To any sane human, that interaction will feel set up.

And two, somewhere deep down, you still want to protect Gojo. Why? Because you know there’s more to this blackmailing situation and you can’t tear down his character anymore without knowing the truth, that’s just not in your nature. And hey, you may regret this later when you do learn the truth but, it’s the thought that counts, right?

A man who’s obsessed with you and loves you like Gojo does wouldn’t blackmail you without good reason-

Okay, wait, what good reason is there to blackmail someone? And… What if boredom wasn’t the reason like he said it was… What if this was all done just so that Gojo could somehow trick you into running back to him?

Think about it. He claims the list was done out of boredom but later down the line tells you he loves you. What if he knew Choso hates liars, knew you’d tell Choso the truth after so long, and assumed you and Choso would part, thus leaving you to run back to him?

What if this is some kinda sick game and when the credits roll, the winning option is revealed to be Gojo Satoru? What if-

Choso says your name, “Are you okay?”

“H-Huh?” You breathe out, not knowing the facial expression you hold.

Your eyes were all wide and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” Choso asks carefully.

You shake your head and snap out of your mind, “Nothing, sorry.”

“After all I’ve told you, you still chose to lie to me?” He teases.

Your heart jumps a bit, “I-I didn’t mean to lie, I just, uhm… W-Well-“

He snorts and you freeze. When you look at Choso you see the way he’s smiling at you for the first time in a while. As quickly as your eyes meet, he turns away and brings his hand over his mouth.

“You… You were messing with me, weren’t you?” You question, narrowing your eyes at the man.

Choso lets out a chuckle, “Kinda. M’sorry, you just got all nervous and it was cute.”

“Well I thought I fucked up again Choso, that’s not funny,” You tell him, frowning.

He laughs, the sound more genuine than ever and making your heart simmer into a state of relaxation. A pout takes over your expression and you couldn’t believe that after all this he still found a way to tease you.

Playfully, you reach over and hit his arm, “Quit laughing, you scared me.”

Choso’s eyes get dramatically wide and he winces, bringing a hand to where you just hit him and sending you a look, “Oh wow, and after I tell you I was abused, you decide to hit me…” He points out, again making your heart sink.

You swallow hard and get nervous all over again, “Shit, s-sorry…”

Choso stares at you for a second and it’s slow how his smile returns, the sight making you realize he was messing with you again. 

This time you frown and turn away from him, “Oh my god, stop doing that, we’re supposed to be serious right now.”

He starts snickering, “Baby, c’mon you know that was a little funny.”

“It wasn’t,” You utter seriously, staring out your window and watching water slide down the glass.

The sound of him scoffing is heard before he moves and a hand is placed on your arm. You turn and look down at his fingers wrapping around your arm and watch how he tries to tug at your arms to get you to unfold them.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Choso hums, “C’mere, I was jus’ teasin’ you.”

You pull away from him, “Making jokes about your childhood trauma isn’t funny, Cho.”

“I laughed,” He says, shrugging.

You roll your eyes at him, “Well I didn’t.”

“Yeah and that’s the problem,” He argues back, “I can joke about my trauma. It’s my trauma.”

You sigh, “But-“

“Baby.” He cuts off, tipping his head to the side.

“What?”

Choso’s eyes grow pleading, “Look at me please?”

With a huff, you steadily lift your gaze to his, “Okay, now what?”

“Come here,” He says.

Your brows furrow and you blink, “What do you mean come here?”

“Climb over to me, I wanna hug you.”

You stare at him, “Choso I’m not climbing over-“

“Then I’ll go out in the rain, walk over to your side, and drag you out of that seat.” He says while finally pulling your arms loose. Then, Choso reaches down and unbuckles your seatbelt, “Either you come over here or I come over there.”

You sigh and look at his area, “Choso, there’s not even enough space for me to-“

He moves back into his seat and immediately adjusts his chair to go back as far as it can, providing you more than enough space to be able to sit on the floor and in between his legs if you wanted to.

“I dunno’ why you’re acting like you haven’t done this before,” Choso scoffs, “C’mon, bring your ass over here,” He orders, patting his thigh, “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

You sigh heavily and start moving, shifting your knees into the seat and then carefully climb over the center console and to Choso’s side. His hand goes to your waist to support you as you move and you soon find yourself sliding into his lap.

Choso’s car was rather spacious so it’s not like it was difficult for you to end up in this position with him, hell, you’ve been here plenty of times before.

Once seated comfortably, Choso settles his hands on your waist, holding you lightly as his head tips up to you, “Hi princess.”

You try not to smile at him, “Hi Cho.”

“Hug me,” He directs.

You pout, “You could at least say please…”

“If I was asking, I would’ve. But,” He tilts his head at you, “I wasn’t asking you, I’m telling you.”

You simply stare into those brown eyes of his for a moment, noticing the dullness from earlier has lifted and his pupils are dilated. After which, you begin to lean in slowly and Choso grows impatient, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him.

The smile you tried to bite back breaks free onto your face as you move to drape your arms around his neck, burying your face into him and feeling as he squeezes onto you.

Choso lets out a sigh and you feel his entire body relax underneath you as he rests his head back and shuts his eyes, “Now, can we stay like this for a while?”

The crook of his neck smells so good and you were just melting into his hold, “Mhm.”

The two of you nearly molded into one another’s bodies after all the stress that’d been endured. This was so surreal to you— to go from arguing and worrying you may have ruined everything to hugging that same person without being confused in the slightest, god it lifted this weight off your chest.

And as said weight was lifted, another weight took place on your heart. This weight was strong, suffocating even. What did this weight symbolize? Was it trust? Peace? Or… was it love?

Did such a simple yet emotionally present conversation become the breaking point for you? Was this all you needed to acknowledge your feelings? When you realized you felt something for Gojo, it was that time in his car when music was playing and he just looked so damn perfect.

But… With Choso it was different. The physical sensation of falling in love with someone is different for every person. In this case, it’s like the heat emanating from his previously wet and cold body was wrapping around you and smothering you with comfort.

Breathing in his cologne brought nothing but the brightest memories to the forefront of your mind. Choso consumed you with nothing more than a simple hug and he had no idea.

He was completely unaware of how his embrace and faint but gentle thumb swirling over your back made you never want to leave this very moment. Choso didn’t know that you were currently recalling your first phone call with him, remembering how he’d put a smile on your face after Gojo had stripped it from you.

And he’s always been that for you, hasn’t he? In a world where Gojo puts you in a dark room, leaving you frightened, confused, and nervous, Choso is to you the same light he claims you are to him.

Forget Gojo’s claims that you and him are the same. No, you’ve found the person in whom your similarities lay in and that person is none other than Choso Kamo, a man whose only fault with you was falling for you.

And even then, you don’t blame him for doing so because you did too. Your heart is simply swelling right now and you unconsciously started clinging onto his body tighter.

The way, “Choso,” Slips past your lips before you even realize is simply tantalizing to the man beneath you.

He feels as your breath hits the skin of his neck, your warmth giving him chills and making him swallow, “Yes, princess?” He replies.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize sincerely.

He sighs, “Told’ you to stop doing that.” Choso reminds you. Then, his hand slips to caress along your spine, “But, what are you sorry for, baby?”

You weren’t sure just yet. Everything? Nothing? Why is it that you have to apologize for a situation that was never your fault to begin with?

“Earlier,” You come up with, “I think I uh… I should’ve handled things differently.”

He nods a little, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling of your breath against his skin, “Oh, thank you for that. I’m sorry too.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong,” You hum, smiling a little.

“Called’ you dense,” Choso recalls and you feel how his body shifts a little, “Yelled at you, caused a scene, y’know, the list kinda’ goes on, babe.”

“Choso, it-,” You pause for a second. Then, you start moving, your hands slipping down to his chest as you push yourself up to sit on his lap comfortably instead of laying on him, “What?”

He raises a brow, “Hm? What? Did I say something wrong?”

“You called me babe.” You point out, grinning.

He chuckles, “It’s no different from baby is it?”

“It is.” You say.

Choso nods, noting that in his head before asking, “Which do you like more?”

“Doesn’t matter, I like anything you call me,” You tell him, smiling a little.

Choso nods slowly and bites back the mischievous smirk that threatened to show, “Anything?”

“Mhm,” You hum with a slight shrug.

“I’ll…” His words fade for a second and he’s so deep in his head as he processes what you just told him, “Yeahh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You tip your head to the side, “Why’d you say it like that?”

“No reason, princess, ignore me,” Choso dismisses, “Anyways, I was serious about my apology.”

You sigh and move your hand to caress the side of his face, “Right, well, I forgive you, Cho.”

“You’re supposed to say I didn’t do anything wrong,” He jokes, leaning into your touch and pushing his lower lip out to pout.

A scoff leaves you and you slip your fingers down to his jaw before grabbing ahold of his chin, “Mmmh… You yelled at me, I didn’t like that.”

“Your face said otherwise.” Choso points out, glancing off to the side.

“Hm?” Your brows knit together.

“For a second I thought you were turned on,” He says, so clearly joking with you.

You snort, “If I was turned on, it’s not because you were yelling at me.”

“Yeah?” The way the corner of his lips quips up into a sly smirk makes you shift in his lap a little, “Then what was it, baby? I knew there was somethin’.”

“When you were arguing with Suguru,” You recall simply, sliding your thumb up to trace Choso’s lower lip, “I don’t know why but I thought it was hot.”

He raises a brow, “Oh yeah?”

You just barely meet Choso’s eyes and you could feel yourself folding. Good god, why is this man so damn sexy?

“Mhm.” You hum timidly.

He pushes his lips out a little and kisses the tip of your thumb, “Words baby.”

“Yeah,” You utter, your voice almost breathy. 

“Atta’ girl,” Choso praises and you swear you should not be getting turned on right now. “Anywho, before you get yourself too worked up, I did want to ask you something else.”

You shake away your incoming horny thoughts and return to seriousness, “Okay… What is it?”

His gaze drops down to your torso and his eyes narrow, “Well, I wanted to ask about you and uh… You and Sukuna.”

For some reason, unlike earlier you’re not as nervous, “Okay…”

Choso’s index finger and his thumb are toying with the fabric of your top as the rest of his fingers rest on your hips, “Did you… Did you enjoy your time with him?” He asks carefully.

Your heart jumps, “Uh, I-“

“You promised to answer honestly,” Choso reminds you, lifting his gaze to yours once more, “I won't ask anything I don’t want the answer to.”

“Alright, well,” You look off to the side, “He was sweet to me after we…”

“After you had sex?” Choso fills in.

You nod, “Mhm. He was surprisingly good with aftercare. A-And I think… I think because of that, yes, I did enjoy my time with him.”

He gazes at you for a while without saying anything and you continue to keep your eyes elsewhere. Choso thinks back and he genuinely doesn’t remember Sukuna being like that. Before his last known girlfriend, after he’d have sex with whichever girl he was with, he’d kick most of them out.

But, there were a few he was different with. Those few Choso got to meet. The most memorable was the last known one, the same one Sukuna knocked out. Choso remembers her to be rather rude to him, calling him gross or disturbing whenever she and him crossed paths but, he recalls the woman having Sukuna wrapped around her finger.

Of course, due to Choso’s experience with Sukuna, he didn’t care to point this out to his older brother— if that woman was playing him, he deserved it.

Even so, it makes Choso wonder what about you made Sukuna treat you so nicely. Hell, it actually worried Choso because since the two attend the same university, Choso knows what it’s like to have his love interest taken from him by his older brother.

“More than…” Choso’s voice is soft, scared even, “More than with me?” He blurts out without thinking.

Your eyes snap onto his and your brows furrow, face shifting into something bothered, “What? Hell no.”

Choso releases a shaky breath and nods, “Oh, okay good.”

You tilt your head, “Choso are you worried I may feel something for him?”

“N-No, I know you said you don’t and I believe you.” Choso stammers, “I-It’s just-“

“He’s repulsive,” You snap, “After everything you’ve told me about him, I could never see that man in the same light.”

“Oh.” He chirps.

“Now, it does confuse me why I experienced something different but,” You shrug, “I don’t care to find out.”

Choso’s eyebrows raise and he stops toying with your shirt, “Really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not interested in him.” You say.

Choso smiles a little, “Good…” All his worry fades and he returns to his playfulness, “So uh, who are you interested in, then?”

“You, obviously.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.

“Is it obvious?” Choso questions.

You frown, “I thought so…”

“Mmmh, I dunno’ baby…” He starts looking away with a skeptical expression.

“I’ve said it before but, I do want you Choso.” You remind the man.

His eyes shoot back over to yours, “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Have me, then,” Choso says eagerly.

What surprises him the most is your response to that this time around, “Can I?” You ask.

He bats his eyelashes at you, “O-Of course.” The words pour out of his mouth and his heart skips a beat.

“You sure?” You question teasingly with an innocent tilt of your head.

“Fuckin’ positive,” Choso breathes, smiling, “Have all of me, princess.”

He’s so clearly happy about this and that makes you just as happy, “Okay…”

“Okay?” There’s a hint of need in his voice, “What does that mean?”

You give a sheepish shrug, “I don’t know…”

“Baby I can’t do I don’t know.”

“Okay then,” You slide your hands down and rest them on his chest, “Let’s make it official, Choso.”

“M-Make us official?” He asks for clarification.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“So,” He can hardly process what’s happening, the entire conversation feeling like a dream, “You wanna be my girlfriend?”

A pretty smile spreads across your face, “Yes, Choso.”

“Okay,” He whispers, nodding, “O-Okay, I can work with that.”

“Work with that?” Your brows knit, “Cho, what're you talking about-“

“Let’s go on a date,” He offers, “Wait-, no. Can I take you out on a date?”

You blink, “We’ve been on dates already-“

“A real one.” Choso urges. Oh he’s been planning this for months now, hasn’t he?

You’re smiling from ear to ear, “A real date?”

“Yes.” Choso says, “We both dress up all nice, go out to eat or somethin’, y’know, do this properly.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

His hands slide up to your waist and he squeezes a little, “Yes or no baby?”

“Yes,” You start smiling and your heart has never felt this full before, “Yes you can take me out on a date.”

“Thank you,” He sighs, suddenly tugging your body closer to his, “This way I’ll never have a reason to feel insecure.”

Your arms go up and back around his neck, “Yeah?” You whisper.

Choso’s voice lowers and his gaze is so intimate with you, “Mhm, I think that’ll solve every problem we’ve had so far.”

You nod, “I think so too.”

Both of your faces near one another and you’ve never in your life felt more content with a person before. Is this what you’ve been craving for months? Is this freedom? Peace? Bliss?

To have such a tough conversation with your heart spiking multiple times, and feeling worried about certain reactions, all to result in feeling more comfortable in a person is something you never expected. Do you deserve this? Such happiness?

Well, why wouldn’t you? What have you done to yourself to not deserve the man looking at you so lovingly right now?

Did you forget?

The list is over. You’re free to experience this without worrying about hurting anyone. You are finally allowed to love with all your heart instead of only half.

Gojo was right about one thing, he could never give you things Choso can because, at the end of the day, Choso will explain everything to you because he knows what it’s like to be confused and hurt. Choso understands you, he actually loves you.

As for that stupidly beautiful white-haired man? You’re not sure what to think of him anymore but, you think you’re done thinking about him.

Sure, you still have a journal to burn with him but, can’t you indulge yourself in the joy that is loving someone wholeheartedly? Is that not what you deserve after everything you’ve been through?

Your head tilts as your gaze sinks to Choso’s lips. Does this man even realize how wonderful he is to you? Does he know that he’s your savior? Is he aware of how much you adore him? How thankful you are to him?

“Choso,” You utter so carefully, your face nearing his.

“Yes?” He replies, his eyes dropping to your lips as they near him.

“Thank you,” You suddenly say.

He smiles a little, “For what?”

“Everything,” Your answer is vague at first but you’re quick to explain a bit more, “For loving me the way you do, being so open to me, telling me everything even though it was hard for you…”

“Baby that’s not something you have to thank me for,” He hums, letting out an amused scoff, “That’s the bare minimum of what I should be doing for you.”

Something sheer glosses over your eyes but you ignore it, smiling at his words, “But still,” Your voice is light and tainted with emotion, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“If my reward for waiting is you,” He smiles, “I told you, I’d wait lifetimes.”

“Choso,” You breathe out, holding onto him so very tightly before the words slide out of your mouth, “I love you.”

His chest is against yours so you can feel the way his heart throbs. His breathing picks up in an instant, hitching for only a moment as your words caress his ears so beautifully.

“Y-You…” Choso’s at a loss for words. He’s dreaming, right? “You what?” He asks, his voice shaky as his eyes land on yours.

The sight of joyful and overwhelmed tears in your eyes lets him know just how real this is. Then, you lean in and just barely press your lips into his before repeating yourself, “I love you, Choso.”

Those arms around your waist squeeze you tighter and you don’t miss the way he trembles a bit, his own eyes glossing over, “I love you too, princess.”

Another sweet, soft, and lightweight kiss is shared between you two but as you pull away and your eyes meet all over again, Choso sees the way your pupils have expanded. He wonders how long they’ve been that way, having only seen it at such a size once before.

His brows tense and Choso pulls you to him again, muttering the words into your mouth, “I love you so much.”

You smile briefly against the connection before mumbling right back, “I love you too Cho.”

Everything you could’ve ever asked for was within your grasp now. Peace, freedom, happiness, certainty, hope, love— all of which was felt in the midst of you and Choso kissing so passionately.

This right here… This is what one would describe as a healthy relationship. 

Arguments and drama occur but the end result should always be this; peace and understanding.

That’s what he is to you. Choso is your peace, your understanding, and the man you love all in one.

You’ve finally ended the war in your heart. Should someone ever ask you who ended that battle, who healed the plague on you, your answer would remain forever;

Choso Kamo.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[sturnioz]

imagine frat!boy chris loosing reader at a party baisically going crazy not being able to find her then he finds her passed out drunk somewhere then princess carrying or over the shoulder carrying ( you choose ) her to his bedroom then taking care of her AHHH

sorry i fw frat!boy chris fluff heavy

you are only supposed to grab a drink — so what the fuck is it taking so long? chris' eyebrows knit together in frustration as he pushes himself off of the sofa, adjusting the cap on his head as he shoves through the crowd of sweaty bodies, peering over their heads to try and catch a glimpse of you.

the pulsating music of the frat house thumps in his chest, but it's drowned out by the growing annoyance in his mind as he chews on his cheek, a tell-tale sign of his growing irritation, ignoring anyone who dares reach out for him — whether they want to talk or buy drugs, he doesn't give a fuck.

his mind is solely focussed on finding you.

chris pushes his way into the kitchen, full of drunken bodies, some lost in conversation while others are high, eyes glazed and minds somewhere else. it's a familiar scene — one he's seen countless times — but tonight, the sight of tangled limbs and slurred words only heightens his frustrations.

he scans the room, searching for you, but his gaze meets a sea of other faces, causing the knot in his stomach to tighten, and his fists to clench and unclench at his sides, knuckles cracking.

he does spot matt in the corner of the kitchen though, absorbed in his phone with a joint dangling lazily from his lips. chris moves forward through the crowd, ignoring a girl who reaches out to him with a flirtatious giggle, her attempts to grab his attention fading into the background.

as he approaches matt, he cuts straight to the point, direct as he asks. "you seen the kid anywhere?"

matt looks up, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips as he answers, "like, five minutes ago, yeah."

chris almost rolls his eyes. "right, 'kay, so," chris gives him a look, his impatience bleeding through. "where is she now?"

"nate 'n his girl dragged her to play beer pong or some shit."

chris rolls his tongue across his teeth and nods his head slowly, turning sharply to head towards the familiar spot where the beer pong table usually stands. the crowd shifts around him as he moves, but when chris approaches, his brows furrow deeper when he finally spots nate with his girl — your friend — huddled together, alone.

nate's eyes light up when he sees chris, a drunken grin stretching across his face. he loosens his grip on your friends waist, letting her sway slightly as he steps froward to greet chris with a handshake.

chris' grip is firm but distracted, his gaze immediately flicking to the beer pong table, where empty cups lay askew, remnants of a game that has clearly gone off the rails.

"where is she?" chris asks, tone sharp and urgent.

nate shrugs nonchalantly, laughter bubbling in his throat. "i dunno, probably throwin' up or somethin' — she lost baaad, bro," nate thumps his chest with a fist. "undefeated beer pong champion."

chris feels his irritation spike, nearly pushing him over the edge. "you uh, you let her get fucked up?"

nate seems to sense chris' attitude and sobers up just a bit. "hey, easy... its a game, yeah? she's safe in here."

ignoring nate's reassurance, chris' gaze locks onto your friend, snapping. "why didn't you go with her?"

"she's a grown adult," your friend drawls drunkenly with a roll of her eyes. "let her live."

chris' lips curl into a humourless smile, a bitter laugh escaping him as he turns to nate, pointing to your friend. "y'know, she uh, she was fuckin' tom before gettin' with you.. and y'know tom has that thing, so.."

nate's expression shifts from confusion to horror, his eyes widening as his head snaps towards your friend, who screeches back angrily, spitting drunken curses at chris who walks away without a word.

he heads towards the crowded staircase, moving through through the bodies in the slightly vacant hallways, stepping over discarded cups and spilled drinks that litter the floor as he approaches the main bathroom at the end of the hall.

his fist curls tightly around the handle, and without bothering to check if it's free, chris pushes the door open. the hinges creak slightly, and his gaze immediately lands on your passed-out body sprawled next to the toilet.

a deep exhale escapes him, his jaw clenched tight as he steps further into the cramped space. the familiar stench of stale beer hits him hard, mixing with the faint smell of vomit, and his nose wrinkles in disgust, shaking his head as he crouches down beside you. his heart races a little with a mix of irritation and slight concern, and he reaches out, tapping your cheeks gently.

"hey, kid," he says, his tone sharp but low, echoing in the tiled room. when you remain unresponsive, he taps again, a little harder this time. "wake up, dumbass."

with no reaction, chris leans in closer, his hair brushing against your face, the strands falling like a curtain as he listens to the laboured rhythm of your breathing. his expression subtly shifts, a flicker of worry breaking through his irritation.

"great," he mutters under his breath, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

with a huff, he awkwardly slips his arms around your body, feeling the dead weight of you against him. he adjusts his grip carefully, his muscles straining as he lifts you up, your head lolling against his shoulder.

he carries you out of the bathroom and into his own room, kicking the door open with his foot and closing it behind him with the same motion. he eases you down onto his unmade bed, letting out a frustrated sigh, his tongue prodding at his cheek.

he kneels beside you and begins to untie the laces of your shoes, tossing them carelessly to the ground with a dull thump. he glances at your face, the discomfort evident even in your unconscious state, and his expression softens slightly as he unbuttons your jeans, pulling the material down your legs gently.

his hands reach for your shirt next, but he pauses when you make a soft, gargled noise, and his eyes flit back up to your face.

"s'me, kid," chris murmurs, low and steady. "calm down."

you seem to respond to his voice, the noises fading as he pulls the shirt off your body. he throws your clothes into the hamper beside his bathroom door, then grabs one of his own shirt — a soft, oversized shirt that he dresses you with a little difficulty due to you not cooperating.

"know y'can hear me," chris grumbles under his breath. "makin' me dress you like a fuckin' baby.. could be helpin' me, make this shit a lot easier f'you. but naaaah.. gotta do alllll the work."

[is-the-sky-blue]

OVERWHELMED: GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Fluff, satosugu x reader, reader is called mom, papa satoru, dad suguru

You were overwhelmed.

The warm steam from the pot below you wafted up to your face, the obnoxious low rumble of the range hood sucking up the air as to not let your smoke alarm go off, yet again. The curry bubbled and you stirred the mixture of carrots and potatoes, leisurely. "Mom," it was a troubled call, you turned, facing the long haired child perched in a chair at the table behind you, her brown eyes glassy as she stared at the textbook in front of her.

You were quick to lower the heat, tapping the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot before settling it down on the handles, placing the glass lid atop the stainless steel before shuffling over to her, fluffy socks adorned with a strawberry pattern, given to you as a little surprise from an ordinary grocery run, protecting your feet from the cool tile. "Tsumiki honey, what's wrong," you coo, taking a seat in the chair next to her, the girl's lips pouted in frustration as she pinched her brows.

"I dunno how to do this," she points, pencil led prodding at the textbook pages scrawled in graphite, loitered with jokes and absurd comments that your dear girl would never do, knowing that this, probably twelfth generation textbook's drawings, were presents from students past. It was a math question, simple algebra that she was only introduced to yesterday in class, and your ever keen student was quick to do her homework on Saturday as to not stress out tomorrow, as her Papa promised to take them all out on a fun day trip.

"Let me take a look," you murmur gently, offering a smile to try and quell her irritation as you stared at the notebook pages, neat handwriting full of numbers interrupted as she tried to answer question 6c, smudges of pencil rubbed away by eraser staining the paper and you reevaluate the problem, carefully repeating it onto the sheet. "This one is quite tough," you nod, hoping to show that her struggle was valid, "but basically you have to-" you start, ready to walk her through the steps to find an answer when yet another call drew your attention away.

"Mom!" this time it was a wail.

"Just a second baby," you pat the girl's hair, "I'll be right back," you promise, getting up from the cushioned seat to step towards the living room, crying children hidden behind the couch, as the open concept layout usually allowed you to see all your kids at once.

You spot the two twins, eyes glassy as Mimiko held a doll tight in her grasp, body shifted away from her sister as Nanako crossed her pudgy arms over her chest, tearful glare directed towards the former.

"What's wrong," you murmur, sore muscles slightly protesting as you pulled into a crouch assessing the situation. Your usually two well behaved girls who generally got along with one another were fighting for the nth time today. They were having a rough time, both irritated, grumpy and getting on each other's nerves consistently on this somber Saturday

"Mimiko won't share," Nanako cries, rubbing harshly at her puffy cheeks as salt rivers stain her face, falling in large droplets. You are quick to tenderly grasp her hands, careful touches wiping away the dew. You turn to face Mimiko, knuckles turning pale with the death drip she had on the pink haired doll.

"You two have loads of dolls though," you try to reason, plucking up a different toy, presenting it to the red faced girl.

"But I want that one," she sobs, hiccupping and you tried not to sigh too loud.

"Mimiko," you call, the child pursing her lips as she turned her body away in defiance.

"I want a turn," she huffs when you don't retract your scolding gaze, "Nanako's been playin all day wif her," she shakes the pink haired toy, glittery strands catching light and you don't know what to do. Nanako was crying because Mimiko had stolen the toy, and you knew the girl had been politely asking all day just to be denied.

It wasn't right that she took it, you know that, but it also wasn't right that Nanako hasn't been sharing. You didn't want to just take the doll away completely, even if a nagging voice said that a mere threat wouldn't hurt, but the high percentage that it'd leave both girls' crying already gave you a headache.

They were just tired. Bad dreams plaguing them last night, preventing them from sleep, they needed a nap but wouldn't settle down for one, not even after being cradled and read to. No matter how many picture books you pulled out, or if you just tucked them into their beds, neither agreed to your plan and now it was too late, settling for a nap now would only result in the inability to rest when it was actually bed time.

You bit your lip, their lack of sleep also resulting in your lack of sleep, achy limbs tired as you shut your heavy fatigue ridden eye lids as bawling tears continued to drip, "Nana-" you were about to start only to be interrupted yet again.

"Mom," it was raspy this time and you heed the call, facing a sleepy Megumi, his face florid as sweat beaded on his forehead, duvet you wrapped him in trailing along the hardwood floors as he pulled it onto his shoulders. His spiky hair was slightly matted, eyes a little red, nose running. 

"Megumi" you coo, your sick boy padding to walk into your arms, falling into your embrace eagerly as he nuzzled into your neck, his cold nose making you slightly cringe as he burned up in your grasp, fever overheating his tiny figure.

"m'sorry," he begins and you don't want to question what happened as you wrapped the blanket tighter around his little form, "I missed the bucket," he confessed, his fingers timidly grabbing at your sleeve, toying with the fabric and you knew what he meant, the little stomach bug beating up his organs had made you gift him a plastic container for all his vomit. "I didn't mean too," his voice wavers, you could feel your shirt begin to grow damp but all you could do was hold him tighter.

"It's okay," you try to keep the irritation ebbing away at you from your tone.

"Mom."

"Mom."

"Mom."

"Mom."

They all needed you, tears falling down fast as different anxieties permeated your house, home full of grief as they each battled with different problems. Tsumiki struggling with her homework, Mimiko and Nanako bickering yet again over something trivial but huge in their little world, while Megumi tried to fight off a sickness but was currently losing, and you trying to grapple every thing, your sanity quickly slipping as their sadness poured into you, the tired little smiles you kept up slowly fading away as you could feel your own anxieties claw up your throat.

All your children were crying, frustrated wails, and you were barely keeping it together, clutching your son tightly as you tried not to fall into a pit of tears yourself.

You were overwhelmed.

Overloaded with tasks and duties, you had to help Tsumiki finish her school work, settle this doll dilemma, clean up the little mess Megumi made and still finish up dinner. Your list was all consuming, trying to drown you as your house shook, trembled.

Your family was having a rough day.

Everyone was troubled and you-

You couldn't do it all.

You barely registered it, chaos consuming your leaden muscles as you did your best to organize your frantic thoughts, but when a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder the tension in your chest, weighing down on you eased. "Let us handle it from here love," a sweet murmur, his dark hair was messy, result of a tough day at work but he was quick to roll up his sleeves, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, soothing your berating mind and you could only nod, brain refusing to process an argument as he turned to the two twins.

"C'mere Megumi," your white haired counterpart now next to you, reaching out for the duvet coddled boy who merely nuzzled further into your grasp at the call and you can't help but keep him close, quicksand sinking limbs finding their way to cuddle him even further.

"It's okay Toru," your voice is laced with a slow molasses, tired dribbles as you mumble, blinking your stinging eyes, retreating tears falling back from your waterline, "can you just," and you bite your tongue, feeling a strange quiver form in your throat as an inexplicable lump formed, but he's cupping your face, squishing the fat of your cheek with his easy going toothy grin, pink lips parting to let an ever loving smile shine affectionately at your drained visage.

"Can do!" and he's popping to his feet, knowing your sentence without your words, upbeat aura exterminating the lingering gloom that held heavy in a foggy cloud from the ceiling. His call of Tsumiki's name is kind before he's taking the seat next to her, getting to work and slowly your growing checklist of tasks melted, shredding into tiny little strips as they rips apart the paper, taking a chunk to handle by themselves.

Your knees audibly crack as you stand, his warm cheek in the cove of your neck as he put up no fight to slump in your hold. "Let's get you a bath, yeah Gumi," you hum, body gently rocking as you pad down the hallway and towards the bathroom, light flickering on with a warm glow to paint the white tiles.

"M'sorry," he's murmuring again as you set him down, guilt ridden eyes swathed with remorse as you slowly began to fill the tub, squirting out some of the soap from a half-empty bottle of bubble bath, watching as white foam slowly floated to the surface, "I-I'll do better," he sniffles.

"You don't need to be sorry baby," you brush the strands of hair sticking to his forehead away, heat emanating from the slick sweat of his skin, dampening your fingertips as you gingerly peel the blanket off his body, pang of pity hitting your heart as he shuddered, "you didn't do it on purpose," you hum, "and all you need to do for me is drink lots of water, get tons of rest and get back to your strong and healthy self, okay my Gumi bear," you smile, watching the boy cringe at your little nickname.

"Don't call me that," he whines, voice nasally as you help him take off his clothes before settling him inside the water filled tub.

"Why not," you tease, turning off the tap but he could only puff out his chest, no reason coming to mind as he submerged his body into the water, steam slowly relieving his congested pathways.

"I- It's embarrassing," he tries and you coo with a sly little smile. 

"Are you embarrassed of me," you purse your lips in faux pain.

"That's not what I said," he rasps out, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumps his back against the porcelain, defeated.

"Mhm I see how it is," you sigh dramatically, snickering at his pout before you lean to boop his nose. "Will you be okay on your own," you ask the boy, observing as he picked up a cloud of soap and squashed it between his palms.

"Mhm," he nodded and you grin, giving him an affectionate rustle of the hair before grabbing the slightly soiled clothing, lingering smell of vomit and sweat clinging to the fabric of his pajamas as you stepped outside the bathroom, leaving the door open just a smidge as you padded towards Megumi's bedroom, the door wide open, readying yourself to untuck his bedsheets only to find his mattress already bare.

"It's in the wash," he murmured against the shell of your ear and you lean into his warmth, resting your head on Suguru's lowered shoulder, "do you need me to take that too," and his hands are quick to take the clothing from your grasp.

You simply shut your eyes for a moment, listening to his breathing, "thank you," you hum out when you blink open, whirling around on your toes to face him.

"It's no problem baby," and he's pressing yet another calming kiss to your forehead, easing the worries that had begun to clamber up your chest, "you should go take a break, I can finish giving Megumi a bath," he murmurs against your skin but you shake your head as he pulls away.

"No, I can do it," you affirmed, the worried look in his gaze doing little to force your hand, "I want to do it," you reiterated and his shoulder's slumped as he acquiesced, letting you have your way yet again.

"If you say so," he's sighing, "but let me know if you need anything, alright, you've already done a lot today, don't push yourself pretty," and he's kissing your cheek this time, flashing you an understanding smile but you are quick to peck at grinning lips, withdrawing much too early for his liking.

"I won't," you reassure, patting his arm, urging him to go and he chuckles, retreating back to the laundry room as you go to grab another set of pajamas for Megumi to wear.

Your heart felt a little lighter, the happy sounds of an understanding Tsumuki echoing down the hallway before she was sharing a high-five with Satoru, a resounding, elating smack reverberating as you take a small peek down the hall, her once pinched brows no longer furrowed with stress as your white haired partner thoroughly explained the topic in a way she could understand, patiently answering all her questions and kindly nudging her along the right path whenever she made a mistake. The sight had you smiling, there were no tears, no yelling, the image much unlike your childhood, her ability to even ask for help showing you that you must be doing something right, after all you didn't want her to face the same struggle you had when it came for asking your parents for any kind of assistance.

Turning back to the bathroom you nudge the door ajar with your hip, spotting your little spiky haired boy with a rubber duck in his hand, pushing it along the water and he's quick to stare at you, meeting your gaze as you plop the fresh clothing onto the counter. "Mom," he calls and the word no longer burdened you with such despair as it had moments ago, of course you loved your title, the very words being attached to you giving you an indescribably joy as your little found family discovered comfort in you as a mother figure, but you couldn't deny that a few moments ago the very call of that label had you broiling with stress.

"Yes love," you hum, quick to pull the stool over, sitting near the edge as Megumi glanced up at you, bubbles staining his fingertips.

"Will Papa still take me on the trip tomorrow," he sniffles, dry eyes blinking up at you with worry.

"Of course he will Gumi," you reach a hand out, petting his hair before cupping his warm face between your palms.

"W-What happens if I don't feel good tomorrow too," he whimpers, eyes going glassy as his lips pull into a pout and you could feel a little tremor shake your heart, small fracture nicking away at it as you pressed a tender kiss to his scalp.

"Then we'll reschedule it baby, okay," you murmur, staring into his heartbroken gaze, "it'll be alright."

"But I don't wanna ruin it," he mumbles so quietly, guilt ebbing away.

"Honey you won't ruin anything," you assure, "no one is leaving you behind, and no one will be sad if we can't go tomorrow, besides it wouldn't be fun if you weren't there." 

"Promise."

"I promise my love," and you interlock your pinky with his, rubbing away a stray tear that managed to fall, "now how about we get you dressed and back to bed," you offer, a gentle smile accompanying your words and he grins, nodding.

You were quick, drying the boy before pulling the dog themed shirt on his head, helping his arms through the fabric before tugging it down. "Cozy," you muse, fingers lightly tying the drawstrings of his fuzzy pants.

"Mhm," he hums, fast to find solace in your embrace as you carefully adjust him to settle on your hip, standing up. You survey the bathroom, empty tub still slightly foamy along the edges, drain covered in bubbles that you didn't focus on, preoccupied with dressing the sickly boy, the blanket he had dragged around, abandoned on the floor, crumpled in a corner, the floor slightly imprinted with wet footsteps.

You purse your lips, rubbing small circles onto his back as his face burrowed into the crook of your neck, dark hair tickling the skin but you pay no mind, occupied with your disinterest on cleaning the space, you had left a slight mess.

Shutting your eyes you sighed, maybe you could just pretend it wasn't there for a moment, you tried to offer yourself, turning to head towards Megumi's bedroom only to spot that his bed was still bare and you were soon painfully aware that both pairs of bedsheets you had used for his bed were now soiled and in the wash, the first set vomited upon in the morning when he had felt the brunt of his ailment clawing at his stomach.

You could feel irritation clamber up your limbs, leaving an unsettling itch in your bones as you push your weight onto your toes before rocking back onto your heels, uncertainty bubbling beneath your skin as your frazzled brain wracked for a solution. "He can sleep in our room for a little while," and the bubbles faded into nothing, heat of the element reduced to zero in an instant as your unsettled waters no longer even simmered.

His hand is on Megumi's forehead, checking the little boy's temperature while the other lay relaxed on your hip, leaving an assuring squeeze, "do you want me to take you Megs," Satoru offers, knowing full well he'd be denied, and rejected he was, the boy merely clinging to you tighter with a pout.

"It's fine Toru," you hum, his hands slightly fixing your hair before pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Alrighty then," he snickers, and you barely have to turn your head to know he and Megumi were sticking their tongues out at each other, "I'll go clean up the washroom then," and he shifts his focus to you.

"No that's alright, you should go rela-"

"I should be saying that to you pretty," he quirks a grin, cutting you off, "now go on," and he's shooing you away, hands on your shoulders before lightly ushering you out, "let me work," he tsks, opening the door, letting you walk into your shared bedroom before quickly scampering off with a cartoony whistled song.

You can't fight off your smile before shuffling towards the messily made bed, the rumple of sheets a painful reminder of your inability to focus this morning, waking up to sobs, the idea of making the bed no longer at the forefront of your brain, and it still wasn't. You collapse onto the mattress, lightly tackling Megumi beneath your body.

"Get off me," he giggles, squirming, fists pushing at your shoulders.

"What, you don't want my love," you gasp dramatically, peppering kisses over his face until he's shoving you away, hoarse voice laughing as he wriggles, crawling towards the head of the bed but you grab his ankle, "don't make me fight you," you tease, pulling him back, his happy little shriek of, 'let me go,' making you grin before you lift him into your arms, wrapping around him tight before squeezing him, planting one last firm peck to his cheek, his happy face lessening all your lingering unease before pulling the both of you beneath the covers.

"You're silly mom," he's snickering.

"Oh really," you laugh, resting his head upon the pillow, laying on your side as he puts his hand onto your face, pudgy fingers squeezing at your cheek, contorting your facial expressions, "I think you're pretty silly," you muse, reaching out to smush his face, his lips puckering as you forced him to look like a fish.

"Nuh uh," he huffs pulling away from your grasp before using both his hands to try and force your face the same way, and he's giggling.

"Nuh uh," you mock, "what do you mean nuh uh," you tease lightly tickling at his sides.

"Nuh uh," he shrieks again, squirming before burrowing into your embrace, putting an end to your attack as he cuddled close and you couldn't help but reciprocate. "Mom," he's calling again.

"Yes," you coo, running your fingers through his hair.

"Can we go see a T-rex." 

"Hmm," you raise a brow, "where'd that come from," you ask, slightly perturbed by his out of the blue question.

"Yuji told me at school that his papa took him to see T-rex bones."

"Oh, is that so," you coo, rhythmically patting his back, "we can go to the museum and see dinosaurs together when you're all better."

"With Tsumiki and Mimiko and Nanako."

"Of course, we'll take Tsumiki, Mimiko, Nanako, Dad and Papa," you grin, "so make sure to get lots of sleep and drink lots of water, okay."

"Okay," he's murmuring and despite his prior burst of energy his eyes were closing.

"Goodnight," your kiss his scalp, gently rocking his body and even though he drifted off you continued to lay there, weary limbs finally relaxing.

"Wake up love," you don't even remember falling asleep.

You blink your eyes open, "You need to eat." 

"Hmm," you groan as you stirred, staring at both their figures and you suddenly realize your arm's no longer hold the weight of a child, "where'd Megumi go."

"Asleep in his own room," Suguru coos, helping you sit up, thumb running over the apple of your cheek.

"What time is it," you ask eyes trying to adjust to the bright light of the digital clock on the bedside table. 

"9:30ish," Satoru grins, taking a seat next to you, "the kids are already in bed."

"Why didn't you wake me up," you yawn, leaning your weight onto Satoru, "I could've helped."

"You've already done so much today," Suguru sighs and you hum into his touch, "wanted to let you rest."

"M'sorry," you murmur, suddenly feeling ashamed.

"Why are you apologizing love, we are the ones who should say sorry," and Suguru is settling down onto your other side.

"We left you home alone to take care of all of them, it must've been tiring," Satoru is holding your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

"You had to go to work, it's fine."

"Regardless," Suguru tacks on, "but you did a good job today," he praises and you find yourself melting, lip wobbling.

"No I didn't," and a surge of sadness washes over you, your emotions taking over, "y-you came home and everyone was crying, I was going to cry too, and, and I didn't know what to do."

"That's okay my love," and Suguru is pulling you into his arms, "you did your best."

"But still."

"Baby it's hard looking after four kids by yourself, you did amazing, it was just a rough day," and Satoru is kissing your forehead, "we should've come home earlier but even without us you did great."

"I should've been able to handle it."

"You did handle it."

"I got overwhelmed."

"And that's okay," Suguru assures once more, "it's a lot of work and it's normal to feel that way, that's why we're here, okay baby, it's not your job to look after all of them on your own, we're a team, you can depend on us," he continues, soothing your anxieties, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

"My pretty girl had a long day," Satoru coos, lightly pinching your cheek, cracking a coy smile, "let's go eat yeah, I'll warm dinner up again," he grins, reaching for you, carefully picking you up. 

"I can walk," you protest, your arms snaking around his neck as he slid his arms beneath your bottom.

"And I can carry you," he sing songs, padding towards the door while Suguru quietly shushes him.

You were overwhelmed but Satoru and Suguru were quick to help you out.

[anniebass]

baby don't be mad

1.3k word actverse ficlet under the jump rating: M tags: dialogue-heavy, beginning of the relationship, the boys are arguinggg, old man eddie's being a clueless slut, and also a dweeb, and steve's being... a person that rly needs therapy lol

Rapid catchups, they name it, though it doesn’t really need a name, it’s basically just talking. Early on Eddie realizes he doesn’t know all that much about his sexy old-but-new long distance serious boyfriend, that he possesses a fuckton of outdated information, that, duh, people change, especially in the long-ass time they spent apart. That the habits and opinions of a twenty-year-old shithead don’t necessarily last until someone’s forties.

That evening, they do the rapid catchups, starting off easy, prompted by the takeout dinner they have at Steve’s: best Asian food, go, at which without a second thought Steve says Chinese, while Eddie goes with Japanese, love me some sushi, yum. Later, when they’re full of kung pao and mapo tofu, lazily digesting on the couch, half-watching an old movie where Sharon Stone saunters across the screen and smolders at bad men, Steve says: you have to sleep with a woman, any woman in the world, dead or alive, go.

Eddie groans and slides down the couch, throws his hands up: dude, I don’t know! Uh, like maybe— Cleopatra? Or maybe one of those amazonian greek warriors with one boobie?

So, no one you actually know the face of? he says, with a little smirk.

Man, I don’t— I mean, there are some beautiful women walking this earth, like stunning stunning women I can’t get enough of, but that don’t mean I want to fuck them! My willy shrinks at the thought, he explains meekly, and shrugs, clicking his tongue: I dunno, maybe Eartha Kitt? She seems very fun.

Good choice, mutters Steve, and to Eddie’s your turn he tilts his head, scratches his nose: I don’t know if that question really applies to me. But if I had to have a sex list, it would be… Linda Evangelista? Or Sharon, she’s hot. Or— yeah, Monica Belucci, Jesus. Her, definitely. If not her then Cleopatra, that’s actually a great answer, she must have been good for all that shit to go down around her, he says with a smile, and Eddie sighs dreamily, oh, I’d love to watch. From the closet, imagine myself in her place. In a little egyptian wig, he adds, to which Steve snorts, rolling his eyes.

Alright, my turn. Best casual sex you’ve ever had, go, says Eddie, and Steve hums at that, leans back on the couch, rubbing his chin, mumbling under his breath, until he sighs and says: I actually didn’t have that much of it beyond my teens, and what I had back then was very… teenaged, y’know. And in that short gap between my first and second wife I slept with just three people, two dudes and one woman, and neither of those was mind-blowing. The guys were kinda disappointing, I thought after so many years of straight sex I’d be blown away, but it was just… okay. Actually—, he adds, shaking his head: it sucked. I was drunk, they were drunk, I don’t remember much of it. Or don’t want to. I remember stinky balls. So, I dunno—, he says, and sighs, and glances at him: am I a big loser if I say the best one was when we reconnected? Could say it was still casual back then, right? When we fucked in the church, or by the pool, or—, yeah, there was a lot of it, on that trip.

It really was magical, agrees Eddie, smiling at him.

So, uh, your turn, says Steve. Best you've ever had, go.

Oh, man, mutters Eddie. I know my answer to that. Japan, in the mid-nineties. We were on tour and stayed for a few nights in Tokyo, and I got to explore the city, research shit with the help of a very discreet translator, and finally, on our last night there, I ended up in a gay bar. Very hush-hush, a basement place hidden away in some grimy back alley, he says, lowering his voice into sultry tones of gossip. Met a guy there, this… slightly chubby middle-aged businessman type, suit and tie and briefcase, wedding ring on his finger, very regular looking guy, and we drank sake through the night, sang some karaoke, and ended up in some seedy by-the-hour love hotel. He didn’t know who I was, didn’t speak a lick of English, I was obviously drunk, but I still remember that night like it was yesterday. God, just— the way that guy fucked me, the way he seemed to know every inch of my body without having seen it before, the way he just knew what I wanted without any language, it was insane. We did it a few times that one night, practically without stopping, and never saw each other again. I actually jerk off to that memory to this day.

To this, Steve lets out a small hm, purses his lips and leans back, crossing his arms, and Eddie clicks his tongue, leaning closer, touching his shoulder: aw, don’t be jealous. That was casual, but out of all people, of course you are my number one, no contest. I just— remember that one time in Japan, because it worked so well without language, and that’s always kinda hot. Language of love, all that cheesy stuff. Up to that point and following it, it'd mostly happen with some hot Brazilians.

Okay, he says.

Eddie sighs, watching his face: Steve, you know that’s what my life was like back then, this neverending barrage of hookups. And most of those weren’t even that good, like, you talk of stinky balls? I met dozens, slobbered over them anyway like they were fucking Ferrero Rocher!, he says to a small groan in return, then sighs, speaks softer: being with you is a completely different quality from that, even from my previous relationships. It’s way different. With Marcell, we both slept around, there wasn’t much that we had in common beyond, like, incredible attraction at the beginning, and the fact that we work in the same industry, could endlessly talk about that. And with Zu, we— we really loved each other, but we weren’t a good fit. It was this weird thing where she needed someone more masc, but also I needed someone more masc, he says with an amused scoff. We were two bottoms in love, and it’s hard to make it work in the long term, without fucking other people. We’re way better off as friends. And the other dudes I dated, it was just— me being a drunken asshole, most of the time. I was a very shitty boyfriend for a looong-ass time.

There’s a stretch of silence, and Steve slides down the couch, still frowning: man… I just wonder why you asked that question in the first place. Because it seems to me like you wanted to brag a little about this incredible hookup you had in fucking… Japan. Do you miss fucking other people, Eddie?

He sighs, rakes a hand through his hair: Steve, I literally just told you I don’t. I might romanticize it, the— the way I might romanticize being on drugs, but I don’t want to go back to that. I asked because I want to know everything about you! I dunno, I— I guess I like Japan. It’s such a weird place, I really want to go back there, he says and inches closer, placing a calm hand on his thigh: come with me. Like, for two weeks or something. We’d take the girls with us, go in the summer or for the spring break. Would be cool to just wander around, shop, sing karaoke, eat tons of good food. Go to Kyoto, see the geishas, tea ceremony. Go to hot springs. Japan’s truly like no place you’ve ever been to.

I didn't know you liked it that much. A trip does sound nice, says Steve, with a small smile. Emily would go crazy, she loves those cartoons. Chels would like it too, I think.

Eddie smiles and squeezes his leg: sounds like a plan. Also, just to— get it out of the way: from the moment you first kissed me, I stopped thinking of us as casual. I was, like, fully fully back in love with you in point two seconds. Even before that, to be honest. If I ever for a single moment considered that a hookup, it’d totally blow that businessman out of the water. If you want, I could show you, uh, how I blew him out of the— fucking—, he falters, then snorts: sorry, failed metaphor. But you catch my drift.

Yes, please, says Steve.

[charliemwrites]

what if Price is literally the only one to come out of a mission unscathed so while Ghost, Soap, and Gaz are in the infirmary, Price has to go take care of reader?

Oooooh now we’re talkin’ anon. A couple people said price was mean when I introduced him to reader….. what do you guys think this time?

You know before the door even opens that something is Wrong. You know because Simon is late again and last time he was late, Johnny came to babysit.

It’s not johnny that comes in the door.

You happen to be slipping from the kitchen with a bowl of marshmallows when Price walks through the door. You freeze. He freezes. Slowly, his eyes fall to the marshmallows in your hand… and your puffed out cheeks stuffed full of them.

“Have you had dinner?” he asks.

You look very far away. “Mmm….”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Mm!” You make a show of chewing.

He huffs in amusement and drops his bag at the door. Your eyes flick to it with concern, shuffle on your feet when he moves closer.

“Remember me?” he asks when you finally lose your nerve and take a step back.

You swallow the last of the sugar and nod. “Captain Price.”

“Attagirl.” He beams. “You can call me Price, little one. Or John, but only if you’re nice.”

You frown at him, hugging you bowl to your chest.

“Don’t give me that look, I’ve heard all of soap’s horror stories.”

You huff, scrunch your nose. Where is Johnny, anyway? Simon said that he’s the designated “babysitter.”

“Everyone’s laid up in hospital right now, so it’ll just be me and you.”

You can’t keep the nervousness off your face.

“H-how long…?”

“Few days, at least.”

You frown. That’s not specific enough. He doesn’t explain further.

When he takes another step forward, you take two back, heart starting to pick up.

“Dunno why you’re so afraid of me, little one, but look. I just want to get some proper food in you, yeah? You look like you haven’t eaten and Simon will have a fit if he finds out.”

You swallow and nod, but don’t creep closer. He doesnt press this time.

“Alright, how’s this, you keep snacking on those while I get dinner ready. But you come eat when I call, yeah?”

Seems… reasonable. You nod and retreat to the couch, eyes never leaving him.

It’s not, uh….. easy. You can’t pinpoint why you’re so skittish. He’s not done a thing to make you afraid. Not one! Is even a pretty decent cook.

Later that evening, you try to retreat to your room, but he click his tongue, calling your attention. He holds out a hand, coaxing.

“C’mon, stray. Don’t you wanna watch your shows?”

You try to find excuses, but he just sits there patiently, watching. Eventually you cave, creeping closer. Hesitate at his hand, just out of reach. He wiggles his fingers teasingly. You carefully slip around to the other side of the couch and curl up.

He allows it for a little while. At some point he gets up, gets a water that he sets in your hands. When he sits down again, it’s much closer than before. You finally find something like annoyance, grumbling and trying to press into the arm of the couch.

“Listen to you,” he chuckles, reaching for a scritch. “So dramatic.”

And this time you do get your teeth in him. Bite down and then almost immediately realize what you’ve done. You go still, mouth still clamped around the meat of his thumb.

When your eyes venture up to his, he looks… amused. “Are you happy with that choice?”

You shake your head very carefully.

“Would you like to change it?”

You carefully unlatch, running your tongue over your teeth.

“There a reason you’re biting?”

You always have a reason to bite, the hell kind of question is that? You scowl.

“Too close. Back up.”

“Simon says you need cuddles.”

You hmph. “Simon’s not here. I don’t even like cuddles.”

“Oh, we’re lying now is that it?”

You make a frustrated noise and try to climb off the couch. Price sighs and snags your shirt, keeping you from getting far.

“Stop it!” you cry, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m scared because you keep pushing! I want Simon. I wanna be alone.”

His expression softens. “I know, little one, I’m sorry. I have to push because I need to make sure you’re being taken care of. Can’t do that if you’re hiding away, understand?”

You make a helpless noise, tears boiling over.

“Are they okay? I want them to be okay, even if they’re the worst.”

“They’re alright, lovely. They’ll be here to visit you soon. Come here? I don’t have to touch you, but just come sit and calm down. Sip some water.”

You do as your told, upset and exhausted. Price keeps his word and gives you a little more room, not touching. Even offers a pillow for you to hug. It still smells like Simon.

“Now look. I know I’m not Simon, but I can’t do things the way you like if you don’t give me a chance to try,” Price explains. “No more running. Compromise with me.”

You nod, and even go so far as to press your knee against his thigh. He nods, offers you a smile that is… rather nice now that you can manage to look at his face.

“Good girl.”

“That’s for Simon.”

He pauses, looks thoughtful. “Attagirl?”

You nod.

“See? You’re alright. Now settle in. One more episode and then bed time, yeah?”

You nestle down into the cushions. Don’t make it one more episode before conking out.

[wintersoldiersoul]

Bucky x reader- super angsty but fluff ending

In a relationship, bucky doesn't want reader going on mission because it's a hydra Misson, they argue and don't talk to each other, bucky hears reader get hurt and he hears her say "im sorry buck, i love you" and then her comms go out and he can't do anything to help because he's pinned down and by the time he gets to her she's bleeding out and passed out and bucky is breaking down apologising and saying he didn't mean anything of what he said etc and I dunno how you would wanna end it

A/N: So sorry it took me so long to get to this request!! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, throwing up, lots of angst and fluff

“Bucky, stop it!” You shouted. “I’m going on this mission, okay? I can handle myself.” You had been having this fight all morning. The mission you were going on was extremely dangerous. You were basically marching right into the center of Hydra. 

“I am begging you,” Bucky pleaded. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“You do realize I’m a superhero in my own right? I don’t need you to protect me!” You snapped back. You knew he just wanted to protect you, but the fact that he acted like you weren’t capable of this made you angry. You had spent years fighting with the Avengers back when he was still the Winter Soldier. You had fought aliens and bionic humans and monsters. You didn’t need him to help you.

“I know but you don’t understand. They know we’re together. That means you have a target on your back. They’d do anything to hurt you because it would hurt me!” You almost felt bad but you had to stand up for yourself. You weren’t some helpless little girl.

“You’re being stupid! I thought you were smarter than this, Y/N. You’re acting like a child!” Bucky said, matching the stern tone of your voice.

“I don’t care! Let me be stupid then!” You left your room, slamming the door on your way out to go meet everyone at the jet. Bucky followed shortly after and the team got ready to leave. 

The two of you didn’t say a word to each other on the flight across the world to Europe. The tension between the two of you hung heavy in the air, casting a fog over the entire jet. Everyone could tell something was going on, but no one dared to ask. Your relationship was incredibly passionate - full of love that could burn the world down. But the same principle applied when you fought.

You were paired up with Natasha, splitting off from Bucky, Steve, and Tony when you arrived. You subtly snuck around the Hydra base, using your spy skills to remain hidden. You had been trained by the Red Room like Natasha, turning you into a silent killer full of stealth and surprises.

“Status?” Bucky spoke through the com device in your ear.

When you didn’t immediately make a move to respond, Natasha filled him in. “There’s agents everywhere. We’re hidden right now but we gotta make a move soon.”

“Same here,” Bucky answered.

An agent passed by but didn’t spot the two of you. All at once, you and Natasha passed, jumping onto the man's shoulders from behind and snapping his neck. “One down, a hundred to go,” you smirked at Nat. You could do this. You could prove to Bucky that you didn’t need his help.

Steve updated everyone, panting through the coms that they were deep into battle now. You and Natasha took a more subtle approach, trying to remain as hidden as possible before sneaking up and stealthily taking out agents as you could. Everything was going well. It was all under control.

Until you felt the gun against your head.

“Don’t move a damn muscle,” a low russian accent purred in your ear. “I’ve got you right where I want you,” he said, dragging the gun from your temple around to the base of your neck. Your arms were pinned behind you. You couldn’t move.

Natasha was too far away, locked into her own battle with an agent. A battle that she was winning but one that could easily go wrong if she turned her focus. You wanted to scream out but you were terrified that if you did, the man would shoot.

In the blink of an eye, the man who was holding you pulled out a knife and sliced your thigh deeply. You couldn’t help the cry that escaped your mouth as he did it, grabbing Natasha’s attention just as she finished off her victim.

“Y/N!” She ran over to you but was sidetracked by another agent stepping in her path.

“What’s going on?” Bucky’s voice rang out in your ears. “Y/N? Natasha?” Panic was evident in his voice. “Someone talk to me!”

“Bucky!” You cried out, hoping he would show up any second to save you. “Help me!”

The Hydra agent laughed, hearing your calls for the man. “You’re Barnes’ girl, aren’t you?” He laughed, coldly. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun.” His voice sent chills down your spine.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Where are you?” His voice came through your ear.

“I-I don’t know!” You answered. “He-has me!”

“I’m coming, baby, I’m coming. Are you hurt?”

You were still terrified each time you answered, expecting that the man would pull the trigger every time you opened your mouth. But if these were your last moments, you wanted to spend them talking to the love of your life.

“Y-yes,” you choked out.

“Alright, I think I’ve been nice enough to let this go on for so long,” the russian accent spoke before ripping the comms out of your ear and smashing it on the ground.

“No!” You cried out. The blood you were losing from your leg was already making you feel dizzy. A puddle of crimson from your body began to pool on the ground. 

“I was gonna shoot you in the head,” the man behind you whispered in your ear, making you feel sick. “But it would be such a shame to mess up this pretty face.”

Before you could even register what was going on, the gun was pressed to your back and a bullet was fired into your body. He shot you two more times. The man laughed as he walked away, leaving you to bleed out alone on the floor. Natasha had left, you had no idea where she had gone. She didn’t mean to abandon you, she really thought you’d be able to get out of your situation on your own while she completed the mission.

Across the building, Bucky was frantic. “Y/N? Talk to me! Where are you, baby?” He was panicking. One minute you were talking to him and then you were just…gone. His worst fear was coming true.

He sprinted as far as he could, dodging Hydra agents left and right, taking them out with the metal arm that they had put on his body.  He swore he had never run faster in his entire life. He knew back at their post, Steve and Tony were still fighting, yelling at him as he sprinted away. He knew he’d be in trouble later. But he didn’t care. He only cared about you.

But he was intercepted by more agents. Suddenly, he was pinned down, completely unable to move. “Y/N!” He yelled out again while he thrashed. He didn’t even care that these men would probably kidnap him again. Turn him back into the Winter Soldier. All he cared about was reaching you.

He tried as hard as he could, thrashing and squirming. Time was running out. He didn't know exactly what had happened to you, but he knew you didn't have long. Especially with the nature of the enemy you were dealing with.

After minutes of trying to escape the agent's grasp, he was able to free his metal arm, punching hard and knocking down the agent who had his legs. He was then able to use more strength to fight, taking down each person who had tried to separate him from the love of his life.

He was sick when he saw you, bending over to throw up at the sight in front of him. You were laying on the ground, still as a rock. Blood stained the concrete below you. He swore he had never seen so much blood come from one person at once. 

“Y/N!” He screamed out, running over to you. Your eyes were closed. “Y/N, wake up! Wake up, please!” He cried. “Oh my god, please!” He chanted over and over, trying to get you to open your eyes while putting pressure on you to stop the bleeding as much as possible. 

Suddenly there was a gasp from your frame. “B-bucky!” You called out weakly using every ounce of strength you could. “I love you.” 

“I love you, angel. So much. I didn’t mean a word I said! Please just hang on! Please! I can’t watch you die right now.” Tears streamed down his face as he spoke.

"So...tired," you said weakly, your eyes fluttering between opened and closed.

"I know, baby, I know," he stroked your hair. "But you gotta stay awake, okay? You gotta fight."

"What's going on, Buck?" Steve spoke in his ear.

"It's bad, Steve. I gotta get her to a hospital. Now," he said, through tears.

"Alright. It's clear now. You can take her."

Bucky swore time moved in slow motion as you waited for an ambulance. He held your hand the entire time, terrified every time your eyes closed for more than a second. You kept drifting in and out of consciousness even as the paramedics began to work on you in the vehicle. He couldn't believe this was really happening. If he lost you, his entire world would stop.

9 hours and an emergency surgery later, you were still unconscious but stable. He sat by your hospital bed, eyes red from crying, still holding your hand.

"Baby, I don't know if you can hear me right now," he said to your unconscious body. "But I need you to wake up. I need you to come back to me. I can't do this without you, I-" he paused as his voice broke. "I never thought I'd have any good in my life again. And then I found you. And I can't lose you. I don't know what I'll do. I don't know who I am without you." Tears wet his face as he spoke. "Please, baby. My darling. Please, come back to me."

He didn't leave your side all night. He waited and waited for hours, not sleeping or eating. He was terrified to not be watching you even for a second.

The sun was rising the next morning and he was exhausted and scared and he just wanted you. His head was in his metal hand as he cried, still holding yours with his flesh one, when he felt it. It was small, but he felt it. The subtle squeeze from your hand. "Y/N?" he said, immediately lifting his head.

You groaned softly, eyes still closed. "Am I dead?" You asked as you very slowly opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

"No, baby," he sniffed, getting up and kissing your forehead. "You're not dead. You're alive. Oh my god, you're alive."

[spicyseonghwas]

answer me. - kim hongjoong

pairing :: kim hongjoong x male reader viewer rating :: 18+ genres :: smut au's :: i dunno content warnings :: choking, begging, rough sex, a hickey i think, biting, slutshaming/name calling, heavily implied recording of the rough sex, slight sadism word count :: 767

18+ ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

you chuckled, leaning in and letting your whole body weight fall onto hongjoong as he continued to rail him into oblivion. you buried your face in his neck and bit down as hard as you could, relishing in the loud, sinful, obviously exaggerated moan that ripped from his lips.

he was being recorded, after all.

"such a hungry little cockslut, huh?" you growled into hongjoong's ear, looking directly into the camera of your phone, which was propped up against a pillow leaning against the bedside table, recording the whole thing as hongjoong whimpered weakly into your ear.

"answer me," you hissed when hongjoong didn't respond, grabbing his hair and yanking harshly on it to summon forth another one of the shorter man's pretty moans.

"f-shit, y-yes," hongjoong whimpered, fisting the sheets as you thrusted continually into him at the fastest, roughest pace you could get your body to let you keep.

"open your mouth," you commanded, gently tapping hongjoong's left temple with your finger to get his attention before you spoke. when he obeyed your wishes, you chuckled, spitting into his mouth. he swallowed it with a needy groan, wrapping his shaking legs around your waist and pulling you as close to him as he could get you.

"yeah?" you taunted, "you like that, whore? i bet you do, i bet you like getting used like this, huh? you like it when your boyfriend uses your slutty little hole for whatever he wants, hmm?"

"y-yes, i l-love it, ugh- FUCK, RIGHT THERE-" hongjoong cut himself off let out a high-pitched moan as the tip of your cock hit his prostate dead-on. his eyes rolling back into his head and his cock twitched as he (barely) registered the words you had just said to him.

your eyes raked over his face, taking in the stunning pink color your ministrations had made his cheeks turn. then you pulled out without warning, switching positions so that you were on your knees. then you took hongjoong's knees in your hands and pulled him closer to you before thrusting roughly back into him so that he screamed in a blissful mixture of pain and pleasure. you leaned over and grabbed your phone, immediately resuming the pace you had been fucking him at before as you moved the camera so that it was recording hongjoong.

"fuck, you're so sexy, baby," you cooed, cupping his face in your hand and letting out a little "awww" as he leaned his face into your hand. then you chuckled, your voice full of sadism, and slapped his cheek just roughly enough that he would feel it through the foggy sense of cloud-nine pleasure he must have been feeling.

"look at you," you growled quietly, "taking my cock like such a good little slut."

hongjoong just whimpered weakly in response, groaning as his eyes rolled back into his head again.

you chuckled, ending the recording and chucking the phone lightly over your shoulder towards the foot of the bed. you leaned over him and let your weight fall on top of him again, wrapping hongjoong's legs back around your waist. he wrapped his arms around the back of your neck and pulled you close, pressing his lips to yours in a heated, needy kiss. he licked your bottom lip and nibbled lightly on it, growling as the tip of your cock hit his abused prostate again.

"oh f-fuck- right there, don't stop, please…" he begged weakly, a broken moan escaping into your mouth that you gladly devoured.

you broke the kiss and chuckled darkly, licking his right temple and then moving downward and biting down as hard as you could, almost melting away completely when you heard the whoreish, broken moan that ripped from his throat. you gladly obliged in hongjoong's request, putting your hand on his throat and squeezing. he moaned again, his eyes rolling back into his head for what had to be the tenth time tonight; his cock twitched again, indicating that he was getting close to his release.

"beg for it, slut." you whispered simply.

"y-yes, sir-" he whimpered, "fuuuck, right there- please, m/n, fuck me harder…"

"you promise you'll be a good, obedient slut for me if i give you what you want?" you asked, pulling his hair roughly.

"yes, i pro-fuck- yes, i promise i'll be a good slut-"

"good boy." you said simply, putting your hand on his waist and holding him down as you willingly indulged in the railing your cute little boyfriend had requested of you.

fuck, you were so lucky to have this man for a boyfriend.

© bouncyyunho 2023-2024.

[definitelynuwonhere]

“My Angel”

Wanted to get back into writing, so I’m pushing through writer drought. I wanted to explore the “origins” of how Angel got their pet name (well, main pet name)

I couldn’t get it to work with a scene between Angel and David though, so I tried a different path

Enjoy the sweet brotherly moment 👍

———

Asher can’t believe how many times he’d seen David smile these past few months.

Snickering at his phone? Humming while he cooked? Chuckling at his jokes instead of his usual grunt and eye roll!? Who is this man?!

He knew it was because he was seeing someone, but David’s been out with people before, but there was something about this one that just, reignited something in him.

And for the first time since Gabe died, it felt like the David he’d known since they were kids, was back.

David sat across him, chuckling away at his screen, the subtle glint in his eye and smirk that tugged on his lips every time they texted back with another snarky quip.

"I know you said they’re human but your mate has got some kind of magic.”

David gave a hearty laugh, shaking his head at his ridiculousness. He glanced back at his phone, his eyes hovering over their mates name on the screen as a soft smile formed on his lips.

The beta smiled, happy for his best friend’s new found source of happiness.

“They really make you happy huh?”

The alpha nodded, leaning back against the couch,

“Yep.”

“Curious though, why Angel?”

He asked, tilting his head and looking an amused smirk.

“I dunno. Just felt right.”

He replied, a soft smile lingering on his lips as he stared at their mate’s name on his phone.

———

“This is it big guy! You’re getting married tomorrow! How’re ya feeling?”

He excitedly asked, taking a seat on one of the deck chairs, drinking as they took in the scenery of David’s backyard.

The alpha snickered, reaching forward to grab his drink and taking a sip, “Excited, Nervous, Terrified”

He replied, placing the glass back down as he leaned back against the chair, letting out a comfortable sigh.

“But I love them and I can’t wait.”

He said, smiling, something they’d gotten so used to seeing but still feels refreshing every time.

“You know,” He started, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. “I think I finally have an answer to your question about the Angel pet name.”

Asher’s eyes grew in surprise, he took a sip of his drink, giving him a nod to continue.

“I guess, I started calling them Angel because, in a way, they saved me.”

He continued, his expression falling into a soft smile as he reminisced about the past 4 years.

“They challenge me, get me out of my comfort zone in ways that I don’t know to this day.”

He chuckled, a smile lingering on his lips as he stared out into his backyard. Taking in the sight of the place he and his mate called ‘home’ the strings of lights thar gave the perfect ambience, the throw pillows on the lounge chairs they had crocheted, and the flowers that surrounded the place the two of them had planted, it made his heart swell.

“They carried me out of the darkness that came with losing dad and becoming alpha. They were my guiding light; my Angel.”

He said, turning to see his best friend weeping, moved by the sentiment behind the name.

Wiping off his face, he looked at his best friend with pride, through his puffy eyes.

“I’m very happy for you, bud”

His words genuine and full of love, he leaned forward wrapping his arms around the larger man.

“Thanks, Ash.”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

one more cup of coffee

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 850

a/n: pure, falling in love fluff based on the 8bitfiction quote "your color is everywhere"

You never noticed it before today, but now it’s everywhere. It’s in the coffee he drinks in the mornings, sewn into his fall jacket and winter coat, and stained onto his guitars and wood carvings. You can even see its richness in his hair and eyes. 

The color brown is everywhere. It’s his color. You’re constantly surrounded by him whether he’s with you or not, and the thought is so comforting. 

Joel doesn’t have a favorite color—you’ve asked him before and the answer is always the same—but if he did, you think it would be brown. It has the potential to be so many things: warm and deep, yet dark, and so full of life. Just like him.

They say when you fall in love, it’s something you just know in your heart is true, but they never say when you know. If it’s sudden or something that builds over time until you can’t ignore it anymore. 

Maybe it’s different for everyone, but you’re discovering that it’s possible to wake up on an unassuming Monday and realize how much you love the color brown. And the man it reminds you of. 

You always thought it would be some big revelation that changes everything, but here you are sitting at the kitchen table, sipping your coffee out of Joel’s favorite owl mug, feeling exactly the same. It’s how every morning goes and how they’ve gone every day for years. It’s your routine.

You hear floorboards creaking above you, and then there he is: right on cue. Walking down your brown, carpeted stairs in his brown suede coat, looking at you sleepily with the fondest look in his brown eyes. You watch him over the rim of his mug and he chuckles, shaking his head as he makes his way into the kitchen.

“There’s about a dozen mugs in this house and that’s the one ya chose, huh?” he says, voice still thick with sleep, as if that’s anything new. Your next sip is an extra loud slurp, and you let out a satisfied haah for good measure.

“I dunno what to tell you. Coffee just tastes better out of this one,” you shrug, and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, opening the cabinet to find something else to drink out of. “You drink yours too fast, anyway. It’d be wasted on you.”

Scoffing, he picks one with the phases of the moon printed on it that you’re pretty sure he found in a museum nearby. It’s Ellie’s favorite, but you both know she never eats breakfast and hates coffee, so he can get away with using it. 

“Not my fault I got places to be,” he looks at you pointedly. The moka pot on the stove starts to boil, and he waits for it to fill up before pouring himself a cup and sitting at the table across from you. “Still don’t know why ya got up so damn early when your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you off in the morning. Ever thought of that?” He eyes you skeptically. You lean forward in your chair, resting your arms on the table with a grin. “Or maybe I just wanted the mug.”

Obviously, it’s not just the mug and Joel’s well aware of that. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you right now with adoration and a hint of wonder in his eyes. It must be mirrored in your own, and now you’re wondering if he notices anything different about you today. If he realizes what you suddenly woke up knowing with absolute clarity.

“Well, you’re gettin’ both this mornin’. Lucky you,” he says, giving you a small smile. And he’s right, you are so, so lucky. 

“Yeah, lucky me,” you nod, disappointment blooming in your chest as he takes the final sip of his coffee and gets up to put his cup in the sink. He returns to where you’re sitting to press a soft kiss against your forehead.

“Gotta go, sweetheart. I’ll see ya for dinner,” he murmurs into your hair before turning to leave. You reach out to grab the sleeve of his coat before he can get too far.

“Hey,” you start, heart beating a little faster in your chest, and he looks down at you curiously. You know you’ll see him again later, but you need him to hear it before he goes. It’s not that you’re expecting him to say it back or suddenly feel the same way you do, but you just…you want him to know. 

“You know I love you, right?”

His gaze softens and, this time, he leans down to kiss your lips. You close your eyes and sigh into him, tasting coffee and toothpaste as his tongue brushes fleetingly against yours, and when you open them, all you can see is brown.

He pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on yours, those warm brown eyes looking at you as if for the first time and, yet, the same way they always have.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

[hyunsvngs]

you and your boyfriend jisung are no strangers to adventurous sex, be it trying and switching between different dom/sub roles, exploring kinks with each other, roleplaying, using toys on either, or watching porn together. but, for the first time, his newest idea left you pretty shocked.

you both are a little tipsy after deciding to crack open the bottle of whiskey that’s been sitting in your kitchen, which is probably why he felt comfortable in suggesting this to you to begin with. you look at him, eyes wide, mouth open slightly, trying to replay his words in your head to make sure you heard him right. he looks at you awaiting your answer, hopeful but nervous. “so… you want to just… watch?” you ask him, still unsure if you’re imagining things. “y-yeah. i think- i think it’d be really hot…”

you can’t say that you haven’t thought about how attractive minho is. he’s very obviously a beautiful man with his starry, cat-like eyes that feel like they’re piercing right through you, his strong arms and the veins that protrude in his hands and forearms, his thighs that are all muscle, and his stupid fucking cunning personality that makes you feel a little weak in the knees when he decides to tease you, even though it’s in a friendly way. you recognize all of these things, annoyingly, but you love jisung more than anything in the entire world and would never make any move that would hurt him, especially flirting with his best friend.

so when he suggested watching you and minho having sex, you felt a mixture of emotions. confused, horny, anxious, horny, worried, horny and… oh, horny. “i dunno, i think it would be so sexy to watch you feel good and…” he looks down and away a little, embarrassed at his next words “i think you two would look so pretty together,” in a voice so quiet you barely heard the last part. “i- are you sure?” you ask, still dumbfounded. “yes, i’ve thought about it for awhile already” he looks back at you shyly and you search his eyes for confirmation. “if you’re sure you’re okay with this, i think it could be fun, but if y-“ his eyes full with excitement and relief before he cuts you off with a deep kiss, moving to lay you back on your couch and crawling on top of you.

after some sober discussions and jisung talking to minho privately, ensuring that he is also into the idea, you find yourself on your knees on the bed, minho behind you, thrusting his hard cock into and holding your arms behind you for leverage while you moan and whimper, looking at jisung when you find the strength to open your eyes. he’s sitting just at the end of the bed, palming his erection through his sweatpants while watching your face contort with pleasure. you want to focus on him more but you feel your brain melting in your skull with every thrust of minho’s very skilled hips. “tell him how good it feels, kitty.” minho growls while moving one hand from your arm into your hair, pulling lightly which rips another moan from your throat as he continues you push into you roughly. “i-it feels so good, sungie. he’s fucking me so good i can hardly think straight.” jisung groans as he palms himself harder “yeah, baby? he’s fucking you so good you can hardly keep your pretty eyes open?” he moves to put his hand into his sweats, searching for some relief to his aching, leaking cock.

minho pulls out and you whine in protest, but before you can formally complain, he flips you over onto your back, settles your knees on his shoulders, and buries himself back inside of you before grabbing your hips with both hands, resuming his rough pace. you can’t hold back the series of moans that are elicited by the new angle. “fuuuuck that feels fucking amazing, holy shit.” your toes are curling and you hands search for something to hold onto before settling for grabbing the bedsheets. you feel weight shifting above your head on the bed before hearing jisung’s voice right next to your ear in nearly a whisper “oh, my baby, you’re feeling so good. you’re gonna cum soon, aren’t you?” “ye-yeah, yes… i’m gonna cum so good, baby” you whine in response. jisung’s hands move to snake over you body, abandoning his poor cock, unrelieved and still trapped in his pants. his hands find your breasts and he begins alternating between kneading them and playing with your erect nipples. his lips find fond your neck and he peppers it with kisses before lightly sliding his tongue across the smooth skin and sucking gently on the part that he knows is sensitive. minho’s unrelenting pace coupled with the attention that your beloved boyfriend is now paying to you body has you falling apart in seconds, your high causing your body to feel white hot and your vision yo go fuzzy. minho fucks you through your high and follows with his own soon after, pulling out and spilling his cum onto your stomach.

your eyes close as you come down, jisung rubbing your arma soothingly and trailing light kisses over your cheeks and forehead. minho moves to grab a towel and cleans his seed off of your body gently. “was all of that okay?” minho asks, eyes flicking back and forth between you and jisung. “it was incredible.” you assure him. “so fucking hot. i was right by the way. you two are so fucking pretty together.” jisunng groans. “we uh- we could do this again sometime… if you guys are up for it.” minho blurts out, sounding unsure if this is too close to crossing a line. “oh this is definitely happening again” jisung responds quickly (maybe too quickly?) before giving you one last big kiss on the cheek.

ANON WHO ARE U…. U R A BEAUTKFJL MYSTERY

im just posting some of the longer asks in my inbox to tide u guys over til i feel better <3 on that note its juno passing out for a nap time

[birrdies]

Sorry to give you 80 options but you know me haha 🤩🤩🤩🤩

Scar rehearsed it twelve times.

Once for each step it takes to cross the rotunda. He can’t tell if it’s the building that’s not so wide or if it’s his own desperate steps that make it seem like such an inconsequential distance. Either way it’s stuffed to the brim with people and their wandering hands, fingers loosely grabbing at his biceps and drunken congratulations on strangers lips like a baited fish hook nudging his cheek.

It’s an inauguration after all— a hard-earned, highly anticipated one at that— so Scar can hardly blame them for their excitability. Any other time, he might bite that hook, just to see what comes of it, eager to taste something fresh. But tonight is not any other night.

Tonight, his sights are set elsewhere. A clear target— albeit one that’s spent most of the night on the opposite side of the rotunda, as if keeping a thirty foot radius from Scar at all times is necessary to his survival.

Grian.

He’s standing there, tucked against a marble column with one foot propped up behind him and donning a deep maroon suit that couldn’t have fit him better. He isn’t drowning in it, nor does it dwarf him either. The tightly-tailored jacket hugs a set of broad shoulders, muscles Scar never knew existed beneath the loose button-ups and sweater vests Grian drowns himself in when he’s at the office, too busy with his nose buried in blueprints to notice Scar’s wandering eyes.

Only now his nose is tucked in a flute of champagne that makes his lip curl when he gets a taste. His hair, frizzy with the summer’s heat, curls around his face and cheeks. The bridge of his nose is covered by a black matte mask studded with feathers around the edges, like some kind of showman corvid. But even with the mask, even six paces away, Scar can’t miss the coy tilt of Grian’s head. An avoidant gesture that’s betrayed by the way he keeps his chin high, his nose upward. He must feel Scar coming from a mile away.

So, when Scar gets within ear-shot— closer than you might think, given the crowd only growing rowdier as more and more empty flutes are collected on trays and replaced with full ones— he says it. Just as he practices, the words as smooth as honey but still somehow drowned out beneath the noise.

Thirteenth try is the charm.

“May I have this dance?”

Grian doesn’t turn to him right away, but he does flinch. Like he’s trying to decide if he can get away with pretending he hadn’t heard Scar.

Luckily, he comes to his senses quick enough to jerk his head Scar’s direction. Even with most of his face covered he can feel the dubious raise of Grian’s brow— his skepticism a palpable thing.

“Why?”

Scar tilts his head. “Why else would you come?”

“I don’t want to get fired,” Grian says, grimacing after another sip of champagne from the flute he’s barely made a dent in it.

“You think so little of me?” Scar gasps, clutching his chest in a flare of dramatics that has Grian’s lip traitorously curling— this time with amusement. “I’m wounded, Grian!”

“I dunno,” he says. “the message you left on my answering machine saying that if I didn’t come you’d fire me was pretty damning. Gonna fire me if I don’t dance with you too?”

“No, but I’ll pout about it loudly, Scar says, and with the way Grian groans, tossing his head back, you’d think it was a worse threat than unemployment.

He huffs, a small, frustrated sound he makes so often Scar’s not convinced he’s even aware he does it. But Scar savors it, the grin stretching his face almost painfully as he holds out a hand and waits for Grian to take it.

It doesn’t take Grian long to. He abandons his glass on the ledge at the base of the column and pushes himself off of it, straightening the slightly rumpled collar of his suit jacket and tossing a hand through his hair. Only when he’s rightfully fluffed, like a bird preening its feathers, does he take Scar’s hand.

Scar leads Grian to the center of the rotunda by the hand, the curious crowd splitting to make way for the mayor and his special guest. Grian shrinks under their gaze, head ducked and hand tightening around Scar’s, a reaction Scar doesn’t fully understand because he’s never wanted to show anything off more.

Grian, squeezing Scar’s hand. No one else’s.

For a moment, when he holds Grian’s waist with one hand and folds their palms together with the other, he can almost pretend like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“You’re gonna have to lead,” Grian mumbles after a moment of awkward buffering, his fingers relentlessly twitching in Scar’s hold. He then adjusts the hand resting on his waist, forcing it up higher a few inches. “And don’t get any funny ideas.”

Scar chuckles and takes the first step forward, bringing Grian along with him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Grian hums skeptically. “Yeah. Sure.”

Scar's ideas are anything but funny, but he knows Grian well enough to keep his mouth shut and not push his luck. Not now anyway, when he can feel Grian's nervous pulse all the way through his palm. Sure, Grian's always been relatively allergic to parties and sequins and general fun most days, but he seems especially squirrely now. Even as they dance, Scar leading him through the shifting tides of the crowd, it's like his mind is elsewhere. Hands jittering, eyes skirting, feet shuffling and nearly tripping on Scar's shoe every other step. It's hard to get swept up in the music when Grian keeps him so relentlessly tethered. Corporeal.

"You alright?" Scar asks after the first song, making no move to let Grian go. "Y'know, having fun is kinda a prerequisite for dancing with Mayor GoodTimes."

"I'm fine," Grian says with a small scoff, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when he pauses his hypervigilant gaze-sweeping to glance back at Scar. "You look like a turkey."

"Peacock," Scar corrects, lifting his hand from Grian's waist to brush the multicolored feathers layered over his own fine piece of velvet. Bdubs really is a genius, coming up with this whole masquerade idea. He's always been better with a mask to hide behind. Even if he's not the other guy right now, he can pretend he is. He can borrow his strength, his confidence, his charm.

"Of course. Plumage," Grian says with an thin, airy laugh. He lets Scar pull him back in as the next song sweeps them up. A slower tune that has Scar pulling Grian closer to him.

This close, beneath the glitter of the crystalloid-diamond chandelier, Scar can't help but stare back. His usual fanning of freckles are hidden beneath that black, feathery masquerade mask.

"You know," Scar says with little thought. "You kinda remind me of someone."

Grian's paranoid eyes dart everywhere but Scar's face when he asks, absently, "Hm? Who?"

The resemblance truly is uncanny. Those dark, paranoid eyes framed by dark black fabric, making every dark or nervous thought crossing them twenty times heavier. But it's not possible, no matter how bad Scar wishes it to be. His extra-curricular coworker wouldn't come ten feet within Scar willingly, let alone let one hand hold him at the waist and let himself be lead with the other. But a man can dream. Scar can fantasize about a time or place he can reconcile the two people inside him-- the mayor and the vigilante-- and have the two objects of his affection:

Grian and CuteGuy.

Scar parts his lips to respond before he thinks better of it.

He's here tonight as the mayor. Grian is here as his coworker, a part of his campaign. Nothing more.

Though these days, the lines are getting far blurrier.

"Aw, nevermind," Scar dismisses with a soft smile as he pulls Grian closer. "Must just be a trick of the light."

[wettvagina]

DADDY'S HOME

synopsis: after fighting toji fushiguro and killing him. gojo had decided to take toji's son megumi into his ward, saving him from being sold into the zenin clan. he soon realizes that it isn't just megumi that'll be under his care when he meets you.

warnings:gojoxreader , p in v , creampie , shower sex, porn w plot

You sat lazily on the sofa of your, what you'd like to call hook-up buddy's apartment, you barely knew the guy, all you knew was his first name was Toji and he used you for two things: your body and for babysitting his children. It had been a hectic expense for some good dick, but you complied nevertheless.

You glanced up at the sudden noise from the kitchen, which was at least two steps away since this apartment was crammed, a small head of black hair rummaged through the fridge, taking out a bowl of rice, heating it up in the microwave. The boy looked at you with a blank expression, boring holes into your eye sockets as you simply laid there on the couch, the strap of your top falling lazily onto your shoulder.

"What?" you ask with a hint of irritation, as the boy continued to stare at you like a roach on the wall. "Microwave isn't working." he states simply, you scoff, standing to your feet as you walk into the kitchen, clicking on the microwave, only to realize it was actually broken. "Where's your sister?" you ask, "Dunno'." the boy says before walking to the couch, sitting like how you was previously while watching the drama on the TV.

You kissed your teeth, strolling to the small balcony as you walked in front of the TV Megumi was watching, he barely paid attention to you, "Tsumiki?" you call out her name, only to be shushed by her, she grabs your hand, pulling you closer to the railing of the balcony where she watched down at an extremely handsome white-haired man.

"What?" you questioned with a raised brow, "He's been here for at least 10 minutes." she nagged, you looked back down at the white haired man, wearing round lenses which sat on the bridge of his nose. "Come inside." you instruct, you both leave the balcony, "Just, stay here." you instruct, your instructions clearly fell onto deaf ears as you could feel Tsumiki and Megumi creep behind you as you slowly walk towards the door.

You slowly open the door, the unknown man's tall figure coming into full view, "Can I help you?" you ask, arms folded as you interogated this freakishly handsome man. "Does a Fushiguro Megumi live here?" he immediately asks, sporting an odd grin.

You lean onto the door frame, eyes squinting as you look at the man, "Who wants to know?" you question, "Listen, ma'am. If I must inform you, I am a very important man and you are in my way-" the man's voice was interrupted by a "Move." which came from Megumi, the small boy pushed you out of the way, looking up at the tall, white-haired man which towered over him.

"Hey! Didn't I say to stay inside." you groaned, "Right now, about your dad." the man started, "Toji Fushiguro is from this big-shot, well-known family called the Zen'in clan." the man explains, watching how you perked up when he mentioned Toji's name. "What are you even talking about? Who are you?" you interrupt him, "Are you the wife?" he asks, you could see your own reflection in his dark-tinted glasses, "No." you immediately answer, "Obviously." he rudely mutters, "What?" you instantly heckled, "Listen, I'm in charge of these children now, so you take your ass right back where you came from." you asserted.

You watched how the man's shoulders slumped, you grabbed onto Megumi's wrist, pulling him inside, "How rude of me." the man mutters, "I'm Satoru Gojo." he introduces himself, "Megumi is getting sold of to the Zen'in clan, a clan full of bastards who feed on strong powers, pisses you off doesn't it." your eyes meet his cerulean blue ones, "And what, you're here to save him?" you scoff, "Precisely." he extolled.

You give a look of understanding to the man, releasing your grip on Megumi, Megumi notices and looks up at you with a look of shock.

"Ah- I'm exhausted." you hear familiar voices ring, paired with a set of heavy footsteps, "Welcome home." you chirp, turning off the faucet of the sink, wiping the last plate dry, "Hellooo." you hear Satoru's habitual cheerful voice, as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pasting a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Food is on the table." you announce mainly to Megumi as he walks in, you place the dish to the side, feeling Satoru's hand unwrap from your shoulders, you three settle yourself onto the dinner table, bowls clanking as you dig in.

"So, how was everyone's day?" you ask cheerfully, "Mines was great, but it's greater now that I'm here with you." Gojo cheers, "And Megumi." you remind him, "Right." Gojo laughs while stuffing his face with rice, you roll your eyes, "What about you, Megumi?" you ask softly, "Fine." he says in between chews, "Jeez, should I have made more food?" you ask with a giggle, "Don't worry, I still have room for dessert!" Gojo chimes in, "I didn't make dessert." you say, "Oh, a different kind of dessert." Gojo winks.

You hear Megumi's chop sticks hit his bowl, "Goodnight." he says, "You need to stop that." you say, "Stop what?" Gojo asks, "Those jokes." you reply, "They're harmless." Gojo protests, "Whatever." you shrug, "What kind of dessert?" you give in when you hear Megumi's door close.

"Ooh, you dirty girl." Gojo coos, "I'll do the dishes, get yourself ready." you wink, standing to grab all the dirty dishes on the table. "Yay!" Gojo cheers while walking away, taking off his mask while strolling to your shared bedroom.

You finish with the dishes, drying your hands with a towel while heading to your shared bedroom, you hear the sounds of the shower in the bathroom, you smirk while stripping out of your clothes, stepping into the bathroom, Gojo hears the door open, "I'm not done yet!" he shouts, you roll your eyes and slide the shower door, "I said I'm not do-" Gojo stops mid-sentence, gawking at your naked body, "Oh." he lets out as you step in.

"You were excited, huh?" Gojo extolls, "Duh, Satoru." you utter while hanging your arms around his neck, his lips met yours in a soft kiss, droplets of water ran down your body as his skin came into contact with yours.

You felt his hands grab at the fat of your ass, "Turn around f'me." Gojo purs into your ear, and you follow his instructions, you feel his meaty cock hit the rim of your pussy. He pushed his entire length into you, drawing soft moans from your plump lips, his hips rocked in and out of your needy cunt, as your walls wrapped around him snuggly.

"Been thinkin' bout' you all day." he exclaims, groaning as he holds onto your hips, dick pressing onto your gummy walls, "M-Me too." you manage to moan out, "I can tell." Gojo says complacently, increasing the speed at which he's pounding into you, the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"'Gonna let me come inside?" he asks, playing with your hair as he's pushing his dick in and out of you, "'Course, baby." you moan, feeling his heavy cock pulse inside of you, "Fuck- 'gonna- ah!" Gojo moans, feeling himself pushed over the edge when your pussy squeezes around him.

"Ah- Satoru!" you moan his name as you feel your walls being painted by his warm, sticky come. He pants in your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist, dick still inside of you, "'Love you." he whispers.