delaneylovesjmac

[st4rgirl7777]

Love Letters.

paring: idol jake x f reader

WARNING: Smut (MDNI 18+), mentions of masturbation, oral (m. receiving), cowgirl (let me know if i miss anything!)

a/n: just a reminder that this is all purely fiction! this my first time writing an enha fan fic. not proofread. (lmk if i miss anything) enjoy reading!

idol jake who just finished another concert during another exhausting world tour. don’t misunderstand him, he loves touring and he loves performing this has been his dream since he was a young little boy living in australia. he loves meeting all the fans and spending time with them. greeting the fans with a smile and collecting all the fan letters he receives from them. However, performing takes a toll on your body and mental health. hours of endless dancing and singing and having to appear happy and cheerful all the time. it takes a lot of time effort and energy.

jake is a simple guy with a simple routine to make himself feel better after a concert ends. he greets his fans as he leaves, makes his way to his hotel room, lock the door and well jerks off till he falls asleep. it’s his special way of getting his body to relax, makes him feel less stressed. he loves the feeling of the orgasmic release as he fists himself up and down repeatedly. he whines and moan desperately for the release and sometimes he even edges himself on purpose. he loves seeing the white ropes leak out of his cock and onto his hand and chest.

one night, jake decided to go through his fan mail before doing the deed. he sat on his bed, opened up the letter and began reading.

Dear Jake,

i hope this finds you well. i’m writing to let you know that i think about you all the time. i think about a lot of things, but lately i can only think about you sexually…

“woah..” jake says already feeling his pants getting tighter. he continues to read.

i think about how good it would feel, if your lips crashed onto mine. how i would trail my lips down your neck and chest leaving marks of proof that i was there. i would undress you slowly and caress you body.

at this point jake shirt is thrown across the floor and his hand is down his pants gently palming himself.

i would get on my knees for you and show you how good i can make you feel. my lips swirling your tip, gently kissing it before swallowing it whole. i can take all of you. i will lick it, suck it, make a whole mess just for you. i will show you how good you taste. your hands tangled in my hair as you push my head down fiercely. i would gag on it and take you in so deep. i’ll be such a good girl for you jakey.

“holy fuck” jake moans. his pants and boxers dropped to the bottom of the floor. letter in his left hand, his right hand busy with his harden dick. he pumps himself furiously using his pre-cum as lube.

and when i’m done milking your cock, i’ll get on top straddling you and ill sit on top of you. let you relax as i slide my tight pussy on your cock. i know you will fit so perfectly in me. i’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear as i ride you jakey. and i won’t stop until you come undone for me. milking you until you’re crying and sensitive for me.

jake hand goes faster and faster, he pants as he imagines himself in the sacred position. he images himself reclining on the bed, as you slide ontop of him. he imagines himself filling you up with his thick cock. he pumps himself with long strides as his orgasm is near. “fuck” he whispers to himself. “i’m gonna cum.” with a few more harsh and fast pumps, he lets out a low pornographic moan and spills his hot liquid onto his hand and letter.

i don’t know if this letter will ever reach you. i don’t know if you will even read it. but i think about you all the time jake. i hope this tour goes well and you are taking care of yourself just like how i imagine taking care of you <3

he sits there catching his breathe and reliving the sexy show he just put on from a fan letter. after he manages to catch his breathe he folds the mail neatly and puts it back into the envelope. jake tucks it away in his suitcase for him to look back act for the rest of the tour.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n: i miss jake so much omg, anyways i hope you enjoyed reading my first enhypen fan fic, let me know if you liked it and as always tysm 444 reading. muah! - xo m

[mercy-burning]

(2) the fire. || THE DOCTOR.

in which a fire grows between the doctor and the landlord. content: strong language, alcohol, a hand injury/bleeding, kissing word count: 4.5k

series masterlist || main masterlist || prev chapter || next chapter

———

Today, Spencer remembers why he never went to school for medicine.

It's not that he can't properly diagnose a problem and offer the proper treatment, though he'd be lying if he admitted to denying any insecurity over holding the powerful title of The One and Only Town Doctor, because what if he does diagnose something wrong, or he doesn't have all the information he needs and gives somebody the incorrect treatment? Then what? He wouldn't only have to worry about an eviction, but complete humiliation as well. He'd have to either locate somewhere else or just live out the rest of his "witness protection" in the Alaskan Wilderness, left to fend for himself. He'd likely die then, anyway.

Being this isolated from the outside world must have triggered my over-dramatic tendencies, he thinks with a shake of the head and a deep sigh. He closes the patient file in front of him and rubs his eyes, stifling a yawn.

He'd only read each file over twenty times each. But the better acquainted with Sardinia he was, the more accurate his work would be. It also might please Stanton to know he's at least making an effort to get to know the town a little bit. Not that it's his life-goal to please the man, but after his town tour last weekend, Spencer had sensed a fierce protectiveness in the mayor over his town and its residents. It was commendable, and definitely not something to interfere with.

At the same time, knowing everybody's business is, quite frankly, exhausting.

It's the price I pay for safety, I suppose...

Three knocks sound at the basement door, and Spencer sits upward, putting on his glasses.

"Everything alright in there, Doctor?"

The librarian's voice is a relief. "Yes, thank you, Roberta! I'm almost done!"

She shuffles inside and looks around, adjusting her long, patterned skirt. "You know... We're not technically supposed to let these files leave their home, but... You're the town doctor now, Spencer... If you need to take some home, you're more than welcome. That way you don't have to stay down here." She shivers at the thought.

"Oh, that's okay. I've read them all more than a dozen times over, I just wanted a refresher."

Roberta laughs with him, probably assuming he's exaggerating, but he says nothing and lets her keep her amusement. "Well alright, if you're sure. Are you heading out then?"

As if on cue, his stomach growls rather eagerly at the thought of sustenance. "I was just about to go to lunch, actually."

"Well there's no rush if you have more reading to do, Dear. If you'd like, I can make you a sandwich or something."

Spencer almost takes her up on it, but as his stomach growls again, it suddenly occurs to him that it's highly unlikely he'll run into Y/N in the library's basement.

In actuality, he doesn't have any concrete plans to seek anything out with her. It wouldn't be right, technically being her doctor and all. Not to mention, he was supposed to be detaching. Doing his job, indulging in friendly conversation when needed, but not allowing himself to form strong connections with Sardinia when he knows he'll just leave eventually anyway. It's easier, it's stable, and it's clean.

But for whatever reason, he can't seem to stop thinking about her anyway. It's obvious that she doesn't seem particularly interested in putting in effort to being his friend, not after the morning she showed up on his doorstep and injured her hand on his porch. Day by day he kicks himself for being so awkward. He didn't mean to keep interrupting her, but he also didn't want to be responsible for not doing his job. Intentional on her part or not, it was cold outside, she was hurt, and he did the responsible, professional thing by ushering her inside and tending to her wound. It really had just been an unfortunate turn of miscommunication and awkward first impressions.

And so, while he's aware that turning things around is probably out of the equation, Spencer finds himself constantly daydreaming about running into her or breaking something in his house so he has a reason to call her. He shouldn't even entertain it, but she's a knot in the deepest part of his gut that he can't ignore no matter how hard he tries.

It's almost as exhausting as reading the entire town's medical records over and over again.

"Thank you, Roberta, I appreciate it. But I think I could use some fresh air."

———

The generally considered "lunch hour" has just passed, leaving BAR in limbo as the cleaning staff prepares for dinner. A small group of customers sit in the corner by the lifeless karaoke machine, nursing beers, and as Spencer finds his way to the bar, his eyes drift to the woman behind it, all the way up on a ladder as she drills in some shelving.

"Doctor, what can I do you for?" Sonny greets as he sits down.

If Y/N heard him, she doesn't let on.

Spencer removes his coat and scarf and drapes them over the back of his chair, doing his best to hide the joy he feels at successfully locating his landlord. Not that there are many places here she could have been in the first place. "Uhh, water and a club sandwich?"

"Fries or chicken soup with that?"

"Soup, please."

"You got it."

As Sonny puts in the order, Spencer diverts his gaze back to Y/N. As she's reaching high and stretching up to grab a screw, he has half a mind to tell her to be careful, but he doesn't want a power tool thrown at his head.

The scariest thing happens just then.

"The second you tell me to be careful, Doctor, I'm evicting you."

He hesitates. "Did you know, the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons estimates that there are around 500,000 people treated for ladder-related accidents each year?"

She pauses and turns her head to look over her shoulder at him. "What did I just say?"

Spencer throws up his hands defensively, unable to hide his smirk. "Hey, I didn't tell you to be careful..."

She tosses the screw in his direction, and it rolls across the bar.

Sonny snatches it up without even looking, sliding over Spencer's water with the other hand. "And you just know that off the top of your head, or did you make it up?"

"Uh, no. I didn't make it up..."

"Sounds like a made-up number to me," Y/N mumbles, barely in earshot.

"I'm a doctor. It's my job to know these things."

"Well, I've been climbing ladders pretty much my whole life, Doctor, so you and your Ladder Statistic Surgeons can take the day off."

With a snort from Sonny and the sudden loud whir of Y/N's drill, Spencer leaves it alone, taking a few large gulps of his water.

Minutes pass, and even though his eyes are glued to the small box-TV in the corner, muted and playing some '80s movie he's never seen before, Spencer is earnestly aware of Y/N's presence behind the bar. She's humming to herself, something that sounds theatrical like a show-tune, and it serves as some pretty comical background music to the rather intense scenes playing out before him.

"Aw, man, Red Dawn again? Can't you play Lethal Weapon or something?"

Spencer looks to his left sharply, a little horrified at the fact that he hadn't seen or heard the presence of someone beside him.

"Do I look like a movie theater, Lionel?"

The kid can't be more than twenty years old. His deep brunette hair is longer than Spencer's— way longer, in fact; it cascades down the back of the chair and almost touches the floor. He doesn't judge, but the thought of having hair so long that it's constantly getting tangled and always nearly touching the floor sounds annoying and completely unsanitary.

"What if I buy you a copy?"

"No."

"I don't know, Sonny, maybe you should switch it up once in a while," Y/N offers, and Lionel cheers like a frat bro. "I know I wouldn't mind watching Mel Gibson while I eat..."

"My bar, my rules. And Mel Gibson's a jag-off."

Spencer thinks of Rossi at the insult, almost hearing it in his voice, and his heart aches a little of home. Still, he can't lie and say he isn't enjoying the bar banter just a little.

"Yeah, but a hot one," Y/N presses, stepping down the ladder and shuffling around some of her tools. "Anyway, shelf's all shiny and new. You need anything else repaired before I head off?"

"Nah, you're free. Thanks, Moonface."

Just as she rolls her eyes and starts berating him about the nickname, Lionel twists his seat to Spencer.

"You're the new doctor, right?"

"Yes, I am. Lionel? It's nice to meet you. I'm Spencer."

"Doctor Spencer..." He says it like he's testing something. Pondering. He squints his dark eyes and then looks him over. "My mom said you were dreamy, but I don't see it."

He feels his face getting warm, and then Y/N laughs. "You know who is dreamy..."

Lionel points. "Mel Gibson."

Y/N points back at him knowingly, and they share a smile, much to Sonny's chagrin.

The barman looks at Spencer, who can't help but laugh. "You wanna chime in on this, Doctor Spencer?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not qualified to diagnose dreamy." Then he glances at Y/N, catching her eye. "Only to offer ladder statistics."

Sonny laughs, and Lionel slaps his knee, but Y/N is holding Spencer's gaze as if to say, "well played." There's something else there too, but before he can place it, she's tearing herself away and packing up her things.

"I like this guy!" Lionel says. "I'll have what he's having."

"You don't even know what he ordered," Sonny counters.

As the two discuss, Spencer lets their words drone on until they're muffled background noise,  Y/N cleaning up her workspace. She doesn't catch him until after she steps under the ladder to reach for something, and then raises an eyebrow as she walks through the other side.

"You're not gonna lecture me about bad luck now, are you?"

"I'm not superstitious."

She smiles, to his surprise, and his breath catches at the sight. It's a beautiful smile anyway, but when it's directed at him, it feels like a reward he wants to achieve forever.

Before he has time to read into the feeling, a plate of food is set in front of him, and the spell between the doctor and his landlord has lifted. She goes to fold up the ladder, and he keeps himself busy by stirring his soup, waiting for it to cool.

He'd chosen it as a ploy to stay warm on this cold November midday, but he doesn't feel like he needs it anymore.

———

Y/N is avoiding Spencer at all costs.

She's glad he didn't see her almost slip off the ladder at BAR earlier today, but not because of the "told you so". No, she was more worried that he would genuinely come to her aid, and the close proximity would surely have her abandoning all reason and throwing herself at him. Because, let's face it, he is dreamy (Lionel doesn't know shit). And he's funny. And smart. And his hands...

Y/N lets out a rather aggravated grunt, thwarting the sharp sting of desire she feels in the pit of her gut, scrubbing a plate clean with a grip so vigorous, her fingers start to cramp.

You know, you could just... be nice to him, the Angel on her shoulder suggests.

What, and completely disrupt the snarky bantering nature on which we've set our foundation? the Devil counters back, stubborn as always. I don't think so!

The argument goes on for way too long. Y/N has furiously scrubbed all her dishes clean about five times over before she decides to promptly get drunk about it. She can't go to BAR, and she could make a run to the convenience store for a bottle of something strong, but... there's more risk involved out in public than in the safety of her own home, where there happens only to be a half-bottle of red wine that she keeps for when she's feeling frisky. And 'frisky' is exactly what she wants to thwart, so...

The options are very limited.

"God damn this stupid fucking small town bullshit," she grumbles through gritted teeth, harshly tossing the sopping-wet washrag in the sink and reaching up to the cupboard for her wine. "Whatever. Maybe... I just have to pull out the vibrator and get it out of my syste—"

Perhaps it's superstition, or irresponsible outbursts of frustration, or perhaps it's just plain bad luck that makes her slip backwards and fall on a puddle of water when she turns around, bottle of wine in hand. But whatever the reason, she can't help the maniacal laughter that tumbles out of her system the second her ass hits the floor. Her hand holds the neck of the bottle in a death-grip, but when she goes to set it on the floor, it shatters, staining everything in red. Sharp pain slices through her finger, and her laughter quickly stops with a hiss.

Staring down at the aftermath, Y/N slowly feels the pain growing and throbbing in her body. Her butt is surely bruised, her hand is hot and cascading with blood, and there's only one person qualified to help her.

"Fuck my life..."

She starts to laugh again, but grabs her phone and dials the first number she can think of.

———

What Spencer had told Y/N is completely true; he's not superstitious. Coincidences happen, and that's just how life works, but walking under a ladder or breaking a mirror won't bring you bad luck, just as surely as being in the right place at the right time is merely that— a coincidence. Good things and bad things simply happen, no matter how badly you want to believe there might be some cosmic reason for them.

That being said, as he charges up the driveway to Y/N's house, first-aid kit in hand, he starts to wonder if Sardinia has its own sort of superstitious magic or something. It's the fact that the one and only person that he's needed to aid since being here—not once but twice now—is the one person that doesn't seem thrilled over his presence. Not that everyone he met seemed absolutely ecstatic to have him there (save for Stanton), but everyone else didn't seem inconvenienced by him at least. And for whatever reason, he can't stop the burning need that simmers low in his stomach at her every sarcastic word, every roll of the eye, and every beautiful frown of her lips.

He couldn't make it go away. He couldn't make it make sense.

Why?

He manages to push away his frustrations when he opens the door to check on her, wiping his feet on the mat and calling out her name.

"Are you alright?"

As he removes his coat and steps inside to find her, heavy stomping sounds through the house, getting louder and louder until his landlord is in sight, her eyebrows narrowed and her hand wrapped in a blood-soaked washcloth. "What are you doing here?"

"I was with Roberta when you called her, she said you were hurt and you needed help, so I came—"

"She wasn't supposed to send you!"

"I'm... I'm sorry? Here, what's wrong? She said your hand might need stitches."

She looks like she's about to cry, her body going slack and her head falling back in defeat. "Yes, it does, because I fell on my ass with a bottle of wine in my hand, and sliced it open..."

"Y/N, it's okay. I can help you. Let me take a look."

He reaches out for her hand, but she snaps it away to her chest and huffs. "No! I don't want your help, okay?"

Spencer sighs, feeling himself getting irritated now. "What?"

"You heard me! It's... It's your fault anyway!"

He blinks. He can't believe what he's hearing. He wants to help her, to calm her down, but her words are so sharp and her tone is violent enough that he isn't sure any of his tactics would work anyway. He's spent a fair share of his time talking people out of scary situations, talking them off many ledges, but right now he feels trapped. He feels confused and maybe a little hurt, but also extremely hot, like his temperature is rising steadily with every second he's in her presence.

"Excuse me?" is all he can say.

"First you show up to Sardinia and ignore everybody, which makes Stanton send me to lure you out, and I bust my hand open on your door! And then you keep following me around town and fucking pester me about your stupid made-up ladder statistics, and it pisses me off so badly that I come home to unwind, and hurt myself in the process! You did this to me! So no, I don't need your help, I just need you to—"

"Y/N."

"Stop interrupting me!"

Despite her rising frustration and inability to filter out the ridiculous threads of reasoning that give her away now, Spencer keeps a calm, even tone when he continues. "I can leave and have Roberta come over to help you instead, if you want. I won't stay if you really don't want me to."

It's her turn to blink, her mind working hard to comprehend what he's just said. She looks exhausted and just about as confused as he'd been, picking at the washcloth wrapped around her hand.

"You... What?"

Everything makes so much more sense now. As she'd rambled on and on about how annoying she found him, a switch flipped, and Spencer knew exactly what her outburst had been really about. Suddenly, all the somethings he kept catching in her glances have become bright beacons, and he wonders how he'd missed it.

It probably has something to do with that rising temperature of his— too distracting to allow his brain to work properly.

Regardless, his brain is working just fine now, as he takes a step closer to Y/N. She backs away, but he keeps slowly walking towards her as he speaks.

"I understand. You've probably known Roberta all your life, and she's a safe, comforting person to confide in. I'm just a stranger. You don't like me, and you don't trust me, even though I am your doctor and it is my job to help you."

Her back is to a wall now, and she startles when she runs into it, realizing she's trapped. Spencer watches her swallow and try to avert her eyes as he keeps talking. His lips twitch into a smile then, remembering the day she hurt her hand on his door and how she could barely look him in the eye, and how he's missed yet another sign.

"But you are an independent, very beautiful, incredibly stubborn woman, so that makes sense..." Their faces are inches apart, Y/N's head tilted to avoid him. But that just won't do, so Spencer gently places his forefinger under her chin and adjusts her to look at him. Their eyes meet finally, and that fire burns bright in his belly and spreads through his entire nervous system at the matching heat in the depths of her stare.

He continues softly, his lips barely a breath away from hers. "So if it's what you really want, then I'll go."

"God, fuck you," she breathes, pushing herself forward and colliding their mouths together. Her sharp words echo so strongly that when her tongue slips past and makes contact with his, he can practically taste their sweet, sweet venom. He welcomes the sting and involuntarily growls into her mouth, pressing her firmly into the wall. He's never felt a violence quite as satisfying as the one she exudes.

It's a violence that amplifies the burn in Spencer's gut, the one that causes him to abandon all logic and reasoning in favor of indulgence. It had happened once before, with a particularly wretched woman he'd rather not remember, but this time is different. It's relatively harmless in the grand scheme of things, and absolutely life-altering all the same.

Her kisses fizzle out slowly, though not out of boredom or change of heart. In fact, Spencer figures he's stunned the poor woman into a simmering lust-driven stupor, a power that he hadn't gone searching for but accidentally stumbled upon while cradling her head in his hands. He's never considered himself an ambitious, power-hungry man, but as his fingers massage her scalp and he kisses her deep and slow, her mouth returning his energy with lazy, fiery laps of the tongue, it's the first time he's ever ached so deeply to claim something as his own. The feeling is addicting, plain and simple.

She seems to gain some semblance of control when he pulls back and pivots his head for a gasp of air, because in a split second her weight is pushing against him, forcing his feet backward. Still attached at the lip, they stumble through the house together until they find themselves in the kitchen.

When Spencer lifts her enough to sit her down on the table, she pulls away from his mouth with a hiss and then hits his shoulder with the palm of her hand. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" he asks breathlessly, dizzy on her kisses but slowly coming back to his senses as he remembers why he'd even come here in the first place.

"I fell on my ass, remember? It hurts!"

"Sorry," he says, helping her down and pulling her back to him through the empty belt-loops of her jeans. "I'll be careful."

"Some doctor you are," she scolds, kissing him again.

He breaks away a second later with a laugh. "You didn't want my help. Remember?"

"If I didn't hurt my good hand, I'd punch you."

Kiss.

"You should have that looked at."

Kiss.

"Probably."

Kiss.

He knows that he should stop and take a look at it anyway. He should be firm, yet still gentle and caring, and make sure her wound isn't already starting to get infected or worse. He has no doubt that she'd probably taken care of it to a good enough standard to avoid anything major, but in any case, it doesn't matter. Because it's his job to look after her.

But... fuck.

Her quick-witted, glorious mouth is too intoxicating. It's ruining him, completely demolishing any ounce of professionalism and sense of reason he might have once had.

And then her injured hand drags itself along his shoulder and down the front of his shirt, just for a second before she pulls it away again, inhaling against his lips.

She's in pain. But she won't stop.

Spencer pulls away and rests his forehead to hers. She tries to chase his mouth, and he wants to let her, but he can't.

"Y/N..." He says her name softly, trying not to focus on her pout. Otherwise, he might just leap forward again.

Their breathing is heavy, the air between them thick with a fire that still longs to burn bright, but is being extinguished by necessity. It's still fighting though, dancing in their eyes as every other part of their bodies slowly part from each other.

"My hand hurts," she says finally, holding it out to him.

She's still very obviously drunk on him, her words strung together clumsily as she sways to keep her balance. She looks dazed, hair tousled and lips puffy, all at his mercy. And so fucking help him, Spencer vows in that moment that he will see her in this state again, and he will not have any obstacles like wounded hands getting in his way of the job. It will be thorough and deliberate and he will not stop until the wicked words spewing past her lips have dissipated into breathless gasping pleas.

Just not today.

"Will you help me, please?" she asks softly.

He nods, gesturing for her to sit down. "Of course." Then, he notices stains of red littering his arm. Studying them, then her, then his arm again, Spencer can't help but laugh. "First you bleed on my porch, and now my favorite shirt?"

It isn't his favorite shirt really, but for the sake of their dynamic, it's worth the look she gives him. She scrunches her eyebrows in an adorable stabbing glare, her lips pouting again, and his heart races. "You're a doctor, get fucking used to it."

As he pulls up a chair and gets out his first aid kit, he shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes when he tells her, "That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble one of these days, Y/N."

"Hasn't yet."

When he finally does meet her eyes, she almost breaks down, her pupils flexing and her body going frigid as he gently grabs her hand without breaking eye contact. But then he glances down at her mouth, and back up again with a contemplative hum.

"It will."

He doesn't know why, or how he's even managing to flirt with her like this, but for some reason it comes as the most natural thing in the world. He likes making her react, he likes hearing her scoff at him and swear at him under her breath. He likes how as he tends to her gashes with tender hands, she watches him intently without saying a word. She'll wince when it hurts, and he'll apologize in a whisper, but she doesn't say anything, like she's refusing to give him the satisfaction.

He could play this game forever, probably.

When he's done stitching her hand up, he places it in her lap and looks up at her through his eyelashes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You're lucky, it's a minor cut, and you cleaned it up pretty well yourself before help arrived. Just don't do any hard work with that hand for two weeks, and you can come back to see me then to have them removed. Sound good?"

"Mhm."

"Good. Then... I'll be on my way."

For the smallest of milliseconds, Spencer swears she looks disappointed. But as quickly as the look appears, it vanishes, replaced by an indifference that would have stung him otherwise, had he not just felt her desperation as it seeped into his bloodstream with every breath they exchanged.

He tries to hold back a knowing smile as she gets up to walk away. "Thank you. I should probably go see Roberta and give her a piece of my mind."

"That's a good idea, I'm sure she'd be glad to know you're okay."

Though her back is turned to him, he feels her eyes rolling and it makes it harder to hide his joy. He's practically radiating with it when he packs up his things and leaves, and he hopes she can feel it.

He doesn't know it, but she does.

[circeius-invidioso]

Have you ever wondered how fertile is each primarch?

No?

Well. I want to talk about it so why not? Who is going to stop me? God?

God is dead and I am eating his ashes. So without further ado.

To maximize the science of this post we will separate it into grades.

F for Fucking Hell Ahriman

Thousand Sons have the prestigious place of being dead last.

Why?

Cause a specific man I don't want to name any names decided to do something I won't mention incident and suddenly the already thin numbers of the legion decided to drop below the mariana trench.

Once the number was vibing with the deep sea fish, now its kissing goodnight the earth's core.

Magnus might be making a valiant effort but someone decided to perform-

You know what, god is dead but standards are not. I will not make that joke.

Moving on.

D for Deficient in Vitamin D

Night Lords, honestly, the only D that is plenty in the legion is dead serfs. They haven't seen a new brother in years...

Also they have the added bonus of the double d. A dead dad.

So they consistently suffer 3 type of d on the daily basis.

Raven Guard, yes? Yes. Moving on.

Salamanders, they strive for quality over quantity. Having a few sons isn't bad. Vulkan simply knows he weilds a weapon of mass destruction so he strategically deploys it.

Is that a d joke? I don't know. Do you pick up what I am putting down?

Please do otherwise it's littering.

C for Consistency

Alpha Legion, the only reason they are here is because they keep their numbers vague. But also they are like behind 90% of the conspiracies.

They might be 10 people with 1000 alter egos. I can't say.

I don't think they can either.

Iron Hands, one word that can describe Ferrus Manus is consistent. He died as he lived. Consistently average.

And I am allowed to make that joke because he is unironically my fave Primarch, and I am getting bullied for that every time I bring it up.

So in this case I am beating them to the race and bullying myself ahead of time.

Blood Angels, ever since the Angel died things had been rough.

Maybe things would have been better if they didn't yeet their brothers on those space hulks first chance they get.

I was going to make a joke but its too soon for that.

Too soon. It might have been 10k years since Sang die but the wound is still fresh.

B for Effort

Emperor's Children, why them? B for because they have so much potential. They can easily double their numbers if their Primarch put the chaos grass down.

Fulgrim is in the unique possition where he can, but sticks his seed in all the places except where it should be.

This isn't a intercourse joke people. Ok. I have some standards left.

Speaking of standards.

Iron Warriors, again. Much like his bestie. He has so much potential in increasing his numbers. But currently sits at the opposite side of the spectrum.

We are in the 41st millenia and Perty is too busy taste testing the oxygen in every room he goes in.

World Eaters, Angron coming in hot with an envious output. But sadly cannot make it in a higher tier because of his equally hot (if they died via fire) turnover rate.

You have to give it to him

cash or bank transfer I dont think he minds

he tries his best. Gold star. B for effort.

A for Astounding Output

Death Guard, Mortarian has been clocking in those extra hours. His harvest is quite plenty and boundiful every year.

Papa Nurgle puts Slaanesh to shame with this one.

Word Bearers, all I have to say is that in every book there is like a 60% chance you will come across a Word Bearer.

They are everywhere, I don't know what black magic he performs to achieve that-

It's almost like he consistently goes on pilgrimages and as a side hustle decided to spreads his seed-

...the math, starts to math up. Hold up.

Sons of Horus, Horus might be gone but Abaddon remains. And canonically (in the older editions) he was a clone of Horus.

So the Warmaster left in his stead the Warmaster travel size version. Now with more sons and more hair.

Which isn't hard because Horus was bald but anyway...

Did I add this just to share this useless factoid about Abaddon.

Yes.

Moving on.

Space Wolves, I mean... Russ. We know him. I don't think I need to explain myself further.

S for Shooting Like a Sprinkler

Imperial Fists- Black Templars is a thing. And it's a thing that abuses at least 3 loopholes at any moment to increase their numbers.

Ultramarines-

The lesson of this journey?

Yes.

[jellyfishdooter]

.

[thecookieshop]

Literally gripping execs by the neck I will never give you my money again. Unless it isn't a reboot/remake. I will not hatewatch. I will not EVEN pirate. I don't care anymore and I will do everything in my power to encourage and educate my peers and anyone who will listen to me rant about this. I WILL donate to artists and writers who provide content. I will go to theaters to watch films which are Your Industry Doing What It Is Supposed To Do.

[theamazingannie]

“It’s good for kids to work so they can support their families” and why a 13 year old gotta support their family hmmm? Maybe cuz you don’t pay their parents enough for the labor they produce??? Maybe THAT’S the issue you should be working to solve instead of taking someone’s childhood away from them

[louderfade]

exene talking about the state of the world. the good stuff starts at eight minutes. or you can just read the transcript complete with the usual errors that accompany robot transcribed speech (the irony of which is not lost on me). maybe it's not about transhumanism and living forever (or maybe it is who knows), but there's definitely an agenda of surveillance and control at work which is designed to keep the powerful in power. cash rules everything around me and you will own nothing etc. the future is worse.

[buffalosauce1]

ive been more depressed lately

[astrxealis]

sorry for being a nerd. i’m not actually sorry at all

[fbpanimations]

god the URGE to make a worlds smallest violin omori map call

[1dragon-mustard1]

Omg, are you saying I can enjoy reading someone who has a different opinion than me and still enjoy it because it's thoughtful, well supported and nicely done?

Yes, you can.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Batman wishes he could Spider-Man

[nanaslutt]

Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before

of course ml!! tysm for asking <3

part 1 here~

contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows

gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck

both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,

“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying

“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging

“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,

“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child

“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”

satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right

he was a truly unforgettable fuck

“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,

“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall

he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,

“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left

“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,

gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,

“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,

“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,

“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,

“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,

“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,

“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,

your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,

“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru

continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features

“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing

coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,

“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”

———————————————————————

almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,

gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,

“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,

“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,

“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat

“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip

satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling

your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more

“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,

suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls

the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,

“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath

“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high

“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,

“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm

gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out

“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,

getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,

“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,

and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue

geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,

“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass

all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,

he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever

geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls

you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,

suguru coming around to sit by his head

when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face

gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,

“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps

geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”

[neolithicsheep]

I've been meaning to write this down for some time because there are some fundamental errors that people keep making in crowdfunding/sales that shoot their campaigns in the foot. So here's a list of easy principles.

Who am I and why should you listen to me? I am a freelance chaos marketer who has raised well over $100,000 when totaling up various crowdfunding campaigns, mostly for aid to Afghanistan. In addition I've managed to successfully market everything from stuffed plush koalas to hydration salts. Why am I putting this out here for free? Because despite a years long track record of success in social media marketing no one will hire me because I don't have a college degree, so I might as well help people out who can't afford to hire full time marketing. 

If you'd like to hire me to help you evaluate your marketing and sales and teach you better skills on a 1 to 1 basis then hit me up, I am often willing to barter, esp with artists in a variety of mediums! 

Anyway on to HOW TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO GIVE YOU MONEY:

TL;DR: use positive messaging that humanizes everyone involved and make it as easy as possible for people to give you money.

1. Shame and guilt are demotivators. They will not inspire people to give you money. “Why aren't people helping” “I guess people don't care” “This isn't getting enough shares/donations” etc etc. Online fundraising is often frustrating, heartbreaking, and will make you angry, especially when there's a humanitarian crisis involved. It is critical that if you are raising funds for someone else that you have a place to vent that is not the audience you would like to donate to the cause. 

2. Use motivating messages instead! “You can help!” “Even a small donation is important because it tells Recipient they're not alone, and people care” “We can't fix the whole world, but we can make this one thing right, and that means something”. Emphasize that this is a problem that the reader can help fix with even a small effort. With items for sale, tell a story. "I drew this thinking about how safe I always felt under a tree in my childhood backyard". "I chose the colors in this shawl to remind me of sagebrush and piñon pine in my favorite place."

3. Make it easy for people to give you money. Never talk about your product or cause without a link that leads directly to where people can give you money. They should be able to click one link on your post and land at the fundraiser or your shop. Every required click is going to lose people, so minimize the number of them required. This also means if you have a list of fundraisers for people to choose from the ones at the bottom will be neglected - people will hit the ones at the top. Be sure to take those off when they're met or periodically shuffle the list around to make sure everyone gets a chance to be in the first 5 spots. In online stores people will often only look at the first page or two of items so be sure to shuffle things around and remove out of stock items that are taking up prime real estate.

4. Humanize the recipient - this can be tricksy when raising charitable aid because you don't want to be exploitative. But to use my last Afghan campaign as an example, “We need to raise $500 for an Afghan family” is less effective than “This Afghan family's home was damaged in heavy rains that caused extensive flooding. They only need $500 to repair and rebuild so they can stay in their home and not become displaced.”  If possible, tell as much of the recipient's story as they consent to. Eg “Fred is seven and loves dinosaurs. His favorite is brontosaurus, and he carries a stuffed one with him everywhere. He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up and discover a complete brontosaurus skeleton that he can give the same name as his stuffed friend. Unfortunately he's also a trans boy living in Texas and his family needs $1500 to rent a Uhaul and get to Colorado so he can grow up in safety and do that.”

5. If you're not the recipient, humanize yourself while you're at it! “I'd be really grateful if you all could share or donate” “This fundraiser really means a lot to me because…” “Thank you so much for any help, whether sharing or donating” 

6. Treat the audience like humans. Speak to them like they are people you're having a conversation with, not ATMs. This ultimately is the goal of not using shame/guilt and humanizing yourself and the recipient. 

7. Set low goals and bump them up when met. One of the weird things about people is they prefer to give to successful fundraisers. Yeah I don't know either. So you're more likely to get the full amount you need if you set a partial goal initially and then raise it when that's met. Raise it in small increments and raise it repeatedly as those goals are hit to keep momentum going. You can't always control this so if you're boosting someone else's fundraiser you can do it artificially via asks like “Hey y'all can we get together and put $500 on this?”

[stuckinapril]

23 things I learned in 2023:

Breaking promises to yourself is essentially telling yourself you’re not worthy of commitment or effort.

Listen to people when they tell you who they are.

People put their best foot forward when they first meet you. If they’re already being shitty, it’s likely only going downhill from here.

Self-care isn’t always indulging instant gratification and not doing hard things. I was actually at my most fulfilled when I did hard things DESPITE not feeling like it.

If you’re clinging to other people for fulfillment or validation, you probably don’t like yourself very much.

It’s never the end of the world like we think it is.

If someone wants to walk out of your life, let them. Never be in the business of changing people, even when it comes to changing how they think about you.

Brutally honest communication is everything, but that can also coincide with tactful kindness. Neither is mutually exclusive.

Having a routine makes a massive difference.

Comparison is pointless. No one else has been dealt the same cards you’ve been dealt.

Envy is a waste of time. Instead of being envious of other people, view them as proof of concept.

Self-accountability is important. We are fallible and it’s okay to make mistakes; we just need to own up to them.

Every failure is an opportunity for growth.

Every severed friendship, failed opportunity, lost connection etc etc leaves space for better things to replace it.

We are not tethered to people’s image of us. We are free to change ourselves whenever we please.

It’s not other people’s way, but it’s my way—and that’s all that matters.

Someone denying you love does not erase you.

Piggybacking off the last point—someone not acknowledging the virtues you have doesn’t mean that you don’t have those virtues.

All that really matters are the opinions of the handful of people who truly love you, as well as your opinion of yourself.

Waiting at least 15 minutes before reacting to something. Never trust yourself during the moments when something just hits (learned this the hard way).

Situations are complex and almost never a one size fits all. Asking for advice is okay, but take it with a grain of salt/ultimately follow your own judgment.

Social media isn’t the devil, but scrolling endlessly is. Make an intentional effort to supplant screen time with books and hobbies and friends and tangible, real life things.

We all die one day. None of this is that deep and none of this really matters. Stop taking things so seriously and just enjoy the process 🤍

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men Making Up With You After A Fight

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna, FAB!Reader

Content Warning: sex, makeup sex, fighting, public sex, choking, dirty talk!

Word Count: 5,453

A/N: Hot diggity damn, makeup sex time. Gojo’s had me cackling!! As always, requests are open!! I don’t bite. . unless you ask nicely 😈

Gojo Satoru

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you ignored it, much like the other ten times it rang. You instead headed for the concession stand at the theater. Your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, had pissed you off beyond all means. He'd forgotten all about your date. The specific date you had been planning for a month. You intended to celebrate at the fanciest restaurant and made reservations two weeks ago. All for him! Because they had world-class desserts.

You got there before him; they took you to your private table. Where you waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, forty-five minutes later, you called him.

“Hey, babe!” He said over the sound background chatter. “What's up? I'm out at the new cafe with Suguru and Nanami!”

“Oh?” Gritting your teeth, you tapped your nails against the table. “Are you having fun?” The tone of your voice was bitter and cold.

Your boyfriend hesitated, “Uhm yeah, the desserts are delicious.” Rage boiled in your gut.

“You know who else has delicious desserts?” He hummed, but you didn't give him a chance to answer. “The restaurant I'm at! You know the one I made reservations for three weeks ago?!”

You could practically see the fear in your boyfriend's voice. “Oh fuck, shit! That was tonight?! Stay there; I'll be there in a couple of minutes.” Your eyes stung with unshed tears.

“No, you can come, but I won't be here.”

You had done just as you said, quickly paying for your tab before hurrying out of the restaurant before Gojo could teleport there. You crossed the street, heading towards the movie theater. There was not a chance in hell he would find you in here. You were heartbroken; all the effort you put into your date was wasted.

You sat in the very back of the empty theater. You were feeling some ease that there was no one here. Then again, they were playing older movies anyone could stream nowadays. You seriously doubted anyone would be joining you to watch Titanic. You could zone out, cool down, and try to figure out what to say to Satoru the next time you see him.

As the opening credits started to play, you heard a door slam open. Peeking down, you choked on popcorn as you noticed your boyfriend scanning the theater. Bright blue eyes seemed to glow as he held his blindfold in one hand. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin stupid Six-Eyes! Those blue eyes instantly found you, and you could see the relief wash over Satoru. You hid your face behind the bucket of popcorn, internally groaning as you heard him bounding up the stairs.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you wait for me?!” You ignored him, slowly lowering the bucket to stare at the movie screen. “Hey, hello?”

“Shh!” You scolded before stuffing more popcorn in your mouth. Avoiding his questions altogether.

His shoes stepped over the soda-sticky floor, blocking your view of the screen. “We need to talk.” His hand gently reached out, index finger lifting your chin to look up at him.

“Fuck you.” You said, getting up and moving further down the row, plopping down in a seat.

“Y/N baby!” The groan he let out had you rolling your eyes. “Please, I’m sorry I forgot!” He bounded after you, only for you to get up stepping into the lower row. Your action had Gojo stopping in his tracks, the two of you staring at each other. “Are you playing keep away?”

A rich laugh escaped him, one that was full of humor and delight. It had him hunching over as he cackled. You hated it, but you found your smile tugging at your lips. Here he was, groaning and whining like a child, and you weren’t any better. You were running away from him, pouting like a toddler that didn’t get their way.

Gojo’s laughter the tears forming in his eyes, had your heart feeling lighter. God, he was such a cutie. A cutie who forgot all about your date. A date you’d spent time, money, and energy on! All for his benefit. Holy shit, the Gojo charm almost had you forgiving him!

“No!” You snapped, stomping down your foot like the mature adult you were. “Shut up! I’m mad at you.”

Turning to head further down the row, you gasped as Satoru jumped over the row, landing right in front of you. “Look, just give me a chan—“ he started before you threw a handful of popcorn in his face, “okay, and here I thought I was the immature one.” His tongue darted out, licking at the salty butter off the corner of his mouth.

“You are! Toru, seriously! I put all that time and effort into planning that for you!!” You threw another piece directly at his forehead. He allowed the abuse with the popcorn to continue. He was staring at you as you tossed another piece at him.

“Are you done now?” He asked as you hugged the bucket to your chest. “Awesome, cool.” He reached out, ruffling your hair. “I can’t make up for missing the date that I seriously appreciate you planning and paying for. I can, however, make the most out of the night I fucked up.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” You flung one more piece of popcorn at him. It hit infinity before he snatched the bucket from you, placing it in one of the empty chairs.

“You’ll see.” A childlike smile was plastered across his face as he ran down the stairs, grabbing two bags before running back up to you. “We might not be at the fanciest of restaurants.” Your heart soared as he held out a take-out bag from the restaurant where you had made reservations. “But dinner and the Titanic?” He learned by pressing his forehead against yours. “Sounds like a great fuckin’ date to me.”

Taking the bag out of Satoru’s hands, you sighed, your fingers grazing over his longer ones. He didn’t have to pick up dinner from the restaurant you planned to take him to. Satoru didn't even need to try to find you when he knew you were angry, yet here he was—trying to prove to you just how sorry he was. Those were some of the things you loved about him. Cocky, annoying, and charming in more ways than one.

With your free hand, you grab onto Satoru’s wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Has anyone told you that you're a charming asshole?” Seeing your smile, Satoru let out a sigh of relief before intertwining your fingers.

“Nope, that one's new.”

“Don't push it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He grabbed the popcorn bucket before following you back to the top row. The two of you cracked open the takeout containers, eating the delicious food while whispering as you watched the movie.

Halfway through the food and movie, you hummed, watching the infamous steamy car scene before you turned to Satoru, who yawned. “Hey, Toru.” he tilted his head, turning to look down at you. “Do you think we could recreate this scene?” He perked up. “In a veil?”

“Oh, holy fuck!” You yelled, hand gripping Satoru’s shoulder as you bounced up and down on his cock. “Fuck, oooh fuck!”

Your boyfriend's head was tilted back against the chair. Whines and whimpers escaped his pressed lips as you slammed yourself up and down as hard and as fast as you could. The tiny viel Satoru had put around the two of you was keeping you concealed, and the heat within the small space.

The thick, musky, almost sweet smell of sex was getting to you, making you hotter and hornier. Knowing the two of you were fucking in such an open space, without people knowing, God, it was so hot. You were going to fuck Toru’s brains out as both punishment for forgetting your date and for making it one you would never forget.

“Y/N, please,” Satoru cried out, “please fuck.”

“Please, what, Toru~?” You cooed, rocking yourself back and forth on his dick, making his jaw drop into a wide ‘O’. “Tell me what you want baby~”

“I wanna cum; I wanna cum in your pussy.” He begged, his hands groping and massaging your breasts. “Please, baby~?”

You giggle just before you can respond to the people entering the theater. The cleaning ushers, no doubt. Your body seized up, clamping down on Satoru’s cock, causing him to growl. Your hand flew up, covering his mouth as you listened to the staff talking. While they couldn’t see you, the thought of strangers walking around while you had sex, god, it made you wetter than wet.

Keeping your hand over Satoru’s mouth, you fucked yourself down on him like he was your own personal dildo. His whines grew louder under your hand as he gripped your ass, helping you fuck yourself on him. He was so close, so, so close.

All he needed was a little push. That push is your twitching cunt. You rocked faster, your free hand resting over his chest, as you felt your orgasm coming in fast before your back arched. A silent scream etched your face as you came hard. Satoru gaped into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed together, as one hand gripped your ass and the other smacked into the veil.

Or rather, through it.

A bloody murder scream came from one of the workers as a disembodied hand popped out of thin air. The co-workers followed her out, screaming and yelling. At the same time, Satoru pulled his hand back inside the veil. The two of you were coming down, your bare chest resting against his. You just stared at each other for a long moment before you both started to giggle loudly.

“G-Guess the handprint scene doesn't work well in the veil.” Satoru chuckled, cupping strands of hair behind your ear.

“Guess not.” Was your confirmation, as you slowly pulled yourself off of Satoru’s lap with a wince. “Such a shame. I was hoping for better results.”

“Hmm, it might not work with the veil, but I have an idea where we could try because I’m not done yet. I still haven't apologized to you in the way you deserve.”

“Oh?” You both picked up your trash and readjusted your clothes as Satoru lowered the veil.

“Yeah, I wanna apologize to you in the shower, in our bed, fuck even the balcony.” The two of you ran for the exit door. “It's a good thing that the restaurant you picked out is known for the aphrodisiac desserts.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oooh, sweetie,” Satoru sneered down at you with a mischievous chuckle.“Why do you think I kept bugging you to take me to that restaurant?”

It was going to be a very long night for you.

Nanami Kento:

“Damn!” The soft curse woke you up; you rubbed your eyes, watching your fiancè searching for something on the dresser.

“Kento?” Your groggy voice drew his attention towards you. “Welcome home.”

Your beloved fiance had been gone for two weeks. He'd just gotten home last night; Gojo had picked him up for you. You had been working your ass off for the previous two weeks. You picked up the work of another co-worker who had just walked out without notice. Gojo knew you had been running around for two weeks filing paperwork, assigning missions, and helping Shoko. He was instant on you getting some sleep. He assured you he'd get Nanami, and you were thankful for him doing that for you.

This way, you could spend more time with Kento.

“Where are my cufflinks?” Nanako snapped, his eyes full of annoyance.

His tone had you blinking in stunned silence. “Right there,” you motioned to the box he always kept them in, “was your mission rough?” That would explain his cold, sharp tone.

“Yes, Y/N, it was rough.” He opened the box, grabbing the links before slamming it shut. “You wouldn't understand.”

His words sliced through you like a hot knife. “Excuse me?” You three the sheets off your body, standing to face him. “What the hell do you mean I wouldn't understand?!” Nanami Kento rolled his eyes at your anger.

“I'm simply stating the truth. You don't understand what it's like to go out on missions, fight, and do more than paperwork.” His hand ran through his still-damp hair. “So I'm just trying to understand why you couldn't pick me up last night. Gojo told me that you were burning the candle at both ends. I fail to see how that is even possible.”

The bedroom was nearly silent. The only sound that you could hear over the boiling rage was your heartbeat in your ears. “Get out of my way.” Was all you could manage as you pushed past him, digging through your drawers for clothes.

“Honestly, why are you acting like a child?”

“Why are you acting like a dick?!” Nanako was seconds from snapping back, but his words evaded him when he saw you crying. “You have no idea how hard my job is!” Your hands wiped uselessly at the stream of tears. “My worthless coworker quit. So I'm stuck doing my job and hers!”

“Y/N.”

“Yes! I do loads of paperwork, and I sit in front of a computer most of my day.” You pulled on your pants, stepping out of Nanami’s grasp. “It may not be physically demanding, but in a mental aspect, I'm drained. Paperwork, mission assignments, and death notices!” Honey-brown eyes went wide. “Yeah, that's why my coworker quit! She couldn't handle it!”

“Love, I—”

You held a hand up, silencing Nanami. “So last night, Gojo picked you up instead of me because I was in Kyoto. Telling a mother and father that their eighteen-year-old son died!” Flashes of Yu Haibara flashed through Nanami’s eyes.

He could barely handle his death, imagining what his parents went through. When someone in your position told them that their child was gone, he couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have been like. Emotionally and mentally draining. He had no idea how much your job consisted of because you hardly brought it up. More concerned with him.

“Y/N, I had no clue—”

“No, fuck you.” You turned on your heel, racing for the door. “Welcome home! Kindly go fuck yourself.” With those words, you left, leaving Nanami alone in your apartment.

It took you a couple of hours to cry out your feelings. The exhaustion and stress of the last two weeks hit you all at once with Nanami’s cruel words. He had no clue what you went through without him here. It didn't matter if he was just as exhausted as you were. Both of you had been ground to bones in two weeks apart.

Despite all of those factors, he still had no right to talk to you the way he had.

But as much as you wanted to stay away from him, your apartment, reality, you had to go back. Your engagement ring glimmered as a stupid reminder, even if he had crossed a line today. Nanami was still the love of your life.

The second you unlocked the door to the apartment, you sighed. “I'm home.” Your voice was barely audible.

Just as you finished removing your shoes, you looked up to see Nanami. His cheeks and neck flushed as he looked at the floor. Your fiance looked like a dog that had been scolded, as he should. Despite wanting to throw yourself into his arms and cry out your frustration, to hit, to beg him to hold you tight, you just walked past him.

Entering your living room, your heart lurched into your throat as you gasped. A large bouquet of roses is on your coffee table, surrounded by all your favorite snacks. The words ‘I’m Sorry’ were spelled in rose petals on the floor.

You had thought you were incapable of crying anymore, yet fresh tears spilled over your tear-stained cheeks. Nanami’s body looked over you, his hands hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. To Nanami’s relief, you didn't attempt to pull away.

“Y/N, I'm so, so, sorry.” you leaned back into his chest, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “The way that I acted this morning was utterly disgusting. I took my frustration and anger out on you, the last person I should ever hurt.” His fingers began kneading and rubbing at your sore muscles. “Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? For being an irrational ass?”

”A major ass.” Nanami’s whole body relaxed at your soft voice.

He turned you around to face him, his strong arms holding you flush against him. “Yes, a total and complete asshole.” Once your arms wrapped around his waist, he fully relaxed. ”Are you okay?” His smooth voice whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No, I just want you.”

Pulling away to look up at him, he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. “Yeah? Do you need me to help you fall asleep?” His hand trailed down, gripping your hips. Your nod was the only confirmation he needed.

Sprawled out over the bed, candles burning, soft music playing, you gasped and whimpered. Nanami’s face was buried between your thighs, kissing and sucking at your drenched folds. Those honey-brown eyes that had been filled with concern and worry earlier were now drowning in lust. His needs could wait until later. This was all about you, making you feel better.

”Fuck Ken!” Your fingers grazed over his undercut before gripping the longer strands of hair. “Don’t stop, please, fuck.” Obeying your wishes, Kento’s tongue moved faster. Sucking and slurping at you. Quenching the thirst he had been craving for the last two weeks. “Yes, yes, yes!’

Feeling your cunt clenching, Kento shoved two fingers inside of you, his tongue focusing on your clit. You gasped, eyes wide as his two fingers rubbed expertly against your g-spot. You swore he nearly sent you to heaven as white spots flooded your vision. You screamed before squirting all over his face. The sensation, the taste of your cum had him rutting his hips into the mattress. His tongue did not once let up. It was your orgasm, the content sigh that left your lips that had him stiffening. His cock spurting cum all within the confines of his boxers and sweats.

Your dazy eyes trailed down over your nude body, focusing on Kento’s rutting form. Humping the mattress until the last waves of both of your orgasms came to an end. Kento hummed, his voice vibrated against your still trembling pussy. When he found the strength to pull away, You smiled as he trailed soft kisses up your thighs, hips, stomach, and chest before finally landing on your lips.

You kiss back softly, his arms pulling you close as he pulls you to lay on his chest. His hands gently caressed up and down your back, a slight frown gracing his face. “Ken,” you kiss his chest, “it’s fine. Please don’t worry about it anymore.” His eyes glanced at you before back at the ceiling, his fingers never once pausing.

“I know, I just, I didn’t know your job consisted of so much.” His eyes shut tight, eyebrows scrunching together. “You do all those reports, help Shoko, inform families of deaths, and on top of that, you take care of our home.”

His words from over, repeated over and over, on a loop. Just a desk job? You didn’t know what he went through. When it was the other way around, he didn’t know what you went through daily. His words were cold and cruel. All because he had taken his exhaustion and frustration out on you. The most important person in his life.

Your slender finger gently rubbed up and down the bridge of his nose. Grounding him, pulling him out of the deep void of his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he was met with your glimmering Y/E/C eyes. Your sleepy gaze and gentle smile had his heart clenching in his chest.

”Ken, it’s okay. You didn’t know, much like I don’t know about all of the struggles you go through.” Your gentle touch had him relaxing against the mattress. “Let’s just agree not to downplay each other again. We both work hard, every day, to make this life for us to share.” Slowly pulling your hand away, you leaned up, kissing his lips. “As long as we come home to each other at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

Kento smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Y/N.” Your warm, tired smile had him melting. “I’m home.”

“Welcome home, Kento.” You whispered against his lips.

Ryomen Sukuna:

You loved your boyfriend, really you did. But for the last week, he’d been almost insufferable. His younger brother Yuuji was on Spring break. His best friend Megumi had invited him to join him and his family for the week on the beach. Sukuna all but packed Yuuji’s bags for him, ushering the twerp out of the apartment before locking it up, heading to spend the week with you.

It was like his own personal spring break away from his brothers.

Which also was the start of a week from hell for you. At first, the weekend was lovely. The two of you stayed in, had crazy, animalistic sex, and just enjoyed each other. But when Monday rolled around and you left for work, things took a turn.

You came home to find Sukuna’s clothes all around the room, the dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and he was snoring on the couch. At first, you were upset. The poor guy was raising his young brother while their other brother, Choso, was on vacation with some college friends. Sukuna truly did bust his ass for his brothers, so it made sense that he was beat.

So you let it go, picked up, washed the dishes, and made the two of you dinner. It had been somewhat annoying, but it was alright. You wanted to make sure Sukuna got as much rest as he could before he went back to work the following week.

Tuesday afternoon, you came home to a similar situation: clothes everywhere, dishes in the sink, only Sukuna had just returned from the gym. When he got home, he started helping you before taking a shower. Maybe he had just been so interested in getting to the gym that he forgot to do the dishes. That sort of thing happened when you were in a rush, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But when you got home today, it was the same damn story. You looked around the apartment, groaning out loud as Sukuna scrolled briefly through Netflix. There were empty soda cans, trash, and, of course, his gym clothes all over the floor. This was not the man you knew.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” Your sharp tone had him turning in your direction. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch on Netflix?” He raised an eyebrow as if it wasn’t obvious what he was doing.

“I can see that!” You scrubbed a hand over your face. “I meant all the trash, clothes, and everything!”

“Oooh,” he looked around the apartment, “I’ll get to it.”

You tugged at your hair with an exasperated groan. “That’s not the point! Why are you trashing the place to begin with?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“So?!” Your tone had his full attention now. “When I have a day off, I don’t trash your place.”

Sukuna pinched at the bridge of his nose with a grumble. “Are we seriously going to fight about this?” He narrowed his gaze at you, those eyes you normally adored full of irritation. Irritation that had no right to even be there!

“Yes, we are! How is it fair that I make us breakfast, go to work, come home, and make dinner? On top of that, you expect me to come home and pick up your trash and clothes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.” The answer that came out of his mouth far faster than you thought. “I mean, that’s your job. It’s what you’re good at.” Sukuna rolled a shoulder as he twirled the remote between his fingers. “I exercise spirits, and you—“ He finally turned, seeing the rage and darkening of your cheeks. “You—are good at caring for the house and cooking.”

Oh, he’d fucked up.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you scoffed and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door. Sukuna winced and turned his head to face your room. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words. He had meant to say, well, that you were a good caretaker, wifey material. Now that he was looking around the room, truly taking in the state of your usually well-kept home, your words were beginning to settle in his gut.

Had he been that lazy and messy? The take-out containers, his gym clothes, and empty cans confirmed that, yes, he had. Ever since his brothers left, he didn’t have to move constantly. He didn’t have to take Yuuji to school, helping Choso with homework. He had time to himself, where he didn’t have to ensure everything was in tip-top shapes. This was a chance for him to mellow out and relax.

He’d wanted to spend this mellow time with you, his girlfriend, the most amazing woman he’d ever met. But instead, he’d gotten lazy, stuck in a rut of not having to do such a damn thing. This wasn’t how he normally acted, so why now? Fuck, and to tell you you were nothing but a maid, that it was your job. Yeah, no, he totally fucked up.

You were his girlfriend, partner, and the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Most of his other partners hadn’t been able to handle the fact he was a single dad. He had raised his two brothers, just the three against the world. But you, god, you were an angel. You helped him out, making dinners and teaching him the best ways to cook and stir certain foods, which grocery stores had the best sales. You had made him a better man, a better brother.

And he’d gone and turned himself into a shitty boyfriend, trashing your apartment, making misogynistic comments, hurting you. He had to fix this. Or he might very well end up losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Without a second thought, he got up, executing his plan.

You needed an hour and a half to yourself before you had completely calmed down. You glanced at your reflection, whipping at your tear-stained cheeks before entering the living room. All you needed to do was grab something to eat and go back to bed. When you walked out into the messy living room, you stopped.

The trashed room scattered with clothes was completely picked up, and the coasters and books were neatly put back into place. Sukuna was nowhere to be found. So you headed into the kitchen, which was also spotless. No crumbs were on the counters, and the dishes had been cleaned and put away. There was still no sign of Sukuna.

Part of you was still angry and didn’t want to see him. The other part of you wanted to thank him and hear what he had to say. Just as you were pulling your phone out to call him, your door opened. Sukuna stepped in with a bag of takeout. He took his shoes off, placing them where they were supposed to go before he locked the door.

“Suku?” He jumped, startled by your voice. But he slowly turned to you, giving you a remorseful smile.

“Hey,” he put the takeout on the counter, “Y/N, I—“ his cheeks flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know I’m not the best with apologies, and I suck at fucking using my words.” With a heavy sigh, he grabbed your hand. “But what I said earlier was fucked up, and I’m sorry. I don’t see you as some maid, I just.” You couldn’t help but smile as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want you ever to feel like I don’t appreciate everything you do. You’ve made me a better man, and I unfortunately haven’t been like that this week.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement as you interlaced your fingers with his. “Yeah, you’ve been a manchild. Yuuji would have been more mature than you.” He cringed, dropping his head down. “Then again, you did clean up your mess and pick me some dinner.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. “So maybe you haven’t been as bad as you think.” Sukuna was leaning in to kiss you, but you squeezed his hand tighter and tighter until it was almost painful. “But if you ever tell me it’s my job to take care of you or the chores again, I’ll put you in my trunk and help people look for you.”

Your boyfriend winced before nodding in understanding. “Right, yes, understood.” The second your hand softened, he pulled you towards the bedroom. “Come on.” You blushed, watching his back. His neck was a soft, rosy color.

“What are we doing?”

“You’re not doing anything.” He said, pushing you back against the bed. “I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.”

Oh, and Sukuna did just that. He licked and sucked on your clit until you came. His fingers slammed in and out of you, fucking you until you squirted all over his hand. His smirk was sinister and hungry each time you came. Only when you were fucked out of your mind did he decide to fuck you with his cock.

“Please~ please, Suku~” You panted as he rubbed his cock head up and down your entrance. “Please.”

“Why are you begging?” He grunted as he slid his entire length into you. “You want my cock that bad.” He smirked at your tiny whimpers, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way.

“Yes, yes, I want it.” You grabbed his hand, and he went to hold it, only to watch as you placed it over your throat. “Give it to me.” You felt his cock throb inside of you.

He squeezed without having to be told twice. “Such a dirty slut I have.” He squeezed harder as he pulled out. “Here I’m trying to be romantic.” He slammed into you, the bed creaking under the force. “And my slutty little Y/N wants me to fuck her pussy like I normally do.” You whimpered, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that’s the best way to show you how much you mean to me, right? Fuckin’ that tight cunt until you can’t walk. Making sure you’re ruined, only I can satisfy you and your needs.” He grabbed your thighs, pressing them to your chest, forcing you into a mating press.

“K-Kuna!” You cried out as he released your throat, his hands fisting the sheets.

“That’s right, scream my fuckin’ name.” He groaned, pressing a searing kiss against your swollen lips. “Scream it, let everyone know how much your boyfriend appreciates you, how good he fucks you.”

His words, the deep thrusts, and your already sensitive pussy clenched. “I-I’m so close.” You cried out, eyes locked on Sukuna’s.

His hips sped up, cock throbbing hard as he growled. “Go on then, cum for me again.” You screamed as he slammed harder and harder into you, sending you over the edge. Your screams were muffled by Sukuna’s growls as he kissed you desperately, fucking you through your orgasm right into his own.

He stilled, lips pressing harder against you as his hit cum filled you. Your soft whines of pleasure had Sukuna’s hips moving slowly until he was sure your pussy was done milking him. Pulling back, Sukuna panted, smirking at the blissed-out look in your eyes—a look he always wanted to see.

“Love you, Suku.” You breathed out, leaning up and kissing him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. But his large hand cupped your face.

“And I love you and everything you do for me.” Without another word, his lips were on yours, his hips slowly rutting against yours. He intended to make you know just how much you meant to him. Even if that meant you’d have to call out of work tomorrow.