#scars so down bad and i love him for it

[askmstau]

note: you're the worst (i love you)

wc: 1356 rated: teen warnings: none pairing: jimmy/scar

fic under cut!!

Considering that it’s the weekend and that it’s now Hotguy’s time to shine since he has the free time to do something that isn’t petty stealing from Canary; today sure is boring. 

There was nothing actually interesting happening, and he's already done his once-over from a bird’s-eye view to see if there was anything that he could jump in on. Alas, he came up with nothing. He decides to fly up once again- higher compared to before -and scans over the surrounding area. 

No Watcher shenanigans today, it seems, since there was a lack of pink, gold, and white. However, there appears to be a certain yellow-winged bird on patrol. Well, he definitely knows whose attention he’ll be looking for today. He flies back down, landing in the general vicinity of the Rank 6 hero dubbed Canary. He winces a bit at the harsh landing, but he manages to shake it off rather easily.

There is no specific plan of action today, he just feels like being a general nuisance. Even if there were one, he has nothing other than his bow, arrows, and a few smoke bombs, so he couldn’t do damage even if he wanted to. Other than murder- which isn’t exactly his style. 

(But to be fair, neither was targeting heroes to the degree he has been as of late. Let alone specific ones. That was usually M77’s job.)

He notches an arrow into his bow and aims right at the side of Canary. Far enough away so he doesn’t get hit, but close enough to spook the songbird.

 

“Hawkeye!” The arrowhead firmly embeds itself into the wall next to the hero, making the man jump- just the reaction he was looking for. 

The canary hybrid spins around swiftly, his eyes landing on the shapeshifter- who was currently a wood elf that is very proud of himself.

“Well, hello there!” He waltzes up to the avian, casually pulling the arrow out from the wall, assessing the damage done to the point, and putting it back in his quiver. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Canary… didn’t look the happiest. Which- to be fair he did kind of scare him. And he’s been stealing from him for the past month, so it’s not like it’s unjustified. It’s just- not the desired reaction! Okay, wait, that sounds kind of bad, pause-

“You.” Uh oh, off the wingfolk goes- or, that’s what he thought. Rather than the usual frustrated spiel he was expecting, he felt a gloved hand on his exposed back push him roughly into the building, knocking some of the breath out of him. His trusted bow gets knocked out of his hand, landing on the ground unceremoniously with a thump against the worn dirt.

Oh. This ones new. He’s definitely not going to be thinking about that later-

He feels his hands being moved behind his back, and he hears a metal click.

Oh. He’s being arrested. He really should have expected this to happen. Shame- disappointing, even! He thought Canary was better than this! The cuffs aren’t even power dampeners, just plain old metal! Shouldn’t he know that they’re basically useless to him?

At least he jumps on opportunities- “I’ve been looking for you, you know.” Which- wait, what? He gets tugged back by the handcuffs on his wrist, and he feels his face flush pink at getting manhandled like this.

“I- what- what? You have?” Usually, heroes don’t go looking for him unless he’s done something to warrant them looking- which to be fair, he’s been stealing Canary’s things, but he’s done plenty worse! This really shouldn't be the breaking point! He hasn’t even done anything today! Well, outside of scaring Canary at least- but that’s not even a criminal offense!

“I- hah, not that I wasn’t expecting a cat and mouse chase, of course. That’s usually how it goes with me and he- roes…” He trails off at the hand on his chin, gently coaxing him to look at the songbird. 

It’s reached the point where he can’t even act like denying it. He’s definitely going to be thinking about this later.

“Sure have, sweetheart.” Okay. He feels his face burn red. He didn’t have to do that to him- “Remember the notes you’ve been leaving? The ones that appear after something has conveniently gone missing?” The Rank 6 pauses, giving Hotguy a chance to respond, but is met with silence. In his defense, his brain is going a mile a minute, and with no room to spare for a reply.

The canary hybrid continues, “I read them. I've read them, and you’re not sorry, are you? I- This is just a game to you, isn’t it? You’re not very subtle about it, Hotguy.” He's shoved back into the wall and released from Canary's grip, making him stumble slightly from not relying on the avian’s hold.

Since he's now mobile, he flips around to look at Canary face to face and- wow he's closer (and much to his chagrin prettier) than expected. The man is wildly gesturing with his hands while talking- which he distantly thinks that he should probably start listening- but that doesn't mean he will.

“Not a word I said went through that pretty head of yours, huh?” The villain sputters an excuse and stumbles forward from the collar of his shirt getting yanked by the shorter. “I- ah- listen! Listen, I was a bit preoccupied but- but! I am all ears now, yup! Absolutely!”

“I- Why did I even bother. Of course you weren’t listening.” Canary mutters and sighs and lets go, putting a hand on his hip before being met with a face full of blue and orange feathers, accompanied by a lack of a certain shapeshifter. He sputters and spits out any that managed to get into his mouth, before looking around for the archer.

Nothing, which honestly isn’t a surprise in the slightest. It’s more of a wonder that he didn’t run off sooner. He picks up the bow that was left pathetically on the ground before dusting it off. Well, he supposes two can play at the stealing game. At least until Hotguy inevitably returns for his bow- and to probably steal some mundane item he has for attention.

--------------------------------

Cub doesn’t even blink twice when Scar suddenly appears in the room, purple particles surrounding him, and his hands behind his back. He sends a dead skulk tendril to easily break the metal without looking up from the papers he’s grading. It was routine at this point, and they went through the motions like clockwork.

Scar waltzes up to vex hybrid, his body shifting to mirror the vex features. His wings twitch at the new thrum of magic in his veins. ”Well hello there, Cub!” He uses the table to stabilize himself, an ache in his knee presenting itself after his adrenaline started to die down.

“You’re here early. Aren’t you- aren’t you usually out until dusk?” He looks up from the research papers he’s reading for the first time since Scar came in. “Something must’ve happened if you’re back here, man. You good?”

Scar’s face changes from being winded, but still happy, to a flustered scowl. “Canary happened.” He looks off to the side while Cub leans in, abandoning grading essays altogether, far more invested in what Scar has to say, now that he has his attention.

“Oh? You have to- you gotta tell me what happened then, man. As long as it isn’t the same two stories you’ve been telling, I’m all ears.” Scar moves over, grabbing a nearby chair, and pulling it in. “So even though it’s the weekend, today’s been pretty boring, right?”

.

.

.

(Unbeknownst to Scar, the interaction between Canary and Hotguy was somewhat planned. Canary knew that the handcuffs weren’t power disablers, because he never wanted to capture him properly in the first place. He isn’t even able to properly arrest him, he’s too low ranked. 

He just… wanted to say what was on his mind…. sure. And maybe watch the shapeshifter squirm- but that’s between him and whatever deities are watching, and whichever poor reporter managed to witness whatever happened.)

[hime-bee]

To make up for my radio silence, have some quick doodles of my favorite evil man in Wuwa rn ❤️🩶

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[blue-eli]

Skuld in quantum design :)

[cerise-on-top]

Cried on the train today, then thought of this! This is just me coping to the highest degree again, but I thought other people might like this as well!

Nikolai as a Father

First off, he’d likely be absent rather often. He was a soldier, he runs a PMC, he’s a busy man through and through. That’s why he won’t be able to see you as often as he’d like. He’d have loved to see all your accomplishments, meeting your first partner and intimidating them, your graduation, the first time you performed on stage, but it wasn’t possible due to work. He does feel bad about it, but he can’t help it. He will try to make it up to you somehow, though he’d understand if you couldn’t forgive him. He does try to be there for you whenever he can, visiting you whenever possible, but you will be apart from each other more often than not. However, if you ever have any suggestions regarding what you’d like to do together, he’s all ears. He has enough money to grant you any wish like that. You wanna go to Japan? You want a boat trip? You wanna go karaoke? It’s all possible, as long as he gets to experience those things with you. He really does wanna make up for the lost time.

He’s a pretty relaxed kind of father. The kind that would allow you a sip of beer when you were young. He’d have no problems with you drinking, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. You should be responsible about that sort of thing. But if you ever wanted to invite a friend over to drink a bit, then he’d have no problem with getting the booze for you. Nothing too strong while you’re still young, of course, but he gets it. You’re young, you want to be stupid and do foolish things. He was like that too when he was younger, so he won’t stop you. In fact, he’ll even drive to the nearest fast food restaurant and get you and your friend something to eat. Sometimes he might cook himself, though. Nikolai’s food is downright godly, he can cook just about anything and cook it well too. As long as you don’t invite a friend over to get blackout drunk every weekend, all is good.

I think he’d probably lie to you about his job when you’re younger. You don’t need to know that he kills people for a living. You can know that he does paperwork, though. So he’d likely tell you he works an office job that has him traveling a lot. Speaking of traveling, he’ll always bring you a souvenir. That could range from a small snow globe to a nice T-shirt he found that you might like. He may be busy, but he does think about you very often. This continues into adulthood as well. If he can’t see you and give it to you in person then he’ll just mail it to you. Won’t ever allow you to work in the same field he does, though. You’re too sweet to work as a mercenary. You can become anything you want to be, but he’ll do what he can to not have you work in the military or in a PMC. He wants you to live and live well. There are no exceptions to this. He knows you might not listen to him, but he’ll tell you over and over again that those kinds of jobs are not what you might think they are. He doesn’t tell you what to do very often, but you should listen to him when he does. He’s an older man, who actually knows what he’s talking about. Besides, he only means well when it comes to you.

A very accepting father, in all honesty. You’re gay? You’re trans? He’s very supportive of you. Besides, it doesn’t matter who you bring home, he’s gonna try to intimidate them either way. Only the best of the best for you. If you ever find yourself some sleazebag, who won’t spoil you rotten like you deserve, then he’ll make sure that person will learn their lesson. He can be a very scary man when he wants to be. If you’re transmasc, then he’d delight in going clothes shopping with you and finding something that you look good in and that fits. He might even buy you a bomber jacket like he has so you can match. He’ll get you the fanciest suits too. Whatever you need, he’ll give it to you. If you’re transfem then he might not be the best suited candidate to go shopping with you. He can tell you what you look good in, but he might call someone like Laswell to help you find nice clothes that suit you well. However, he won’t save any money on anything. You know what you want? You can gladly have it. Nikolai will even pay for your surgeries as well. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy. No price is too high when it comes to your happiness. In fact, he probably has the means to get you a prescription for hormones as well. It might not be entirely legal, but it’s better than nothing if you have shitty doctors.

Likewise, if you come out to him as aromantic or asexual, he won’t mind. Sure, you might have to explain what that means, but once he understands he won’t make you feel bad for that sort of thing. Gives you a side hug and tells you that he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about your heart being broken by some asshole who can’t appreciate you for who you are. Unfortunately, if you do come out to him as ace, he might make some puns about it. Nothing offensive, but he’s your father, he can’t help the urge to make awful dad jokes from time to time.

If you don’t know Russian then he’ll teach you. He’s a proud Russian, so he does want you to know the language. He can hire a teacher for you too, if you’d prefer that, but you won’t be spared. He’ll talk to you in Russian and compliment you on your progress. Besides, it’s never a mistake to know another language. If you do know Russian then he’ll speak it with you whenever he can. Yes, even when the likes of Price are around. Doesn’t matter if it comes off as rude, it just feels homey to him. It makes him feel at ease.

[scoopstomyahoy]

thinking about a no upside down au steddie fic where steve and eddie run into each other years after moving away from hawkins, and eddie remembers steve and his fall from grace as king, and is kind of intrigued to see what kind of person he is now

and steve doesn’t remember him at all at first, because, look, eddie changed his hair again, and steve’s had a few head injuries (no upside down but i imagine he still went thru some shit with the party and with robin), and he didn’t really think about eddie in high school anyway, and he’s trying to forget about hawkins as much as possible (besides the kiddos, but they’re all moved out for college now, anyway) (obviously he lives with robin)

but steve is different now, happier, more open, flirts with guys, flirts with EDDIE, and eddie….. well, he wants to know more! and he tells steve he knows him from hawkins, and steve’s sunny little smile flickers a little, but he just apologizes for not remembering him and mentions he has some memory problems

and they get to know each other, and eventually as eddie tells him more (and maybe with the help of some yearbooks) steve remembers eddie. and. well. they like getting to know each other. and they like each other. and then they get together

eventually they’ve been together for a while, and eddie thinks he wants to maybe introduce steve to wayne, and he mentions he’s going to go back to hawkins for a long weekend (as he’s done a couple times) and this time he’d like steve to join him

and again steve’s sunny smile flickers a bit, but he says he’d love to meet eddie’s uncle, and… they go to hawkins. and it goes well— meeting wayne, at least, but steve seems a little on edge the whole time they’re there, tense when they drive in, fidgety when they go to the grocery store, et cetera. eddie thinks maybe steve is nervous about staying with the man who raised eddie, which is ridiculous, because wayne LOVES steve.

it’s not til they leave the town altogether that steve relaxes, and eddie realizes it wasn’t “meeting the parents” but rather going back to hawkins. and speaking of meeting the parents, steve didn’t ever bring his own up, even though eddie knew they still lived in hawkins. and the way steve glanced around whenever they went in public, like he was scared of getting recognized

and he asks about it, and steve doesn’t really want to talk about it, but he gives eddie snippets of it. people he wanted to leave behind in hawkins, memories that resurfaced, things he wants to forget

eddie goes back to see wayne sometimes, and the first time he doesn’t know whether to ask steve to come, so he just mentions he’s thinking about going to hawkins for some weekend and steve immediately starts making plans with him as if the invite is implicit. they go back to hawkins several more times, steve still tense and pent up the whole time they’re there

over time steve reveals more and more to eddie. everything that made hawkins hell for him, from the things he himself did in high school to the things people did to him. stuff tommy and carol and billy said to him. some of it is just typical high school bullshit (and oh, the nancy thing.) some of it is the tragedies steve went through, the horrors he had to protect his kids from. the injuries he sustained. more generally the homophobia that permeated the whole town, keeping steve from being himself. the lack of support in the indiana public school system for a high school senior who’s had two concussions and gone through incredible trauma.

his parents. the reason why steve’s mail is addressed to ‘steve buckley’ now, not ‘steve harrington’.

(that doesn’t come out until much, much later, and eddie is kicking himself for ever suggesting steve come back to hawkins.)

eddie, who hardly had an easy time of it in hawkins, is absolutely blown away by what steve had gone through in the same town, right under his nose. the entire persona that steve was trying to leave behind — the cool as a cucumber, unaffected, douchey mask he wore to hide all that he had endured. the head injuries. the emotional tragedies he had gone through. the way he had to be the rock for the kids even as he went through the same things as them.

he tries to tell steve they never have to go back to hawkins again, and steve is having none of it. he tells steve wayne can come visit them in their new city, and steve thinks that’s completely unfair to the man who had raised eddie, seriously, you’re going to make him come all the way up here?

and well i don’t know exactly what the ending is but steve is so stubborn about trying to love hawkins because it was eddie’s home and he wants to be able to go see wayne because wayne deserves to see his kid and eddie deserves to see his uncle and steve doesn’t want to be the problem :(

[angeart]

Aaaaange, why doesn't Scar feel safe at that moment? More Tease pretty please? -🎀

oh i can do more than tease for this one :3c

[1,2k ramble + 8,5k rp snippets]

you know how we talked about the post-return situation, with the hermits raising potential allegations against scar? worried that he might be hurting grian, that their relationship is not safe?

that is pre-wedding. that is before scar proposes, but he already has plans to. he's always dreamed of a big, fancy wedding. it'd be picturesque and grand and wonderful! there'd be lots of flowers and music, laughter and dancing. and they'd be surrounded by friends who would be happy for them.

all of this is actively crumbling in scar's hands as hermits shy away from him as if he was dangerous and unpredictable. they're wary, unsure. they no longer see their cheerful, clumsy, harmless friend. they see an unfamilair vex.

they are not happy for them. and, right now, they do not approve of their relationship either.

scar thinks this is not how home should feel like. this is not what he wants. and he doesn't know how to convince them that he's not that scarecrow they have constructed from their lack of understanding. he doesn't know how to get through this.

but it's more than that, right? all their concerns, however well meaning, also make grian spiral. there's so much stress put on the two of them suddenly, their relationship straining.

none of this was ever meant to happen like this.

it's at a point when grian starts finding his stability, after that big breakdown, that scar decides he's done hiding and running, too. if he has to convince everyone to like him again, then he will. he'll fight for this. he'll do his best so that they can overcome this.

him and grian decide to host a little sleepover. for selected hermits! that way, they'll be opening themselves up to others. they want to try and show the others who they are now. to invite them back in. to let them get to know them all over again.

they arrange for it to happen within a week or so, as they still have to make a dedicated room for it. it's a lot of people to hang out and sleep!

they dedice to repurpose their old bunker. yes, the one they constructed shortly post-rescue. the one that was their hideout, their safe place.

it's underground, its walls drenched with anxiety and uncertainty. grian itches from it all, now used to spend time in their nest-tower, high up above the ground. underground feels stifling, all of a sudden. it feels wrong.

the first thing scar does is break the ceiling, to make a big skylight. it's left open for now, sand smelting into glass.

they struggle with the concept of hosting an event for many people. they can't seem to remember what they need. desperately, they try to figure out ways to make the place seem cozy and non-threatening, both for show and for their own sanity.

they talk about a little flower patch in the middle, right underneath the skylight. something bright and nice smelling and alive. they talk about mood lighting, about fairy lights and a fireplace. and—

they talk about sleeping arrangements.

grian says he doesn't want to make a big nest. he... doesn't want the others in their nest.

they're not flock.

they no longer feel like family.

so instead, they try to figure out how many beds they need. except, grian still wants a nest! for him and scar. and, maybe that's good! that'll be another stepping stone, showing the others the new them. who they are. what they now need. things like that!

while scar is tasked with making the small garden, grian goes off and gathers things for beds. he starts making them, quickly becomes overwhelmed, and instead starts putting together a big net that will hold their nest-bed suspended in the air.

he might be ignoring some symptoms of sickness that he simply brushes off as stress. a bit of tension. a couple of anxious, sleepless nights. it's fine.

(it isn't fine.)

it's when they take a break that grian finds himself too lightheaded and needs to lie down.

it's only about half an hour or so later, in the middle of them talking about some of scar's previous relationship experiences, that grian starts to feel really dizzy.

he has a fever.

and he succumbs to it fast after this.

scar wants to take him to the nest upstairs, but grian says he is too nauseous to be moved, so scar does the next best thing: cocoons grian's shivering, curled up form in blankets.

and he messages the hermits.

the hermits, who think he might be doing bad things to grian.

he tells them they need to postpone the sleepover.

he tells them grian is sick.

he asks for soup, but says not to come inside.

it... doesn't sound good. it rings some alarm bells in the heads of those hermits that are Very Concerned and Very Confused and maybe a notch paranoid. but scar stops replying. he's busy dealing with a sick grian.

and hoo boy.

grian's fever climbs sharply and mercilessly, making him delirious and disoriented. he can't tell where or when they are. he keeps talking about things that have already happened. he asks if the world is ending again. he thinks him and scar will be tossed to different servers this time. he asks for [REDACTED]. he asks for flock. he asks for kane and nico, where are they????

scar's heart is splintering and tearing to shreds as he tries to keep a grip, navigating heartache and mirror panic, trying to calm grian down.

it's at this time there comes a knock at their door.

scar can't deal with the others. not right now. not now, not now, not now.

they don't ask for permission to come in. they don't take silence as a no.

grian chirps in distress, from beffudled memories alone, and— they're worried. they can't leave it be.

they find the hole that was meant to, eventually, be a skylight.

they drop down.

mumbo, worried out of his mind. tango, here to help. impulse, last-minute joining them just to keep things reined in.

scar knows grian is out of it. he knows grian didn't want anyone else in their nest.

these are intruders.

and all grian registers are voices. all he thinks of are hunters. he sobs, terrified.

but to the others? scar's shifting into a vex form, flickering and dangerous, clutching grian who's making distressed noises, shielding him from sight.

they need to check up on grian, but they're not allowed any closer.

of course this escalates messily. and scar's afraid and hurting, but he needs to protect grian, and they aren't seeing him anyway. they don't see that he's scared. they don't see that he's cornered and helpless. they don't understand grian's current headspace, or his experiences that dictate his feverish panic.

and there's no space to explain.

... you know what. have the rp bits. as a treat <3 (this starts at the impromptu end of conversation about scar's past relationships, just for context.)

i decided not to redact some bits, for your enrichment. and to feed into the chaos. you're welcome :3c

------ RP STARTS HERE ------

SCAR

Scar takes another moment just to run his fingers over Grian’s forehead, then back into his hair, carefully folding his bangs back. In a lot of ways, early days with Grian were like that. Sharing their passions, enjoying each other’s company, nothing but fleeting touches between them that Scar would be left thinking about for days. 

He thinks he may have always been a hopeless romantic.

But is it really hopeless if the man of his dreams is here before him now? Curled up in his lap and cooing so soft?

Scar hums, pleased, even if he obviously wishes the sickness weren’t part of it.

“Eventually she was invited to some exclusive server, real far off. She didn’t know when she’d be able to see me next, so… we decided to go ahead and split.” Scar says it all so casually, because it truly was a mutual decision. One of the few relationships that ended with no misunderstandings or disappointments.

Well, it was still a little sad, but they knew it was for the best.

She didn’t want to leave Scar waiting, and he wanted her to feel open to exploring her relationships to the fullest with her new server mates. 

“I knew dating was always sort of secondary to her. Not as important as her art. She could do without it easily, especially if she was going somewhere with a bunch of other artists.” Scar looks down, carrying that soft smile and directing it toward Grian. “And she wanted me to be able to move on, so I could eventually meet, as she called it, the One.” He grins, remembering that being her exact phrasing. “…and that’s you.” Scar flushes a bit at his own cheesiness. “I know it.”

--

GRIAN

grian sighs softly at the touch through his hair, relaxing even through his shivers. his teeth chatter a little, a small frown forming between his eyebrows, but it softens a little as scar continues talking.

he tries to slot the information somewhere in his head. that this was an amicable breakup, brought on by insurmountable distance, diverging life paths. that this is something scar can still remember fondly. that this person had every trust that scar will find someone right for him, and that scar is convinced that someone is grian.

but somehow, his thoughts snag and loop, a faulty wire somewhere. distance and far away servers. distance and—

all of a sudden, he's thinking about the apocalypse that took everything from them. everything but each other, eventually. 

he thinks of distance, and a faraway server.

and scar not being with him in that scary place, or grian not being there with scar.

he takes a sharp breath, head shifting and eyes opening. his gaze is feverish and intense as it finds scar. "i would've look'd for you ev'rywhere," he says, hushed but urgent, completely nonsensical.

--

SCAR

Scar tilts his head, confused. He can tell what Grian is saying is drenched in adoration, but it feels misplaced, like it doesn’t belong here in this particular conversation.

Scar isn’t so sure he’s going to get an explanation with Grian in this state.

“I’m right here,” Scar decides to say instead, voice soft like flower petals placed over his skin, hoping to ease whatever tension is lingering in Grian’s thoughts.

His thumb brushes just in front of Grian’s earwing, not quite touching, but grazing over those tiny feathers that permeate his skin. 

“Right here.”

--

GRIAN

grian's gaze softens, some intensity fizzing out, even if the feverishness stays. "right here," he parrots in a weary but fond whisper, audibly relief laced. his eyes close again and he tilts his head further, chasing the touch of scar's gentle fingers.

-- 

SCAR

Scar’s glad to see Grian close his eyes, knowing he likely needs the rest. To think he was building beds and nets when he was slowly succumbing to a fever just makes Scar sad.

“For good, too,” Scar adds on, humming. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He sees his communicator buzz— it had been a few times during his story— and wonders if that means soup is here already. With a name like soup group, maybe they had it ready-to-cook. 

Slowly, he shifts one hand over to take it, just to make sure he was clear about not entering the house. He’s careful to maintain soft patterns with his other, not wishing to disturb his mate.

--

GRIAN

for good. that sounds wonderful. it feels like a nest built around him.

grian coos, velvety and quiet, nuzzling weakly against scar. he feels him shift, but the attention to such details is slippery to grian's mind, especially as scar's touch remains on him, tracing gentle patterns.

--

SCAR

Scar stills for a second upon reading his messages, only drawn back into focus by the soft coo that escapes his mate’s lips. He’s quick to continue his soothing, setting the communicator down atop a half-squished pillow with a plop. 

<PearlescentMoon whispers to you> Soup delivery!

<GeminiTay whispers to you> Anybody home?

<Skizzleman> anybody seen G?

<impulseSV> Skizz

<impulseSV> Don’t

<Mumbo> Did something happen??

<GeminiTay> He’s just sick!

<Tango> …sick huh?

<impulseSV> Here we go again… 

--

GRIAN

with no idea about the turmoil spreading across the server-wide chat, grian stays curled up, leaning on scar. the silence stretches, making the space feel heavier somehow, time oddly slippery.

grian doesn't like it.

he lets out another coo, this one less stable. there's a questioning edge, something insecure and sorrowful and afraid.

--

SCAR

Scar blinks rapidly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as he tries to recalibrate. He can't bother with that nonsense right now, Grian needs him. That's his only priority.

"You okay, G?" Scar asks, carefully curating his voice with his practiced honeyed tones. "Soup's at the doorstep. Should be fine to leave it there, though."

--

GRIAN

soup's here?

grian forgot all about the soup. why's it at the doorstep?

he can't think.

he lets out another coo, pitched similarly to the last.

--

SCAR

"...Are you hungry?" Scar tries to guess. "I told them to leave it there for now. I'm sure it'll stay hot."

-- 

GRIAN

grian's getting increasingly more confused. who brought the soup?

they're... underground, right?

there's this horrible moment when grian can't tell where they are. or when.

"... why d'n't they c'me in?" he murmurs, thinking feverishly about flock. about nico and kane, and their worried faces.

--

SCAR

"You...you said you didn't want anyone in the nest?" Scar replies, nervous now. 

Did he misinterpret that? Did he just cause turmoil in the chat for no reason?

--

GRIAN

grian looks at scar again, his gaze unfocused even as he searches scar's expression for answers that evade him. he's so confused. flock is allowed in the nest?

he chirps, unable to put the mess of his feverish, disoriented thoughts into words.

--

SCAR

"Shoot," Scar says, doubting his actions now. "I—I can message them again? I think the messages from Pearl and Gem were only a few minutes ago—"

--

GRIAN

grian stiffens, his eyes widening with more confusion.

peal and gem?

it takes him an odd, hollow moment to place those names, and then he's unthinkingly moving, rolling over, chirping in a higher pitch. the cocoon of blankets tangles around him, keeping him right where he is, unable to flare out and flap his wings.

--

SCAR

Scar is about a moment away from grabbing the communicator when Grian begins thrashing, and he quickly shifts to cradling him with his arms, trying to keep him in place. "Hey, heyyy, whoa... easy there, birdie, what's wrong?" Scar tries to imitate a small chirp, trying to say that it's okay if Grian can only make noises. He'll try to interpret to his best ability.

--

ANGE ( :D )

--

GRIAN

grian breathes heavily from that small amount of exertion, completely placated by scar's tight hold and the familiar rumble of his voice. dark spots blotch out his vision, and he lets himself go limp, cradled by scar's arms. safe. safe, safe, safe.

his head is so jumbled, and everything feels like a horrible dream. they're underground. there's meant to be flock here. there's meant to be—

with eyes flooding with confused tears, he whimpers. "scar?" his voice is hoarse, breaking midway through. "where's avi?"

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar's huddled over Grian, as if he wanted to shield him from the world. (He does.) He keeps his grip firm and shushes him softly, trying to reign him in as much as he can so he can get some sort of coherent answer, when—

Oh.

Oh no.

"Where's—" Scar chokes out, completely caught off guard by the question. He pulls away, catching sight of those tears, and suddenly his eyes are stinging as well. "I—Grian, we're..." He can't answer that. He can't, he can't. "Grian we're home."

--

GRIAN 

grian's gaze jumps between scar's eyes. incoherency threads through his veins, spilling across his nervous system. the word home makes no sense to him.

he chirps, a quiet, mournful, quivery sound. confused and afraid.

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar chews at his lip, trying very hard not to lose himself to the sudden flood of panic that surged through him at those words, not to mention the sheer misery of it all as well.

"We're not there, Grian," he continues to try. "We're home. We're—"

He hears knocking at their door upstairs. 

Scar's ears twitch, honestly unsure if Grian will hear it as well with how Scar is huddled over him and with the less acute hearing. 

Muffled voices pool in from beyond the stairs.

...not gonna answer. ... just wants to be sure ... if it makes him feel better...

"...on Hermitcraft," Scar finishes, the word almost bitter on his tongue. 

--

GRIAN

"i— but—" grian's oblivious to knocking or potential intruders. he sniffles, a tear falling free. he's shaking, the fever ravaging, the world gently spinning off axis around him. 

he thinks scar looks a bit panicked, and it just pushes him deeper into his disoriented confusion. because— aren't they hiding? from danger? aren't they in a hideout? in a bunker, or a cave? aren't they in a nest that's incredibly makeshift, put together in a rush?

... isn't there meant to be flock here?

he chirps again, louder, still that higher pitch. fear sears through the sound, his breath turning rapid as his heart beats wildly against his ribs, even as fever presses the heavy weight of exhaustion right over his chest. 

he's scared, because he can't remember. he can't remember what happened—

"where are they?" he insists, his voice verging a sob. "where is flock?"

--

SCAR

Scar thinks the voices stopped for a second after Grian chirps, and the reality of the giant hole in the ceiling sets in on Scar all at once. All they’d have to do is walk about the back and there’d be nothing keeping anyone from seeing the two of them. 

Scar’s wings flare out around Grian as an instinctive shield. 

Grian is asking about flock, and…

Well, the reality of that is that there is none here, Scar concludes dismally. 

Grian didn’t want the hermits in their nest when they were constructing the party room. Grian asked for Avi. Grian’s probably thinking about Kane and Nico, too.

The hermits haven’t gotten there. They don’t know avian-brained Grian.

“[REDACTED],” Scar answers, trying to give Grian a shred of reality to grasp onto. [REDACTED]

--

GRIAN

[REDACTED]? 

grian's mind spins, the same way the room spins around him. he feels as if the whole ground tilted with them on it. there's sea underneath the raft of the floor. 

he feels sick.

he wants to close his eyes, but he finds himself staring at scar, helpless. floatingly, he remembers words about distance and faraway servers, and he thinks of hermitcraft imploding, whole chunks being lifted up into the air.

his stomach twists and lurches. the spinny feeling makes him think even more vividly of those floating chunks. maybe they're on one now?

he ducks, as if the ground really moved from underneath them. he tries to paw at scar, but his hands are still trapped, and it just makes him thrash again against the blankets, whimpering.

he wants his flock. he doesn't understand where they are.

"call them back," he whimpers. "call— avi. can— avi can come too?" he pauses, his breath stuttering as he looks up at scar with so much pleading. 

he wants a bird flock. he wants to tuck him in the middle of the makeshift nest and make sure he's safe.

--

SCAR

Scar stares at Grian, heart actively tearing itself apart at his words and tears threatening to fall. 

He hears footsteps.

He can’t do this. If they find them he’s not going to be able to untangle all of this in time, he—

“They’ll be back,” he lies, chest aching. “Shhh, shhh, listen, they’ll be back, okay?”

The words taste like acid on his tongue, burning his throat like rotten bile. 

“You’re sick, Gri, let me take care of you,” Scar pleas, shutting out his surroundings so he can focus. Focus. Grian’s the only thing that matters. “Why don’t we go upstairs? If— if you puke on me, fine, I just— you should have a bath. And more blankets. And Mr. Beak.”

And medicine on his way up. And soup. 

And away from the approaching hermits. Away from danger.

--

GRIAN

"they'll... be back?" grian repeats, in the smallest voice, each syllable threatening to snap and let it all crumble. he sniffles, another tear tumbling down his cheek as the confusion continues to tear a path through him like wildfire.

scar says their flock will be back. 

he says grian is sick, and oh, maybe the world isn't ending, then? 

grian feels weird. everything's fuzzy and nonsensical, memories fading and time slipping and everything melting together.

there's a sob, and it takes grian a moment to realise it came from it. "it— it feels like—" his body shakes and trembles, barely a separate thing from the shivers. he's curling up again, making himself small. with a ragged breath and tears glistening in his eyes, he looks at scar, completely missing his point about upstairs and a bath and mr beak. what leaves his lips instead is a question that's white-hot, shaking him to his core. "scar...? is the world ending again?"

--

SCAR / MUMBO

“What—“ Scar is reeling from all of this. It doesn’t feel unlike being trapped in a cramped terracotta bunker listening to Grian murmur thoughts of death and despair. “No, Grian, the world isn’t ending.”

Scar thinks he knew how to handle this better once upon a time.

This world has ironically shaken his confidence. 

“We’re perfectly safe.” Scar continues. “We’re in our home— our house that we built.”

“Grian?” comes a voice from above, causing Scar to bristle.

His eyes flick upward and catch sight of a nervous pair of eyes peeking over the dirt hole.

Scar does not want to talk to Mumbo right now.

--

GRIAN

grian's eyes close and he blindly curls towards scar, deeper into his hold, lost and despondent. nothing makes sense, not even scar's reassurances. 

out of all the words scar says, grian wants to hold onto one the most: safe.

and yet incoherent threats continue sinking teeth into grian's flesh. sending panic signals about how he's weak if he's sick, and they're a target, and they can't run from danger. about how their flock is missing. about how they might be hurtled into different, faraway servers this time, and— and grian doesn't know how to survive without scar, and—

he sobs loudly, his breaths becoming erratic. he hears his name, but it's not scar's voice, and he flinches hard, whimpering, until some instinct catches up and tells him to run. to grab scar and abandon the nest.

he tries to flap his wings, but finds them bound.

he doesn't process that sensation right, pitching straight into memories of traps and nets, chirping high pitched and distressed. the blankets don't hold too hard, but he just can't figure them out, unaware of what they even are.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

“Grian!” Mumbo exclaims, calling the attention of his other unwelcome companions. 

Scar snarls, luckily muted and hidden from view by his bright wings. This is not what he needs right now. This is not what Grian needs. He needs peace and quiet and warmth and soft things—

Scar hurries to try to still Grian, shushing him as calmly as he can manage. “Hey, hey, Grian, it’s me, it’s okay, shhhh, please calm down.”

Grian said he felt nauseous. This has to be about the worst thing possible for him.

“Scar, what’s—“ Mumbo is babbling, sounding nearly as panicked as Grian. Scar doesn’t care about that though. 

He thinks maybe Mumbo has fallen onto his knees up there. He thinks he might be considering popping down into their space.

Scar is not having that.

Strangers are not allowed in the nest, get out, get out.

“Grian, look at me,” Scar tries, urgent and insistent. “We’re safe, we’re okay, I— I’m gonna take you upstairs.”

“Whoa there, skippy, I don’t think you should be taking him anywhere!” comes Tango of all people.

Scar eyes glow a faint blue, feeling cornered, while all of his body language shifts into that of defensive and protective, wrapped around Grian fully with his wings blocking the intruders from view. 

He desperately attempts to lift.

--

GRIAN

grian sobs, quieter, against scar's soft, frantic shushes. he wants to believe that everything's okay, but scar doesn't sound okay, and there are all these other voices, rising up and loud, coming closer.

scar pleads for grian to look at him, and dizzily, he does, his eyesight blurred by hot tears. he's breathing too fast, which is just inviting more lightheadedness; he shakes in scar's grip, whimpering as scar repeats the promises that they're okay.

desperately, grian tries to hold onto that.

he chirps, still distressed but now also pleading, a sound meant only for scar's ears but all too loud and grating to not be heard by anyone else in the vicinity. 

his wings still feel so horribly bound. 

he chokes on a sob. "scar, help." 

he needs to be freed and— and they need to run, right? they need to go? scar says they'll go upstairs. grian tries to get his hands free, wanting to hold onto him, but he's bundled up too tight in scar's arms to really manage with his feeble strength.

his stomach churns, acidic, turning and twisting with the uptick of stress and panic. he sobs again, terrified that they're about to be caught.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Focus, Scar thinks frantically. Focus, focus. 

He can’t let the anger from the intrusion overcome him. He can’t get defensive here, even if he’s certain one unwelcome step into their makeshift nest will set him off. 

Grian is squirming in his arms, chirping as he relives some phantom experience, and Scar knows this can’t look good. He has to stay calm, he has to keep him under control.

But then Grian begs for his help and it’s like the mirage shatters around him, except this time it’s reality fragmenting before his very eyes, twisting and mutating into something horrible and so much more dire. 

Grian’s sobbing, but for a second Scar sees him despondent, face torn open and wings drenched in blood. He hears voices and it’s like white noise, a vague threat, unwelcome. 

Scar looks around frantically.

He doesn’t know which way Nadia is—

“Scar, buddy, hey, why dontcha just put Grian down and we can aaaaaall relax—“

Scar’s wings flare out to their full span, one dipping over Grian as a shield. No one can see him. No one can ogle those feathers. No one, no one.

“Sc–Scar, what’s going on?”

Scar sees movement. Someone jumps down and instantly he’s crouched low, holding Grian tighter as his eyes glow blue.

“Scar…”

He’s supposed to be calm, he’s supposed to be gentle, he’s failing, he’s failing, but he can’t let them near—

Scar’s entire body flickers blue and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Stay back,” he strains through sharpened teeth, voice low like a snarl. “You—“ 

(You aren’t welcome here.)

(You’re making things worse.)

(You’re lucky I don’t slay you right here and now.)

Scar’s voice breaks, desperate and frightened by his own shattering psyche. “You’re scaring him.” 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

the sense of danger continues building up around grian, fueling his fear, overexerting his already sickness-weakened body. his heart continues ramming a fast, painful rhythm, and the ache across his chest just serves to make grian more scared.

scar's hold on him is firm, and grian doesn't know whether to feel comfort (he's protected, it's okay, scar's got him), or more panic (there's a threat, scar can't fight if he's gripping grian, why aren't they running?) choking on sobs that he's unable to stop, grian presses his forehead into scar's shoulder; the heat of his fever can surely be felt through scar's shirt, scalding hot. there's a familiar, faint tingling, something grian's learned to attune himself to and recognise—the electrifying current of scar's magic, a warning, a preparation. a wing slings in front of grian like a glowing shield.

mumbo's standing in the bunker, jolting still at scar's accusation and the display of his vex magic. "i'm scaring him?" he stammers, incredulous and not understanding. "mate, i think he's asking to be let go," he hazards, navigating the distressing pitch of chirps and sobs with anxious misguidedness. 

tango's now crouching at the edge of the hole, also intending to descend. "yeah, just let us see him. you've got nothing to hide, right? why make this worse?"

a third pair of footsteps makes it to the unfinished skylight, peering down at the situation with a tense "uhoh," trying to read what exactly is happening here. he isn't sure yet, but some alarm in his head goes off.

with straining breaths through his sobs, grian's dizziness only gets worse. even as he's securely held, he can't escape the violent sensation of the world spinning fast. his stomach tightens, burning with acid, stress overloading all of grian's already muddied senses. there are voices around him, louder, closer, but they don't process right; they're just an incoherent noise, a call of hunters saying we found them, making everything collapse in on him and scar. it feels like they're surrounded and, fearfully, grian presses himself further against scar, burrowing in as much as he can with all his limbs still tangled into the blanket net. 

he should've been more careful.

he shouldn't have triggered the trap.

his eyes are tightly shut, overflowing with tears. behind his closed eyelids, he can see, vividly, avi's terrified look as he's caught in another trap.

a vile kind of panic spreads through him, sharper and more damaging than the previous one, drawing a terrified chirp out of him. the sound breaks on a sob like waves violently crashing into a jagged cliffside, and he desperately tries to take a breath through it all. to speak. 

it's awful; he's so horribly lightheaded and nothing makes sense. but he has to— he has to say this, has to make sure scar hears, has to beg for this one thing above all else. he chokes out, wobbly and halting and small enough to be coherent only for scar, and only if he can spare enough attention to listen. "ple— please don't— don't le— leave him behind—" 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tenses, briefly glancing down at Grian as he wonders whether or not he truly has been misinterpreting it all, if Grian wants to be let go like Mumbo claims. But no, Scar can feel that feverish haze pressed into his shoulder, desperate and clingy, and his expression sharpens, eyes narrowing in Mumbo’s direction. 

No, Mumbo knows nothing. 

Still, Scar shrinks under Tango’s accusations, reminding him that he ought to have nothing to hide. He doesn’t, just— he can’t let them see. He can’t let anyone see the tears and the panic and the bright violet hues. 

Scar knows he’s being irrational but his wings simply won’t budge, one flung out in some innate danger response and the other curled around like a very necessary shield. They twitch but don’t move.

All Scar can manage is to turn them slightly transparent. A barely willing compromise.

Even his vision is flickering blue.

…Grian’s words make him see white.

He’s vividly tossed back in time, hobbled over and bloodied, barely hanging on, watching as [REDACTED]

Grian’s begging him not to let history repeat itself, he knows, he—

Scar takes a stumbling step backward, blankets curling around his feet and threatening to drag him down. 

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not go going anywhere, pal,” Tango insists as he leaps down to join Mumbo, carefully touching his shoulder in solidarity. He’s jittery here, not liking he prospect of staring down an angry vex in the slightest, a totem gripped in his other hand. “We’re just here to help.”

Tears break past Scar’s eyes and he hiccups, struggling to stay above water, barely grappling with reality as it continues to shatter before him. 

He can’t do this alone. He’s scared, he’s slipping, he’s making it all worse. 

He… he should have nothing to hide.

“He’s sick,” Scar pleads again, voice hoarse and not at all his own. Blue wisps escape with every word. “He–e has a fever, he’s not— he’s not thinking straight.”

God, are they going to believe that?

Do they believe anything he says? That a crazed vex says?

Scar looks at Grian again, desperation hanging off his tongue. “Grian, you— I—“ He doesn’t even want to suggest it, but they probably need to hear from him. “We…we’re safe, okay? I promise, I… d-do you want me to put you down?”

--

US

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

scar's suggestion is the only thing grian hears with any semblance of coherency, and it makes his lungs spasm and his heart ache. he shakes his head in panic, forehead still pressed against scar, the sharp motion rapidly destabilising the world around him until it spins in a nauseating blur. "no no no don't leave, please, don't don't don't," he chokes out, crying.

the sharpness of that reaction freezes mumbo, sends everything in him careening into doubt.

it's this moment impulse takes his cue to join in. he jumps down, touching tango's arm just as tango is taking a breath to speak, feet moving to step forwards. impulse stops him, gently, even as tension drips from his voice. "tango, wait."

grian's sobs fill the air; the transparency of scar's wings doesn't offer much more clarity. all impulse can tell is that the avian is shaking.

but his eyes draw higher, meeting scar's. his gaze softens at the sight of tears, and he lifts his hands up placatingly, the gesture feeling like lowering of a weapon. "scar." his voice is quiet, just loud enough to be heard. he tries to keep it calm, even as his nerves are fraying with the situation. "you aren't going to run off with him anywhere, right? it's okay. we won't hurt you guys."

mumbo's eyes widen at that, gaze whipping from impulse to scar—for the first time noting the tears in the vex's eyes. "oh, gosh, no, we aren't here to hurt anyone!" he echoes, distraught. 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tightens his grip, pulling Grian up higher and whispering soft nothings, assuring him that he’ll stay, that he hears him, he wouldn’t leave him, not ever. 

Scar tenses up when yet another person enters their space, but visibly relaxes when he recognizes Impulse’s voice, something steady and yielding to the way that he speaks. It’s the only voice that doesn’t distort into that of a hunter’s call in Scar’s rattled mind.

Slowly, Scar pulls his leg back in, shaking as he gives up on the half-step he was taking away. “I… I know that,” he fibs, because part of him doesn’t believe them. “But Grian doesn’t. N–not right now.”

Tango appears unconvinced, making a short grumbling sound that Impulse cuts off with a light shove. 

Impulse recognizes this scene. Maybe it’s just the flicker of Scar’s wings, but Grian appears to have that same glossed over look in his eye that he had the day they found them— unrecognizing, inconsolable. 

It isn’t good.

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian's sobs quiet down a little at the soft assurances, but the world keeps swirling and swimming. 

mumbo lets out a choked noise, not willing to reconcile with the idea that grian might not recognise them as safe—despite all the hints of their early days on the server post-rescue. he thinks of grian, bruised and bitten and flinching, and he can't let this go. he can't. "please," he begs. "i just want to see him."

impulse looks at mumbo, then back at scar. he's holding out his arm, in case the others would have the stupid thought of moving forwards.

he needs to bargain here, and it's hard.

he tries to hold onto the way scar let pearl at least somewhat close, that day when they pulled scar and grian from that awful world, grian's wing tangled in a horrible trap that tore at it. pearl wasn't allowed to touch, but she was allowed to help, and maybe they could arrive at something similar here, too.

"scar...?" impulse says, gentle and calm again. (it's only the smallest of wobbles that betrays him.) "do you think you could sit down? you don't have to let go of him, just, let us see? we don't have to come close." and then, after a breath, he tentatively pushes with another suggestion: "i think if you're calm about it, it might help him calm down too. you don't have to get away from him."

"yes he does!" tango protests.

impulse whips to face him. "tango!" he snaps back. 

grian flinches in scar's arms at the raised tones, letting out another loud, terrified chirp, curling into scar for protection. he's back to sobbing louder, all of scar's comfort undone in one swift go.

--

SCAR

Scar’s wings sag the slightest bit, drawn in by the soft promises Impulse is laying out, but still hesitant to follow. 

Sitting down would mean giving up an easy escape route. They could be lying. He could be cornered. This could all be a ploy to get him to lower his guard.

Tango’s outburst does not help settle that fear.

Scar grits his teeth together, a few stray tears falling as he struggles to form words. “Stop yelling,” he demands, light blue magic slipping past sharpened teeth. 

He’s back to soothing Grian, not yet yielding and not at all regarding Mumbo’s request. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, okay? I’m—“ He looks over the three pairs of eyes— fearful, disdainful, concerned— and focuses in on Impulse. “They’re… friends.” (Not flock.) “I’m just gonna… kneel down here, okay?” (A small compromise.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian continues crying, albeit a little bit quieter again. just a notch. it's hard to tell if scar's soothing is working, or if he's just tiring himself out.

tango, to his credit, seems a bit alarmed by the reaction he's gotten. but he is still relentlessly wary, suspicious of this whole situation.

impulse can tell, and it keeps him tense. he wishes he could just tell tango and mumbo to leave, but he knows they wouldn't budge. not now. not when things are like this.

he holds back a sigh, looking grian's way. "yeah, we're friends," he echoes, soft, trying to sound harmless and encouraging.

he isn't even sure grian's listening to him. he isn't sure he can recognise his voice. it feels awful.

he doesn't think tango and mumbo realise the extent of what's happening. that if grian's mind is scrambled with the sickness, he might not be mentally present here. on hermitcraft. he might be stuck somewhere else entirely, and the thought of it pains impulse. 

the least they can do is play along.

the least he can do is try to deescalate this whole thing.

"c'mon," he tugs at tango and mumbo, voice low. "let's sit down."

"wh— i don't want—" tango starts in protest, but impulse holds his gaze, steady. 

"shh," he reminds him, shutting tango up.

"oh gosh," mumbo lets out, wobbly, and slowly lowers himself down to the floor.

impulse does the same, dragging tango down with him.

"see?" impulse looks back at scar, trying to offer a small smile. "we're not gonna go closer if you guys aren't ready. we're at the same level here. it's okay." he's willing to be patient here, but he worries that tango and mumbo might not be. 

--

SCAR

Scar stares for a long moment, fidgeting between trust and opportunity, wondering if he could run. If he could take them down if they’re going to make themselves vulnerable like this.

His ears twitch with alarm at the mere thought, catching himself before he can spiral further into delusion.

Carefully, he lowers himself to the ground, knelt down on both knees so he could easily spring back into action. 

“We aren’t ready,” Scar confirms, warily eyeing the lot of them. 

His eyes are still bright blue, though slightly less fiery. His chest flickers occasionally, a warm white light. His wing lowers by only an inch. 

He allows himself one moment of weakness, eyes flicking back down toward the shivering avian in his arms. “… I promise a warm bath after this, okay?” he whispers, though his voice carries, still too ragged from pressed together fangs. “W–we’re gonna be fine.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse nods. he knows they aren't ready, but he hopes hearing that helps the others settle too. "we'll wait. take it slow. make sure he's okay," he coaxes, tone soft. hoping, desperately, that tango and mumbo won't mess this up. that they understand and will follow his lead. "we're not getting any closer. you have space." he pauses, and then he adds, a bit of heartache slipping into his voice: "you're safe, i promise."

grian recognises that they went down, slow and controlled. scar's hold is still tight and secure, and he's talking to him softly, and grian scrambles to understand what's happening. they're... not in danger anymore? scar says they're going to be fine. 

with a tired coo, grian nuzzles into his shoulder. he trusts him, even as he still sniffles, tears dripping down. 

his body feels awful, and his wings twitch, only to find themselves still tangled. it's that sensation that prompts another miserable sob from him, albeit less panic-driven. "take it off," he pleads, begging scar to untangle the trap that restricts him. "take it— scar, hurts," he whines.

the blanket doesn't actually hurt. his body aches from the fever and extertion, but his head tells him that pressure against his wings ought to be painful, and so that's what it is. the fear mistranslates into pain—or maybe just inevitability of the pain if this goes on, he isn't actually sure—the memories more vivid than reality itself.

--

SCAR

Scar nods slowly, wings lowering just a little bit more. He can see the tension actively begin to roll off of Mumbo, but for some reason that doesn’t comfort Scar in the slightest. 

He tries to offer gratitude toward Impulse in some way, but then his attention is dragged back to Grian, ears flicking as he grows rigid and attentive once more.

“Take…?” Scar questions, looking Grian over in confusion before it finally clicks. “The— oh.”

He shifts a little, resting Grian’s weight firmly on his legs, and slowly peels away a few layers of blankets, trying to simply loosen them up and allow for his wings to slip free. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Scar assures him, voice already growing much softer, no more wisps escaping when he speaks. “There you go… ‘m sorry.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

it's the word hurts on grian's tongue that has mumbo jolting, and impulse has to react fast, grabbing him and keeping him still. "stay calm," he hisses under his breath, quiet enough to be intended only for their trio.

"do you really expect us just to sit here," tango hisses back, "when grian just said he's being hurt?"

impulse exhales, long and tense. "that's not what he said. and he asked scar to fix it. he said," he stresses, somehow still managing to keep his voice hushed and low, "he wants scar to stay near him. so sit. still. and wait."

grian, in the meanwhile, squirms as the blanket layers gets peeled off, feeling the pressure relent. he breathes out, a bit more steadily, forehead still firmly against scar. some of his crying tapers off once he can twitch his wings and feel no resistance—and the loosened blankets let his hands free, too. he uses this immediately to grab onto scar's shirt, depletedly holding on. 

"thanks." he sniffles. and then he asks, feeling small and vulnerable, his heart still frightened: "are we safe...?"

--

SCAR

“Yes,” Scar replies, even if he doesn’t feel safe in the slightest. He feels under attack, though perhaps at least not physically. “…we’re having a sitting party.”

It’s a bit of a nonsensical thing to say, but Scar is trying desperately to reel himself in here. His eyes are only barely green, a blue sheen still hiding them away. He feels tense and uneasy, watching Tango in particular now with narrowed vision.

It flicks to Mumbo, accusatory in his stare. “I said we didn’t want visitors,” Scar states, guarded. “So why are you here?”

--

GRIAN

it is a bit nonsensical, the words sitting party taking a while to slot in grian's mind. but if they're having a party, that means there is someone else, right? the memories of the confusing, threatening voices feels fuzzy to grian. the danger has passed, the hunters are gone. they wouldn't be sitting down, wings released, having a party of all things otherwise—and scar confirmed they're safe.

which means...

maybe scar called them over, like grian asked?

he relaxes a little bit more, even as he still continues to wade his confusion. "flock...?" he asks in a tiny coo. 

he's leaning his head on scar's shoulder, staring blankly off in the direction of scar's other shoulder, not focused on anything in particular. his vision still swims. 

--

SCAR

“… Friends,” Scar corrects, because they’re not. “… They’re just—“ Scar swallows down some bitterness, trying to stay calm. “—worried about you.”

And then he looks back to Mumbo, eyes glowing a bit brighter again as he waits for his answer.

(They’re worried about Grian. Not him. Unless being worried of him counts.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

"mhn?" grian makes a confused sound at the word friends. it doesn't want to slot anywhere in his head. who?

mumbo, in the meanwhile, shrinks under scar's sharp attention. "we were worried," he offers, nothing more than a repeat of what scar's just said himself. 

tango steps in, pointing out: "you said he was sick. we wanted to check in on him."

--

SCAR

Scar’s ears droop at Grian’s clear inability to recognize the concept. But frankly, he doesn’t blame him.

With a sigh, Scar scans the three of them again, looking them over for any sign of trouble, but he notes a distinct lack of anything, which makes him frown.

“So, what? Did you bring medicine?” he asks rhetorically, because he knows the answer. “Soup? Blankets? Bath salts?”

His eyes narrow with each question.

--

OTHERS

there's a very clear faltering across the whole group. they exchange glances, slightly nervous. 

"i— we—" mumbo stammers, face flushing. he's suddenly feeling very uneasy. chastised. he stares at the bundle scar's holding, what he at first was so sure was a distressed avian probably really just a feverish one, and it makes him deflate. he didn't think past the anxiety enough to consider that scar might be telling the truth. (he's still not sure. he still needs to see grian, properly. he still wants to check.) (but the scales of probability are tipping in a way that makes him feel off balance and out of place.)

impulse sighs. he didn't have time to stop them long enough to ask them to be sensible and bring something for grian if he truly is sick. he is here as a chaperone and—oh boy is he glad he came. he can't imagine how this would've panned out otherwise.

"you weren't replying on the comms," tango soldiers through, still frowning, still a touch confrontational. he doesn't like the way scar's looking at him. doesn't like all his sharp edges. doesn't like the feeling that scar's still hiding something. "we didn't know what you need." he pulls slightly back, straightening up. "do you need anything?" he challenges. there already was a soup delivery by the front door, and it certainly doesn't seem like they're low on blankets.

--

SCAR

“I was a little preoccupied,” Scar replies dryly, frustrated that he’s still being questioned. “I’d think it’s customary to bring at least some sort of gift,” Scar continues to pry, not letting it go. Not letting it slide that they clearly came here out of fear instead of assistance. “But sure, sure, we certainly wouldn’t say no to some minty bath salts or some tea leaves.”

Scar briefly wonders if that’s all it would take to make this unwelcome trio leave. He doubts it.

“Or, you know, some peace and quiet so he can get some rest,” Scar concludes, tight jawed and eyebrows furrowed. At least his eyes are back to green.

--

OTHERS

mumbo recognises that they're being thrown out, but it just makes him dig his heels in. "we can bring some tea, but— but scar—"

it's tango who breaks this line drawn in the sand again, encroaching on a minefield territory. "we still haven't seen grian." because this sliver they can see right now doesn't count. it doesn't say anything about whether or not grian's hurt, underneath it all. even if grian begs for scar to be close. honestly, tango doesn't consider grian the best judge of that right now. unhealthy attachments exist!

--

SCAR

Scar exhales through his nose, slow and barely steady. 

Reluctantly, he lowers his wing, allowing an unobstructed gaze, though he makes no effort to close the distance between them. He doesn’t want that line broken.

“…happy?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian registers scar's wing falling away, and it makes him feel oddly exposed. grian isn't sure to whom; scar said their flock isn't here, but that they're safe. still, he ducks, hiding his face in scar's chest. that way, he can pretend he's still shielded. that way, he can pretend the world can't hurt him. (the way he can feel scar's breaths is just a nice, soothing bonus. scar's right here, alive, right next to him. perfectly in reach, as grian's fingers tug at him.) (he closes his eyes, willing the surroundings to stop tipping around them. his feathers fluff up lightly.) 

mumbo makes another strangled noise, and he moves as if to stand up, compelled to go closer. to check. to— 

to be there. 

grian's his friend, and there wasn't a time when mumbo wasn't allowed to be near. to take care of him when he feels unwell.

with blankets and grian's wings still firmly in the way, and grian's whole body turned away from them, mumbo still can't see anything. so no, he isn't happy.

"... grian?" he tries, calling out to him, coaxing him to look his way as he gets up to his wobbly feet.

--

SCAR

Scar bristles again, wings twitching as he instinctively growls, low and mercifully non-threatening, but it certainly doesn’t sound that way to an untrained ear. 

These are untrained ears. 

Scar registers the flinch in varying degrees from all three of them, and his ears twitch, then droop again in shame.

He can’t do this. He can’t let someone else close. It doesn’t matter how fidgety and awkward Mumbo is, Scar doesn’t trust him to come close.

Mumbo who says foolish things; Mumbo who looks at him like a stranger; Mumbo who cares so much that Scar can’t help but feel strangled by it as it weaves around him, passing him by and threatening to smother Grian in his disturbed state. 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian makes an inquisitive mewl, a soft and small sound, unworried at scar's growl. he knows it's not threatening, so he just gently prods, inquiring as to what's wrong. what's bothering scar?

pointedly, he doesn't react to mumbo's call at all. as if he didn't even register it.

tango's rising to his feet now, too, but impulse puts a hand on his shoulder.

it doesn't deter tango, and they both stand up. still far away, but in a way the three of them are now towering over kneeling scar, looking down with varying emotions. 

"we'll get you some tea," impulse says, quiet, measured. he's looking directly at scar. he's trying to tell him that he sees him. that he doesn't blame him, no matter how stifling and explosive this situation is turning out to be.

"impulse!" tango squeaks, indignant, protesting. "he's hiding something!"

impulse's gaze cuts sharply to tango. "keep your voice down!" he hisses, frowning, then sighs. he understands they're anxious, but lines do need to be drawn.

for grian's sake as well as for scar's. 

impulse looks back at scar, tries to soften all the jaggedness from his pooling tension. "do you think you can get him to sleep? rest a little?" he suggests. "we will come back with the tea. if grian's asleep— we can look at him then? so he won't be scared of us?" he bites at his lip, and then adds: "just look. and we can help if you'll need anything else from us, yeah?" it's a gentle proposal, an attempt to find a tightrope that won't send them all careening towards some awful abyss.

--

SCAR

Scar feels so horribly small knelt down like this in front of people that are seemingly hellbent on misinterpreting his every move. His wings fall to the ground at the insinuation of him hiding something once again.

He’s not. He’s hiding Grian maybe, but he was scared— he asked for help and this is how Scar would help…

Scar trembles under the spotlight of their gazes, even if Impulse’s is softer. He feels like he can’t move— like he isn’t allowed.

“I… I want him to rest,” Scar agrees weakly, nodding once in exhausted misery. “You… yeah. You can check on him then.”

He still hates it. Hates the idea of someone in their nest. Hates that he’s still being more or less monitored, hates that he can’t be trusted with what he knows best.

Scar looks down to Grian, eyes big, barely holding back the fear that seeps into that forest green. “Can I take you upstairs? …nest?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse softens further at scar's agreement, hearing the fatigue and defeat in his voice. it makes his heart ache, even more when he thinks about everyone else overlooking that. "alright... thank you, scar," he says gently.

then his eyes flick to find the exit, realising they're going to have to walk past. 

"can we... leave? or do you want us to wait until you go first?" impulse checks nervously, gaze jumping between scar and the avian he's cradling. he has a feeling scar doesn't want them here any longer than necessary, but impulse isn't sure if getting closer only for the sake of walking out is what he needs.

"or we can dirt pillar up," mumbo suggests with a nervous little laugh, attempting nonchalance and jokes, even as everything in him still rails against this. he's drawn forward, towards grian, like a moth to a flame. he wants to check him over, touch his skin, care for him. he doesn't realise he's completely disregarding scar in this scenario. doesn't realise he sees him as nothing but a mad guard dog, standing in his way for no reason. 

"you're giving up?" tango huffs, tail swishing. 

"i— what?" mumbo laughs again, more nervously this time. "we'll be back."

"what, so he can cover up his tracks?" tango pushes, frowning. all too aware that a potion or two are enough to hide most injuries. and an asleep grian can't answer any check-up questions.

it's impulse who growls now. "tango. scar isn't our enemy. he's our friend. maybe you should start treating him as such."

"i— wh— but—" tango stammers, completely taken off guard, ears pulling low.

grian, in the meanwhile, reacts to scar's careful, gentle question. his unfocused gaze lifts up, seeking to anchor in familiar green, feeling fragmented and vulnerable and still sick. "nest," he echoes, impossibly sad and hopeful, yearning. he sniffles, not paying their surroundings any attention; the memories still swirl through him, and nothing quite feels real.

nothing but scar.

he tips forward, wraps his arms around scar's shoulders in a weak hug, clinging to him in a position that makes it easy to carry him. 

"... can the bucket come with us?" he half-jokes hoarsely.

--

SCAR

Turns out it doesn’t feel good being spoken about like he isn’t right there, and Scar finds himself slumping forward in defeat, misery seeping deep into his bones.

His chest flickers once more, eyes clouded with a blue fog that only fades when Grian wraps his arms around. Grian, who does trust him and is deserving of his love and attention.

Wretchedly, Scar swallows down his anxieties, does his best to ignore the unwelcome surroundings. He doesn’t even provide them an answer, instead leaning down to kiss Grian’s (still dreadfully warm) forehead.

“Anything you need, G,” he croaks, rising on incredibly wobbly feet and hooking the handle of the bucket with his pinky. 

Wordlessly, he turns his back to his intruders and begins walking upstairs, unable to bear their presence any longer. His wings flick and tremble, uncomfortable being exposed to what he still inevitably seems as enemies. 

(It’s only fair considering how he’s actively antagonized.)

“So sorry about all this moving around…” Scar continues murmuring, feeling entirely off balance, but managing to stay steady only because Grian is in his arms. “We’ll get nice and comfy, alright? And our guests can bring the soup in.”

That’s the only acknowledgment they get.

--

GRIAN

grian lets out a soft noise at the kiss, a mix of comforted and still absolutely miserable. he isn't sure if he feels hot or cold, and his body aches. the nausea is ever-present, making any move a wretched matter, especially when coupled with his still spinning head.

he tries to hold onto scar a bit firmer, but his strength isn't there. he groans, whimpering. "slow," he pleads, not knowing how else to mitigate this.

he really doesn't want to puke if he can help it. although maybe having it over would feel better than this.

--

SCAR

“Slow,” Scar parrots, purposely stilling himself for a moment before continuing at a steadier pace. He didn’t realize he was rushing, honestly, but it makes sense.

He wants those eyes off of his back.

He thinks he hears the sound of pillaring blocks, and that’s likely for the best. 

“Nice and slow,” he confirms again, trying to keep Grian level once they’re past the steps. 

--

aaaand i’ll wrap it up with that. :3

[fragmentedblade]

I have so many screenshots of Kalpas' face I could reconstruct his face at this point, and I'm afraid to say I'm not sure his face is scarred

[vonkarma2]

ultimately my enjoyment is hampered because it is low key sexist bc it takes place in an alternate universe where Sigmund Freud is real. though I did still like it for the most part but I hate Sigmund Freudddd Utena better

[woahajimes]

what i would look like if i thought abt the pool boy more than my actual prev relationship

[curiouschaosstarlight]

On a lighter, less cranky note, I wonder what kind of "villain fucker" I am

'cause I don't think I line up with anything "typical", admittedly--

[rexscanonwife]

I lied about being normal btw I'm giggling and kicking my feet as we SPEAK!!!!!!

[tonycries]

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

Synopsis. Don’t worry, he knows exactly the solution when you’re upset - fúck it out of you, of course!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, FÉRAL GOJO, cheering you up, oraI (fem receiving), breéding, MAJOR overstím, PRAISE, THEY’RE SO DOWN BAD, lowkey sweet, slight exhíbitionism (Toji’s), mean Geto, síxty-nine, chokíng, making Choso cry mhm, spítting, pússy-slappíng, cúmplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. You’re loved n’ I hope y’all have a good leak day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Noise complaint(s)

Any time Toji decided to visit you in your cute lil’ apartment, so did a few complaints from your neighbors. 

It wasn’t because of his intimidating presence, or those deadly glares of his - targeted at everyone but you, or even because of the way his large frame unapologetically blocked every doorway in your building.

No, they were noise complaints. 

“So that’s what’s got my girl so mm- upset?” Toji has the audacity to chuckle - chuckle - so raggedly at that syrupy pout of yours he’s kissing away. “Usually you and this sweet pussy-” He cups a palm at your glistening cunt, smearing your sweet, sweet juices in a glossy sheen down his wrist. “-are so happy to see me, n’ now you want to keep her quiet? All because some blue-balled loser just moved in next door and got jealous overhearing your pretty moans?”

At your nervous nod, he clicks his tongue gruffly, “Makin’ you all upset like this, tch-” Leaning down to whisper, until his sharp canines graze dangerously against your earlobe, “He’s about to find out that he hasn’t heard even half of it.”

“But Toji!” you’re squealing, fingers scrambling to clamp your already-deliriously sagging mouth shut. “I told you- we have to mmpf- be quiet. He seemed so grumpy, and-”

You’re being cut off with Toji nudging the divot of his fat head against your g-spot, until all those complaints are lodged in your quivering chest by a moan. Teasing, “Talking ‘bout another man when m’trynna make you feel better, doll? Bold today, aren’t ya?”

“N-no I was jus-” Barely-audible babbles drag out of you at the heavenly stretch of your pussy lips. Toji’s muscled chest heaves up and down at the way your pussy lips addictively swallow up his leaky cock, slobbering down, down, down his length till it glistened in the dim lighting. Your legs kicking up in the air when he insistently feeds your cunt inch by greedy inch. 

Again. And again and again and so needy. Depraved. 

But it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Aww, come on, woman.” He’s rolling his eyes, that tiny scar curling up in a devilish grin when he pries away the hand on your mouth. “Why’re you lyin’ to yourself like this? I know you wanna heh- scream my name as much as this cute cunt of yours is right now. Do it.”

As if to confirm his point, Toji’s pushing apart your puffy folds to let your gaping pussy squelch! even louder at each of his bullying thrusts. Tight ring of muscle taking each and every smack of his sharp hip bones so well, the riotous creaking of your bed following shortly, headboard just slamming into your poor wall despite being bolted onto it.

It was already so loud. 

“I don’t hngh-” you let out a feverish gasp when each roll of his hypnotic cadence gets too much. “I don’t wanna give off a b-bad impression…I just want the neighbors to like me.”

Heart clenching in his chest at how cute you are, how sorry your voice sounds, he finds his irritation flaring once again at whoever this bastard was that had you doubting yourself this way.

“Doll– they’d be fuckin’ stupid not to. And I’d beat their asses, too.” Two soft pads of his fingers come to smush your cheeks together, forcing you to stare up into his darkened emerald eyes. “But my poor baby’s still ngh- upset, no?” When you’re hesitant with your answer, they slide down to your neck - just barely putting a bit of leering pressure, “Answer me while m’still being nice, doll.”

It’s all you can do to choke out a shrill, “Yes.” He can feel your walls clenching around every ridge and prominent vein down his shaft so tight with every sultry, mewled-out word. “H-he was really sweet! But it made me- a bit- jus’ a bit.”

“See?” And Toji sounds so smug, predatory tone bleeding into the way his harsh rams pick up to an obscene speed. A thumb of his dips down to swivel over your neglected clit, wrenching out those candied moans he loves so much. “Nothin’ wrong with makin’ my girl feel better after a shitty experience. N’ if anyone has anything to s-say, they can come complain to hngh- me.”

“B-but-”

“Ah ah-” Toji kisses sloppily at your lips trying to press together and quieten, sucking on your lower lip. “What did I say just now? Loud, pretty girl.” 

And it’s like a dam breaks open right then and there, you’re arching your body off the bed like such a slut to press your bare tits against Toji’s pecs. Sensitive. Faster. “Toji- oh fuck, m’so-”

“Heh, louder. I don’t hear you losing your beautiful voice yet.”

Keening, “M’so close. Fuck- g-gonna cum all over your cock.”

He’s cupping his ear so mockingly, hips still stuttering and thrusting forwards without a moments’ faltering. “Still can’t hear you, m-ah not gonna let you cum if you’re not loud enough, y’know.”

You were sure your sinful noises were traveling through the heavy, plastered wall now. Picking up in pitch and speed with every double-attack on your sweet spots everywhere. Spearing the lewd curve of his dick into you, he’s fucking you into the mattress so mean - meaner that usual. Rugged muscles of his toned waist flexing when he jostles and thrusts unforgivingly. Your voice is hoarse at this point, “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck Toji m’cumming. I’m-”

Every other loud moan is drowned out by the ringing in your ears, Toji’s own soft rasps filtering through the white-hot pleasure running down your spine. 

He’s fucking you through wave after wave of high, gifting your bruised g-spot with a thorough, sly pistons of his still-swollen cock. Something that didn’t bode well for you, you already knew. 

“Tha’s it. Yeahh, that’s it-” A hand cups the back of your head gently, even though his slamming staccato was anything but. “Loud. Jus’ like that- shit, gonna make him jealous. Have him regret makin’ my girl upset, fuck-” An irritated banging sounds from the other side of the wall right above your headboard - your neighbor. “Fuck, just watch I’ll give him a real show.” Still throwing jagged hips your way, ram after ram. “What’s the fucker’s name again?”

“He- he said his name was Shiu.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Sweet, sweet treat

“I can fix it.” your husband eyed that droopy bowl of frosting and back to your candied, icing-glossed pout. He can’t help but plant a sweet, sweltering kiss on them, just groaning out, “We can do it together.” Barely managing to break away and breathe out, “S’gonna- turn out- perfect, my love.”

Which is how you find yourself splayed out so shamefully on the cool granite countertops of your kitchen, your soft cotton dress only pulled lazily to the side. Nanami’s knees seated firmly on the hardwood floors, face tucked in between the heavenly sweet folds of your already soaked cunt. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Ken–” he makes you let out a honeyed drawl with every drag of his hot tongue up and down your soppingly wet slit. “Y-you’re gonna get the- ngh- counter dirty!”

So what? He thinks, and it only takes a flicker of surprise in your half-lidded eyes for him to realize he accidentally said that out loud. Not used to those uncharacteristically brash sentences, but Nanami was so drunk off your addictive juices right now. 

Tipping his head back, back, back to let them make their slow, sultry journey down his throat. He’s slurring out proudly, “I’ll clean the mess after I cheer up my upset lil’ wife, okay?”

With this, he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Adding to the glistening gloss that traveled down your folds - and Nanami couldn’t help himself but kiss at the mess he’s made. Over and over and-

“F-fuuuck, jus’ like that-” You’re keening when he’s alternating between hollowing his cheeks out with methodical, never-ending sucks on your sensitive clit and just peeking inside your needy hole with his tongue. “You’re too good with your hngh! -tongue, Ken–”

It’s impossible to run away - and he knew that, too. Every little inch you backed on the counter had him just dragging you back twice as much. Hot tongue clashing and angry to part your swollen pussy lips. 

You can only thread your fingers through his neat blond hair even tighter when he surges back forward. Pussydrunk. Groaning at the lewd smack of his tongue dipping in and out of your puffy folds, Thumb circling around your throbbing clit, “And you’re too sweet, darling. Even sweeter than-” He pools your slick on two thick fingers of his, coating a glossy sheen of obscenity all the way from his rounded tips to the gold wedding ring glinting in the dim light. Before popping them in his mouth to take such long, cleansing drags without even a shred of abashed hesitation, “-that icing of yours.”

“I know–” you’re babbling in disappointment, the full force of your failed attempts at baking something special earlier this evening hitting you once again at full force. “Ugh, what a waste. I can’t even-”

A syrupy beat passes. One. Two. 

And at that very moment, you’re feeling the maddening stretching of your gummy walls being forced to their very limits. Whirling your dazed gaze down to spot that Nanami was now standing, belt unbuckled, tugged down just enough that you were reeling from the pressure of his fat head just barely kissing past your fluttering hole. 

“That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about.” he growls, low and satiny. Hands steadying on the two sides of your trembling thighs, his grunts catch in his throat when he thoroughly sinks his swollen length in. Never-ending, dizzying. A quick frosting-coated glide of Nanami’s fingers on your lips, and he’s pressing another lingering kiss on your slack mouth. Tasting you and the sweet icing and you, “And I don’t let anyone talk about her that way, my love.”

Now, usually, Nanami was a man of patience - liking to prepare and play around with your pretty pussy as if you were his favorite toy. Molding your plush walls like clay to take his massive cock.

But now, oh now Nanami Kento was anything but patient. Shit, he didn’t even know if your snug walls could take him right now. 

Hands curling up into painful fists far away from the curve of your hips, as if he was trying to stop himself from just grabbing your quivering body and just slamming himself inside you until he reached your lungs, your heart, that stupid brain of yours that loved to overthink.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ say anything bad about my wife. You’re perfect.” he breathes, greedy hazel eyes looking like they could devour you whole. “The frosting is perfect, the anniversary cake is perfect, your smile, your mind, you-” You’re being attacked by a flurry of kisses being gifted on every inch of your face that could be reached, “You you you- I love you.”

If you were in the right state of mind, you’d have responded back in a heartbeat. But right now, he’s not waiting a split-second longer before bullying the rest of his swollen, filthy cock in. Solid inches being shoved inside to force your walls to accommodate, stretching out so maddeningly across every divot and upwards curve down his shaft.

In and out in and out in and-

Your nails tear across his favorite blue button-up, down his muscled shoulders, down to that speckled yellow tie you’d gotten him a few years ago. 

“You’re so- hngh-” you squeal, tugging Nanami closer by his tie. Making him bully past your narrow opening even deeper, slick walls squeezing so tight at how his weepy red tip presses right on top of your g-spot. 

He chuckles, it’s so endearing how you’re already too cockdrunk to speak. One engulfing hand on your shoulder is all it takes for you to be sprawled back on the cool counter. Nanami’s pummeling cock bullying so deep inside your hot core it’s the only thing you can think about - nothing but him. 

“How about, after-” Another dredge of sweet sweet frosting is dabbed along your lips, your heated skin. All for Nanami to lick sultrily, “-we’ll make the cake together, hm?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Just use me, baby.”

Those shallow, sultry words are falling from Choso’s rosy lips before he even realizes it - ringing like sheer melodies over the heady smacking of skin-on-skin where he’s bullying his fat cock into you. 

After a few seconds of his sloppy, stuttering rams sending the gooey puddle of cum and slick spreading further and further on the sticky, silken sheets below you - the words finally register. 

“Use you, baby?” you purr, batting your lashes in a way that has him gulping. Feeling his aching shaft twitch against your gummy walls, swollen balls squeezing so so angrily with how much seed he’d been gushing out tonight. “You want me to use you?”

Each thrust of his is lingering, rolling forwards to push you further and further up that pooling mess. He can’t think, he can’t even breathe. And it takes everything in Choso to groan out, “Yes yes- fuck, please.” You’re feeling him place a trail of wet kisses up to the nape of your neck, big tears clinging to his dark lashes, “If my- hngh- if my girl is upset, I want her to use me. Ruin me till she forgets all about it.”

It only takes a split-second for you to immediately flip around your positions, pinning a whiny, pliant Choso so harshly down onto the plush mattress. 

“Hngh- oh, baby—” He bounces slightly at the sheer force. Dewy eyes rolling to the back of his head at the slobbering sheen of cum dripping down his long, long length. Bucking up his quivering hips till you’re speared all the way down on his cock, clit hitting the tufts of black at his thick hilt. “Fuuuck—.” He’s groaning raggedly, like a mantra, two big arms tugging your body stuck to his sculpted front. Nodding half-lucidly, “Yeah- yeah just like that. Whatever you want with me.”

Your pace was unforgiving - barely even giving him a moment to spew out those pussydrunk promises before rocking your hips up and down up and-

“Use you, huh?” you echo back his own words, the sheer need dripping in them having Choso bow his body upwards to pummel into you in a matching feverish pace. You’re humming, thinking back to those stupid pick-up lines the creepy new manager at work had snided just today. It was harmless, but oh how Choso would kill him if he knew. “Well then, don’t mind if I do.”

With a pained keen, he’s surging upwards onto his elbows, craning his head to mesh your honeyed lips with his. “Mmm- mpfh yeah, exactly like this.” Mixing out such throaty groans with your gasps, so desperate to please you with the way he plants two feet on the bed, thrusting up hazily to find your sweet spots, “S’this any better? How do you- ngh how do you feel, baby?”

You’re letting out a drunken giggle with how he’s the one asking - when really it should be you. Because your sweet boyfriend looked so ruined, eyes wrecked with tears. Milky skin a canvas for possessive red marks from your nails. Kiss-bitten lips spit-glossed and permanently parted in ecstasy, only slacking further every time your snug channel dragged down him. 

“Much better, forgot about m’day already.” you’re hissing into his open mouth. “So fuckin’ gorgeous n’ mine, that bastard doesn’t know what the fuck he’s ah- talking about.”

Choso had no idea what you were talking about - though, he thinks his mind is too much of a hot, gooey mess to understand right now. Still so needy to please. Only being able to babble out a stupid, “Yours- fuck m’yours.”

And despite being the one setting the tempo, you can only let out such whiny groans at the sheer stretch Choso’s swollen cock is causing you. By the way he’s molding your gummy walls to each and every throbbing vein decorating down him.

“Sh-shit m’so close, baby.” he whines, a fresh wave of tears streaming down with each overstimulating smack! of his tight, overworked balls against the curve of your ass. Lazily, like he’s moving through molasses, Choso’s drawing messy patterns on your pulsing clit - not even circles, brain too fried to. “M’so close fuck- I need you to- I need-”

“Shhh shhh.” you coo, running a hand through his dark strands, damp with sweat. “Cum f’me, Cho~”

“Hngh!” He can’t stop his hips from bucking up ferally, crying out, “But- I can’t. Wan’ you to feel better. Need you to cum f’me. Use me-”

“Cho.”

“Please-”

“Choso.” you warn, narrowing your eyes, deciding to tease him a little with shallow, repetitive grinds of your hips up and down. Toes curling at the friction of his creamy seed sloshing around inside. “Cum.”

“Hngh- but-” he’s thrashing upwards, so addicted to the rough collision of your sensitive spots against his fat head. Pulling out such fucked-out moans from you already, “But m’spposed to be making you feel happy-”

Your fingers deftly find themselves on Choso’s temping throat, right above his racing pulse. You tighten your nails just enough to leave five matching crescents to match the rest of his marked-up body.

“Cho–” you puff in a sultry groan against his ear. “All I want is for you to fill me up right now.”

And then he’s spilling into you in thick, hot dredge after dredge of his potent seed - before you’ve even finished your sentence. It overfills your pre-painted cunt, that obscene white slopping out of your slit and onto where your hips rocked against your boyfriend’s even harder. A creamy white ring forming mouthwateringly. Relentlessly. 

“See?” Choso couldn’t - vision blurry, ears stuffed with cotton. “I don’t care what any sleazy manager has to say, you’re perfect for me.” A gentle kiss is placed on his pouty, worried lips and shit you still didn’t show any signs of slowing down, overstimulating him to tears. You trace his furious marks, “N’ pick me up from work tomorrow in your skimpiest muscle tee~”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Overtime?

A lewd smack! is all that’s ringing in your ears right now, so loud over the distant hum of the photocopier. Accompanied shortly by Geto’s sing-song rasp of, “Heh, missin’ our reservation for this- Are you the one havin’ a bad day or am I?”

Before you can answer, you’re being gifted with another mean kiss of your boyfriend’s palm against your bulging pussy. Smack! Lingering on the nudge of where he could feel your sloppy hole mending around his girthy shaft, before dancing upwards to grip your hair in a sultry hold. 

Pulling your entire weight up, up, up like he didn’t care about the way he was treating you like some ragdoll right now. Up to drag his lips towards your ear, “Doesn’t matter, because m’still fuckin’ you just the same.”

“S-Sugu–” your breaths crack with need when he’s pushing in a harsh thrust to slam back into the very bottom of your poor pussy. Eyes darting to the tiny window of your office photocopy room, “Sugu, we’re going to get caught.”

“And yet, she’s still hah- sucking me up as sluttily as ever.” he grins, tilting his head back to get those long, inky strands out of his face. He chuckles at the obscene sight of your cunt stretched to her limits, struggling, and drooling a sweet, sweet gloss down his length. “What’s with the ngh- attitude now? You said you wanted to feel better about working overtime so here we are.”

You bite down on your lower lip to hold back your moans when his fat tip draws a solid, straight line across your bruised cervix. Slamming forwards to have you scrambling forwards into some more important paperwork you really should be looking over right now. 

“I did but-”

“Problem solved then.” Geto lets out a low whistle, sounding so utterly smug when he pulls your hips deeper into his. “Now let me make this shitty workload hah- so much better for you, gorgeous.”

Honestly, when you told your dear boyfriend that you’d have to cancel tonight’s date because of a sudden deadline for tomorrow, you felt guilty. Working after everyone else had left, spewing out upset little apologies until he told you he’d come over to the office to “help you take your mind off of things.”

You just didn’t expect it’d end up like this. 

Smack!

Geto scoffs, “Aww documents have you zoning out on me again, pretty girl? Take a break, didn’t I tell ya you don’t have to worry about work and all those stupid things when you’re with me?”

Your knees weaken involuntarily when his gruff question is followed by such an unapologetic crash into your ravaged g-spot. Thankfully being held up by one of Geto’s strong arms to fuck yourself back all the way from his red, weepy tip to that see-through ring dredged up on his thick base. Somehow, you’re managing to gasp out, “N-no, I was just…”

“N-n-no, you were just zoning out, that’s what.” he’s mocking your answer in an overly-dramatic higher pitch, adding a few extra moans you were spilling with every harsh slam after slam of his hips. “What did I tell you now, relax. Let me fuck this shitty overtime and that shitty boss outta ya cute lil’ head, gorgeous. You and her-” His red-rimmed eyes, drunk on the feeling of your slicked walls enveloping him, lock on the sight of his curved dick disappearing so easily in and out of you. “-don’t have to worry about a thing right now.”

It was that same little promise - the one he’d whispered over and over into your sagging open mouth when he’d first ambushed you in the photocopy room. Bending you over the nearest flat surface before ramming into you all those thick, greedy inches of his long-needy cock.

And here he still was. 

Splatters of your syrupy slick coats his toned pelvis with every jagged thrust, fucking you so deep - so disrespectfully - into the office desk. Your feet don’t even touch the ground now, mind spinning and syrupy. Geto’s bending his own to angle up exactly to hit the bullseye of your sweet spots. All those familiarly mapped-out areas to drive anything and everything out of your mind but him and the temptation for more more more-

Click!

Both of you are raising your heads in sync at the distinct clamor of an opening door somewhere in the office - shit, was someone doing patrols at this time?

Your jaw drops open in shock - and the feeling of your boyfriend sliding two slender fingers to your pulsing clit. Drawing rough, skimming circles on the bundle of nerves. He has you jolting and arching your back right into him, his arms - exactly where he loved to have you. 

“Now we’re-” your words come in strangled little stutters, mindlessly bouncing your ass back onto his cock. Feeling the sinful tremors run down your spine with each slam, “-we’re really gonna get hah- caught. And I’m not even halfway through my project yet.”

And Geto - that smug bastard - sounds amused. He thinks he’ll have a ah- talk with your boss later about piling on workloads later. But for now, he sounds so fucking content when he’s musing, “Better cum fast before they give you more than overtime, pretty girl.” Before planting a deceivingly chaste peck on your lips, “Though, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to havin’ a cute lil’ housewife to spoil all day either.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - QUIET TIME!

“Oh, Kuna–”

“Now that’s music to my ears.” Sukuna smirks darkly, lips searing in a trail right down your arched spine. Two inhumanly large hands massage down your back, pulling you against his sculpted front. “So much better to hear you say m’name than complain about some fuckin’ eugh-” His tone trembles in distaste, “-office drama.”

Scoffing, “No need to be so mean, Kuna. You really should’ve heard what Mrs. Smith down at-”

That little tangent earns you a sharp smack! to the fat of your bare ass, cupping the little tremors with a chuckle. He hums with a mocking lilt in his baritone voice, “You’re testing my patience~” Sukuna goes back to kneading at the stressed knots in your body. “Shut up and let me massage you, woman.”

And oh you should’ve learned your lesson - should’ve taken this rare, sweet little moment you’d gotten from your rough boyfriend. Should’ve done anything other than huff out, “Ugh, if only you’d heard what she said, ruined my whole-”

“Lift your hips.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden interruption, “Wh-what?”

“Lift your hips goddammit.”

It’s all you can do to mindlessly head his gruffed out words, legs stuttering and shaky when you get up on all fours. A gasp rips from your throat when Sukuna shuffles into the gap between your pliant body and the silken bedsheets. Not stopping until his hot breath was puffing against your sopping slit, your eyes mere inches away from his massive erection. Throbbing thickly and outlined with precum through his boxers. 

Your mouth waters, “K-Kuna what-”

“So it really takes this to get me back on your mind, huh, brat?” he’s cutting you off with another branding smack on your ass - this time, the very rounded tips of his thick fingers just grazing against your dripping folds. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ about some fuckin’ Mrs. Smith even when I’m right here.”

“Are you jealous?” you muse, brows turning upwards in confusion. “Because I can assure you-”

Before you can run your mouth again, Sukuna’s cutting you off with one hand reaching down to wrap around your throat. The other pulls your shaky hips down to sit on his face. 

“How’s this for jealous?” He grunts, an obscene slurping noise pouring into your hazy bedroom, eyes rolling to the back of his head at this messy kiss with your needy cunt. “Gonna make you forget about those shitty people. Just focus on me.”

You’re managing to wrangle your greedy gaze over your shoulder to spy his lewdly wet smirk, glistening down with a glossed cover of your slick. They’re so pretty, so kiss-bruised in your favorite shade of pink when they wrap around your throbbing cunt to give a harsh suck. “What? Got a problem, woman?”

You wine softly in protest, your lower lip jutting out in a pout that makes his clothed cock just coat down his fat tip with syrupy precum. Opening your mouth to retort and-

In all of two seconds, Sukuna’s hand snug around your throat drops down to tug on his boxers. Tall, angry erection hitting your parted lips with a soft thwack! It doesn’t stay there for long - no, because you feel that familiar pressure back on your throat again, and his achy cock being bullied down, down, down your throat. 

“Actually, don’t answer that.” he’s letting out a strained groan, sanity dancing away with every clench of your tight throat around his glistening shaft. Holding you still with the hand on your throat, Sukuna’s powerful thigh muscles strain when he’s fucking up into your heavenly mouth slow, sultry. Spitting to coat him in all your sweet saliva, “Consider this quiet time, just shut up and take my cock.”

Your eyes are watering, Sukuna’s girth rubbing against every part of your plushy mouth. Swirling a pool of salty precum on your tongue. You can’t do anything but keen brokenly around that warm weight when long, thick fingers are spreading your puffy folds to wrangle his long tongue in deeper. Textures of his tastebuds grazing over and over against your spongy entrance - your clit. 

“Hngh- mmpf-” you’re jutting your hips traitorously. Dragging your slobbering pussy up and down his thorough lips, giving longing, drunken licks up from your weepy base to your hot clit. “Kuna-”

He breaks away with a sinful smack! Your sensitive bud being tugged along with snapping strings of delicate precum and slick.

“Mhm, that’s what I like-” he’s slurring out words mixing together with need. Free hand coming down to toy your clit between two rolling fingers. And you could tell how much he liked this, fat shaft twitching animalistically inside your mouth. Nudging his leaking head at the back of your throat, it’s only with how long you’ve been with Sukuna that you manage not to gag. “-to have you shut up on my cock this way. That pretty mouth is better used for something other than rememberin’ some shitty people when you’re with me. They can fuck right off with the disrespect towards my woman.”

It’s all you can do to keep your jaw slacking further and further with every dragged-out smack of Sukuna’s heavy balls against your face. His hips using you like some glorified cocksleeve, ruthless in his pace. Molding your mouth to the shape of him while he does the very same with yours.

“F-fuuuck-” you manage to gasp out through the drooling edges of your lips. “It feels so- ngh–” Moans getting lost when Sukuna flicks your throbbing clit slowly, nudging with the very tip of his dark fingernails. “You’re being so-”

“So loud.” he finishes your own sentence for you. Grinning a grin that sends shivers up your spine, right to where he was stuffing your mouth shut with all long inches of his cock. Murmuring dangerously around your sloppy hole, “Interrupt quiet time again and you don’t get to cum, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Unmistakably depraved.

“Fuuuuck, sweetheart.” Gojo’s whispering, over and over. As if he can’t - won’t - manage to articulate anything else right now. The honeyed words wrenching out of him with each sticky crash of his shaft down your sloppy slit in this firm mating press. “Do you know how hngh- long I’ve missed this sweet cunt?”

You don’t have to answer, and the echoing smack! of his too-sensitive balls against the curve of your ass is enough of one for him. Making his eyes gleam with such a feral glint, traveling straight to where he was pressing in bullying little grinds past your clamping walls. 

It’s been so long - too long - about a whole week since your pussy-whipped boyfriend was able to have his fill of you.

A soft pad of his thumb rolls in a  languid circle over your needy clit. Sending white-hot shockwaves that have you jolting the balls of your feet to greedily swallow up even more throbbing inches of him. 

“Fuck, forgot how tight you s-squeeze me when I do that.” Gojo eyes dance to the back of his head with every bottom-out hit against your clingy mess of a cunt. Crashing so messily onto every velvety inch of your cunt. It only takes a few drags of your slobbering walls down his length for your dear boyfriend to run his mouth, “Forgot allll about this because of some- hngh- some mournng for a fucking fictional character-”

“My favorite character, Toru!” you exclaim, through furrowed brows. Both of you are shocked at the fact that you’re still managing to speak in coherent sentences - just means he hasn’t fucked you good enough yet, he muses with his syrupy, pussydrunk mind. “He was my- my favorite and he died and-”

You’re immediately being shut up by two sweet lips planting on your own, immediately moving to suck on your tongue so filthily. “Well, I’m your favorite boyfriend-” Your only, but semantics. Gojo whines - whines, “Shouldn’t I- hngh- be more important?”

As if to help you make your decision, he’s burrowing his cock in such needy thrusts. And Gojo can’t help but crane his neck to bite down on your frantically racing pulse, feeling himself salivate with how well you’re milking each and every single vexing ram of his hips. Just spearing the hotly saturated tip into your spongy g-spots, so fucking big that every stroke feels like a brush against your throat, an indent into the plush walls of your pussy, wrapping and molded around his girth. 

Another bite to your neck at your silence - sharp canines just shy of drawing blood. And you swear Gojo’s eyes spark with an unnatural lightning blue when he devours you with a greedy stare, “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“You a-are.” Is all you can gasp out, but that’s not enough for the great Gojo Satoru. You’re instantly earning a rosy pout and a loaded smack! right on the bullseye of your glistening clit, faintly you think you hear the crackle of jujutsu. Thighs burning at the sheer stretch of being folded down, down, down until your knees knocked against your tits. “You’re more- hah! Fuck fuck fuck don’t– you’re more important!”

This seems to soothe your jealous boyfriend a bit, but it still doesn’t stop him from placing such brutal thrusts on your poor, ravaged pussy. Bruising. Sloppy. 

You’re whining so brokenly, “Fuck, right there- feels too good- hngh!”

“Mhm, exactly what I thought.” Another explosive slap to your sensitive nub, humming with power, and Gojo throws his head back at how much it makes you gush so wetly around his thick hilt. “Now, was that- ngh- was that so hard?” Spitting out little profanities into your lips, as if the man he was jealous over wasn’t a few pixels, “The f-fucker- Had to wait a whole week before I got to comfort my sad girl? I’d kill him myself.”

You can’t even formulate a response to that - not even if you wanted to. Because with increasingly sloppy drags of his cock against your walls, Gojo only grows more and more heated. 

“Fuck- makin’ my girl so upset. Gonna fuck all thoughts outta him for ya.” Babbling out little curses a mile a minute, swift pace bruising your spring cervix, your g-spot. A thin trickle of drool trails messily in-between your clashing kisses, only growing every time he’s ramming into your gripping cunt. “Gonna make you cum- make you mine.” Difficult, even with how you were clinging onto his every rough, angled thrust, and you don’t think Gojo even realizes the possessive little spanks he’s repeatedly leaving on your puffy clit. “Won’t you cum like a good girl f’me, sweetheart?”

He’s moaning at the sloppy way you listen to his ragged plea, letting out such pretty moans into the heady air when you fall back into your high. Toes curling, jolts of needy pleasure running down your spine, such a mess. 

It makes Gojo falter in his tempo, it makes the sharp bones on his toned hips slam into you even harder, stuttering and rutting forwards like some animal in heat that can’t bear to do anything but be buried well inside you. It makes him cum. 

“Oh- fuck, Toru s’in so deep.” You mewl, too cockdrunk to say anything else. To feel anything but the slow, sultry filling of your quivering cunt. Rope after rope of his hot cum painting the mess of your branded walls inside, and each time he’s fucking his cum even deeper you feel a lewd whimper of his name leave you. Vision tinging with need, with the feeling of being so overfilled you could barely breathe. “Oh- oh my god I feel it coming-”

Your words hitch in your throat when Gojo - cock still angry and twitching with faint wisps of trickling cum - plugs a slender finger into your bulging cunt. Stopping the overflow, the grins, “Hope you’re on the pill, my girl, because we’re not done until you forget.”

A/N. Ouu y’all should’ve seen the way I was CACKLING writing Toji’s ending.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ttsukiimi]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ B⍣CKSHOTS MAKE YOU FEEL RELIEVED!

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ After the kids leave to a friend’s, it’s just you and your husband. You and a 6 foot 2 s⍣x addict who’s not afraid of f⍣cking another child into you.

★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ toji x fem!reader, smut (mdni), breeding k⍣nk, stomach bulge, unprotected, implied breeding k⍣nk, implied size difference, bigd⍣ck!toji, established relationship, reader referred to as (baby, princess.)

“Toji—“

“C’mon, baby. Know you want it too.”

“I do but—“

“You do. So open your legs ‘n let me have my way with you.”

All you could do was nod and watch as the bigger, built man on top of you smirked—and, fuck you could just die right then and there from the way his eyes hungrily surveyed your body, practically undressing you of the skimpy set of pajamas you had on.

Toji licked his lips, tongue sliding over his scar as his large hands made way to your core. “Promise I’ll take good care of this pussy.”

A blink and he already had your bottoms off, whistling to himself as he instantly found a wet spot on your panties. You looked away and he chuckled, his thick fingers already moving the material aside and swiping up your folds.

“Dirty girl.”

You whimpered from the contact and instinctively tried to close your legs around his arm—to no avail, of course. To think Toji would let you deprive him of even a second of seeing the succulent sight of your cunt is laughable.

Watching as he frees himself from his sweats, your mouth waters. You’re proud to say your husband is well over average, and feeling it inside you is a whole other level

. Feeling Toji Fushiguro inside you is as if taking two average cocks at the same time. You throb at the thought, eyes already rolling back from the stimulation his fingers provided.

“Eyes up here,” your body obeys quicker than your brain, and you’re giving him those ‘innocent’, succubus eyes that you know he can’t resist. The same look that got you here in the first place.

“Hurry, want it so bad,” you whined, pulling him down to your lips with your arms around his neck, grinding against the tip pathetically. “Please.”

And who was Toji to resist such temptation?—he could never say no to such a needy wife such as you.

So, with one swift snap of his hips, he was fully immersed in your wet heat, sucking his teeth as he felt your walls clamp down on him so tightly. Toji’s hands gripped on your hips harshly, steadying both you and him for the onslaught of thrusts to come.

You looked up to his eyes, tears already falling from yours, strings of moans pouring from your open lips. Toji has never loved a sight—a sound so much.

Your moans spurred him on more than anything, causing that rapid smack! of skin to skin contact he loves oh, so much. So much it has his head spinning and his body trembling in euphoria.

He looked down, sweat dripping from his forehead and a thin sheen on his body, groaning as he saw himself moving inside of you. “Look at that,” he hummed, approval and pride laced within his voice, pressing a hand to your lower stomach where the bulge formed. “Feel that, princess? That’s me.”

From that point on, Toji was set on making you feel every part of him. His pace quickened and his words were dirtier, his touches lit fires of temptation on your skin in their wake, and his overwhelming presence alone had you ready to cum at any moment.

“Y’know, I been thinking..” his voice was deep, intriguing. “It’s about time I put a baby in ya.”

[nkogneatho]

Toji has never once shown his vulnerability towards the scar he has on his lips. He never even talks about them. But you know he is somewhere insecure about it when he stops and stares in the mirror while shaving, green eyes scanning the scar. Or when he purposely rests the right side of his face in his hand so the palm hides it. He thought he was being subtle with it, but you noticed. You noticed how deep down he was scared to even talk about it, let alone wear it with pride. That scar was a nightmare and he hated how it was visible to him, to everyone in the most obvious place.

"Toji?" you cooed from behind, walking into the hall while he was watching TV.

"Yes, baby?"

"I bought a new gloss, and i want to test if it's transfer proof."

"Don't know what that is but c'mere, lovie. Sit on my lap while you do it." You smiled and plopped yourself on his lap. Before he could finally look at you, you pressed your tinted glossy lips at the end of his lips where the scar settled.

he tried opening his lips to catch yours but you didn't really kiss his lips. he was so confused why you were pecking one spot.

*one peck. two peck. three peck. smooches tightly*

"D'ya know? I love this." You ran your thumb over the skin. "It makes me realize how strong you are, Toji. Sooo strong. Please don't hide it. It makes you look more handsome." He couldn't form words. The sudden love bomb opened a can of bad memories. Yet, oddly, he was comforted by your words. For a man so big, he was still weak over you and your love. Because you determined his vulnerability. Which is why your relationship was perfect. He is not the kind of man to be vocal about his issues but you read him like an open book. You understand him before he even has to spell it out.

Toji rested his forehead against yours, inhaling and exhaling with his eyes closed. God. He feels so in love, it kills him. What would he do without you? Everyone picked his flesh till it was just his heart exposed in the dirt, still struggling to beat. But you found it. Not to pick anymore flesh(there was none left). But to rip open your ribs and keep that heart locked in you forever. Safe and sound.

[metranart]

— HAWKS + DABI + BAKUGO + SHIGARAKI || THINGS THIS LOVESICK BOYS SAY WHEN IN BED WITH YOU

-----------HEADCANONS-----------

HAWKS

“Oh, my darling...fuck, keep doing that.” 

“You're so beautiful, I'm so glad we found each other.”

“I know I’m a mess-… what else was I supposed to do while waiting to make you mine?” 

“Lay back and let me do all the work. I’ve dreamed of eating your pretty pussy all week.”

“Hey, don’t shy away from me. C’mere-”

“You’re so fuckin’ soft. Shiiit…”

“Hey—no teasing the feathers.”

“I n-need to-... I just-…-I’m going to start moving now.”

“Arms around my neck and legs around my hips— ngh! Gravity is a bitch, I don’t want you falling on me, at least, not literally.”

“What a good mate, you respond to me so well."

“I’m so fuckin’ deep, my pretty girl-”

“Fuck—I can’t... I’m not gonna last-”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I love when you squirt on my face.”

“God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m going to breed your pussy every day, all day long, even after I’ve knocked you up.”

“We're both getting older, babe, and if we want to have more chicks than stars in the sky, then we need to get started.”

“Tell me you love me-… tell me again.”

“I do get ahead of myself often, but I can’t help it. I just know we belong together-” 

“What do you say we try for a baby this time?”

"You’d be adorable, so swollen and full that you can't walk, that you'd have to rely on me for everything...”

“Touch yourself, c’mon. Let me see how you play the right notes.”

“You're going to be a wonderful mother for my chicks.”

“Let me help you move pretty, put your hands on mine.”

“No one’s gonna hear if I put my hand here… no biting, hun.”

“I’ll make it quick, darling... just—let me… let me go again.”

“Need a hand or a finger?”

“Just wait, baby... Fuuuuck—give me a damn minute.”

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Arch your back, there you go, such a good girl.”

“Fuck, even after cumming you aren’t ready to accommodate my size. Don’t worry, baby,” he kisses your creased forehead, “—then just the tip this time.”

“Shit, I can’t help it—” you can feel him twitching excitedly inside you. “I just like you so damn much!” He grunts and snaps his hips again, diving deeper. 

“Just bear with me, I swear I’ll eat you for hours after…. Please, pretty, pleaseeeee…” He kept his pace, practically purring with his throaty groans. 

“No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, I know how to fuck you well, ain’t I, beautiful?” 

“C’mon let me hear you, I can feel you getting tighter… my cock’s rubbing those hard-to-reach places…. Fuck! I- slid in so easily.”

“I’m painfully close-…. Fuck, I don’t want to cum yet…”

 “Is this your sweet spot I’m bullying?” 

“Each thrust is inching you closer… should I slow down or go faster?”

“Deeper? Okey-… just try to keep it together, I have neighbors.” 

“Give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“Try to keep your eyes open, I know it’s hard…b-but try for me beautiful.”

“Go ahead and sleep, honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

DABI

“What’d I did to deserve such a pretty thing like ya?”

“I’ve barely touch you. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

“Open your legs, not gonna say it again.”

“Doesn’t hurt, its already scarred skin.”

“If I have to kiss your tears away again, you are gonna get it— I’ve already told ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore-”

“Bury your hands in my hair, yes... Just like that.”

“Stop pushing me away. You’re gonna take it all, don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

“You love to play the feeble act, but your moans give you away, princess.”

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t cum yet.”

“I said ass up.”

“You want it so bad? beg.”

“Take them off before I rip them off of you, doll. Don’t try me.”

“Harder,” he mutters, not a minute after you started. “Harder,” he demands again.

“Could you go any slower? Ride me like you mean it, princess. I know you can.”

“Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that, princess. You know I like it rough.”

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck…. Just like that.”

“Come on pretty girl. Ride me till you’re numb, yeah? Want you to fuck yourself stupid on my cock today.”

“Move my hands again and see what happens-”

“Fuck—” 

“Sorry, baby-… I just had to jump at the opportunity to sink my cock deeper.”

“Sit on it.”

“Worried it won’t fit? We always make it work just fine—”

“I don’t have condoms, they’re annoying.” He grunts the reply, inwardly absorbed with impatience. 

“Don’t move—Just gimme a minute… F-Fuck…”

“You fuckin’ genius, dammit, I love you so damn much! Not even I knew that spot— …” He shakes his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you been the one to give it to him.

“Did you do that on purpose, princess? ‘cause now we are doing it every time.” 

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but you were made for me to fuck and breed.”

“Stop it, no more whining—I’ll do my best to be…. gentler.” 

“Really? resist me all you want. I know you love being treated like this.”

“Ridiculous, I could stare at your pretty cunt all day long.” 

“Fuck Yeah! I adore the way your thighs tremble like jelly after you cum.”

“Should I pull out? Nah, better give me a daughter to spoil.”

“Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessing this is because of my pretty face?”

“Over my knee, now.”

“Sure, I love ya— but you are not in charge here, princess. Fuckin’ spread them for me.”

“Want me to spank that pussy? lay on my lap then-”

“One’s never enough, I know my princess’s pussy and its begging for another.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

BAKUGO (NSFW art teaser here!)

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, cutie?”

“You can be loud, I love to hear you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve waited so long for this...”

“That’s it... slow and easy—” 

“How much longer you gonna make me wait, baby?”

“You ever take it raw? Get a big load of cum in your pussy? —don’t shy on me, I know you love when I talk dirty to you.”

“Take it off before I tear it off.”

“Baby... please...I hate to beg-”

“Make me wait much longer and I’ll have to fuck you in an alley somewhere.”

“What a naughty little girl I have just to myself.”

“Ugh, so hot and wet.” 

“I said I wanted to eat your pussy, didn’t I? Just sit back and enjoy it, baby girl.”

“I’d hate to stop teasing you right before the fun part.”

“It’s so warm...”

“Who do you belong to?” 

 “Whose pussy is this? Say who you belong to.”

“God, what a good fucking cunt. It keeps clenching on my cock like it’s hungry for more milk. You want that? You want me to fill you up?”

“As you wish, princess.”

“You gonna cum?” 

“Go on, gorgeous. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Fucking take it... take every drop...” 

“Nice and stuffed... all mine... my little slutty girl...”

“I said spread those fuckin’ folds.”

“So wet and tight, but my cock just slides right in. It’s like you were born to take me inside of your cunt.”

“Aren’t you a sight. All blissed out when we aren’t even done.”

“That’s right, darlin’. You didn’t think you could tease me for so long and get away with just one little fuck, did you?”

“Oh, did you think we were finished?”

“Did I stutter or somethin’?”

“Alright, baby girl, you asked for it. Just don’t come crying to me if you can’t move after I’m done with you.”

“Don’t move—Just a sec… F-Fuck…”

“No, this is-this is fine. This is beyond fine. Keep doing it, please.”

“Shit, darling, don’t-” 

“God, you make me so needy. Please.... fuck, please...”

“You feel so wonderful, I might go crazy—"

“More... please, more...”

“Fuck, I’m stretching you so good.”

“God, the thought of you ever doing something like this to anyone else... I can’t stand it.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my precious BABY, now and forever."

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

SHIGARAKI

“It isn’t even a ‘might’. I can tell you right now with the utmost certainty that you are MINE.”

“Keep looking into my eyes, don’t you fuckin’ look away…”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” He coos in a demeaning tone. “I’ll be your first and your last. Not any of these other NPCs.”

“I can hardly keep my hands to myself, your room or mine.”

“I can do whatever I want to you, I’m player one!”

“I know, I’m keeping track of my digits, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“You are too precious to me to turn to dust, my love.”

“I can’t- I’m dying to breed you, to bury my cock in your wet pussy. Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“My pants are uncomfortably tight, the fabric’s straining against my throbbing dick, I told you not to put on that dress, dammit” Shigaraki’s practically scratching at the wooden table, surges of arousal shaking him to his core. “Can we go now? Like right NOW?!”

“MY girl, so pretty and needy for my cock.”

“You want him dead. You got it.” Ruby eyes stare through his bangs up at your face in some sort of silent promise. “—Of course, I will. You are my everything.”

“It hurts. I need you to- FUCK, just like that.”

“Fuck, how-how are you this fucking wet and warm inside, fuck, fuck…!”

“Please fuck me.”

“H-hey, I know a fun game we can play together… It’s called ‘how many times can I make you cum all over my cock?’” 

“One point, five points, ten points—Cumming again? Are you shooting for a new high-score, sweetheart?”

“Now... care if I use my mouth on you?”

“Just be good for me, and I’ll take very, very good care of you.”

"Look at you, so worked up over a few couple of fingers, did you miss me that much, sweetheart?" 

“Just looking at you is enough to, oh fuck, drive me wild.”

"So desperate for my cock to stuff you-say it, say you want my cock—ngh!”

"S-Shit,"

"Needy girl, I'll let you have it, be fucking grateful." 

"What? Fainting on me already?"

"Don't let me see you doing this again, or else."

“Just fuck me. I need you, (Y/N), please. Please just fuck bury on me already...! I want it...! I want YOU..!”

“Have it your way then.”

"Keep licking my balls, oh fuck! I’m gonna die—"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!"

“You look so pretty choking on my cock.”

“Where do you want it, baby? Mouth, breast, face, pussy… take your pick-”

"Are you close, sweetie?" 

“My feisty little girl. Aren’t you just adorable?”

"Good girl. Give me a minute and I’ll clean up that mess you made." 

“Cum for me. Cum on my cock and show me that you’re mine.”

“I just... wanted to cuddle a little more, is all. Didn’t want to... you know, waste the moment.”

“Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll be sure to give you anything you could ever want and more.” 

“You don’t have to take me all the way into your esophagus, but I expect you to make me cum, and yes, I do want you to swallow.”

“Go on, get on your knees.”

“Ngh, that’s it, keep going...”

“You look so wonderful like this, with your lips wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a pic for Dabi to swallow his words.” 

“I want you all to myself.”

“H-here it comes...Be sure... to drink... every.. last... drop...YOU ARE FUCKIN’ MINE!!”

I MADE SOME SICK NSFW ART FOR THIS HEADCANONS, YOU CAN CHECK THEM OUT IN MY PATREON. (Along with more MHA nsfw artwork)