#they both turn into cats when they’re bothered

[robraeinnevermore]

bad day

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[icedteaandoldlace]

The thing about Enid is, I went into this show expecting her to be on the level of obnoxiously cheery as the campers in Addams Family Values, and the same level of overbearing and bitchy. But in her very first scene, she proves to be more than just a comedic foil by backing off when she sees Wednesday recoiling from her offered hug. She recognizes that Wednesday isn't comfortable with being hugged by her, and she immediately respects that.

Then she continues to be a likable contrast to Wednesday, making her disgust/disapproval for several of Wednesday's antics known, but keeping the story about her pet scorpion in confidence, backing off again and again whenever Wednesday doesn't want to hug her, and amending her statement about wanting Wednesday to cheer her team on by saying she can just glare from the shore instead. And she does tease Wednesday a little about being such a weirdo, but never with any malice.

Each little act of acceptance toward Wednesday's oddities makes Enid a character that grows on you at the same time she's growing on Wednesday. Because although she does get Wednesday out of her comfort zone, she also puts in effort to make Wednesday more comfortable in a new and strange setting.

The matching snoods is a really fun example of how she does both simultaneously, because it's definitely NOT something Wednesday is into, but Enid had the consideration to make Wednesday's black and not pink like hers. And as much as Wednesday finds the whole idea embarrassing, she can't openly mock it to Enid's face because she knows her heart's in the right place, and she is genuinely a great friend whom she doesn't want to hurt.

Wednesday is constantly pushed into doing things she doesn't want to do, kept at a place where she doesn't want to be, and bombarded with advances she doesn't want to be bothered with, and Enid is the first person to let her choose what she wants to do. They're like straight up the story of the girl who turns into a cat and runs away from all her potential suitors except for the one who never tries to catch her, and that's a big part of what makes the scene where they finally do hug so great; because Enid has become someone who is so important to her that Wednesday hugs her because now she actually wants to.

[hanichani]

Of cats and men

Pairing: lee know x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: min loves his cats (and maybe he also tolerates you)

Warnings: min being a meanie but what else is new

Word count: 674

a/n: very short so I usually wouldn't name it but I thought of cats and men was so cute... yk, get it? of cats and men? like of mice and men? okay, anyways

you’re sitting on your couch with dori sleeping in your lap when the door opens. your favorite boy in the whole world walks through and starts taking his shoes off. he crouches down to say hi to his two little fur angels who immediately ran up to him to greet him. you can hear soft purring from the door and you’re not sure if it’s the cats or their owner.

“where’s your brother, hm?” he says while getting up from the cats and walking further into the apartment.

“is that all you care about? what about me?” you whine from the couch, turning your head around to look at the man who just appeared in the living room.

“hi baby.” he coos and walks closer to you.

“hi.” you say back with a smile, happy that he acknowledged you. but then he fires back.

“i was talking to dori.” he picks the cat up from your lap and plops down next to you, petting dori’s head. you stare at him with a frown on your face which he soon notices when he finally looks up from the cat.

“okay, hi to you too” he rolls his eyes, the hand that’s not petting dori reaching for your own. but you’re not satisfied with this and he can see that.

“okay fine,” he groans “hi to you too baby.”

you smile and squeeze his hand, happy that you got what you wanted.

or when it’s the middle of the night and his fur babies decide to bother you both

you were sound asleep before a paw landed on your face. opening your eyes, you saw a ginger cat nestling in the crook of your neck while the brown one was happily kneading at your face. you sighed and turned over to look at minho who was peacefully sleeping, no cats attacking his body lovingly. he looked so cute when asleep, you weren’t going to wake him for this.

“get off dori.” you grabbed the brown cat and placed it on the floor next to your bed, doing the same to soonie after. why couldn’t they be like their brother who was quietly sleeping in the corner of the room.

you thought you had won but a few minutes later the fur babies were back causing you to groan.

“leeeaaave, let me sleep.” you whined while turning to your side, causing the cats to adjust around your body.

“why don’t you leave, they’re just trying to sleep as well.” the boy next to you mumbled in his half asleep form. he pulled soonie who was closer to him to his body, cuddling with the cat. you were irritated at this point and sleeping on the couch seemed like the lesser of two evils. so, you sat up in the bed, ready to move to the living room but a hand grabbed your wrist.

“what, you wanted me to leave. im leaving.” you said, trying to get out of his hold.

but even in his sleepy form, minho managed to pull you down onto the bed. he pulled your body close, causing soonie to run away from him.

“don’t be a dummy.” he said, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms around your torso.

“i love you.” he whispered after a moment of silence. squeezing you closer to him.

when you didn’t respond, his fingers pinched the skin on your waist causing you to yelp and scare off the cats who were now running out of the bedroom.

“say it back.” he mumbled into your skin, pressing a small kiss there after.

“I thought you were talking to the cats.” you groan, your hands going to his hair to play with it.

you hear a small tsk from him and then feel another kiss on your skin.

“i love you.” you whisper back and it’s now you placing a kiss to his skin, more specifically his forehead.

great, so now you were stuck with a human sized cat wrapped around you instead.

[gimmeurtmi]

stray kids and… things they only share with you.

tags: ot8, established relationships, fluff

warnings: swearing, lowkey angst for han, i don’t actually know the gender of min’s cats okay, idk if there’s anything else?

notes: this is my first time doing an ot8 thing so feedback is appreciated <3 also idk if they’re the same length i just wrote lol

chan… headphones

you’re on chan’s bed, a book in hand as you read while chan works. quality time is very important to you, even if he is observed in his work and doesn’t say much while you’re reading.

every now and again he’ll get up for a drink and silently put one by your side, too. when he’s done something he’s specifically proud of he’ll let out a giggle and maybe clap his hands, instinctively turning to you with a smile even if he doesn’t stop to explain what made him happy.

if you’re feeling a little more touchy that day, he’ll happily let you wrap your arms around his shoulder as his focus remains on his work. he’ll let you pepper kisses on his cheek, blushing lightly, before you get bored and go back to your own work.

when he’s done making something he really likes he turns to you with a grin.

“mate,” he says, face beaming. “mate!”

“come on,” you say, marking your place in your book before putting it aside. you extended your hand to him, and he grabs the headphones he’s been using and hands them to you.

you place them securely on your head and nod at him, ready to listen. chan plays the track for you, finally resting his head on your shoulder.

he wraps his hand around your bicep, closing his eyes softly as he picks up the very faint sound of the track playing through the headphones.

when it’s done you smile down at him, ready to praise him, but his mouth is open—soft breathes leaving his lips, and so you know he’s asleep.

instead you connect the headphones to your spotify and listen to a podcast while you rest your eyes. you don’t dare move, just in case chan might wake up from the disruption.

you know he might scold you for not waking him up, but it’s almost three am—and by what you’ve just listened to it’s safe to say he finished the track, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t be allowed to sleep after his hard work.

you let yourself fall asleep as well once the podcast you’ve been listening to is over, carefully putting the headphones to the side as you know how important they are to chan.

the first time he let you use them you gasped, but he insisted since you left your pair at home and wanted to listen to music while studying without bothering chan’s concentration.

“i have a lot of pairs anyway,” he said calmly, “borrow them whenever you need.”

minho… cat snacks

you both sit on the floor of his parents’ house, full from the dinner minho cooked for you and his family. you were talking about your new neighbour who you swore had a pet wolf. minho kept saying it isn’t a wolf, that he even spoke to the man and it’s just a cross breed.

you insist it’s a wolf.

his father sides with him, saying that would have to be illegal, but before you can offer your argumatives points, dori walks over to you, sits in your lap, and starts meowing loudly.

“he really is just like you,” you say to minho. he cocks his head to the side. “he wants something so he comes to me and starts making noise.”

“he’s hungry,” minho explains, rolling his eyes at your comment.

he gets up and grabs three snack packs, handing you one before he calls the other two over for some dinner.

from the corner of your eye you can see minho’s mum staring at you, in complete shock—but you try not to get too paranoid about it. you know she likes you, minho promised she likes you.

you instead focus on the cat in your lap, now meowing even louder once the snack came into view. you quickly open it and offer it up, giggling at the way he eagerly starts licking at the food.

when you glance over at minho you freeze, noticing the tension in the air.

“am i doing it wrong?” you whisper, as if dori might judge you for that question.

he shakes his head slowly but doesn’t say anything else. his mum quickly brings up another subject, asking you all about that incident at work you mentioned on your last visit.

minho helps them clear the last of the plates and cups that are left, insisting you sit down even after you offered to help three times.

soonie approaches you slowly before sitting down right on top of your phone.

you start talking to her, explaining the logic behind her actions, and she then shows you her stomach. you instantly start scratching it, knowing if she’s anything like her big brother she’ll start rioting if she doesn’t get the attention she wants.

after a few minutes of cooing at the cat you feel someone sitting down next to you, a pair of big hands wrapping around your waist, minho placing his chin on your shoulder.

“my mum just told me off,” he says, and you can hear the grin on his face.

“what did you do?”

“apparently i have never in all my life let anyone else feed the cats with me.”

“she was looking at me weird,” you mumble, “didn’t think it would be over something so simple.”

“you know the cats mean the world to me, right?” he looks at you, brows knitted together. now he’s looking at you weird—and it doesn’t help that they have the same confused face.

“yes, they’re your lockscreen and i’m not.”

“not this again,” minho sighs, but you simply grin at him.

“what’s your point?”

“i didn’t notice i do that, nor did i notice i gave you one of the snacks to feed them with,” is all his explanation. you manage to fill in the blanks yourself—knowing minho would never say it if it’s as painfully honest as you think it is.

you kiss his lips softly. “thank you for trusting me with your world.”

he nods, satisfied you understood him. like you always do.

changbin… phone

“hey, can you text the boys for me? tell felix we’ll be there in a second,” changbin says, handing you his phone as he keeps his eyes focused on the road.

“password?” you ask, trying to angle the phone towards his face until you remember it’s an android and it doesn’t even have face recognition.

“your birthday,” he says simply.

“simp,” you giggle, trying and failing to bite back your smile. changbin pays no mind to your comment, deciding being a simp for you is much better than ever letting you down—so he’ll accept that name proudly.

you text felix the details and put the phone back in the cup holder, focusing instead on the next song on changbin’s playlist.

“hey, can you order the food? i’m just gonna shower,” changbin asks as you enter the dorm. he came to pick you up right after his gym session, and while he didn’t want to see you while he was all sweaty he also didn’t want to make you wait any longer, so he still needs a shower.

you don’t have to ask for the passcode this time, easily keying in your birthday before ordering the food you talked about on your way home.

you notice he has solitaire on his phone, and while that might not be the most appealing game in the world you’re also extremely bored. you know you shouldn’t use his phone for anything other than what he’s asked you to, so you knock on the shower door quickly.

“binnie, can i play on your phone until the food’s ready?”

“of course, sweetheart!” he yells back.

you smile to yourself before plopping down on the couch and starting a new game.

the boys spent approximately forty five minutes taking pictures while all of you went to the han river for a picnic. it’s alright though, because they also took pictures of you with your boyfriend, and of you alone, so it’s not like you were excluded from the vanity game.

once the sun disappeared and the weather turned cooler you went back to the dorm to finish the rest of the food.

they were all looking over the pictures, deciding which was the best one to upload.

“who took the picture of me with the watermelon?” minho asks enthusiastically.

“binnie did,” you respond, as you spend your time focusing on the delicious cake felix made.

minho whines, considering changbin was taking one of his food naps at the moment and couldn’t show him the pictures.

you grab his phone from where he placed it down on the table and enter his gallery—handing the phone over to minho so he can look over the pictures.

he simply gasps at you.

“you know his passcode?”

you lock the phone again, showing minho that it was your thumb print that can unlock it.

“wow,” chan chuckles.

you don’t pay much attention to them though, far more invested in the cake, and so you get back to eating it while minho sends himself all the pictures off changbin’s phone.

hyunjin… jewellery

it starts flirtatious, like most things are with you and hyunjin. you’re playing with his hand, fiddling with his fingers, drawing circles on his wrist. you grab the ring on his finger and pull it off before placing it on the finger next to it. and then the finger next to it. you play this game for a few more minutes, hyunjin’s eyes practically turned into two hearts as he took in the amusement on your face. as he giggles, he grabs the ring from you and you pout—sad for the game to be over. but it isn’t, as the roles are now reversed, hyunjin moving the ring from finger to finger.

it’s then the waitress approaches your table, albeit hestitanly, and asks for your orders.

the ring stays on your hand all night.

“it suits you,” hyunjin says when you try and give it back.

“beautiful, can i have my ring?” he asks as he steps out of the shower a few days later. he has an event tonight, some important people he needs to meet, and he wants to look his best. jewellery is important for that.

“yeah, of course,” you don’t even hesitate. it was his ring to begin with, and he never officially gifted it as yours to keep. you were just looking after it for a bit.

when hyunjin gets back from paris he has a lot of gifts with him—all ysl branded and expensive. he shows off the clothes and the perfume and tells you all about the luxurious evenings him and felix enjoyed. of course, he sent you pictures as most of the events were taking place in front of him, but you enjoy his story telling even more when he’s right in front of you.

when he shows you the necklace he got you gasp, turning it over in your hand.

“it’s so pretty!” you gush. “that’ll look beautiful with a low neckline dress.”

“never wore a dress before,” his eyes twinkle at you.

you laugh at him and roll your eyes before handing the necklace back to him.

“you can wear it for that fancy meal we’re going to next week?” he offers simply.

you shake your head; not wanting to come off greedy. it was beautiful, and it must’ve been extremely expensive, and you already felt guilty for that comment you made. as if you’d just be allowed to wear it.

“i can’t take that, it was a gift from a brand partner. what will they say?”

“you’re not taking it,” hyunjin says simply, and you’re surprised by how quickly he’s giving up. “it’s a lend. you’ll wear it for that night and then give it back. and when you wanna wear it again just ask.”

“but i—“

he places his finger on your lips before pecking them softly, concluding the conversation for now.

jisung… demos

“baby! baby! baby! baby!” your boyfriend jumps in his seat as you answer the facetime call. sometimes you wonder where his energy supply comes from because it can’t possibly be natural.

it’s ten at night.

“hey, ji,” you smile at him. his energy is infectious, and the best thing to see after a long day of work.

“baby! i wrote the best song!” he smiles at you, his cheeks scrunched together as his face shines proudly.

“let’s hear it,” you ask, quickly grabbing your headphones so you could listen carefully.

he places the phone down against his water bottle, changing the view slightly.

his hair is hiding beneath a beanie, probably because he couldn’t be bothered to tame it, and his laptop is right in front of him.

other than that you can’t see much considering there’s only a small lamp illuminating the room, pointing only at the desk. there’s pieces of paper crumbled by the laptop—unwanted lyrics, you suppose.

“it doesn’t have a name yet,” he introduces, “and i might give it to the company because i’m not sure if the vibe is right for us. i think it could be right maybe if chan rearranges it a bit, but i don’t think it needs any change at all. maybe? maybe if felix sings the bridge then—“

“—hey! j.one!” he looks over at you, eyes wide and mouth in a small circle. “just play the song and then we can discuss it?”

he nods at you, sitting back in his chair and pressing play on his program.

the track starts playing loudly on the speakers around him. it’s slightly choppy, not the best quality to hear a song for the first time through a phone like this, but jisung is extremely impatient. he wanted you to hear the song right away, quite literally as soon as he finished recording the last part of it. so you didn’t mind straining slightly to try and catch all the lyrics.

jisung bops his head along to the beat, his face extremely serious as he listens back carefully.

you assume it’s only his second or third time hearing it back in completion since he doesn’t even monitor your reactions like he sometimes does—instead he’s taking notes.

you know his favourite part is coming up when his hand lifts into the air, dropping in time with the beat before the chorus plays again.

his eyebrows are scrunched together as a much faster rap verse starts, and you can tell he’s monitoring the cadence, even if it is just a demo track and he will most definitely re-record the vocals once he decides what to do with the track.

only when the song ends does he look back at you, expectedly, eyebrows high on his nervous face.

you clap your hands, nodding at him.

“nah, say what you actually think!” he all but scolds you.

“i think it deserved applause!”

he sends you a look before you go into more detail. what you thought of the beat, and the pace, and the sound, and the vibe. you aren’t professionally involved in music, you only know the words jisung taught you, but he still insists your opinion is more important than chan’s to him. you tell him that flattery isn’t useful in this situation, nor do you believe its true, but he stands by it.

“but the lyrics,” you start, and jisung’s eyes frown at your tone. “they’re incredibly moving, ji, but they’re so sad.”

“yeah,” he just nods, no longer looking at you.

“the beat doesn’t match how sad it is,” you comment, trying to disguise your worries as a simple criticism of the work.

“that’s on purpose though,” he says quickly, “i think it’s so sad that if the music matched it would be too much. plus, the feeling i’m talking about is acting like everything is normal, so a quick beat matches perfectly.”

you nod. “and why are you acting like everything is normal?”

jisung sighs, before he answers your question with a completely different one. “do you think i should give the song to someone else?”

“no,” you say, “felix would suit the bridge. and an emotional song is always best when it’s sang by someone that can relate.”

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” he says, knowing where you’re trying to take the conversation.

“and yet you called me to listen to it,” you cock your eyebrows up.

jisung rests his head against the chair for a moment, looking up as he thinks over his next words carefully. then he tells you all about it—the inspiration behind another one of his sad songs. you listen carefully, humming and nodding and offering your support and your words when he asks for them.

after about an hour on the phone a warning comes up to tell you you only have 20% left.

you go to grab your charger, and the pause in conversation causes the subject to move to your day and your plans for the weekend before they circle back to the song.

you do really like it, and tell him as such, encouraging him to show it to chan and the others soon.

after you say your goodbyes, and you reassure jisung of how much you love him, you go to sleep with the beat still stuck in your head.

when you tell jisung that the next morning he decides he can’t possibly give that track to anyone else—not even his band.

the company like it so much they let him release it as one of his solo tracks—his face beaming when he tells you the news two weeks later. right before playing another new song for you.

felix… games

“no way!” you gasp as you look around felix’s room for the very first time. he has all sorts of trinkets and fairy lights and even a beautiful piece of artwork on the wall. and then there’s his computer with the huge double monitor—which looks more expensive than anything else you’ve seen in the house so far.

but by the monitor there is a glass case, and inside it is an original gameboy.

“does it still work?” you ask enthusiastically.

“of course it does,” he scoffs, “i play it all the time.”

“you play your switch all the time,” you correct him.

“and then i play a little bit of that one,” he says, “it has the first ever pokémon on it.”

“what other games do you have for it?” you ask, eyes sparkling at him.

felix pulls out a box from the shelves above his monitor and hands it to you.

you opened it quickly, picking up all the different games inside it. all the popular ones are there, as well as ones you’ve never even heard of before. you can count at least three dozen in there. there’s also games for a nintendo ds (you spot a pink one on the shelf where the box once was), at least another dozen. you sigh and hand the box back to him.

“you really are a nerd, yeah?”

felix grins at you before giving you a sloppy kiss and carefully placing the box back on the shelf.

the tour continues as felix shows you his collection of twice albums and mangas and his deadpool mask he used for a performance once.

he further proves your point when he starts telling you just how rare one of his comic books are, but you indulge him. you think nothing is more rare than the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about his nerdy stuff—as if he brought down the whole galaxy into this very room—so you give him your full attention as he speaks.

later that night, when you’re both fed and dressed in comfier clothes, him and his younger roommates start playing a game. felix only said yes because you were showering (and you said it’ll take a while because you wanted to do a hair mask) but now that you’re back he asks the boys to pause it.

“no, no, it’s fine!” you say, not wanting to get on their bad side on your first night staying over. “maybe i can play on your ds in the meantime?”

seungmin snickers to himself, but he’s so focused on the game you’re not sure it was in response to what you said.

“i saw that you had nintendogs and i can definitely entertain myself with that while you guys finish your… mission or whatever it is.”

“y/n, let me stop you right there,” jeongin smirks, eyes still focused on the screen. “no one is allowed to touch hyung’s games so—“ felix elbows his friend, but that doesn’t stop him from talking, “—we’re only allowed to use the xbox when he’s with us and because we have our own controllers.”

“i almost died once before i was made aware of that rule,” seungmin adds.

you notice felix’s cheeks have gone red, his freckles dusting over the new colour. he’s always been extremely generous to you—if it was gifts or his time or his things. but if his games were a line for him you didn’t want to cross it, nor did you mean to.

“oh, of course!” you say quickly, “i can just do something else. you guys enjoy the game!”

you move to get up but felix stops you, placing a hand on your knee before he pauses the game. luckily they weren’t in the middle of a fight or anything, so the boys don’t protest too much.

felix places a kiss on your cheek before he gets up, walks to his room, and comes back with the console in his hand.

you can see seungmin’s jaw drop.

“what?” you blink up at felix as he places the game in your hand.

“you can start a new game and name it so i’ll know it’s yours for whenever you come over,” he smiles simply, nodding at you.

“unbelievable,” jeongin mumbles.

“i guess there really is such a thing as girlfriend privilege,” seungmin shakes his head.

felix smiles at you when you power up the console, kissing your temple when you shuffle closer to him. then he gets back to the game—not letting either of his roommates comment on the situation further.

seungmin… hoodies

“no,” seungmin says simply.

jisung was stood in your hotel room, begging seungmin to let him borrow that hoodie of his, the one with the red heart on the front. according to jisung, it’s exactly what his outfit is missing.

“what about that hoodie you wore yesterday?”

“no, the heart is what makes it because i’m gonna wear a red bandana and—“

“—so you’re stealing minnie’s whole fashion sense?” you chime in. seungmin smirks proudly at his friend as he raises his eyebrows.

“no, uh, i just wanna try something different,” jisung defends.

“if i may,” you try, offering your own fashion advice. jisung had a very nice cardigan with a hint of red in it, and you reminded him of that. he thought it over.

“a hoodie would be warmer though,” he tries again, flashing your boyfriend the best puppy eyes he could master.

“sorry, hyung,” seungmin shakes his head, “y/n already called that hoodie for tonight.”

jisung looks over at you, eyes wide.

“you couldn’t have said that earlier? i’ve been stood here wasting my time!” he rants some more as he leaves the room, letting the whole floor know about his inconsiderate friend that won’t let him live his fashion life to the fullest.

you laugh as his voice dies down slowly.

“so now i gotta find an outfit that works with that hoodie i guess?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

you did not call that hoodie for tonight at all actually, but if that was seungmin’s only excuse, you didn’t want to contradict him in front of his extremely stubborn friend.

“you could’ve just let him borrow it for tonight,” you try reasoning.

“nope,” seungmin pouts, “you’re the only one that should be wearing my hoodies.”

you laugh at him, wrapping your arms around him as you kiss his jaw softly.

“now i feel bad,” you tease, “i get bestowed with such an honour and i don’t even want your hoodie.”

he gasps. “you steal them all the time!”

“yeah,” you scrunch your face as you chuckle, “but now that you gave me permission i don’t want them anymore.”

“you’re so annoying,” he groans, pinching your sides. you yelp, jumping at the sensation before slapping his shoulder.

“i will wear it,” you say simply, “but only so ji doesn’t think you’re a liar.”

you walk towards the closet, where seungmin unloaded his whole suitcase into, and pick out the now infamous hoodie. you smile softly to yourself—it really is your favourite of his.

seungmin chuckles at your reaction, before sucking his teeth. “we’ll be late for dinner, come on.”

jeongin… personal space

jeongin does not like physical affection. he doesn’t do hugs or kisses or cuddles. that’s his rule.

but every rule has an exception and you’re the living proof.

when anyone else tries to touch him he squirms away, usually making a comment suitable for a spoiled child. but whenever you’re near him he does everything in his power to be closer to you.

if you’re walking down the street he’ll wrap his pinky around yours or sometimes he’ll fully grab your hand and sway your arms as you two walk.

he’ll play with your hair a lot too, always making sure to move it out the way before you start digging into your meal so it doesn’t get in your food.

if you’re watching a movie his thighs are in your lap and his arms around you. maybe he’ll even put his head on your shoulder if he’s a little sleepy that night.

and he refuses to fall asleep without his hand lazily sprawled across your body in some way or another.

the boys are definitely jealous, so they try their luck with jeongin after they see the physical affection between you two.

he still pushes them away with disproportionate disgust.

one time you were there to witness it and he fully grabbed you—using your body as a shield between him and chan’s attempted cuddles.

“no touchy!” he reminds him, grabbing onto your arms as he makes himself as small as possible to avoid chan reaching him.

“it’s not fair,” chan whines, “you let her touch you all the time!”

“channie-hyung,” jeongin pokes his head around your shoulder, ready to push you between him and his attacker at any moment if needed. “you realise it’s different when it’s you.”

“why?”

“because i love her,” he says it so simply, as if chan is silly for even needing that explanation. as if that isn’t the first time he’s said that out loud.

chan raises his eyebrows in surprise and you’re sure he’s just mirroring your shocked facial expression.

“you don’t love me?” chan reacts quickly, letting the tension die in the air as he insists he must hug jeongin now. ducking behind you, he grabs onto him and pulls him away from you. jeongin escapes from chan’s grip and they both start running around the room like absolute children until chan tackles him into a bear hug.

later that night you’re in jeongin’s bed, his hands locked behind your back as he pulls you fully on top of him.

“innie,” you start, as casually as you can, “you know if you don’t like them in your personal space you can just say that.”

“yes, i tell them all the time. no touchy.”

“i meant, you didn’t have to say that to chan just as an excuse,” you say, your finger wrapping around the string of his hoodie.

jeongin knits his brows as he looks at you.

“huh?”

“just… don’t feel like you have to lie.”

“lie? what are you talking about?”

he really doesn’t seem to remember what he said, so you swallow down the awkwardness and take a breath.

“you shouldn’t have told chan you lov—“ but before you can repeat what he said, jeongin’s eyes grow wide and his palm lands on your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else.

“i remember what i said now!” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “no, uh, no need to repeat it!”

you bite down on his palm gently, enough to get him to yelp and retreat his hand away so you can speak your mind.

“so you meant it?”

the redness on his cheek is enough of an answer, but jeongin decides to verbalise it, too. “no.”

“innie, don’t lie to me!”

he grabs you closer, practically shoving your head into his neck so you don’t see his warm face. he grunts.

“i, i didn’t, well, it’s just—“

“i love you, too.”

the grip on your waist loosens for only a moment before he squeezes you even closer to him, regardless of how your airways are coping.

[suguru-getos]

“they’ll kill you!” — “can they?”

satosugu x reader — cnc

warnings: cnc!, degradation, prone!bone, doggy, use of toys, clamps, spreader, spankings. aftercare <3 pls note that it’s not beta’d there might be typos xx 💋

you were tired as you returned from work, footsteps dragging across from the stairs to finally reach the bedroom of the sato-sugu estate. this was the least thrilling bit of your day, no one was home. satoru was busy with a mission & suguru was outside — doing you don’t know what. you don’t question the morality of your husband number two. you’ve learnt to let him be in his element, just like satoru.

opening the refrigerator, you found satoru’s mochi, suguru’s favorite soup & a little bit of leftovers from the morning lunch prepared by the chef. they’re also on leave & at this point you’re conflicted between using the ordering in app in your phone, or cooking something for yourself. a grunt escapes you as you weigh down the options and settle down on the marvelous wood sculpted chair of the dining table. scrolling aimlessly through the various restaurants to get something that you desire. fucking hell! why is ordering food such a daunting task! when satoru and suguru return, you’d bother them & be clingy endlessly just cause you miss their brainless bickering. satoru would be just as aimless like you, fumbling through the menu and debating on what to order… suguru would have the same thing eaten on repeat. so much so that it annoys the both of you.

speaking of — it goes without saying how many ‘enemies’ your husbands have. one is a special grade sorcerer, the other is a bloody cult leader. both of them jacked & bagged with heaps of copius amounts of money & status in their own ways. you’re their silly little wife, someone capable of becoming a sorcerer, someone who could see curses and cursed spirits, yet choosing a life like nanami kento. a life away from the wretched world of sorcery.

a thud, takes your attention away from your phone a bit. who could it be? there are cats in the estate which are regularly fed, it could be your son (your cat that you and your husbands cherish equally). you roll your eyes and go back to checking the menu. fuck this, if you don’t have any ideas on what to order, you will order some spicy cheesy ramen & get go with your day.

after placing the order, you dragged yourself to the bathroom to take a shower, it would be better before bed after all, sleeping in plush clean pillows and letting your body heat come down as the cold water would drench your worries away.

your phone vibrated before you could take another step to the bedroom, it was suguru, “oh hey…” you chirped, smiling over the phone. “hey darling, reached home?” he sounds cheerful, mostly when he hears your voice of course. you’ve noticed suguru talks to you in the most gentlest of ways; enough to sound patronising at times. you know its not his intention though… “yeah, just reached home. when are you n’ toru coming?” you pouted over the speaker, and he chuckled. “give me an hour or two and i’ll be right there, next to my beautiful angel. mm?” you gnaw at your lip, nodding gently, the realization coming later that he can’t really ‘see’ your response and you hummed, “yeah, come soon to me mkay?”

where were you again? ah… the shower…

the doorbell rang, your eyes instantly mingling with the lit screen of your watch as you turned your wrist. jeez, it had only been 15 minutes or so since you ordered, the food is here so soon? you checked your phone, and the order was still showing ‘preparing’ status. weird… who could it be?

you walked towards the entrance, and the knock was more powerful, almost angry sounding & impatient. “who’s there?” you raised a brow, sighing a little to gather your patience and also your wits.

no answer…

then, the door was knocked off the hinges, you shrieked almost, walking backwards and pupils moving in fear. what was even happening? there were two men, one of them had bangs and the other white haired and scary looking. he smirked, walking closer to you and holding your face instantly, squeezing your cheeks into a forced pucker. “dumb little thing can’t even open a door? jeez?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

the dude with bangs held his shoulder, a knowing, close-eyed smile. “leave it be, she must be their weakling of a wife, gojo.”

he nodded, “weakling indeed, look at how she’s cowering.” he chuckled, leaning in and licking a fat strip of your neck, from your collarbone to your ear. you wince, struggling and trying hard to push him away. “SWOP IT!” you whined, the grip on your cheek turning harder and making it difficult to sound coherent.

“swop it!” gojo mimicks you, pushing you a little as he lets you go. “ we were here to steal the cursed tools but we might as well do some cursed thingys, no?” he snickered, and you shake your head, nauseated as your heart raced and you leaned back, unlucky enough to be stopped by a wall.

“m-my husbands- will be home soon… if you really care about your lives then leave!” you sounded as intimidating as possible, trying so hard to evade the bone crushing anxiety that the two powerful men were giving. “of course, we’d be gone by then.” the man with bangs replied, ignoring you and looking around. “nice house, your husbands don’t care about you enough it seems, why else would they leave their little wife alone in such a looming, large place?”

“shut up! even if you leave they’d hunt you down and they’d find you! suguru can deploy curses that are exceptional in hunting people down.” you only have your husbands and their skills to protect you right now. “did you hear that geto? she’s so mouthy and has such an attitude, damn!”

“about time we show her the world isn’t a good place… also, with a body like that? she’s practically asking for it.” the black haired man — geto, chuckled, rolling his eyes and walking closer.

your mind was hazy by now, and all you could see was the corridor to make a run to. you do exactly that, and how stupid— it took gojo exactly four steps to catch up to you by your hair and chuckle at your screaming. “let me go! let me go!” you winced, letting your feet dragged back to the couch. “would be fun to ruin her at this point.” geto hums, crossing his arms & smirking at the way you shake your head no, pleading almost.

“in the same bed her bastard husbands make sweet sweet love to her.” gojo chuckles, “aww, don’t look at us like thaatt? i’m sure they would understand that boobs like that would get ya into trouble.” gojo winked, smirking.

“ass, too.” geto added, smirking gently.

“piss off and die, rot in hell and fucking die!” you snarled, tearing up at the way they talked about you. “can’t handle them mouthy tell ya that.” gojo sounded almost feigning apologetic, bringing out a handkerchief out from his pocket and holding both ends diagonally.

you were about to be gagged, terror seeped through your eyes as you shook your head. but geto was faster, immediately hindering all your resistance by keeping you locked. his hands quickly wrapping around your wrist and holding it behind your back, his legs wrapping around yours, spreading your thighs apart vulnerably.

"aw good one!" gojo comments, smirking and walking closer. "stop it, stop it right now!" you screeched, using your last chance to speak anything at all. gojo came closer, tying the handkerchief across the parting of your lips. only incoherent struggles and whines could escape you now.

"there we go, perfect little muzzled bitch." gojo chuckled, and you teared up at that statement, it was humiliating to have two men out here, having their way with you in the absence of your husbands. you hated the way it made you feel, how the proximity with geto was making your pelvis warm, and your insides... warm.

"she's crying... stop being so mean. maybe we can call satoru to help her? maybe he can coax and coddle her while we ruin her?" you widened your eyes at that insinuation, shaking your head no and muffled groans escaping you.

gojo chuckled, "aw, she wouldn't want that? why? scared they'd abandon you cause your insides changed shape to our cocks?" he smirked, "no worries sweetheart, we could hire you as our personal cocksleeve."

you glared at the man, not saying anything and saliva dribbling down your chin. "only if she's a good cocksleeve though" geto hums, shrugging. "don't get the special treatment if you're not good enough. or not tight enough."

"time to check!" gojo rubs his palms together, walking closer with eyes fucking you already. his hands are quick to rip off any clothing off of you, your cunt and your tits exposed to the two strangers and the cool air of the mansion.

it felt humiliating, all bare in front of two merciless, wolf like men who only want to ruin you. "would teach those two a lesson too, no?" geto mused and gojo nodded, "yeah, think they own the fuckin' world? now what? your wife knocked up by two strangers.."

"ruined, by two strangers." geto corrected gojo.

"ahhng- nn" you tried to manage to speak, unable to say anything coherent at all. only wiggling in resistance. you stop once you feel geto's semi nudge your ass though. this could do more harm than good.

"oh god she's grindin' already?" gojo smirked, walking closer and crossing his arms. "let's take her to the bedroom." they nodded, reaching that decision fast enough. when geto relents his hold on you, you're quick to hit his jaw with your head, feet landing aiming right at gojo's crotch. he holds your ankle and geto laughs, "couldn't even give me a nose-bleed, little one?"

you're the most terror-struck as you've ever been. you fucked up. pupils moving and heart racing. no way these two would let your silly little stunt go.

"she needs proper taming i'm telling you. like literally..." gojo laughs, almost looking impressed. "bend her over the couch."

"actually, i have a better plan" suguru muses, while your heart only gives out at the prospect of them discussing what to do with you. you hate how it's making you feel down there, and pretty sure they'd see that soon when your body betrays you.

gojo and geto only knowingly smile at each other, as if they were easily able to read the other's mind and they stride towards the bedroom. once you're placed on bed, this time gojo forces you on all fours, ignoring your whines and hand gripping your nape as he nails you to the bed. geto seems to be searching for toys you and your husbands indulge in from time to time.

he lets out an "aha!" when he finds them, smirking and taking out the clamps, the cuffs, the spreader, and the vibrator. your hands are cuffed behind your back and the spreader keeps your legs from closing. you are truly under their mercy now.

"mmgh mmf" you really wish you could do something, anything about it... "is that fucking cunt wet?" gojo is quick to dehumanize you for it, laughing. "don't tell me they've been pampering a slut as their wife?" it stings, his words sting and you close your eyes in disgust, a feeble attempt at closing your legs not gone unnoticed.

"why else would she be so embarrassed?" geto smirks. attaching the clamps to your nipples with some weights. satosugu have never tried the weights and the delicious tug on your tits only makes you whine more. he flicks the weights to let it jiggle like a pendulum and you cry out at the feeling. shuddering and whimpering at how your pussy clamps around nothing because of it.

"don't think this is enough, she needs proper punishment for trying to hit us." gojo scoffed, using the clamp right at your clit after testing it on his hand. you let out a surprised shriek, struggling with all your might against it, though you realize that would only worsen the ache in your tits. your pussy oozed out in your juices and fluttered as they bit your clit just right.

geto nods, slapping the fat of your bare ass with his hand, letting his handprint break out in a single hit. they really weren't playing around. every hit after that, makes you lurch forward, and makes the clamps wiggle and makes you cry out. gojo chuckles, watching your ass bruise with the spanking now. you lost count after ten, in your head, but you feel your mind float away, it's around 18 hits or so, that geto stops, when your whines and screams turn soft and dejected. when you give up.

you're so edged but the clamp on your clit wouldn't let you cum. "look at her, finally can't resist anymore?" he smirked, and upon not receiving a response, gojo tugs at your clit-clamp's chain a little. you cry out in pain, finally letting him remove the clamps altogether.

"yeah, finally someone's learnt how to behave." he smirked, and your whines turned into wheezing when the blood flow rushed back to your tits and clit, swathing you in a coughing fit as you choke on your spit. "oh jeez, calm down..." gojo scoffed, removing the gag from your mouth and watching the imprints of it on your face.

"you okay?" he's looking sympathetic and worried, and at the first chance of getting to speak again, you snap. "you're a fucking bastard with no manliness of your own, bet you don't even have a cock half as big as satoru"

he smirked again, chuckling and rolling his eyes. "the gag goes back on it seems." he looked at geto who shrugged, "no, let her scream when she realizes we're bigger and better than her husbands." before you could resist, you could feel the spread in your cunt lips from his fingers and the splitting apart sensation of his cock inside you.

crying out at the feeling, edged beyond belief, your cunt immediately hugs him down, his hand quick to un-do your cuffs and pulling you closer, letting your back collide against his chest as he drills your poor pussy apart, rutting without a single thread of restraint.

gojo only watches your breasts jiggle and jump at every thrust, leaning in and wrapping his warm mouth around the tortured, perked bud. his tongue languidly soothes over the bite mark of the clamp and he suckles, one hand pinching and kneading your tits to ensure the blood flow is back, the other rubbing circles at your clit. he undoes your spreader finally.

you moan like a whore indeed, this feels too good, you hate how good it feels and you despise how your senses are burning at this. the knot in your pelvis snaps and you gush all over geto's cock like a needy little girl, sending him reeling down also. you shake your head, the prospect of his warmth inside your cunt only makes you hate it further, "no- no no don't cum inside NO DON'T!" you cry out, shaking your head as his palm covers your mouth, muffling any cries as he churns your pussy by tucking and thrusting his load deeper.

you gasped and cried once geto finally comes to a halt. shoving you into a prone bone. "hey i'll take over, let her husbands discover a cum cocktail inside." gojo snickers, watching your body limping after the first orgasm as his cock shoves inside you easily, pistoning like a needy dog in a rut. the thrusts are powerful enough to feel like spanks of their own, and you only moan and whimper crudely; gritting your jaw at how amazing it feels and crumpling the mattress into your fists. this should not feel good... this should not feel this good. you're a cheater... your husbands would hate you.

"say what if they knew you had no problem cumming on our cocks?" geto chuckled watching you glance up at him teary eyed. "i hate this, i don't- AH" your sentences are reduced to moans already, and he chuckles.

the force on your tummy with the mattress nudged against it, and gojo's precise thrusts makes you twitch again. "uh uh... she's clamping again." he smirked at geto, "couldn't ask for permission from me, make sure she knows how to behave well now."

“we’ll just spank her swollen little clit this time around then” gojo smirked, and you widened your eyes in fear. your husbands long established that you only like it in a certain degree. these strangers knew nothing about you. you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “no- no- stop it.” before long, you we’re trying your best to squirm away from him, only getting locked in a headlock though, when gojo’s hand wrapped around your neck, arching your back.

“then ask for permission…” he laughs, only rutting deeper and more spitefully. your eyes are losing focus and you can sense your pelvis tightening, the familiar knot in your gut was about to snap again. “would rather fucking die!” you managed to put up a fight again, though your body betrays you again & you’re tipping off the edge. gojo’s timed thrusts against your gspot made you squirt a little. absolutely humiliating…

“oh oh not only did she came she fuckin’ squirted on another man’s cock? do you wanna be our hired cocksleeve that bad?” he muses, filling you up with his seed, his jaw muscles are tightened at the way your pussy takes him… while, you’re getting light headed with the headlock & the orgasm, eyes losing focus and mouth agape.

before your mind could register anything else, geto has you manhandled, holding your legs apart by hooking his arms under your knees and then holding your wrists as he gravely whispered, “told you to ask for permission, brat.”

“n- no no- no no no no no please please” you’re shaking your head, thrown off your post orgasm bliss instantly and shuddering, “no please please…”

“no please- please…” gojo mocks, slapping across your swollen cunt instantly. you cry out and wince, tearing up once again & reducing to weak sniffling. “no- no-” you resist and cry out.

he raises his hand again, feigning another hit and observing you flinch, close your eyes and look to the side, bracing. you look up when he doesn’t hit though…

“give me another orgasm on my cock since you’re so eager.” he hums, and your mind has just about had it. your body has had quite a ride filled with different emotions & a squirting orgasm. you shake your head no, biting my lip. “no.” you looked at gojo, and he raises a brow, “no?”

“no” you pouted, sniffling a little. “my husbands are coming soon, gonna kick your ass. they’ll kill you.”

“would they?” suguru hums, relenting his grip on your feet and your body, craddling you closer to him and leaning you against his chest, peppering your face with soft, tender kisses. you sniffle & nodded, “mm~ yeah…”

satoru sighs, pouting, “you okay? princess?” he’s shaking a little, hoping you don’t end up hating him. “you’re okay?” he asks again, pouty and looking like a kicked puppy. “i was so mouthy wasn’t i?” he’s about to spiral. “no it was so fun.” you snicker, looking at him with a huge grin. a huge wave of relief washes over his face as he pulls you from suguru, holding you plush and kissing all over your face, your lips, passionately running his hands through your hair.

“good girl, gosh you handled it so well.” he muses, suguru humming, kissing satoru’s forehead and yours. “my angel, you were so good you know that? we didn’t mean anything we said, you know that right?” he soothes over your ass. you nodded, “mm~ yeah, i know daddy.” you coo, kissing his cheek.

“good, good… fuck- never again!” satoru scoffs, pouting big and harsh. “i know he’d say that.” you chuckled and looked at suguru, who nodded, tight lipped. “uh… i second that.”

you nodded, you knew both of them were indulging only because you read a fanfiction of one of your favorite characters and wanted to try. “fine, fine… i’m the one who should behaved traumatized!” you chuckled, and they pout together.

“oh please i was about to break character so many times, i knew you would kick my ass so i didn’t.” suguru hums, nuzzling his nose against you. “OH YEAH SAME!” satoru dramatically yells, “when she coughed i was about to lose it oh gods no-”

“let’s take a shower…” you coax their conversation, kissing both their foreheads.

“alright…”

“i love you both.” you mumbled, loopy and so subby.

“we love you too!” they hummed together, kissing your cheek.

[carmyboobear]

okay but i can't stop thinking about carmy just watching the reader do yoga or pilates, in a cute workout set, he'd go crazy just watching their body move

but he wouldn'y really see it as something very serious (as people tend to do until they try this sort of exercise and realize it's actually quite difficult), until one evening when he'd join them on the mat after complaining about back or shoulder pain all night, and the reader would show him some stretches and he'd be like WOAH I can RELAX my INSANELY TENSE body? I can feel BETTER? I don't have to be constantly in pain? This is some magic! and surely would reward the reader for helping him out

EHEHE YEAHHH the workout set does a lot for me… and for carmy <3 also it goes without saying but this is🔞, suggestive at the end

They’d set up in front of the tv, yoga mat splayed out and table pushed aside. This is the sight Carmy wakes up to, groggy and lonely without waking up beside them.

“G’morning, sleepy bear.” They greet him brightly, before leaning their head down to stretch. Downward dog, the workout video announces.

“Mornin’, baby,” he yawns back. He sits down on the couch behind them. He indulgently gazes at their legs, wrapped tightly in leggings, following the line up to the curve of their ass. “Y’look cute in that. Is it new?”

“Thanks,” they chirp, turning their upside down head to look at him. “Yeah, they’re new. You like?”

“Quite a bit,” he admits, not bothering to hide the way he’s looking at their ass, and they exhale a breathy laugh.

“Maybe if you do some of this with me, I’ll let you take them off of me,” they offer, grinning shamelessly at him. Cats pose to cows pose, the video instructs, and they’re on their knees, arching their back and sticking out their ass. Surely them wiggling their hips around isn’t part of the video.

Carmy is a simple man. He takes their extra yoga mat and immediately starts following the video alongside them.

“This video isn’t the most beginner friendly,” they’d comment after watching Carmy struggle to keep up. He’s fallen onto the mat, staring up at the ceiling with a grimace.

“It’s a lot harder than it looks,” he mumbles, and they nod. They’re seated next to him, looking down into his eyes.

“I know, right? Here, let me show you some easier stretches. It’ll help your back some, too.”

Sure enough, a couple stretches later, Carmy feels like a new man. He didn’t even realize how tense he was until he got to unraveling some of the tension knotted deeply in his muscles.

“I feel incredible,” Carmy says, leaning his body up and down. They’re both are standing beside each other on their mats. “The back pain is so much more manageable.”

“Good! That means you did it right.” They clap excitedly. “Good job, carm!”

“You’re the one who did a good job, teaching me all this.” He pulls them in with his arms and starts kissing their cheeks over and over, making them burst into delighted laughter. “Lemme make it up to you. That offer still standing?”

“Hm? What do you—oh,” they gasp, stilling at Carmy’s fingers playing with the edge of their waistband. “Yeah, offer’s still up…”

“Good to know.” Instead of shoving his hand down their leggings, he roughly drags two fingers up their clothed pussy, pressing and rubbing at their clit. They make a low noise, legs tensing from his touch. “Might take a while for me to get these off.”

[leossmoonn]

Hey, I don't know if you do Clapton Davis fics. But can you do one about one of the girls at school that makes it look like Clapton Is cheating on the reader and theh break up and then he does everything to get her back? They end up back together in the end ofc :D

Btw I love your writings 💕💕💕

thank you! full disclosure… i haven’t watched detention yet, but ive read a lot of clapton fics and i feel like his character is pretty understandable and simple (aka loser, lover boy). if this isn’t correct then ill just have to watch detention 😭

includes - reader is fem, mentions of sex (this was actually so painful to write bruh. it gave me relationship flashbacks ). there’s like so much mentions of murder idk why, gets kinda frisky at the end (nothing major). not edited.

————

“that calc exam was brutal,” your friend zoey groans.

you nod in agreement. “even with the extra study sessions peterson offered, i felt like i didn’t know anything on the test.”

“why do teachers do that?” zoey frowns. “it’s like they’re trying to make us fail.”

“they probably are,” you remark. you both turn the corner, your gaze falling to your shoes as you rethink every math problem you just did, hoping they were right. you don’t look up until zoey gasps. you barely are able to lift your head up when she grabs your arm, spinning your around in the direction you just came from.

“what are you doing?” you hiss. “trust me, you don’t want to look,” zoey says. you frown, “what happened? is someone like, pissing in the hallway?”

zoey laughs awkwardly. “not this time.”

“well, then it can’t be that bad.” you twist your arm out of her grip, walking back.

“stop!” zoey warns you, but it’s too late. your jaw drops at first glance. once your eyes settle on the situation, your heart sinks to your chest and you suddenly feel nauseous. right in front of you is your boyfriend, clapton, and the most popular girl in school, taylor fisher. she has him trapped up against a locker, pressing herself against him. they aren’t kissing, but if they both leaned in then they could. she looks like a predator zoning in on her prey. worst thing is that clapton doesn’t even look bothered. he doesn’t look uncomfortable. he’s smiling and laughing. he’s looking at her like he wants to fuck her.

zoey stands next to you, a sorry expression on her face. “i’m so sorry,” she whispers.

you swallow hard, feeling like there’s glass in your throat. the bridge of your nose burns and you feel droplets of water run down your face. the worst thing is about this is that he hasn’t even noticed you standing there yet.

“let’s get you out of here,” zoey says, grabbing your hand. you’re about to go with her when taylor’s hand touches his chest. he doesn’t push her away. he doesn’t grimace in disgust. he does nothing. taylor and clapton spots you a few seconds later. his eyes widen, like he just got caught committing a crime. to you, it feels like he did.

“look what the cat dragged in,” taylor grins maliciously.

zoey can’t help but roll her eyes. “that’s rich of you to say.”

“baby,” clapton says, sounding helpless. “don’t.” you say, clenching your jaw and fists. it’s now when he pushes taylor away, walking towards you. you shake your head. “we are done.”

you turn to zoey. “get me out of here?” she nods enthusiastically, gently grabbing your hand and leading you out the exit.

she takes you back to her house. you’re silent the whole way there and silent about the whole time you’re at her house. she puts on one of your favorite movies in hopes to cheer you up. but you just sit on her couch taking deep, shaky breathes. she pauses the movie with a quarter left, turning to you.

“you shouldn’t keep this all in, you know.”

you nod, acknowledge her words. you still don’t say anything. you’re afraid if you speak you’ll start sobbing. zoey places her hand on your knee.

“i don’t want to force you to say anything, but i’m here for you.”

“i know,” you say, your voice coming out like a croak. “are you hungry? i can make us some ramen,” zoey suggests.

you shake your head. you haven’t eaten since lunch, which was about six hours ago. but you have no appetite.

“how about some crackers? i have saltines,” she says.

“i’m okay,” you say.

“how about some water? or some soda?”

you think for a moment, slowly nodding. “okay. i’ll have water.” you only agree to a drink because you know zoey will something for you anyway. she gets up and goes to her fridge. she returns with a glass of water and some crackers with m&ms.

“zoey,” you frown. “you don’t have to eat these at all,” she says. “but if you end up wanting something, these are here for you. and you know you can have anything else you want while you’re here.”

you start crying now. you open your mouth to thank her, but it comes out in a sob. she rushes to hug you, holding you as you cry into her shirt. you pull away after a good 15 minutes of crying. zoey gives you some tissues and you blow your nose.

“out of every guy at school, she had to choose him? 90% of the guys at school are single, and he had to choose my guy?” you scoff.

zoey nods and pats your arm comfortingly.

“b-but he’s not my guy anymore,” you sob. your whole chest hurts as you cry. it feels tight and like you can’t breathe. your heart feels like it’s physically breaking. it feels like clapton took your heart out of your body and he and taylor smashed it all up with sledgehammers.

“taylor is a bitch, and not the one that she refers to herself as.”

“yeah, she is,” you nod. “she’s a disrespectful, evil, pretty, popular bitch,” you start to wail.

“just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean you aren’t either. don’t compare yourself like that.”

you snuffle, wiping your nose roughly. “and clapton — ugh! i let clapton-fucking-davis play me. that dumb, little, attention-seeking twerp! all he has to do it push her away and say no. he can’t do that because as soon as a girl gets close to him, he starts thinking with his dick!”

“boys are dumb,” zoey confirms. “yeah,” you nod. your crying comes to a stop and you look at zoey with a self-pitying expression. “i liked him a lot. i let him meet my parents. i’ve snuck him into my house. he’s made cookies with my mom and talked to my dad about cars. i… i thought he liked me.”

“he’s in love with you,” zoey says. you shake your head and laugh sourly. “no, he’s not. he likes the attention i give him. he likes the fact that because of me, he sees boobs and has sex. he likes the fact that he can call me his girlfriend.”

“well, i find it hard to believe that you don’t like all the superficial things he does for you. don’t tell me you forgot that you literally called me while he was still in your house, after had just given you, and i quote from you, “the best night of sex i will ever have”. you also love his muscles and his abs and the way he looks at you when you’re naked and when you’re all dressed.”

“yeah, but,” you huff. “i didn’t let a guy talk me up and basically grind up against him in the hallway.”

“you’re right,” she nods. “you are totally right. and i’m not saying to forgive him at all. in fact, don’t. i’m just… i do think that he’s in love with you. and he just made a terrible mistake.”

“i don’t want to forgive him,” you frown. “like i said, you don’t have to. i just hate to hear you talk so bad about yourself. you are a catch and you have your whole life to find the guy of your dreams!” zoey exclaims.

“what if i wanted him to be that?” you ask. she sighs, “if it’s meant to be, then it will be.”

the next day you feel like shit. you can only manage to drink half a cup of coffee and a piece of toast. zoey picks you up for school and you try to request sad songs, but she declines. she sings the most annoying, happy songs to your face. she almost catches you smiling, but you frown so deep it makes you both laugh. you almost forget about the unfortunate series of events until you show up to school and see taylor walking out of her car.

“how does she always look so perfect?” you ask. “she really doesn’t. she obviously didn’t put on makeup today and that orange shirt isn’t doing her any favors,” zoey says.

you scoff and turn your head to face her. “you’re joking, right?”

“did it make you feel better?”

“a little.”

“then no, i’m not.”

you managed to avoid clapton the whole day. you ate lunch in zoey’s car, got to your classes super early, and even was able to avoid using your locker — which you hated using anyways. you started to feel better as you begin to think about all the fun things zoey has planned for you this weekend. the happiness dissipates as you see clapton standing by zoey’s car.

“oh, my god,” zoey grumbles.

he’s holding a huge pink teddy bear and a jewelry box. he smiles brightly as you approach him.

“hey! i didn’t see you today. i thought that i would —”

“save it,” you stop him. “i told you we are over. what part of that isn’t clear?”

he sighs, “i know. but then i remembered that you liked this teddy bear that you saw online, and it was there at the store! so i decided to get it for you. and i also bought these earrings that i had already got you for our anniversary, but i figured you’d like them sooner.” he opens the box. “they’re the theme of your favorite book.”

you have the fight the urge to swoon. “i’m sorry you spent your money on me, clapton. please move so we don’t run you over.”

“please,” he begs.

“please what, calpton? please listen to your sorry excuses? please listen to you ramble on for ten minutes without even talking about what happened? please wait for you to apologize? no!” you shout.

he opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him.

“you hurt me, clapton. seeing you with taylor, that hurt.”

“i know, but i can explain. we weren’t doing anything, i swear —”

“yeah, that’s what hurts! you know, i wish that you kissed her and i caught you inside of her, cause that would’ve been so much more explainable. that would’ve been so much more acceptable. but no. you just stood there letting her sweet talk you. i know you’re not used to getting noticed. you’re known as the class-clown and people sometimes rag on you, but i thought you weren’t letting that bother you anymore! you told me yourself that you don’t need anyone’s validation anymore. but that’s obviously false.”

he blinks rapidly, jaw dropping and closing a couple of times.

“you can save this stuff for the next girl. or just keep them yourself,” you say. you turn to zoey who is trying to contain her excitement. “can we go to out to eat?” you ask.

“i was just about to ask you the same thing,” zoey smiles. you try to not look at clapton as she drives away, but you can’t help it. he looks like a lost puppy that just got his heart stomped on. he kind of feels that way.

he feels terrible. this is the worst he’s ever felt in his entire life. this outdoes the time he went to six flags and threw up all the popcorn and toxic waste he ate.

“hey, honey. did she not like your gifts?” clapton’s mom asks as he shows up with full hands.

“no, she didn’t.”

she frowns and gets up from the kitchen table. “did you apologize?”

“yeah,” he nods slowly. she narrows her eyes. “why can’t you boys say sorry?”

“girls can’t say sorry either!”

“not the point,” she says. “you have been talking about this girl nonstop for the last two months. your father has said you should just ask her to marry you if you like her so much. even if she hates you now, which is understandable, you need to give her a real apology.”

“i do feel sorry! i just… what if i say sorry and tell her how i feel, and she still rejects me?”

“then she rejects you. as long as you try and learn from this, it’ll be okay.”

clapton nods in agreement, trudging up to his room and laying down on his bed. he knows he messed up bad. he never meant to hurt you. he’s never dreamed of every hurting you. he know he doesn’t have a good explanation. he can’t even explain what happened between taylor and him himself. but what he does know is that he feels absolutely nothing for taylor, and his whole heart is yours. he steal for you, lie for you, go to jail for you. he would split the world for you.

he has to let you know how he feels about you.

clapton’s at your window, throwing rocks at it. he’s been there for half an hour. at first he thought you were ignoring him, but now he just thinks you’re not home. he’s correct when he sees zoey’s car pull up in your driveway.

“oh, shit,” he mumbles. he panics and looks around him for somewhere to hide. he jumps in a bush that’s on the side of your house, hoping you don’t see him.

“that was the best crab rangoon i have ever had,” zoey groans. “i might have to go back before i go back home.”

you scoff, “being me back some!” you’re about to walk into your garage when clapton lets out a sneeze.

“did you hear that?” zoey asks. “uh, yeah,” you nod. “hello?” you call out. there’s no answer. fear seeps into your chest. “you need to take me back to your place now. someone could be plotting to kill me!”

“okay, yeah,” she nods. “should we call the police? I’m going to call the police.”

clapton jumps out the bushes, scaring both of you to death. you both scream as he appears in front of you.

“it’s just me! it’s just me!”

“oh, my! fuck! clapton!” you groan. “you can’t do that? we almost just had a heart attack and died!”

“okay, that’s a little bit dramatic,” he chuckles.

“and you’re here!” you wave your hands in the air angrily. “why are you here! you are so annoying and creepy.”

“don’t you think me waiting here is romantic?” he asks, giving you a hopeful smile.

“you’ve been waiting on me? agh!” you scream. “get out of my house!”

“i’m technically not in your —”

“do you want me to kill you?” you ask. “no,” he shakes his head. “i mean, if that’s what you want. anything for you.”

“clapton,” zoey says. she grabs his arm, escorting him to her car. “i will drive you home so you don’t die tonight, okay? this is out of the kindest of my heart. even though i think you are a d-bag.”

“wait, wait, wait! please! i want to say one more thing. after this , i’ll never speak to you again. i promise,” clapton pleads.

zoey raises her brows at you and you shrug. she lets him go and he walks back to you.

“i am so sorry,” he says. “good start,” you remark.

“i… i really don’t have any explanation for what you saw. i know that doesn’t help, but i can tell you what happened. she was asking if i could get the physics homework answers from you to give to her. i was saying no, but before i knew it, she was saying funny things to butter me up. and then she trapped me against the lockers and put her hand on my chest to pin me down.”

“you expect me to believe that?” you scoff. “i know. i know it’s not practical, but,” he takes your hands into his and stares into your eyes, “i swear on my love for you that that is the honest truth. you can even ask her! you know taylor wouldn’t lie to you.”

you search his face. he looks so desperate, so pained. you really don’t know whether or not to believe him.

“i hope you know that you don’t have to forgive me. just know that i am so sorry and hurting you makes me want to eat shit while i’m skateboarding. i’ll leave now.” he let’s go of your hands. you feel so cold now, so lonely. “can you take me home still?” he asks zoey.

“i guess so,” she huffs. “see you tomorrow,” she says to you.

you nod and give her a small smile, waving goodbye to the two of them. you go up to your room after talking with your parents for a little bit. you spot the countless pictures you have of you and clapton. you’ve known him since freshman year of high school, but you’ve known him for only a couple of months. saying goodbye to him feels like a knife twisting into your back, bud that’s how you felt seeing him with taylor.

you never thought clapton would hurt you, not like this. but you know people can change and reveal a part of themselves you never knew existed. eventually, the truth comes out. but you find it hard to believe that this is the case with clapton. the way he’s treated you since you’ve started dating is like nothing you’ve ever experienced in other relationships.

he’s always been super sweet to you. always complimenting you, asking how you slept, carrying your backup, holding you accountable when you study. he’s never been good with words, but he’s never had to be. he always is holding your hand or massaging your back. he loves buying you gifts or making you stuff. he likes cooking for you, too, even though he’s quite terrible at it. he’s always protecting you against rude remarks you sometimes get at school. sometimes the girls will say something about your outfit, and clapton always has something to say to them. not to mention, he is a giver and always makes sure you get satisfied multiple times before he gets anything. which is super different from any other guy you’ve been with.

for you to be able to know the real truth, you know what you have to do.

“you don’t have anything sharp on you, right?” zoey asks. “no,” you say. “why?”

“in case you try and kill taylor.”

“what! i would never do that!”

zoey gives you a look and you roll your eyes. “the closest i would get would be cutting off her hair. which, to her, would be murder.”

zoey chuckles, “you so should do that.”

you shrug, “we’ll see what happens.”

“hey, taylor!” you plaster on the brightest smile ever. she turns to you, looking you up and down while smacking gum. “can i help you?”

“yeah,” you nod. “i was just wondering what you and mike were talking about?”

“why do you wan to know?” she asks. you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “i am just wondering. it’s not like you were discussing murder right?”

she glares at your cheap joke. “i asked him if he knew anybody with the answers to the physics homework. i tried to get your answers, but he just kept saying no. he kept saying how i should do my own work and how you’re not just some homework-giver, or whatever. i tried to seduce him, but for some reason it didn’t work. his brain must be broken or something.”

“really?” you ask. “yeah. he actually laughed at me. i mean, what kind of freak does that?” she scoffs.

you can’t help but laugh yourself. she frowns. “am i a joke or something?”

“no,” you say unconvincingly, turning around and walking to zoey who is waiting for you by your locker.

“what’s the verdict?” she asks. “i… i guess clapton was telling the truth,” you say. “i need to find him.”

“i don’t think he came to school today.”

you groan, “well, i can’t skip school.”

“i’ll drive you to his house right after school.”

zoey does so, leaving when you tell her clapton can take you home. you go to his backyard, finding some rocks and throwing it at his window.

“clapton! it’s me!” you shout. you see him at the window almost immediately. he opens it, sticking his head out. “i thought you didn’t want to see me?”

“can i come inside and i’ll explain?”

he leaves for a few moments, opening his back porch window. he leaves it opens for you and you walk in, sliding the door shut behind you. you follow him up to his shook, gasping as you see the variety of gifts he has on his desk. there’s the bear and earrings you’ve already seen. then there’s a bouquet of roses, a couple of books, some gift cards, and some of your favorite snacks.

“how long have you had these?”

“a couple of days,” he admits. “i saw this thing online about like, a love basket. i was going to put all these things in them and give it to you.”

“didn’t you promise you wouldn’t see me anymore?”

“i would’ve left it at your door. that way you technically wouldn’t have seen me.”

you laugh softly. you now know that he never would have given up on you. it’s kind of sweet. especially since you didn’t really want to never see him again.

“i spoke to taylor,” you say. “oh.” his eyes widen in surprise. “what, uh, what did she say?”

“everything that you said. you know, i actually feel bad for her.” you take a step towards him.

“why?” he asks. “cause it seems like you hurt her feelings when you rejected her,” you explain.

“well, she’s not the girl i want.” he moves closer to you and takes your hands into his. “i am so sorry, again. i should have walked away long before you came.”

“you should have,” you nod.

“and you are the best thing that happened to me. you make me so happy. you don’t make me feel dumb or worthless. you accept me and like me. you don’t think of me as some joke. you make me feel good. and i just want to make you feel good for as long as you’ll let me,” he confesses.

“i’ll let you for a long time,” you smile. he smiles back, leaning in and kissing you. you pull away after a few moments, giggling a little bit.

“what?” he asks. “how much money did you spent on me?” you look at his desk.

“uh, you don’t want to know.”

“clapton!”

“you wanna take a look at them? they’re all great. i know you super well.”

he walks you to his desk. the books are form your book wishlist you’ve sent him. the gift cards are of your favorite shops. you awe, kissing him again.

“i think i know you super well, too,” you say against his lips.

“oh, yeah?” he breathes against your lips.

“let me show you.”

[saetoru]

#𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ gojo satoru has ruined your best friend’s life—and you’re about to make it a whole lot worse yourself ; part 2 here

— pairing ⋮ gojo satoru x reader

— length ⋮ 2.1k words

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, mentions of betrayal (gojo is your best friend’s ex and you fuck him), (slight) mutual pining, toxic! gojo, lovesick! gojo, (slightly) mean! gojo, car sex, light choking, edging, unprotected sex, praise, creampie

— notes ⋮ this is for my soulmate @bxnten 's burn book collab <3 we r mean girls to everyone but each other hehe ily kitty cat <33

gojo satoru is a sleazy, backstabbing, knife-twisting, and heartbreaking asshole. he has little regard for others, doesn’t bother to ponder the weight of his actions, acts as though the world revolves around him, and you’re sick of him—or so you tell yourself. 

he’s made your friend’s life hell, really. he’s made her cry, made her question her worth, made her sacrifice things she shouldn’t have to, made her so unhappy, that you can’t help but wish you could punch him in his (perfect) teeth. you tell yourself you’re sick of picking up phone calls that turn into hours worth of tearful rants, and you tell yourself you’re sick of being haunted by his cocky smirk as he shoots you a wink in the back of your mind. it’s how any good friend would feel—any good friend would look at him and wish he’d drop dead on the spot for all the times he’s fucked up. 

but you suppose you’re not half as good of a friend as you once thought you were—maybe you’re not as fiercely loyal as you gave yourself credit for. because what kind of friend would be sprawled on the backseat of the ex’s car that they’re supposed to hate? what kind of a friend would cling desperately to the same man they’ve said probably has a small dick anyway, drunk on the drag of his cock? what kind of friend would ever think about getting with their friend’s ex—let alone actually do it?

you, apparently.

“that feel good, sweetheart?” he chuckles, hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. your head spins at the cut-off of oxygen, a shaky gasp falling off your lips as your stare up at him. gojo chuckles, loosening his grip, kissing away the stray tears on your cheek as you whimper at the shallow thrust of his hips. “you like when i do this, huh? like when i fuck you like this? bet you like me, don’t you?” he grins cheekily.

he’s an asshole. 

a horrible, heartless, selfish, insensitive, and self-absorbed asshole. but his cock drags along your walls so good, the stretch making your mind fog and your back arch until your chests meet, your nipples brushing against his through the fabric and making you both groan.

“act like you hate me so bad, but i bet you were just mad, huh? are you mad i didn’t pick you first, is that it?” he pouts, squeezing your cheeks together and leaving you with no choice but to look at him as he presses his forehead to yours.

but you’re stubborn, you have been since you first met. you refuse to shake his hand when he first offers it, refuse to be on civil terms when he third wheels hangouts, and refuse to apologize first after any arguments that might stir. and you’re stubborn now too, closing your eyes to have some level of power of your own against him—but he only chuckles, bringing his hips to a stop and gritting his teeth as he feels the burn of his orgasm die down.

you whine, buck your hips, and open your eyes as you stare at him confused, “what the fuck? why’d you—”

“asked you a question, sweetheart,” he sneers, hand finding its way down to your clit, rubbing slow, agonizing circles that have you whining as your head tosses back.

“p-please, gojo—need it—”

“uh uh,” he drawls, that annoying, infuriating, and sickeningly smug little smile on his face as he looks down at you, “you gotta answer my question. then i’ll give you what you want,” he pats your cheek. “you wish i picked you, don’t you baby?”

“no,” you spit, glaring at him harshly, “you’re a fucking asshole. you don’t care about anyone’s feelings but your own, and you couldn’t love someone if your life depended on it. fucking dickhead—” you cut yourself off with a squeal when his fat tip slams into you all of a sudden, right against your spot, making your arms wrap tightly around his neck as your legs hook around his waist.

you’re clinging to him desperately by now, sobbing with every harsh roll of his hips, crying out every time his navel bumps along your clit and pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm. gojo’s jaw is clenched, his hands gripping your hips so tight, you almost think there’ll be bruises by the time he’s done. your slick and his pre cum leaves a messy ring at the base of his dick and a trail down the inner sides of your thighs, and maybe if he wasn’t so angry, he’d have made a cheeky comment about how wet you are.

“oh yeah, is that right? i don’t care about feelings? i can’t love someone?” he laughs, but there’s not a trace of amusement in his tone—it’s so condescending, so mean, you have to fight back tears. “you’re the best friend. i’m just an ex. wait till she finds out just how much you care,” he spits, venom lacing his tone as you gasp, shaky and just a little scared. it satisfies him maybe a tad bit too much. “i bet she’ll be thrilled to hear how lost on my cock you get, always beggin’ for more—aren’t you just a greedy little thing?”

“n-no,” you gasp, clutching onto his shirt tightly, fighting the wobble of your lips at the thought. “you can’t. you can’t! please, gojo, you can’t tell her, sh-she…she’ll never speak to me again a-and—”

“aw, don’t cry sweetheart,” he laughs, and his hips are slamming into your abused cunt mercilessly now, making your walls flutter around him as he lets out a low grunt, moaning against your ear—and he sounds so pretty, so sweet and divine and perfect, it makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

you almost understand why it took your friend as long as it did to finally leave him.

“please, gojo,” you sniffle, teary eyes staring up at him pleadingly. it makes his heart jump, makes his heart ache a little deep in his chest.

because you’re wrong. he isn’t always an asshole, and he does care sometimes—in fact, he always cares when it’s about you. gojo satoru thinks he’d let the sun bleed out if he had to, as long as he has your smile to brighten his days for as long as he lives. because you’re wrong, he can love—and he loves you desperately.

he never wanted to fall in love with his girlfriend’s best friend. never wanted to be a shallow man with even shallower intentions, but who could hear your laugh and see your smile and not fall head over heels? it makes him mad—hurts deep in his chest and aches so bad, that he thinks you’re almost bad for his health. you don’t bat an eyelash at him, don’t even wanna be around him for longer than you have to be—and yet, he wants you by his side for longer than eternity. he can’t help but wish he met you first, can’t help but hate the universe for being so cruel, so heartless for making him find the one person he wants more than anything like this. 

he wants you badly, and the worst part is even if you want him too, you’d never let yourself indulge in something as retched as a betrayal—even if technically, you already have the second his cock sank into you. 

so he presses a gentle kiss between your brows, leaves a trail of kisses along your cheek and jaw, and he hovers over your lips. “i won’t tell,” he mumbles against them, making your breath hitch in shock, “won't say a word if you call me toru, yeah? jus’ say toru, just once, yeah? i gotta hear it.”

“promise?” you sniffle, “you promise you won’t tell?”

“promise,” he agrees with a nod, and he even holds out a pinky to seal the deal. a soft grin spreads across his lips when your own pinky hooks around his, the warmth of your touch, as small as it might be, lighting him up until he feels like his chest is pressed with the weight of the sun.

“kay,” you mumble, “need more, toru—please, gimme more,” you beg, and his name tastes so sweet rolling off your tongue, so saccharine it almost feels like it’s dripped with honey, trickling past your lips and rolling down your chin for him to kiss off. it makes your head spin that you never want to say gojo again now that you’ve gotten a taste of toru. 

with a shaky exhale against your mouth at the sound of his name, he pulls you into a hungry kiss, desperate and needy and just a little starved. his cock is aching by now, throbbing in your dripping core, balls heavy and ready to release as he rolls his hips faster into you. his skin slaps against yours, the slick sound of his cock bullying into your wet cunt filling the small space of his car, his body towering over you in the cramped back seat. he lets his hand find the soft flesh of the back of your thigh, hoisting your leg over his shoulder as he angles himself deeper into you, letting out a strangled cry when your walls flutter around him tightly. 

“fuck, that’s it—g-gonna be the death o’ me, sweetheart,” he grunts, “so good, takin’ me so well, yeah? so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps. his thumb finds your clit once more, rubbing harsh circles and watching entranced as tears spill past your lash line, staining your cheeks with a soft, wet glisten that makes his heart squeeze and his chest tighten. “god, you’re so perfect, so pretty. my pretty girl,” he coos, “my. pretty. girl,” each word is followed by a sharp thrust, and the slam of his tip against your sweet spot, and the way he sounds so possessive as he claims you as his makes your back arch and your nails dig into his skin through his shirt.

“toru, toru, ‘m close—please, ‘m so close—”

“i know, baby,” he pants, moaning into your neck as his head buries into the small space, breath fanning against your skin and making you shiver. “‘m close too, gonna cum—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines. 

“fuck—toru, toru, ‘m…‘m cumming,” you scream, your orgasm crashing over your body, making your arms wrap around him tightly as you cling to him and sob. your walls spasm around him erratically, the sound of your mewls as you cry his name pushing him into his own release. 

his head digs into your shoulder, his body trembling over yours as he lets his hips slam into you sloppily, thick ribbons of cum painting your walls white as you feel his cock twitch with every rope. 

“oh fuck, baby, that’s it—sh-shit, feels so good,” he pants, “g-god you’re somethin’ else, should’ve…should’ve picked you. it should’ve been you—god, i love you,” he babbles into your skin, too overwhelmed by the pleasure burning through his spine as he fucks you both through your highs to even realize the words he’s admitted or the way you stiffen in his arms. 

he pulls out and stares at the mess between your legs for a moment, watching as his cum drips down your legs in thick streams. a small bit of pride bubbles up in his chest at the sight before he slumps his body over yours, head digging back into your neck and his lips pressing a soft kiss to your skin. 

“we can’t keep doing this,” you mumble, but your hand still finds its way to his hair, stroking through the strands gently. it feels right, like this is how it was always supposed to be—like this is how it should be. 

your words make his arms tighten around you, and gojo presses more weight against your body—like the more he presses into you, the longer he can spend in your arms. 

“sure we can,” he says stubbornly, “i promised i won’t tell,” he insists, voice lilting into what you think is borderline desperate—desperate to keep you here, where you’re his, where it doesn’t matter if he found you first or if he found you last. 

he found you, and that’s all he needs. 

“but—”

“i won’t tell if you don’t,” he pleads, “you’re still mine, baby.” 

and there’s a buzzing of your phone from the front seat, but you ignore it, letting your arms wrap tighter around his figure as you kiss the side of his head—and for a second, as bad of a friend as it might cause you to be, you think what someone doesn't know can’t possibly hurt them.

even if it makes you a backstabber.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - All I Need

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader requested: yes / no a/n: i haven't written a long one-shot in awhile but i really like this one! requests are open. word count: 1k

tw: bullying

masterlist ask box

You didn’t usually let it bother you; the whispers, staring, and anything else the other girls did. It wasn’t as bad when Taryn was at a game but those were far and few between lately so you had to endure it by yourself. It was different today though. Maybe it was because you had a fight with Matt before the game and let yourself dive into his comment sections on Instagram on any photos of the two of you. There were always nice ones, but the nasty ones were nasty. You know Matt spends hours reporting accounts and blocking them despite you telling him not to bother. People would find a way to criticize your relationship regardless of how many accounts he blocked. 

It was how your argument that morning started. He was eating breakfast while you fed the cat, scrolling through Instagram and frowning. You knew right away what he was upset about and walked to where he was sitting and put a hand on his arm so he would look at you.

“They don’t bother me,” you lied but he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of "well it should”, so you dropped your hand and walked away. You went to sit down in the living room to watch something and heard him cleaning his plate a few minutes later before he joined you on the couch. He was quiet but didn’t have his phone anymore so you thought that he was done with it. 

“I could delete my Instagram,” he said suddenly, as if that was the solution to stopping the criticism. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you said. “Wiping yourself from social media doesn’t stop the mean girls. They’re at games too.” 

The minute you said it, you winced. You had been pretty good at not letting him know that the bullying was not strictly online. Taryn was nagging you to tell Matt exactly what was happening at games, but you didn’t want him worrying about it. You could ignore the things the girls said and just focus on the game.

Most times.

“What are you talking about? People are saying things to you at games too?”

You shrugged, ignoring his attempts at getting you to look at him.

“Girls like you, okay? They don’t think I’m good enough for you so they make comments.” You hesitated, but told him the same lie you always did. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said and you groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, like a parent confronting their child’s bully. I’ll pass, thanks.”

He argued with you for twenty minutes, saying that it would make things better if he confronted the other girls in the family seating area. It would just make it worse though, you knew it would. So in a moment of frustration, you told him if he talked to them, you wouldn’t go to anymore games. 

It was a lie, and you both knew it but the two of you were so annoyed with each other by that point, that he left for the rink early. He still had at least an hour before he should’ve left and it put you in a sour mood. Enough that you considered not going to the game that night, but in the end you pulled on your Tkachuk jersey and made your way to the arena. 

That brought you to this moment, listening to one of the girls purposely talking loudly about a bet they had placed on how much longer Matt would put up with you, despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for two years. You’d heard whispers about why he hadn't proposed yet multiple times, but you were able to ignore that because you and Matt had a serious talk about marriage and the fact that you wanted to wait a bit longer. 

“He can do so much better,” one of them said and you bite your tongue, knowing that saying something will just feed into their fantasy. You’re not sure exactly what it is, besides their wishes for you and Matt to break up. 

“Yeah, I mean just look at her.” 

It takes everything in you not to turn around and say something to them but the game ends so you get up and leave. You’re not sure if Matt knows that you came to the game because you hadn’t texted him so you go down to meet him near the locker doors. The security guy nods when you flash your ID but you come down here so often that he knows you. 

The Panthers lost, so you know Matt will be in a crooked mood but you still want to see him. While you’re waiting, the guys slowly trickle out of the locker room, nodding at you. 

Finally, Matt walks out and stops short when he sees you. He wasn’t expecting you to come to the game tonight at least because of your fight so you give him your best attempt at a smile. 

There’s a ten second pause before he walks over and wraps his arms around you and holds you gently. You’re pretty sure you stand there for at least five minutes before you pull away.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love that you’d delete all your social medias, that you’d give the mean girls a lecture, and that you spend hours blocking and reporting accounts that say mean things about me.” You kiss him, smiling when he chases after you when you pull away. “But I promise, if it ever gets too much, I’ll tell you. I’m working on ignoring what everyone says, but in the meantime, all I need is you.” 

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

He pulls you into another hug and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

“Also, I was totally considering slapping one of them silly tonight,” you say and you can’t see his face, but you know he’s grinning.

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic yandere shadowpeach x teenager daughter dating redson

(First ship I’ve explicitly been asked to write for. Not too surprised that it was Shadowpeach! I’ve written for Wukong and Macaque’s reaction to dating Red Son here!)

(Also, I’ve got a questionnaire if anyone would like to help me with my blog)

Platonic Yandere Shadowpeach

Sun Wukong and Macaque should; in theory, balance each other out. One is bright and forthcoming, the other is secluded and scheming. One is a glittering ray of sunshine that everyone looks towards for safety and salvation, the other a beam of moonlight slinking about unseen in the shadows.

They should get along. They’ve both got a penchant for the dramatic, and take interest in different arts- one in drawing, one in performing. The two are both fond of food and wildlife.

They should be capable of getting along.

But they don’t. Or maybe they can’t.

They’re both too arrogant, too worn, too hurt to be something healthy or happy or wholesome. Why they’ve rushed into this relationship before either had begun to heal and forgive and truly make amends is anyone’s guess, but there’s one thing you know for certain-

You’re the glue holding this ramshackle family together.

A joke long ago led to your birth, two offerings of blood thrown blasphemously into a sacred vase of jade. Wukong had laughed and pitched down a measure of fresh blood from his chest, then Macaque frowned and followed along, dropping a handful of dried flakes gathered from a wrapped wound on his head.

Neither had bothered to read beyond a scant few characters carved on the vase, speaking of ‘rituals’ and ‘blood’ and ‘growing’- and both stopped short when their eyes fell upon ‘Guanyin’, goddess of mercy and compassion.

Immediately, Wukong had started an exuberant and loud routine of sacrilege, prodding the vase and shaking it, mockingly yelling into it and pretending to be a mortal pleading futilely for help from the heavens- right before he decided to take his disrespect a bit further.

“Bud,” the Monkey King hollered excitedly, bouncing on his heels, “Come here, come here! I have a great idea!”

Macaque cautiously uncovered his ears once the yelling had stopped, trudging over to the jade-hewn vase to stand beside his partner. “Uh, Wukong… I don’t know if messing with a sacred vase is all that great of an idea-“

“Hush! Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, bud! We’re gonna toss in a little bit of blood and see how sacred this silly thing really is!”

(Macaque would come to regret many things about has past- but being swayed by Wukong to participate in this sacrilegious ritual would not be amongst the list of them.)

Their blood alike; wrenched from beside Sun’s heart and pulled from the place nearest Macaque’s brain, dripped to the very bottom of the open-mouthed vase, mixing and melding as they oozed down. The blessed container rattled once, twice- then stopped short and went still.

The sudden halt had Wukong howling with laughter, doubled over and wiping tears from his eyes. “Of course not! Like the gods would do anything for the people down here,” he loudly called, as if trying to reach his accusations to the heavens through sheer volume. For good measure, he had given the precious vase a kick, rattling it around.

And listened as something thudded around at the bottom.

Macaque had turned on his sable heel at the sound, scurrying back over to his now alert partner. The demon’s eyes scrunched with worry as Wukong stuffed his arms all the way into the vase, gripping whatever sat at the previously empty bottom. His hand shifted to rest on the end of Wukong’s tiger-hide skirt, though it was more for his own comfort- a way to keep close to his exuberant partner without impeding his arms.

“It’s a baby,” Wukong had stated in awe, a rare note of outright reverence in his voice as he pulled your form past the jade maw of the vase and into his arms. “Bud, this thing just made a baby!”

For a few minutes, neither dared to speak. They just stood and stared, trying to register just how far this little ‘joke’ had spiraled.

Common sense quickly kicked in, leaving Macaque to pry you from his partner, staring down at you with softened eyes.

“Look at her- she’s ours, bud,” the Great Sage announced with pride, and few would have dared to argue with him.

A child fresh to the world, born from dregs of demon blood and formed by sacred jade, with fur and a tail and golden, glowing eyes to prove that you were theirs.

“…never knew I’d be a father,” Macaque quietly says, wrapping you in the long red scarf he always wore.

“Never knew we’d be fathers,” comes his partner’s supportive voice, a rare tone for the Monkey King. Wukong steps forward and slings an arm around Macaque’s neck, hauling him close.

“But I wouldn’t trade this family for the world.”

You had grown up happy and safe, surrounded by uncles whose names had been your first words. Each one was an inspiration to you, standing proud as they walked in lockstep and wielded mighty weapons. They had been your heroes, every last one of them. You wanted to be strong and intelligent and graceful and noble, to be all that they were and even more.

When it had been them and your fathers, everything had been at least fine, when not outright good.

Learning to read maps with Uncle Yellowtusk. Eavesdropping on fights caused by training mishaps. Hunting with Uncle Bull. Getting scolded for messing with weapons without permission. Uncle Peng teaching you how to gut rabbits and fish. Climbing onto shoulders and backs so you wouldn’t fall underfoot.

Everything with Uncle Azure.

Listening close to his stories and relishing his kind touch, letting him braid your hair and fix your clothes. Sitting on his knees and sharing your food, trying new things with his gentle encouragement. Staying up far too late to stargaze with him before falling asleep in his arms, wrapped in his cape.

It had been family, however unorthodox.

But not all families are built to last- some crumble and sever, instead.

One fight years later had been the tipping point between your fathers, leaving Macaque to cart you away over his shoulder as he sulked away through the shadows, putting as much distance between himself and Wukong as possible- he still had you, Macaque reminds himself.

None of the past mattered if he could focus on a bright future with his daughter. The two of you. Alone. No brothers, no partners- just a father and his daughter. No more teasing remarks or being spoken over or dragged along on dangerous missions for a futile cause.

Just him and you.

And that works for all of five centuries, before there’s a ‘parent swap’ and one of your fathers is dead with a glittering gold staff struck through his flesh and bone, poking in through his eye and out through his skull.

Macaque’s blood; freshly splattered across you, hadn’t even dried before Wukong had swept you into his arms with a guttural scream of both sorrow and relief. His child, at the cost of his partner.

Not a fair trade. But one he chose to make anyways.

The Great Sage holds you close, pressing kisses to your forehead and wiping away your fearful tears. He whispers into your ear about how safe you are now, how you won’t ever be alone or scared again. How he’s back and so, so sorry that it took so long to find and save you, that he’ll protect you from now on.

And how he won’t let you go ever again.

How could he? You’re his.

[leosxrealm]

002 — ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ

★— pairing(s): Max Verstappen x Male! Leclerc! Reader

★— warning(s): none!! except google translated French and Dutch, and possible grammar mistakes

★— (a/n): once again, idk a lot about karting so... the reader's missing a few teeth bc he's 8, that's why it says somewhere that he has a gummy smile. and dialogues have intentional grammar mistakes bc they’re both kids who’re learning english.

★— character information | series masterlist

08-11

"Max, right?" he hears the voice before he sees who says it.

You plop down next to him, shooting a smile his way. He just blinked at you, slightly confused as to who you were. You stare back at him, without saying anything. His eyes widen the slightest and you can see the exact moment he recognizes you.

"You're...vanaf die dag," he mumbles, more for him than you. His expression soon changes and you can't tell if he's confused or irritated or both. (...from that day.)

"Hm?" you tilt your head, not understanding what he said, but it seems like he had recognised you. Your innocent gesture reminded him of a small cat he had seen a few times around his mother's house in Belgium. He scowls at you, this time speaking in english, "What do you want?"

"Your name... Max, right?" you re-iterate your question from before. Max just looks at you. Genuinely confused, why the hell were you so adamant about talking to him?

"You are?" he asks a question of his own. you smile at him, maybe you are getting somewhere with him. "y/n," you say pointing to yourself just like you had a year ago.

He nods. Did this kid not know about stranger danger? Nevertheless, the least he could do was tell his name in return. "Max," he says, although you already seem to know his name. "Where from?" you question him, tilting your head once again.

"Netherlands," he shrugs, looking forward. You didn't think his behavior was rude, you were happy that at least he was indulging you this time. Maybe he was just in a bad mood the other day. Who knows?

"Where that?" you ask. He looks back at you, not knowing how to answer that, so he only says the only answer he could think of, "near Belgium."

He gets up and starts walking away before you could ask him where Belgium was. This time, you're left to watch his back as he walks up to an older man before the both of them leave together.

You leave them to their business, getting up to find one of your brothers to bother next.

---

"Kat?" you jump at the sudden voice, dropping the ice cream you were eating. Eyes wide and mouth open in horror, you turn around to be face to face with Max?

You straighten up your back, quickly wiping your mouth to hide the evidence. Clearing your throat you ask him, "Why you here?"

He narrows his eyes slightly leaning over you (screw him and his tall ass) "Why are you hiding your ice - cream?"

"What? That not mine. I did not eat ice - cream?" you say, jumbling your words a little suspiciously too quickly. And Max, ever the smart, was quick to catch up on it. 

"You not allowed to eat ice cream." He says, not as a question but as a statement. "I'm a big boy! I do what I want!" you scoff turning your back on him. Now looking at the ice cream on the ground, a frown etched onto your face. 

You almost flinch when Max rests his hand on your shoulder. He slowly turns you around, a guilty feeling washing over him after seeing your sad expression. You looked ready to cry. "I will buy you new one," the words leave his mouth before he could even think. 

"Huh?" you look up at him, confused. "Wha-?"

"I'm sorry," he says fumbling with his fingers. He didn't know what else to do. He wasn't trying to scare you and make you drop your ice cream. So, he did the only thing that felt right to him. 

"Oh... It- It's okay," you try to refuse his offer but Max is already dragging you by your hand to the vendors. 

---

"Which one?" Max asks, pointing toward the different popsicle options they had. "That one!" you exclaim in glee, looking up at him with a gummy smile. Max pulls out his wallet, taking out the last few bills he had in there. 

He looks back at you once again. You're taking the popsicle from the vendor. He heaves out a sigh, damn that smile. He gives the money to the vendor, walking out of the line for the others to order. 

He looks to his side, to you. You're excitedly tearing open the wrapper. He huffs out a breath, stuffing his hands in his pockets, walking next to you. It was worth it, he thinks.

---

Max doesn't know where he is. The only one he knows here is you. "Come on!" you say taking his hand in yours. He did it before, surely he wouldn't mind if you held his hand, right? He doesn't pull back.

"Kat?" he questions as you drag him to a bench. 

"Kat?" you question, as you sit down next to him. "Uhh..." he mutters, trying to find words to explain it to you. "Kat?" he says, you tilt your head again. You shrug, not understanding him at all. 

He looks around him, before tapping your shoulder to grab your attention. "Kat!" he exclaims pointing to a girl wearing cat ears headband. You look to where he's pointing. You scrunch up your face and turn back to him. "I'm not girl!" you say angrily, angry that your new friend was calling you a girl. Girls have cooties, and you didn't! 

"Ha?" he lets out a confused noise, before understanding the situation. He shakes his head. "No no. that not- I meant-" he starts before giving up and using hand gestures to explain instead. He makes cat ears on top of his head using his fingers, similar to what the girl was wearing. Your mouth forms an "o" in understanding.

"Meow?" you question "Meow," he nods.

"Chat."

"Hm?" he turns to you. "Chat?" he questions, trying to say the way you had, failing miserably. You laugh at that. Before saying it again, this time slower. "C,h,a,t," he says, slowly, finally managing to get the pronunciation right. (pronounced- sha)

"What's chat?" he questions again. "Meow," you reply before going back to happily eating your popsicle. "What language?" he questions. "French!"  you say excitedly, happy to talk to your new friend. 

"You're French?" You shake your head, "No." He was really confused now, he doesn't know another country that speaks French. 

"Then?" 

"Monegasque! Fro- from Monaco," you reply with a big smile. Truth be told, Max had never heard of that country. He wasn't really interested in geography at the moment, too busy trying to make a career in motorsport. He makes a mental note to search for that country later.

He breaks out of his thoughts when he hears a squeal next to him and a body colliding with his. He looks down to see you hugging him. Before he could do anything about it, you push yourself away from him, holding up your ice cream stick to show him the words imprinted on it in bold letters.

ᴡ ɪ ɴ ɴ ᴇ ʀ, it read. You laugh, a toothy smile present on your face, "Free ice cream!" You hug him again, joy practically radiating out of you. Yup, spending his last bit of pocket money was worth it.

(a/n): this was supposed to be chapter 3 or 4. but i had some trouble with ch- 2 so i decided to post this instead. school's been killing me and i haven't been able to write anything this week. next chapter will definitely be more interesting (hopefully) lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist :]

HC: max started learning more about geography bc of lil y/n

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (ᴏᴘᴇɴ): @miloformula123fan @its-ares @fangirl-dot-com @wolf-knights @zyonsay @1obsessedwithfictionalmen7 @fevndue @erinpiastri @v3lnys @woozarts @sebastianstansblog @badblondebisexualboy @lovecarsgoingvroom @kurating

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 3

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, contains themes of obsession and unhealthy relationships. This particular snippet from Gaps will be an escalation, since this is a series, so trigger warning for kidnapping, non-consensual drugging, obsessive behaviors and manipulation.

There was a half full bottle of psychiatric meds in the glove box of your car. You have absolutely no clue when this got there, buried as it was under your insurance information, registration, and car owners manual, but it was there.

You turn the bottle over in your hands, reading the small label. Prazosin. You were glad to have some extra, in case Bruce hadn’t been able to get your refill this month. He had been good about it, the past couple of months while you waited for your appointment at the DMV, but it was always good to have spares, just in case. And something in your stomach urged you not to rely on the billionaire too much.

You pocket the bottle of pills. Sure, your script had been changed from prazosin to nitrazepam, by Dr. Leslie Thompkins since she was the only person that would treat you without an ID, but you didn’t like how the nitrazepam left you sluggish the next morning. You also didn’t like the thought of just how vulnerable you would be, in such a deep sleep.

Your cell phone rings. You pick up on the first ring, humming.

“(Y/N).” It was Damian. A bit of a surprise, since he didn’t really seek you out, but not an entirely unwelcome one. “You used to have a cat, correct?”

You snort. Of course one of the few times Damian calls you, it was about an animal. You didn’t expect anything less.

“Yeah. I had a Maine Coon kitten for a while before I moved. She was the sweetest little thing too, would always climb onto my shoulders whenever I got home from work.”

“What happened to her?”

“When I moved, I had to give her to my roommate. I visit her whenever I go to Bludhaven.” You explain, beginning your nightly routine. You brush the knots out of your hair, root around for your pajamas, drop two tablets in your hand.

“I see. I’m sorry you had to leave her behind.”

You smile, glancing at the time. The two tablets go down easy, and you double and triple check your locks. In Gotham, it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

“It’s not a problem. I do have work tomorrow, so I’m gonna turn in, okay?”

“Of course. Get some rest, (Y/N).” He says it like it’s practically a demand, and you laugh when the line goes dead.

You drift off to sleep, eventually, your limbs heavy and numb.

——————

Your woken up by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. Your heart stops, before thundering in your chest, slamming fast against your ribs.

Your mind races, and you force yourself to breath slow and deep, feigning sleep. The average thief wouldn’t bother to kill a sleeping person, but who knew what would happen if they thought there were witnesses. Carefully, you shift, making sure the movement looked to be the shifting of a sleeping body.

There’s a sound of crackling above you, and you don’t know what that means before the intruder speaks.

“You sure you got the dosage right? They’re moving around a lot for someone who’s sedated.” A modulated voice, indistinguishable thanks to the static. Your stomach drops, and it takes everything you have not to stiffen in terror. No average thief would have a fucking voice modulator. And what did they mean, the dosage? What the fuck did they mean?

Your fingers close around the handle of the small folding knife you kept under your pillow.

“It’s not full sedation. They’ll sleep deeply enough that we can move freely, but too high of a dosage would cause issues.” A low, gravelly voice and you feel your breath hitch. Both voices go quiet.

You hear a soft rattle as a pill bottle is picked up. Your heart hammers in your throat. You can’t remember which bottle of meds was by your bedside.

“Didn’t you get them put on nitrazepam?”

“Yes.”

“Old man, this isn’t nitrazepam. It’s an old script of prazosin.”

Silence. Deafening silence. Your eyes snap open.

You don’t even give yourself time to process the fact that there were two of Gotham’s vigilantes in your room. You don’t give yourself time to panic, or feel betrayed, because if you do, you won’t stop. You’ll be frozen and defenseless and unable to do anything.

You lunge up, throwing the blankets off yourself, and you try to twist away when the goddamn Red Hood lunges to catch you, only for his arm to wrap around your waist, yanking you back. The small fold out knife clatters to the ground, and a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Why don’t we all just cool off, yeah? No more stabbing attempts.” He sounds almost amused, but there’s an edge of danger in his voice that makes you shudder. He releases you, and you stagger away from him.

Batman hovers in the corner of the room, and even though he is the furthest from you, he feels so much closer.

“You got my script changed. Why?” Your voice is trembling, and you grimace. You don’t like the way you sound far too vulnerable.

“The old man is paranoid as hell, that’s why.” Hood grumbles, crossing his arms. He leans back, giving you space, and even though you know you aren’t any safer, you appreciate it.

“Hood. Now is not the time.” Batman growls, and Hood snorts.

“When would be the time old man? We would have avoided all of this if we had just gone with my plan.” Hood points out. You have no idea what he means.

“They weren’t ready.” Batman snaps, and you don’t know what that means. “This isn’t the place for this discussion, Hood.”

He turns to you, and for a moment, hesitates. The moment passes, and he lifts his hands, tugging back his cowl.

You stare. Staring back at you with intense blue eyes is Bruce Wayne.

So many things click in your mind. The inexplicable cancelling of your appointments. The paranoia. The way you had been struggling to work past the constant fear you were being watched. The way your things went missing when you needed them.

“(Y/N), I know you’re confused right now. Just let me explain.” Bruce says gently, and you shake your head, backing up.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now. You.. how long have you been breaking into my apartment? How long have you been using my meds to do it? And why?!”

“(Y/N), you barely manage to function on a day to day basis. I was just insuring your safety.”

“My safety?! Arguably I would be even more vulnerable SEDATED in an apartment in Gotham? Why do you think I check my locks so often? Why I have lists, of every possible thing I could need? I KNOW how to take care of myself, but clearly I made some sort of mistake when met all of you!” You shriek, and there are hot, ugly tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t need this, you didn’t need him, and you certainly did not need him pulling the strings on your life.

“Alright, you clearly can’t handle this old man.” Hood turns to you, arms crossed. “Listen, I get it. Batman’s a controlling, manipulative bastard. But we aren’t having this discussion here.”

You yell when his hand closes around your arm, and raise your hand to slap him away. He tugs you forward, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it there, and you yell.

A sharp pain in your neck, and your vision blurs.

You feel your knees buckle, feel yourself start to sag.

Gloved hands hold you up, and your head spins. Armored arms scoop you up, and you push at the thick Kevlar.

The last thing you see before unconsciousness takes you is white lenses staring down.

[mochiwrites]

This is probably one of the weirdest alliances Joel has ever been in. And he’s been in some pretty weird alliances before. The Red Banners are the first to come to mind on that one, with Ren’s weird accent and all that.

But The Bad Boys might just take the top spot.

Upon first glance, his alliance with them seems pretty well put together. Joel has partly teamed with Grian before, back on a world where he seemed to be chained to the red mist, blood thirsty and out for whoever he could find. It had been fun, when Grian was also red and they ran around together.

So he knows how Grian operates, how he thinks and functions. He’s a good ally, loyal and eager.

(Joel pointedly ignores how nearly every ally Grian has ever had has died permanently due to his own hands.)

And then there’s Jimmy and well… Jim is Jim. In a good way, whatever that means.

The fact of the matter is, they’re a good team. With their Bread Bridge and then Bread Bridge version two in the sky. The Sadder Badder Ladder podcast. Joel likes teaming with them.

But this? This is a bit odd, even for him.

They’ve pushed their beds together. It’s hard to cuddle on a singular bed, and well, Bad Boys call each other babe and all that. Joel isn’t going to shy away from snuggling with Grian and Jimmy, especially when Grian fits against his side so easily, and Jimmy can easily wrap them both in his golden wings. Grian’s sleek cat tail tangles with Joel’s own (perks of being a wolf hybrid and all that), and sleep is quite peaceful.

It doesn’t start out that way though.

“Griaaaan, come on!” Jimmy whines as they all settle in for the night. They’re on the dry part of the mansion’s roof, the moon high in the sky above them. It casts them each in its soft blue glow, illuminating their figures. “You did it last time!”

Which is why Joel can see Jimmy’s pout so well.

Grian hums nonchalantly, kicking his shoes off and laying back in his bed. His ears twitch. “You willingly offered last time, Timmy. And now it’s actually my turn.” He shrugs.

“Because you had a rough day!” Jimmy points out. He’s kneeling on his bed, body angled toward them both.

Joel himself is already laying down flat on his back. He’s waiting.

“If you wanted your right and proper turn, you shouldn’t have given it up!”

“Griannnnnn!”

“Timmmmm.”

This is something that happens every night. The three of them get ready for bed, and Grian and Jimmy bicker over who gets to listen to Joel’s heartbeat. Honestly, Joel doesn’t get it. He knows it’s related to some kind of thing that neither Grian or Jimmy will actually tell him about. He’d ask, but asking feels… wrong, almost. Like if he does, Grian and Jimmy will stop.

So he doesn’t really question it, instead letting it happen.

Even if it’s weird. It’s such a weird habit, but none of them ever talk about it in the morning. In fact there’s not even any mention of it when they wake up.

(In retrospect it isn’t that weird. It’s normal to listen to your partner’s heartbeat. But what’s weird is it’s Grian and Jimmy wanting to listen to his. His? Joel’s? The red, lone wolf?)

A head on his chest makes him pause, and he looks down. He sees two fluffy ears and ashen blond hair. “Hello Grian,” he greets, watching as the other snuggles close.

“Hi Joel.”

“Comfortable?” He lifts a brow.

“Quite.” Joel can hear the smile in Grian’s voice.

He looks over at Jimmy, finding the other pouting as he lays down beside them. Without a moment of hesitation, those golden feathery blankets are settling over the pair, drawing a content purr from Grian.

But Jimmy is still pouting, most likely bothered that he lost to Grian. Which honestly, did he expect anything different? In a match between Grian and Jimmy, the winner is already decided.

Joel sighs, “Here, Jim.” As per usual with their weird little routine, Joel holds his wrist out to him as he wraps his other arm around Grian’s waist.

Jimmy’s face brightens as the pout leaves his face, and he holds Joel’s wrist in both his hands, fingers pressing carefully against his pulse. Joel feels the tension leave his body almost immediately as Jimmy relaxes against him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He then hears Jimmy make a curious trill, “Grian? Are you asleep yet?”

“Yes,” Grian answers, even as he pops an eye open to look at Jimmy. “I’m the sleepiest lad you’ve ever seen.”

“He’s a sleepy lad, boy,” Joel jokes, making Jimmy choke on his laughter.

“Stooop!” he exclaims, but he’s smiling.

Grian laughs, “We better stop, Joel. Wouldn’t want Tim to become a mad boy.”

“Or a sad boy.”

“Stop, stop it! It’s sleep time!” Jimmy laughs again, Grian and Joel’s own laughter joining him. After a moment or so, Jimmy calms down and he looks at Grian, expression turning bashful. “G can I… erm…. can I have your wrist?” he questions.

Something in Grian’s expression melts, his gaze turning soft and empathetic.

(There’s another thing Joel will never understand about Grian and Jimmy. Whatever the connection is between them. The silent understanding, the way they take one look at each other and just seem to understand what the other is thinking. Upon first glance, you’d never expect that from their dynamic. Not when Grian is so set on being a menace to Jimmy. But Joel gets that special look when it’s just them. He gets to see the way Grian is always touching Jimmy in someway, the way he presses against him, almost like he’s clinging to him. The way Jimmy will tuck Grian against him, and hold him.

Joel feels honored, not just to see it, but to be included in it. Like he’s been given a special sort of trust that no one else has. Not that he’ll ever tell either of them, of course.)

Reaching over Joel, Grian offers Jimmy his wrist. And Jimmy takes it in one of his hands.

Humming quietly, Jimmy pressed his lips first to the skin of Grian’s wrist before doing the same to Joel’s. “Good night,” he chirps.

Joel feels Grian’s lips through the fabric of his shirt, the contact leaving him warm and contented. “Night, Tim.” He feels Grian’s tail tangle with his own, and his purrs are soft, soothing.

Though it’s a little difficult, Joel reaches for Jimmy, pressing a kiss to his head before doing the same to Grian. “Night.”

The Bad Boys are certainly a weird alliance, but Joel is an expert in weird at this point. It doesn’t matter all that much to him, because he’s given both Grian and Jimmy a piece of his heart anyways. Weird or not, it doesn’t change the fact that these two are his. And every wolf protects their pack.

[inoreuct]

I've been loving your ZoSan drabbles, they honestly make my day. I do have a potential drabble request if you'd like: I feel like these two idiots tease each other mercilessly for the dumbest things, like an old married couple. It's almost a game for the rest of the crew to how long it takes them to turn the teasing into either flirting or kissing. It's peak entertainment for the crew

thank you so much??$4!;7:)3 I’M SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT and yes. absolutely. I FLEW TO MY DOCS TO WRITE THIS AND IT WAS SO FUN. the tension is through the roof; not even with the bickering but the teasing. it’s playful and easy and they’re more fond than they should be and is an insult really an insult if it’s said with a smile? anyway. enjoy 😽

“Oho! The world’s greatest swordsman can’t handle a kitchen knife!” Sanji has his hands propped on his hips, faux-flabbergasted and crowing like a town crier. Zoro looks about three seconds away from chopping him up with said kitchen knife instead of the carrots on the countertop. Usopp fears for the cook’s safety.

“Do you think we should… do something?” he turns and whispers gingerly, leaning across his mug of tea so that Nami can hear him from where she’s seated across the table. 

“Something like preventing a possible murder, or getting them to finally kiss? Because…” She takes a pointed slurp from her own mug, her amused gaze fixed on the way Zoro is now animatedly arguing back. “We could do both. Or neither. I’m entertained either way.”

Usopp turns back around, hiding his face in his drink as he eavesdrops shamelessly. He must have missed some conversation, because now Zoro’s sniping about Sanji’s hair, of all things. How they got so far from the original topic in such a short time? Usopp does not know. 

“Well, at least I don’t spend an hour rubbing conditioner on my head,” Zoro scoffs, and Sanji gasps like the swordsman had just cussed out his entire family three generations up and down.

“And that, my dear marimo, is why it looks like a lawn,” he declares with a prim sniff, flicking the tap on with a flourish. “An untrimmed lawn. That a dog ran all over.”

“Wh—”

“No, no,” he laments, scrubbing at a dish in the most melodramatic way Usopp has seen in his life. “A pack of dogs. And they shat all over it, too.”

Zoro puffs up like an angry cat, clearly winding up to verbally throw down, and Usopp turns around to find Nami smirking at him with her eyebrows raised as if to say, see what I mean?

“This is incredible,” he whisper-shouts, amazed.

I know, she mouths delightedly, eyes shining like golden coins.

“What are we talking about,” Luffy hisses, and Usopp damn near jumps out of his skin.

“Great Mother Ocean, when did you get here?!” he nearly squawks, pulling his volume down at the last second, just in time to hear a victorious “and that is why no crab in its right mind would ever want to eat you!” from Zoro. He doesn’t even bother to question it anymore.

Luffy shrugs, biting into an apple with a satisfying crunch. “Like two seconds ago. Are Zoro and Sanji fighting again?”

“More like flirting,” Nami laughs, gesturing with her chin. 

Usopp gives up on straining his neck and gets up to straddle the chair properly. The convo has somehow turned back to hair; Sanji has one hand plucking delicately at green strands, the other covered in soap.

“Keep talking shit about my brows and see if I will,” he says haughtily, and Usopp strains his ears for context as Zoro bares his teeth in a grin, his eye twitching.

“As if I want you to cut it. You’d probably make it all uneven.”

A dry ha! “That’d be an improvement.”

The sniper whips around wildly to look at Nami. Either he’s hearing things, or they sound almost… fond. The way their navigator’s sitting forward in her chair hints at the latter. Luffy bites into his apple again, mumbling, “Why haven’t they kissed yet?” 

Usopp explodes into a flurry of desperate hand movements, mouthing exactly! Exactly! so enthusiastically that his cheeks hurt. 

His captain smiles and then pauses, tilting his head. “Have they kissed yet?”

Usopp’s worldview shatters into shards that then start rearranging themselves because that is a very real possibility. Sanji and Zoro have been bickering ever since before the cook came aboard the Merry, but somewhere along the line it had turned to something more lighthearted, less I’m-gonna-gut-you-like-a-fish-and-have-your-entrails-for-breakfast and more you’re-so-damn-annoying-sit-down-and-let-me-help-you.

The three of them turn in unison to stare at how Sanji and Zoro are now nose to nose, Sanji peering down the scant half-inch he has above the swordsman in height with a smug smile and murmuring “—not what you were saying last week, marimo.”

Zoro tips his head, not backing down even as Sanji cooes at him and somehow, somehow, it doesn’t sound condescending. Usopp is losing his mind. “Never said that, curly-brow. You were the one who filled in the blanks.”

“You left blanks for me to fill in.”

“You’re delusional. There’s gas in your brain, that’s why your head’s so big.” 

“Oh, yeah?” the cook grins, lazy and bright, eyebrows going up as Zoro steps into his space. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Zoro smirks and tilts his head back. “I don’t know. You tell me,” he murmurs, before pulling away and dropping a whole stack of dirty crockery into the sink. “Better get to washing, dish boy.”

Usopp’s eyes are bugging out of his head as Sanji yells and sprays Zoro with water from the pullout tap, sparking a whole new round of squabbling and ankle-kicking and wayward elbows.

“You’re seeing this, right?” he asks desperately, turning around in his seat and gripping the edge of the table. Gosh, he’s feeling light-headed. “I’m not going crazy?”

“Nope,” Nami sighs, popping the ‘p’. “Wanna bet?”

“On?” Luffy shuffles closer, grinning around his apple and she shrugs a shoulder, feigning disinterest. 

“How long it takes dumb and dumber to get their shit together.” 

Usopp really doesn’t know how much he’d be willing to put into this. The way that they fight’s more pigtail-pulling than anything, and that in and of itself is telling— Not to mention, again, how this has been going on for months. Sanji would give Zoro shit for being messy but then go to clean anyway, only to find Zoro’s things already packed. Zoro would snip at the cook for being rigid about dessert before dinner and then find a slice of sour raspberry tart on his bunk, way after teatime was over. Usopp had honestly thought they’d been doing it out of spite, but now…

Then again, with how repressed the both of them were? “…A hundred berry, one month,” he decides, and Nami wrinkles her nose.

“Stingy,” she complains, but she’s hiding a smile as she turns to their captain. “Luffy?”

The boy hums thoughtfully, twisting around. “Are you two kissing?” he yells, and Usopp’s heart fucking drops to the floorboards as the pair stares at them wide-eyed and bursts into protests.

“What— this idiot?”

“The hell? No! Why would you—”

“—on any planet would I ever—”

“Absolutely fucking not. His refined palate—”

“—His brains are in his biceps—”

“Okay,” Luffy says, shrugging as he finishes the last of his apple, core and all, and flings a singular seed into the tiny bin by the sink with startling precision. “Five hundred, two weeks.” 

Usopp can’t help it. He bursts into laughter, smacking his forehead into the tabletop as he clutches at his stomach and the twinge in his ribs. He can hear Sanji’s panicked shouts of “what? What were you betting on? Usopp, tell me now—” and Zoro growling, “Luffy, I swear if this is what I think it is—” and oh. 

The sniper grins into the table. Oho. Did that not imply that Zoro knew something was going on? He could be wrong, but— “Seven-fifty, one week.”

“A thousand!” Luffy counters immediately, and Usopp cackles helplessly because he knows that his captain’s just shouting out numbers now, Luffy doesn’t even have the money. 

“How about we spill the beans on what the hell we’re betting on, and I make us all a special dinner, hm?” Sanji pleads, and it’s honestly funny how hard he’s trying to find out. 

“Absolutely not,” Nami replies, her grin saccharine sweet. “A joint bet of one thousand, seven hundred and fifty berry for one week. Y’know,” she studies her cuticles, pursing her lips in an unbothered moue, “This is the one time that I’d be happy not to collect. Don’t let me down, hm?” She gets up and slides out the galley door, and they hear her laughing all the way down the hall. 

Zoro looks like he’s about to have a conniption. Sanji has his hands buried in his hair, looking up at the ceiling and turning around like he’s begging for a divine answer. Usopp and Luffy share a gleeful look.

This is going to be a marvellously interesting week.

fin.

[shou-jpeg]

-Back on the Beat-

Part 4. 06

One year later

November 19th, 9:50pm 

Kim hits a high note and the crowd goes wild. 

He’s sweaty and high on adrenaline, approaching the end of his largest show yet. 

It’s only a few hundred people, but it’s also a sold out show, and Kim still feels a little overwhelmed with that knowledge.

Porchay is in the crowd. 

He had walked into their apartment five weeks ago and announced to Kim that he was going to celebrate the end of his first year of university by devoting himself wholly to being WiK’s #1 fan; a job he then applied himself to with as much, if not more gusto than he applied himself to studying medicine. 

He looks ridiculous right now, dressed head to toe in unofficial, homemade WiK merch. He’s also holding a handmade sign above his head and Kim has to stop himself from smiling like an idiot every time he looks over at him so his fans don’t start rumours.

They'd agreed to keep their relationship on the down-low, for now. Only while Kim builds his audience, since being single sells.

He holds Chay’s gaze throughout the entirety of the song they wrote together and the people around Chay are definitely noticing. Kim isn’t doing a very good job at being subtle, he thinks.

Oh well. 

He’s exhausted, but he raises his arms over his head and makes a heart with his fingers to thank his audience as he closes the set. The crowd goes wild once more and Chay is giggling into his hand over something.

He’s so cute. 

He’s probably laughing at Kim though, Kim thinks warily. 

~~~

A few days later, Chay announces that a photo of Kim from his concert is going viral on twitter and is doing wonders to boost his popularity both nationally and internationally. Something about people thinking he’s cute?

Kim considers how much he can press and the wary way the bodyguards back at the compound look at him when he walks past. 

He’s definitely not cute.

Porchay won’t let him see his phone though, and he can't be bothered to check himself.

Whatever. So long as it’s getting him good reviews.

May 23rd, 6:05pm - a few months earlier

“I think Jimbo likes you more than me now.”

Porchay scoffs. “That’s just because I’m the one who feeds him most of the time. You’re always out these days, being all popular and in demand. What will we do when you become proper famous?”

“You don’t like having a popular boyfriend?” Kim pouts, turning to look at Porchay from where he lies on the bed, watching him play with their cat. Porchay only moved in last week, yet he’s taken on being a cat parent like nothing else. Kim has barely even cleaned the litter this past week. It’s been a weird disruption to his daily routine, but it has given him a lot less to worry about with his increasingly erratic schedule. 

He released the song they wrote together last month and it hit the national top 10. He’s had three different studios reach out, wanting to sign him. 

Kim tries not to think about it too much; it’s too overwhelming, how good he feels about it. The bars he usually performs in are starting to become too small for the crowd that he draws. 

He should probably hire a manager. 

Porchay looks up at him. “P’Kim as your biggest fan, I could not be more thrilled to be dating my idol. It’s like I’m living inside of a fanfiction.”

Kim hums, hesitant.

“Does that mean we get to live happily ever after?”

It’s way too soon, they’ve only been together six months. Kim was ready to spend his life with Chay from the moment Chay unblocked him, but he’s pretty sure there are rules around these things. 

Kim isn’t good at this. Porchay told him so himself… though he was smiling at him fondly when he did. 

He’s smiling that same smile at him again now. 

“Yeah,” Chay says, soft. “We get to live happily ever after, p’Kim.”

February 10th, 9:28am

“I want to study medicine.”

Porsche looks at him with almost comical surprise, and Porchay tries not to laugh at his expression.

They’re out at their new weekly brunch date together, and Chay has been waiting for the right moment to bring this topic up. He’s spent a lot of time over the past few months, both on his own and with Kim’s help, figuring out what he wants to do with his future. He’s feeling pretty confident in his choice, but he hasn’t even begun looking at universities yet and enrollments are coming up soon. 

“I’m not sure what field I want to specialise in yet, but I’ve thought a lot about it and medicine feels like the right direction for me. I should have at least a year of classes before I have to choose my field - I want to feel it out a little and see what feels right for me. I was hoping you could help me look at university courses?”

Porsche puts his fork down and settles back, serious but obviously trying to hold back his glee. “Of course, Chay. We can get you into any university you want.”

“No!” Chay interrupts him, “I want to get in on my own merit. I only want help finding a good course… please…”

Porsche smiles at him, big and wide and happy. “You can do it! Come around here, let’s start now!”

Chay gets up and moves around to join Porsche on his side of the table, bringing his phone with him. 

“Okay, so I’ve already been looking at a couple courses. Tell me what you think, hia…”

February 6th, 11:39pm

“What about some sort of doctor?”

Porchay looks up at Kim. 

They’ve been going through lists upon lists of career ideas and quizzes and self help guides. It’s been nearly four hours and Porchay really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was with the seriousness and intensity at which Kim approached the task. 

Kim loves solving cases and sorting through things. It’s something Porchay discovered recently, and even though the topics themselves sometimes aren’t so cute, the way Kim gets when he has something to solve in front of him definitely is. 

He reaches over to smooth the little furrow between Kim's brows. “What kind of doctor?”

“I don’t know. You said before that you wanted to do something to help people, but didn’t put your own self at risk.” He's right, but it’s also a little left field. All the results from Porchay’s quizzes have pointed him in the direction of something creative, and they haven’t done much research outside of creative careers yet. 

Doctor. 

Porchay thinks about Porsche and his new, scary job. He thinks about Kim and his tendency to push himself too hard. 

He thinks about Khun, and Kinn and all the bodyguards.

Doctor. 

Yeah. Something about that feels right.

January 26th, 10:45am

It’s their two month anniversary and Porchay is nearly jumping on his heels as he waits in the lobby of Kim's building. Kim approaches slowly, trying to look cool and not at all as nervous as he feels inside. 

Chay has been secretive about today, only telling Kim to keep his schedule completely clear. He's been distracted every time they've seen each other over the past couple of weeks abd Kim has had to put a surprising amount of effort into not trying to suss out what Chay has been planning for them. 

An effort that proved even more challenging when Khun's crytic texts began rolling in even couple of days.

Of course it turns out Khun was on the money with everything. As usual.

“You never use it, so I stole it back the other week and made you this.”

November 28th, 10:35am 

“I’m a little nervous.” Chay is sitting across from him, boba tea in hand and a light flush to his cheeks. 

They’re at their usual boba tea spot, but it’s also their first date.

Kim is feeling the same. 

“Mmmm.”

Chay laughs at him lightly. “P’Kim! Are you nervous too? You’ve hardly said anything since we got here.”

Kim takes a moment to consider, looking up from his tea at Chay’s slowly growing smile. 

“...mmmm.” Chay laughs loudly enough that a few people around them turn in their direction. Kim smiles. 

Success.

THE END

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