#wc: <3k< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[contritecactite]

Hello hello! I am here to create a clamor about leftover sales for Where I Can Follow: An Ace Attorney Siblings Zine!

The whole @aasiblingszine project was so much fun and is so beautiful, and I'm super excited to be able to share the fic I wrote for it (baby's first zine fic)! Use the links above to pick up some leftovers if you can, and otherwise, if you feel like reading about the Skye sisters through the span of several years, feel free to drop by my ao3 and check out:

Title: Homeward the New Road Meanders (link) Rating: T Tags/warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms (Ema's eating habits) Description: 2.5k. Ema Skye loses her sister, then loses her again, then loses her one more time for good measure before finally getting her back. Everything's different by then, but maybe that's not a bad thing. It's... a lot sweeter and less angsty than it sounds ^^;

[moomeecore]

the idea behind this was 'sol warriorcats but drawn like an animated villain'

[capricornlevi]

Gojo with his s/o who went missing for MONTHS, but comes backs somehow?

(Bonus: he thought that s/o was dead ;-;)

ten years previously

"Promise me you won't be too mad when I die."

Satoru furrows his brow when he hears you, tilting his head to the side to look at you funny.

You're both sprawled out on the grass, lying flat on your backs and gazing at the blue skies shining over Jujutsu Tech. Outside the school grounds, mountains line the perimeter like battlements, but you don't feel locked away. You feel at peace with everything: your choices, your circumstances, the company you've kept. The warm summer air wraps around you like an embrace.

What once seemed so alien to you, so frightening, is now your reality. It doesn't scare you as much anymore.

You're shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru, laying about on the soft grass, not caring if your uniform gets wrinkled as you roll over to your side, propping your head against your elbow and meeting his gaze.

You've both ditched Yaga's class to hang out in the training field, and the sounds of the second-years laughing from the nearby dorms are the only noises you can hear apart from the distant chirping of birds.

That is, until Satoru objects indignantly:

"What are you talking about?"

You smile, not wanting to spoil the otherwise peaceful day. You hadn't brought it up to be negative, but it had to be said; if you don't do it now, you'll never get the courage to do so.

"You know what I mean. You are my best friend in the entire world, and you know that I am not going to last as long out there as you will -- on missions, fighting."

Somewhat irritated, Satoru reaches a hand up to flick you on the nose. You swat him away, laughing, which makes him crack a smile.

"Our last day before graduation, and you want to focus on this morbid shit?" he asks, his tone light and jokey but with an undertone of seriousness that only you ever recognise.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on giving up," you elaborate, distractedly picking a nearby daisy. You don't touch the petals, twirling it by its stem so that it spins in your fingers. "I'll give it my all for as long as I can, but I'm just saying ... don't expect me to be fighting by your side when you're one of the ninety-year-old elders."

"If I turn out like them, then I'll need you around so you can shoot me."

You make a sound that's half-scoff, half-laugh. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," he says, eyes fixed on yours. "Completely serious. You've excelled at every test. We couldn't have won the goodwill event without you. You've completed dozens of missions by now, missions that even I found tricky. What's bringing this on now?"

You shrug, still peering down at the flower in between your thumb and index finger. "Just a feeling, I guess."

"A feeling?"

You hum in the affirmative, and Satoru sighs.

"Want to know my reply, then?" he retorts, still quite serious.

Your head snaps back up at that.

Satoru sits up, cross-legged, scanning your face as though he's committing it to memory. Then, he carefully plucks the daisy from your hand and tucks it behind your ear.

"If you die, I'll be well and truly pissed."

---

The only part of that mission that Satoru really, truly recollects, the only crystal-clear memory in an otherwise blurry mess, was the feeling of Yaga's hand on his shoulder when he arrived at the gates of Jujutsu Tech.

Alone. He arrived back alone, for the first time ever. Three years after graduation and he'd never even had a close call, much less return in this state, and without you.

The whole experience felt so strange, for lack of better word. It felt like it was happening to someone else.

He had explained what had happened, the words leaving his mouth without much thought on his part. His voice sounded cold, detached, unrecognisable.

"And it took her," is how he finished speaking, he's pretty sure. Again, the details are hazy. He doesn't think that he bothered telling Yaga that he tried everything he could out there. That he pushed himself until he nearly broke. That he tried, at the end, to put himself in the curse's reach, to step into harm's way if it meant you got even five minutes more in this world.

Yaga already knows all that.

Thankfully, his former teacher doesn't waste time with empty words of condolence. He just rests a hand on Satoru's shoulder, the gesture doing more than any speech could.

It's not enough, though. Nothing ever would be.

---

Satoru prides himself on compartmentalisation. He has to do it to survive, he'll drown otherwise, and luckily, he's quite good at it. When Yuji asks him if he's ever lost someone to a curse, eyes wide with concern, he's able to wave off the boy's worries. He says yes, sadly, he's lost people, but that it's part of life, and that the only way to deal with it is to get stronger.

He doesn't sugarcoat it, but Yuji wasn't expecting him to. The boy just nods and continues his training. Satoru, meanwhile, resumes his meandering around the classroom, whistling along to some song that's been stuck in his head.

The only person you can control is yourself. Everything else just ... happens.

That's the closest thing he has to a personal philosophy, and it's a pretty foolproof one, having gotten him through some of the bleakest, emptiest years of his life.

He's done well for himself, considering. He's not as brash and impulsive as he was when he was younger. He's dedicated his life to preparing young sorcerers for the world out there, trying to keep them safe as long as he can. He lives a comfortable life and keeps himself entertained but focused, constantly motivated to keep moving forward.

Truthfully, the only time his worldview comes close to being threatened is when he sees a patch of daisies growing in the grass.

Whether out walking through the school grounds, or on a mission in the countryside, or on a faculty trip to the botanic gardens in the city, he's struck by them every so often. He tries to avert his eyes when he glimpses the tell-tale flash of yellow and white petals, but it's no use.

He doesn't break down. He doesn't even cry, not since that first night. He just feels the sensation creep up his chest, gripping his throat like a vice. It burns, sometimes, like someone's actually there choking him. When he breathes, it's more like a gasp for air.

That's why he's built that philosophy, see, because those moments, those flashes of emotion, are more painful than anything he's felt in his life. If that's even one percent of what the feeling must be like in its entirety, then it's best kept buried. To unleash it is to unravel, to be at the mercy of the world.

And the only thing he can control is himself.

---

This is the final night of a five-day-long exchange trip to Kyoto, and the students have earned some rest time. Satoru doesn't object to the girl's request, letting her leave to explore the souvenir store while Yuji and Megumi pick up their crepes from some touristy café down the street.

present day

"Gojo-sensei, can I pick up something from that store before we head back?" Nobara asks, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I won't be long."

Satoru hangs around as people mill past, hands in his pockets. The air is thick with heat and the smell of baked goods from nearby bakeries. Though it's well into the evening hours, the sun shows no sign of setting.

With nothing better to do, he resigns himself to people-watching. The fact that he's a head or so taller than most passers-by means he sees everything.

He spots an ageing businessman scolding his teenage son, gesturing furiously at a folded piece of paper -- a school report, maybe -- as the boy looks down at his feet while walking alongside him.

An elderly couple walking hand-in-hand.

Two friends bickering over summer holiday plans.

A group of ten or so tourists, trailing hopelessly behind their guide who is striding along the thoroughfare without looking back.

But then, suddenly, all the faces in the crowd blur into obscurity.

Noises cut off instantaneously.

He hears nothing, feels nothing.

For a moment, Satoru swears that time pauses, everyone suspended in freeze-frame while his brain tries to catch up with what he's seeing.

Who he's seeing.

You.

You're wearing sunglasses. You're dressed differently. You're a few years older than the last time he saw you, which only adds to his hope.

Even with these changes, he knows it's you. He'd know it was you even if he were surrounded by a million other faces.

His legs move before he can process anything else.

It doesn't take him long to catch up to you. As he reaches out to touch your shoulder, understandably, you jolt with surprise at the unexpected contact. Turning around to face him, you remove your headphones and relax a little when you realise that he's not a salesperson or pickpocket.

You push your sunglasses up to rest on your forehead, smiling politely.

Satoru waits. His eyes bore into yours, waiting for that sign of recognition, that epiphany to hit you when you realise that he's finally found you.

Nothing comes.

"Can I help you?" you ask, your tone amiable, if a little confused.

Satoru blinks slowly.

"What's your name?" he asks in response, though he knows it.

You respond with that same name he's had at the tip of his tongue all these years, but never let himself speak it aloud.

He doesn't give his own, suddenly unable to say that, either.

"Where did you go to school?" he queries finally, almost pleadingly.

Even more puzzled, you still try to maintain that aura of politeness. "In Tokyo. Why?" You hesitate, and he's just about to let himself breathe again before you exclaim;

"Oh! Did we have a class together?"

Satoru feels a crushing weight settle over him. Cold, unyielding dread floods his veins.

Panic.

He isn't dead, is he?

No. This can't be the afterlife, this can't be your reunion, because he can't imagine that a supposed paradise would be so cruel as to make you a stranger to him.

You, on the other hand, interpret his silence as answering your question.

"I'm so sorry, that's so rude of me!" you apologise, grimacing with embarrassment. "I really don't remember much from back then, I promise. I'm terrible with names. I'm sure you were lovely!"

Only then does Satoru notice something else: the change to your cursed energy, the way it barely registers as anything at all. It hangs over you like a rainy mist, grey and lifeless, completely different to the bright effervescence that used to follow you everywhere.

He realises a thousand things at once.

That curse, that creature that took you, didn't kill you. He's heard of this only a few times before, but what you encountered was a parasitic spirit, one that sustains its pathetic existence through the cursed energy of powerful sorcerers. They do this because of the potency of a sorcerer's energy, like an untapped well, particularly from someone as high-ranking as you were.

To achieve this, it has placed some amnesiac over you to stifle your abilities to fight back.

That ... thing, that spirit, that parasite, likely returns every so often to feed, and with it goes all memories of your life beforehand.

Satoru's first feeling upon this realisation is guilt. A strange feeling, but one he can't deny, because even though he understands what happened to you, you're none the wiser.

You're still standing there, groceries in hand, as the warm summer breeze washes over you both.

You're waiting for him to speak.

He doesn't. He can't.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you again!" you pipe up cordially, pushing your sunglasses back into place with a flick of your finger. You turn around and call out over your shoulder, "I'm sure I'll see you around!"

Satoru stays there, frozen, and makes a decision there and then.

A new philosophy. A new promise.

He is going to do whatever he can to give you back your life.

You can do whatever you want with it -- maybe you won't forgive him for not saving you, maybe you'll carry on with this existence in Kyoto, maybe you'll go back to sorcery and pretend this never happened.

But it's your choice. The least he can do is ensure you get the chance the make it.

---

"You know it doesn't always work out the way you want it to," Shoko says with more sympathy than he's ever heard from her before. She stands with her back to the stone wall, looking at him sadly. The school buildings loom behind them both, everyone inside asleep. It's so quiet out here that it feels almost unnatural, foreboding.

Satoru has spent months working on this mission, forsaking all other tasks in preparation to exorcise this curse that's robbed you of so much. Tonight, with hours before he leaves for Kyoto, he is asking Shoko his only remaining question.

He's already worked out when the spirit is likely to return to feed. He's figured out a plan to kill it. He is even certain that he can do all of this while keeping you out of further harm's way.

There's really only one question that he has left for his friend, and that is what might happen afterwards.

She's never seen something like this before, she warned him, only ever heard about it from others. It's all word of mouth, no medical texts or written histories. And it's most definitely not a given that all of your memories will return. You'll be lucky if you regain any of the cursed energy you've lost.

That's enough, he figures, to give you a fighting chance. If he was in this position, he'd want the same to be done for him.

"I know," he finally answers Shoko, watching as she exhales from her cigarette into the dark night air. "But it's not just about what I want."

"You can live with it?" she asks with a quiet concern. "With being a stranger, maybe forever?"

He doesn't have to think over his reply.

"I can live with it."

Shoko nods. She puts out her cigarette against the wall, flicks it away, and they head back inside.

---

As strong as he knows he is, Satoru is surprised yet again by the strength of that spirit, how desperately it wants to keep draining life from others.

It's a messy fight. The creature recognises him, almost gleeful at his arrival. It glances up at your apartment overhead, with you sleeping inside, completely unaware of their presence on the street below. Then, the curse looks back at Satoru with a grin that fills him with a fury that burns a hole in his chest.

He is filled with a sensation that feels alien to him, completely unfamiliar, an all-encompassing feeling that he can't attempt to put into words.

As he strikes the curse over and over and over, watching as the hits land, watching it get gravely wounded, none of it does anything to alleviate that feeling.

He kills it, eventually. It dies somewhat pitifully in a puddle of its own cursed energy, spitting out angry hisses until it grows quiet.

Nothing changes then. Satoru feels no shift in the air, no disturbance. He's shielded from civilians so he expected a degree of quietness, but he hears nothing, absolutely nothing, not even the rain falling around him.

Everything else is still.

He feels exhausted in every way. Physically, emotionally, he's spent, having unleashed not only his rage on that spirit, but every iota of pain and fear he's been slowly amassing since their first encounter, since it tore you away and left him untethered.

That feeling is not gone, though. He's not sure it ever will be. But he's identified it, and somehow, that does something to soothe him.

Then, the quietness is interrupted by the sound of a window opening a few floors above.

He glances up in time to see you shout down at him.

"Satoru!"

He closes his eyes. The sound of his own name pours down on him like sunlight.

He feels it all; the recognition in your voice, the relief.

By the time he opens his eyes again, you're down on the street in your pyjamas and slippers, throwing yourself into his arms.

He wraps them around you as tight as he can without causing you any pain, lifting you up and keeping you so close to his chest that you can hear his heart beating.

He can feel your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt and rests a hand on the back of your head, desperate to carry out any gesture to bring you comfort.

You kiss him, then. You kiss his lips, his face, his neck, you cup his face in your hands and feel him lean into the touch.

Eventually, after a perfect eternity in this embrace, you pull apart.

"Were you pissed?" you ask, laughing as you say the words, tear lines still streaking your face but your eyes bright and full of life. "Back then, you said you would be."

"Yes, but not at you," he answers with a smile, and that makes you cry again, good tears, proud tears.

It will take a while for things to get back to normal, he knows that. There's still a lot he can't control. But if he hadn't tried, if he had given up and surrendered to circumstance, you wouldn't be here in front of him, smiling, glowing, looking up at him with beautiful recognition.

That's enough for a new philosophy.

[jinhyun]

next part of heart out coming today ✨

[sleepyhoon]

they would have to surgically remove me from plug!heeseung js

like don’t even play … a man that’s smokes and and gives me meat?? baby that is a bbq grill and i’m ready to fire it up 😭😭

[questionable-doctor]

guess which part was my favorite to render challenge (impossible)

[pshaven]

SHOTGUN IS SOOOOO GOOD PLS delicious amazing completely scrumptious i ate it up so fast i feel crazy fr. i know for a fact jake and sunghoon kissed at the end (i hope so please pelase epleksdr) bc they would take yns words literally and Everything to make her happy!!

THABK YOU SOOO MUCCHCHHH OMGG no like when writing it i felt insane. i was driving myself insane. AND YES AHHAHA AFTER ALL THEM FOCUSING ON YN I WAS LIKEE WEELLL NOW THEY JUST GOTTA KISS 🙏🙏 no but actually tysm for reading and enjoying it i appreciate u sm🤭

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

LUCKY JUMBO LUCKY JUMBO LUCKY JUMBOOOOOOOOOOOOO

LUCKY JUMBOOOOOOO

[koqabear]

everyone watch out i’m about to drop the longest ask i’ve ever gotten in a bit 😭

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Xian's headcanons!!

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.

“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[contritecactite]

As promised, a little bit more for narumitsu week 2023. This time for day 7: family.

Title: Simmer Until Combined Rating: T Tags/warnings: food and cooking, depictions of depression Desc: 2.9k. A couple of dinners in the Wright household about a year into the 7yg. Set just a few months after my piece from earlier in the week.

[jinhyun]

written part of heart out coming later todayyyy ✨

[contritecactite]

I am here to announce three new fics today that I dropped all at once at a ridiculous hour the other day. They are gifts written for the Good Omens Song and Poetry Exchange (@gospexchange)! You can find the whole collection here (ratings and topics vary wildly!!)—everyone worked so hard and made some really wonderful gifts.

I got a little carried away (shout-out to some amazing sprint buddies who kept me moving) and so we ended up with:

1. enough to keep it together

T - 1.5k - post-second coming - link

The table makes a gulf between them now instead of a last thin barrier of propriety. They’re sitting farther apart than they would have been. Crowley hasn’t touched his wine and hasn’t asked about the quality of the food, which is just as well because Aziraphale hasn’t quite talked himself into digging in.

It’s a celebratory lunch, but it might as well be a wake—and not one of the rowdy ones.

(After the Second Coming is dealt with, Aziraphale and Crowley take the first step toward dealing with... everything else. Written for the first Good Omens Song and Poetry Exchange and inspired by The Libertines' "Can't Stand Me Now.")

2. Competitive Inhibition

M - 15k - through the ages - link

In biochemistry: a phenomenon in which a molecule is blocked from binding to an enzyme by another molecule with a similar structure—like a demon preventing an angel from binding completely to Heaven or, more to the point, doubt and fear keeping an angel from wholly welcoming a bond with a demon.

Or: The ups and downs of sharing 6000 years of life on Earth with an angel who wants desperately to be doing Good. Written for the first Good Omens Song and Poetry Exchange and inspired by The Libertines' "Can't Stand Me Now" and Fisherman's Friends' "Union of Different Kinds."

3. All Dreams That Bloom

T - 3k - post-canon (book) - link

And it’s not so bad, maybe, being on the outside of things. So long as you aren’t alone. So long as someone stands on the high and distant wall beside you and keeps you safe and dry.

(The world doesn't end. Crowley and Aziraphale quietly retire only to be dragged back to Tadfield for a special occasion. It turns out that even among friends—or something close to it—they don't quite belong. Written for the first Good Omens Song and Poetry Exchange and inspired by Fisherman's Friends' "Union of Different Kinds.")

[dickbaggins]

it's true I'm ailing with whatever the fuck this is but still plugging away with words! so many words! you can even read some of them ahead of time!

[madamechrissy]

goodnight n go

pairings- Satoru x Suguru x F!reader

warnings- Gojo and Geto kissing bc YES, they kinda like it but they'll deny it lmaoo, them both eating you out, fingering, blow jobs, cum swallowing, mentions of masturbation, they're being all bratty and competitive, explicit sex, them being greedy with you, SatoSugu but they love your coochie so much you're special </3 - WC 3k

This is for my baby @baepsays who got thrown in TUMBLR JAIL grr for no reason!!! It's based on the Challengers movie, specifically that hotel scene hehe <3

"So... are you two like... together?" you ask the two men sitting right in front of you, both wearing open kimonos that show far too much of their chiseled muscles. Satoru wears a deep blue, Suguru a pretty bright red, you have to keep your eyes from trailing down each of their bodies and act normal. You sip on a beer right with them, sitting on the old hotel carpet in the late hours of the night.

The ac has gone on the fritz, so the windows are wide open, blowing the still humid air into the room, as the two of them avidly watch you, they'd been staring at you for the entire game, the entire after party, clearly both enamored with you. The way you curve that ball had them both hard in the stands.

It was Suguru who mentioned it first, how sexy you were, hyping you all up - Satoru knew who you were by name, but never saw you - he was helplessly in love with himself and being the best. So when he did see you step out in that little tennis skirt, and see the way your pretty body looked in it, especially your ass and how it bounced underneath it? He was already hooked.

But nothing took them out more than how you played, how you danced around the court and fucking annihilated everyone. Satoru and Suguru were two of the top tennis players themselves, but they'd be lying if you didn't say you were better than them both.

Tennis is all you know, there was no dating or doing anything for you, it was all tennis all the time. Even just being here was on a whim, but how could you turn down their invitation?

Suguru's holding a blunt, passing it over to Satoru, the smoke lingering in the air, you smell its sweetness while he wraps his plump lips around it, both men glaring at your question as you giggle. You can't help but ask it, it's the notorious rumor of these two.

"Together?" Suguru blows the smoke up, leaned back on a pillow he'd snatched up from the bed, looking far too good as he eyes you, lidded gaze slipping up your bare thighs. "Why do you ask that?"

"Everyone thinks you two are," you take the blunt from Satoru's long fingers, looking at the two men carefully. "I think you two would be cute together."

"We're not together, why do people think that?" Satoru frowns, and Suguru chuckles, shoving at him. He rolls his eyes, and you pass Suguru the blunt, as you and Satoru go to sip your drinks. You feel a gentle cool breeze blow in for just a moment, tickling your skin as Satoru now runs his fingers across your ankle, the motion making you tense. It feels too good.

"You've never been together? No kissing, nothing?"

"Never!? well..." Satoru trails off, and Suguru smirks.

"Spill!" You're eagerly on your knees now, strap slipping off your shoulder, Suguru leans up to fix it, watching your nipples perk up under your tank at the action.

"You're bratty," Satoru murmurs, fingers running up your calf, leaving. goosebumps on your skin, Suguru inhales the blunt again, blowing it into your mouth now. At the contact of his lips you tremble, inhaling that smoke deep in your lungs, feeling lightheaded, tummy clenching at how good his lips feel.

"Tell me about the time you almost did something then," you tease, while Suguru brushes a thumb over your lower lip. They are both chuckling softly, Satoru is rubbing the back of his neck. "Did you all jerk each other off?"

"You're a freaky brat." Satoru says, glaring so cute at you.

"We didn't do that, but I did teach Satoru how to jerk his-"

"Suguru!" He shoves Suguru now, but you're all wide eyed with attention. "Shut up!"

"What, you didn't know how to." Satoru scoffs, shaking his head.

"Wait that's cute!" You are laughing so hard you're holding your tummy now, as the two pretty boys tell different sides of the same story.

"I was thinking about my girlfriend and started..." Suguru trails off, Satoru's blushing. "Well I thought he was asleep."

"Well I was you were loud," Satoru leans forward now, pressing a little kiss against your neck after brushing your hair back. "You really wanna hear about it?"

"It sounds so adorable." He rolls his pretty blue eyes.

"I asked him to tell me what he was doing, we were young. Then he just sort of told me - but under the blankets!"

"We didn't touch each other." Suguru confirms, snorting in laughter as you giggle at Satoru's embarrassed face burying against your neck now.

"Do you guys do that alot too?"

"Whatever no!" Satoru nips at your neck, making you tense at how good it feels. "We do cuddle."

"He cuddles me, I shove him off."

"The ship is going strong. I don't think I can stay here and ruin this, what would they say about me?" You stand up then, Suguru smirks as Satoru pouts, Satoru's cuteness and Suguru's prettiness are honestly a lot to handle.

"Don't leave us yet, we haven't even finished our drinks." Satoru watches as you brush his hair back, while he's on his knees, sighing a bit.

"All right then, as long as I don't ruin your love." They both scoff as you go to sit right on the edge of that bed, thighs pressing together - as much as you're kidding, you can't help but be excited by the two of them. You pat each side and they both jump next to you, earning your giggle. "Who do I kiss first..."

You look at Suguru, brushing his lips, he exhales and leans closer, but Satoru yanks you by your chin, slamming his lips on yours first. "She was gonna choose me."

"No way, mnh - cherry lip gloss." Satoru licks his lips as he pulls back, you're left breathless, Suguru is quick to kiss you after, his tongue slipping inside, dancing across your teeth, while their hands so huge take over your entire body slowly. Your breath comes quicker and quicker, trembling as they take over your senses.

You have just a bit of sweat dancing along your skin, they're lapping it up, Satoru kisses across one side of your neck, while Suguru kisses along the other. You gasp out, still so sore from the tennis game, their big hands grip each thigh and press in, as if massaging you, their breaths heavy and sensual against your ears.

"Do you all... do this a lot?" You murmur then, teasing as you look into Suguru’s violet eyes, while he slips his fingers higher. "Share girls?"

"Maybe a couple of times, but never with someone like you," he murmurs, while Satoru tilts your chin to him, bringing your gaze to his pouty lips.

"We can kick him out."

"We can kick him out." Suguru tilts your chin back over to him now, only making Satoru drag your thigh over his, opening your pussy wide for both of them to touch you.

"Mnh," your head leans back, the alcohol working through you, mixed with their addicting kisses along your neck, their fingers brushing against your pussy over your shorts. "Fuck..."

"You're so wet, need us to take care of you?" Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss on your lips, only for Suguru to turn your head and kiss you brutally.

Suguru moans as his finger slip into your hole, while Satoru's roll along your clit, his tongue slipping up your neck as Suguru's is massaging the inside your mouth. You feel how wet you are, as the two of them making you a mess, which they seem to relish in, eyeing each other as they play you.

"So wet, wonder how you'll be when you cum? Squirt all over, or drip slowly?" Suguru's words fuck you up, where you felt in charge, when those dilated eyes hit you, you're trembling and gasping.

"Bet she's messy." Satoru murmurs those words hot and heavy against your skin, his free hand gripping your breast and squishing it.

Suguru's thick finger stretches you out, when Satoru kisses you again, tongue delving into your mouth a little more desperate. You hear his whimper when you touch his toned abdomen, slipping down, before touching Suguru's ribcage now, feeling how hot his skin is under your touch. Husky moans and little whimpers dance along your skin as you touch them.

You kiss Suguru again, then can't help but bring them together, bit by bit, kissing them quicker and quicker, until you drag their faces ever closer. They lose themselves in you, your cunt squelching loudly with how wet it is, you're throbbing around Suguru’s finger as your clit twitches against Satoru's, pressure building in your tummy. You're shifting your hips, arching for more as the wind blows gently against your overheated bodies.

You all three kiss then, together, with each tongue dance along each side of yours, as the three of you exhale and gasp, hands entangled now in your hair, you can't tell who's pulling it from each direction. That's when their own tongues meet, all while their skilled fingers are playing with your slutty, messy cunt, and you're losing yourself in them. One hand in silky black locks so long, the other carding through silly white hair.

You pull back just a bit curious, as you truly think these men must be together, everything about them screams it. Satoru and Suguru kiss each other in front of you, your heart races at the sight, of Suguru and Satoru moaning and still touching you, unrealized with their closed eyes that you've pulled back, smiling as you watch them.

"Okay I should.. go." You say after a long few moments when they blink and pull apart, a trail of saliva dripping between them, before they're scowling at each other, then at you as you giggle. "I can't break up a happy marriage." You say with a pout, getting up and tugging off their hands.

"You're a brat," Suguru huffs, pressing you down on the springy hotel bed then, Satoru kneels and slips your shorts down, while Suguru slips up your top, his lips dancing across each breast. "We aren't together."

"I don't know, I thought it was pretty hot." They both glare at you, Satoru sinks his teeth in your inner thigh, blue eyes vivid in their brightness. "I ship you two even more now."

"I like to eat pussy thank you very much," Gojo presses a kiss to your slick cunt then, making you whine out. "and I'm the best at it."

"That would be me," Suguru is down there too now, both men gripping a thigh, scowling at each other again, they're way too fucking hot and simultaneously cute. "Time we shut you up."

"Past time," Satoru licks a stripe up your slit while Suguru slips two fingers in your hole, you moan at it, at him pumping in and out while Satoru holds your hood up. He swirls the tip of his tongue on your slit, moaning. "Fuck I wanna be inside you."

"She's so tight," Suguru pulls his fingers out then, sucking you right off them, cheeks hollowing while Satoru slips impossibly longer fingers so deep, curling when Suguru's tongue slips against your twitchy little clit. "Mnh."

"She's so sweet here." Satoru's licking you right with Suguru, together they're working you, their tongues touching as they make out with your clit together. You can't help but grip them tightly, thighs shaking on either side of their heads.

"Ah! there, there," your eyes roll back, lost in them, hips raised up for more of their touch, while there lips brush just slightly together while they share your taste.

"Stop kissing me," Satoru's words make you laugh, breathless, even as the orgasm is approaching even closer.

M'not, you're taking all of it." Suguru is burying his face so greedy, tongue slipping into your hole now, you're so close you feel yourself about to fall apart, back and hips arching for more of them.

"S-satoru... S-suguru..."

"Said my name first," he's grinning and nudging Suguru with his shoulder, earning an eye roll, before your eyes roll back again in your skull, both of their fingers inside you.

"Ah!" You're gripping the cheap material of those flowery hotel blankets, while they find spots inside you didn't know you had, fingers in sync while they watch you.

"So pretty," is what one of them whispers, but your pulse is racing in your ears as they curl up simultaneously, hitting a spot that makes your cunt gush and spasm. "There it is."

You think they said it simultaneously, you can't really place where the voices are coming from when you're screaming like that, so loud you're for sure your teammates hear in the adjoining rooms. You can't say you care, while they moan and slurp you up, hungry messy sounds making you reach higher.

"Ngh!" You're shaking, breasts heaving up and down, slightly out in your top all askew. Two hands reach for them, while they share your taste together, moaning against you and vibrating your cunt.

"Who's gay now?" Satoru asks, leaning up and gripping your chin, you barely manage to focus on his pretty face

"I'll give you bi- ah!" Suguru smacks your cunt, it feels far too good, leaning over you too, both taking turns kissing you softly. "Fuck, okay, okay you two are insanely good."

"Who's better?" Suguru is met with a shove from Satoru, grinning all pretty and not budging.

"Equal talent, just like on the court." Your words are sincere, though different in their play styles, both men were fucking beasts on the court. They both blush a bit as you lean up and trail your fingers across their cheeks. Your breathing comes down as you share your taste between them.

You feel their touches getting harder, grips deeper, as you are pulled between them both, kissing each one over and over, losing yourself in them, they're both tugging at your thighs, pressing their cocks against you under their thin shorts.

"Wanna be inside first," Satoru practically whines, Suguru scoffs.

"No," he's shoved Satoru off the bed, you can't stop the little laugh at seeing the six foot four man careen off the springy bed with a bounce and thud to the floor. Suguru's on top of you, dark long locks falling against your skin. He's moaning into your lips, you're clinging to him as he presses against the slick mess your cunt has become. "Mmm..."

"No fair." Satoru shoves Suguru off you, turning you to your side facing him, his hands gripping your ass as he presses his cock against you now too, you're soaking his shorts, feeling hands from behind wrap you now. "I don't wanna share."

"Me either, go take a walk." You exhale, looking at each of them, before touching Suguru's cock behind you, his soft moan is met with Satoru's desperate whimper when you touch his.

"Be nice and share, you two." You chide them gently, they sigh and nod, both of your hands stroking them over their shorts, while they kiss along your back and chest.

Satoru's soon tugged his shorts off Suguru joins him, revealing thick pretty cocks, so veiny and leaking pearly precum. You're swallowing nervously at their lengths, unsure how you'd fit them, when they slip off the remnants of your clothes, both rubbing their tips along your pussy. Suguru's pressing against your hole, Satoru's tip is on your clit, rubbing back and forth, filthy sounds.

You're gripping Satoru and kissing him, whining out, Suguru tugs your leg up high, sinking his teeth against your neck. Their tips rub together, they won't admit that it doesn't bother them, they're far too absorbed in how good you feel, how pretty you are between them. They do share everything, but for you they felt a little greedy, each one wanting more.

Suguru's pressing inside your cunt first, groaning as his hand grips a thigh right with Satoru, leaving bruises on your skin. "Mnh!" You're whining out at the stretch, head falling back, to be wrapped with Satoru's fingers, as he keeps stroking your clit, you're filled so full you scream out.

"Fuck she's so tight," Suguru's groaning, Satoru exhales, while he pumps you deep, your tits jiggling perfectly for Satoru's eyes.

"Lemme feel her," Satoru whispers, like you're their little toy then, Suguru pulls out for a moment, leaving you empty and crying out, only for Satoru sink inside your cunt. You're stroking Suguru's cock behind you, slick with you, as Satoru's curved tip hits your spot, making you cum all over him. "Hah, came on my cock first."

"Because I filled her up so good," they're fucking into you a few pumps each turn, till Satoru gets greedy, yanking you on him as he lays on his back, shoving you right down on his cock and whimpering.

The angle is so deep, you feel him right on your cervix, Suguru's lifting you by the hips, behind you now, fucking up into your cunt instead, only for Satoru to yank you back down. You feel like a little doll they're playing with, cunt dripping down each of them, while you're trembling, letting Suguru have you cumming next.

Satoru rolls his finger on your clit while he does, both taking turns fucking your cunt until it's sore, tightening up on them and milking their cocks, their tongues lapping along each ear as they keep dragging you from one cock to the next. They tease your entrance together with their tips at one point, burning the skin there, they both groan as the rub together.

"Where do you want this cum?" Satoru asks softly, you look down, biting your lip then.

"Mouth." They're so eager for this it's amusing, you're on your knees while they take turns fucking your mouth, until you try to suck them both at once, only managing their tips.

"Ah, that's it, gonna cum so much more than you," Satoru murmurs, Suguru is too lost in how good your mouth feels to argue, as you look up at them so pretty, sucking each one and stroking with your hands, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth.

"Shut up, Satoru, God." Your giggle earns Satoru fucking your throat harder, not that you mind, you feel him yanking your hair as you keep stroking Suguru's thick length, choking on him and gagging. The sensations have you grinding against the bed.

"Gonna swallow all of me, huh sweetheart?" Satoru's whisper is met with your whine, while you do just that, swallowing all of his cum, he whimpers and leans his head back. "Baby... feels s'good..."

Your mouth is pulled right off him while he's still twitching, Suguru mercilessly plunging his own cock deep in your throat. "Swallow like a good girl, hmm?"

He's gently brushing your hair back as he fucks your throat so deep, cumming right inside it, filling you with both their flavors, drinking them down greedy. They're both moaning then, bending down to kiss you, tasting each other on your lips, tongues messy and desperate. You lean back and exhale, earning sweet little kisses and strokes from their hands.

"I have got to get sleep," You finally manage to grab your clothes, and the boys are devastated, cocks already hard again. "You just came!"

"I have the best stamina."

"No, that's me."

"I go the most rounds."

"I last longer-"

"Okay boys," you're shaking your head at the two bickering like a married couple. You pat their chests now. "I need some sleep before the match, and so do you."

"No fun, boring," Satoru is all pouty when he helps you up, both of then adjust your clothes, fixing your hair gently, you ease in the touch for a moment, cunt still throbbing from them, thighs shaky.

"Let me have your number." Suguru asks then, you eye him with a turn of your lips, Satoru steps in front of him, blocking your field of vision.

"Let me, pretty please?"

"Whoever wins tomorrow gets my number." You kiss each of them, leaving them whining as you brush your fingers on each of their cheeks.

"I'm gonna win." Suguru and Satoru say it at once, you laugh again, turning and walking to the door. You look at them then, shoving at each other, smiling a bit.

"If you jerk off together tonight-"

"We won't!"

"Film it?"

Their scowls urge you on, surely they don't stroke themselves helplessly thinking about you!

Ahaha this was just some silliness I hope you like it 🤭🤭🤭

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[contritecactite]

I also got to do a second collab for the @do-it-with-style-events mini reverse bang!!

Massive shout-out to my partner @natty-f for persisting through The Horrors to create this beautiful illustration and for providing me with the inspiration for the fic below!

Title: Straight from the Loam (link)

Rating: T

Tags/warnings: alternate first meeting, hair brushing, watching someone sleep (briefly), Crowley's Fall

Desc.: 3k. Crawly's Fall takes him directly to Earth and leaves him there. Aziraphale finds him sleeping in Eden and wakes him gently, soothing him and getting him cleaned up.