#and that’s something he just won’t do even though he always says he will

[kenntolog]

𝝑𝝔 an: soooo i hope u like this!! read more here!!

cool boyfriend sukuna, who lives with his older brother jin and his little nephew yuuji, bringing you home for the first time since you started dating.

he was always reluctant about you meeting his family because he knows they will make a fuss about it and overall sukuna hates it when people pry into his personal life, which is what they usually do.

of course, jin itadori has noticed that he’s been absent — coming home from university to change and then leave or sometimes just not being home until late night — and has made sure that he isn’t hanging around with druggies or something like that like the responsible adult he is(he just annoyed sukuna into saying ‘fuckin’ hell, i’m not into drugs, i’m just hanging out with my girl!’ while yuuji makes sound effects for the drama of it).

so it’s not long before sukuna finally tells you to get ready to come over to his place. the excited squeal you let out makes his ears bleed, but it’s okay, he thinks with a small smile as he stares up at your window from below your building and waits for you to call him a little later so he can pick you up. he waits for you dutifully and you don’t disappoint him when you come out of your block; looking like an angel sent from above in your white sundress and pretty hair and soft makeup.

he can’t stop his lips from stretching wider as you shyly approach him, looking at him with an expectant gaze, waiting for him to say something.

“aren’t you all dolled up and pretty. ‘s that for me or my brother?” he teases, keeping his hand in his pocket to not ruffle your neatly straightened hair.

he doesn’t expect an answer but you still surprise him, holding onto his shoulders to peck his cheek softly and then move to his ear to whisper, “for you, ‘kuna~”

sukuna sucks in a breath and closes his eyes for a second, contemplating whether he still wants to go to the dinner or push you back into your room and have fun with you on your bed.

“let’s go, ‘kunaa! don’t wanna be late!”

he rolls his eyes and settles you into his(jin’s) car before taking his spot at the driver’s seat and stepping on the gas.

the ride is filled with the soft tunes of your favourite songs(yes, he loves you that much to let you connect to his speakers). you sing along quietly, too immersed in your own thoughts to notice sukuna covering his smile with his free hand, and watch the road, letting the wind blow back your hair and grinning softly. seeing you this excited about meeting his family spreads warmth through his chest.

though, when the car reaches his building, you seemingly get nervous, hand shyly holding onto his to stop him from leaving as you look up at him unsurely.

“what if they don’t like me?”

he flicks your forehead with a roll of his eyes while you shriek and rub the spot soothingly, “if they tolerate me, there’s no way they won’t like you.”

“you’re not that bad, ‘kuna.”

“oh, you don’t even know, baby.”

he tries to ease your nerves on the elevator ride; hand tickling your waist so you smile, lips planting soft kisses onto the revealed skin, reassuring you that his brother and nephew are far less judgmental than he is. the walk to his front door consists of you trying to run away while sukuna tries to tug you back.

and it’s really inconvenient that his front door opens exactly when his hand is raised to hit you on the back of your head so you come to your senses and stop you from being a dumbass. sukuna sighs, scratching his neck instead, while you bow down hurriedly in a greeting.

you feel your face heat up until there is a pair of much smaller feet with different socks in sight and lift your head to lock gazes with a carbon copy of his uncle, little yuuji itadori. he beams at you like the sun itself, so bright and intoxicating, “i’m yuuji! nice to meet you!”

you can’t help but smile back at him before standing straight to introduce yourself to sukuna’s brother and nephew properly.

to sukuna’s surprise, the dinner is far more pleasant than he ever imagined it would be. it’s filled with your and jin’s soft talking, occasionally mixed with sukuna and yuuji’s bickering, but mostly jin asking you about yourself and you responding. you treat jin with respect, evident from the way you think about your answers and ask if it’s okay for him to answer his own question too, and sukuna is happy to see that you two clearly like each other already.

not even talking about yuuji, who can’t seem to take his attention off of you; his small fingers playing with the dangling charm of your bracelet, eyes trained on your pretty face as he listens to whatever you’re telling just as attentively as his father and uncle. sukuna isn’t even gonna deny that it’s a very cute sight.

at some point, before dessert, jin tells him to come and help with the dishes after politely declining your offer to help.

“she’s very sweet.”

“yeah.”

he smiles when he hears yuuji’s laughter from the other room along with your giggles. jin smiles too, continuing to wash the dishes.

“and very smart.”

“damn right she is.”

jin nods, nudging him so he starts drying off the plates. “so how come she chose you?”

as much as sukuna wants to jump on his brother for the implication that he’s not the best of choices(before reluctantly accepting that it’s not that far from the truth) he knows the answer to that question, the corners of his lips curling upwards as he busies his hands with work.

“i chose her first.”

at that, jin stares at him with a surprised look in his bright eyes. they finish washing the dishes in silence and move to the living room once tea is ready.

meanwhile, yuuji is sitting on the couch with you by his side. he’s making origami for you(well, at least he’s trying) while he rambles on about his day and you listen so attentively that sukuna even wonders whatever the hell he’s talking about.

he enters the room with lazy steps and falls back on the armchair with a heavy sigh, catching your gaze and winking at you. you look away with a small smile, refocusing on yuuji who’s gone silent at the moment. the little boy sits closer to you, urging you to lean down with a chubby hand. you oblige, waiting for him to say something in your ear. you giggle at that, hand coming up to cover your mouth before you whispered something back into yuuji’s ear. that makes yuuji all giggly and excited as he wraps his small arms around your neck and places a smooch on your cheek.

sukuna watches the interaction with a soft expression on his face, eyes halfway open and a sweet smile playing on his lips, his fist barely covering the lower half of his face, before he hears a ‘click!’ and turns to see his brother with a camera in his hand.

jin’s smile reminds him of the smile he had when he first had yuuji in his arms. so warm it’s probably enough to melt away a whole iceberg. sukuna feels his chest tighten before wondering if he can make you something more than just his girlfriend for the first time.

+ bonus!

“what did that little dipshit whisper to you?”

“he asked if he was cuter than you.”

“and you said?”

(you said yes.)

“heh, i told him you were the cutest, ‘kuna.”

#— miya writes! #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader

[luveline]

Hey gorgeous fic idea: gf being like "thanks for being so nice to me" and Remus is just there 👄 like baby nothing in me wants to be mean to u Being kind to u is easy

thank you for your request <3 fem!reader

That morning, Remus pulls you down into his lap with a smile that says please, gives you a little thank you kiss when your head lands on his thigh, and spends the hours before lunch stroking the slopes of your face with his fingers while you watch TV. If it were anyone else you would struggle to believe he’d do it for nothing, that this isn’t because he owes you, or that he's started a particularly tender form of foreplay. He’s just touching you to touch you, occasionally leaning down when he remembers you’re there to kiss your nose. 

You turn to stare up at his jaw. You can see the scruff of stubble coming in. He usually shaves everyday, but today’s Sunday, a rest day for you both. You don’t mind enduring a scratch whenever he kisses you, though, and you won’t complain, raising a hand to his neck to stroke skin you’d kissed last night before bed. 

He put a glass of water on the nightstand he’s started calling yours with a coaster and a nice smile, walked back around to climb into bed himself still wearing it. When he laid on his side across from you and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, he made sure it was covering you too, telling you he loved you with a smushed kiss pressed somewhere between your mouth and your nose. You’d hidden in the curve of his neck to hide how happy it made you. 

“I’m gonna make sandwiches for lunch, if that’s okay. And maybe cut up some fruit, do you want that?” he asks, peaceful, his hand slipping down to your neck and sewing gently across it like a hug. The weight of his hand is strange. He could press down and hurt you, but he never would. 

“You’re gonna make it yourself?” you ask. He’d said ‘I’m gonna make it’. 

“Is that a problem for you?” 

His hair falls in his eyes as he leans down. You’re sick of seeing him the wrong way up but you’re not wanting to move. You should know already that he’d simply find another way to be affectionate with you if you did move, but this is too nice. He’s always so kind. 

“I’m gonna help.” 

“I can make two sandwiches by myself, that’s okay. Then for dinner we’re gonna have,” —he strokes your neck with his thumb as his voice turns to a softer shade of itself— “pasta, do you think? Something nice and fancy, vodka and chilli with heavy cream, or…” He hums. “You look tired. Can I have a kiss?” 

You pick your head up. Remus puts a hand behind your back and your eyes close before he’s reached you, scrunched tightly, cruel heat behind your nose.

Quick kiss. Quicker question. “What’s wrong?” he asks, curling his hand closed behind you to soothe you with his knuckles. 

You shake your head, and tell him, “Nothing,” though you regret this and decide he deserves honesty, and praise, too. “Thanks for being so nice to me. You’re always nice to me.” 

Remus cups your cheek. You open your eyes like he wants, relieved to find him not laughing or judging you, simply smiling. He does seem startled in the set of his brows, if only mildly. “You know, nothing in me wants to be mean to you. You’re easy to treat gently.” He rubs your cheek back with his thumb. “Baby,” he says, which is rare on his lips but said with his usual quietness, “you’re easy to be nice to, because you’re you. You deserve it more than anyone.” 

“Remus, you’re just kind.” 

“No. If I’m kind it’s because you pull it out of me. I look at you and you’re so beautiful,” —he’s laying it on thick now, sincere and teasing at once— “you’re so lovely, I don't even think about it.” 

You rub your cheek against his chest. “Love you,” you whisper, not wanting to cry and ruin a nice moment. 

“Love you,” he says back. 

Remus slouches to encourage you higher, your face sliding into the space below his chin like he was made for you to rest there, his face falling to the side of your head. He wraps both arms around you to take the pressure off of your twisted back, another thoughtless gesture that gives away how much he likes you. He starts kissing little slow lines down your cheek to further prove your point, murmuring something you can’t make out, likely far too kind. 

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

[t1red-twilight]

soft spencer headcannons

warnings: corny:/

notes: several of these are inspired by my parents, who are genuinely the cutest couple i know.

masterlist

- he just really likes watching you get ready. if you wear makeup, he’ll ask you what everything is for (even if he kinda already knows)

- will see something that reminds him of you and buy it for you every. time.

- “it reminded me of that time we -”

- loves having his hair played with

- remembers every obscure fact about you, obviously, and it surprises you every time

- “i can’t believe you remembered that i like this”

- “i remember everything, but i especially take note of everything about you. it comes in handy☺️”

- strokes the back of your hand with his thumb when you hold hands

- is clingy lol

- hand on your thigh, constantly. not necessarily sexual, just likes being close

- hand on the waist. holding hands. hell, even linking pinkies.

- when you sit next to him on a couch, he will pull your legs onto his lap

- surprisingly, he lives for physical contact with you despite his germaphobia. you’re not complaining though

- loves when you talk about your life and tell him all the drama

- “wait she said that? that’s ridiculous. that’s bold coming from someone who cancels all her plans twenty minutes before they’re supposed to start.”

- has a tube of your favorite lip balm (just in case)

- will look at you and smile for no reason. when you ask why he’ll just sigh and say that he likes you a lot

- goodbye kisses ALWAYS. won’t leave unless you give him one.

- listens when you talk about your interests. he likes to see you talk passionately about something, he’ll ask clarifying questions as well.

- sends good morning texts at the same time every day you’re not together

- takes your dishes and washes them for you, even when you protest

- slow dancing.

- appreciates and says thank you for every thing you do for him, even if it’s super minute and you tell him it’s not necessary.

- compliments you in front of the team, in front of friends, family, etc. bro loves talking about you lol

- morgan teases him about being “whipped”

- lays his head in your lap whenever possible

- will pucker his lips and point to them to ask for a lil smooch

- attempts to learn to cook for you-

- one time he set the fire alarm off, and he was panicking when you got home. once you opened the windows and got the smoke out, you kissed his disappointed pout away.

- tells you everything. like literally everything.

- “i had a really good muffin for breakfast this morning.”

- “yeah?”

- “yeah! it was from that new bakery on fourth street. you know, you might like it. maybe we should -“

- in conclusion: he really likes you. like a lot. you’re one of the only constants in his life and he loves that you provide some stability. he loves that you love him too.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hcs #fanfic #headcannons #i’ve literally never written fanfic before #the thought spencer reid has risen my standards astronomically

[danveration]

Could you do a Cooper Howard x reader angst? Something with the reader getting injured or dying and/ or becoming a ghoul?

You and your stories are amazing btw❤️!!!

Thank you!

Parings: Cooper Howard x reader

Summary: You get shot and Cooper comes to your aid.

Word count: 1344

Warnings: Guns, blood, shooting, reader getting shot in the thigh, Cooper being a softy

A/N: sorry if you meant post-nuclear bomb. (if you wanted cooper howard like.. normal human & stuff) ALSO I JUST REALIZED THIS ISN'T VERY ANGSTY 😭😭 FFS. I hope you like it either way :))

It was a hectic situation. There were at least ten people pointing guns directly at you from all around. This was not how you expected your day to go. You didn’t even do anything remotely wrong. Just stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. Which was pretty common around here.

You were by yourself right now, which was another downfall. You didn’t have the capabilities yet to kill a bunch of people on your own. Maybe if you sweet talked them..? You doubt that would work. If only Cooper were here. He would have them all dead in a blink of an eye. Especially because they were threatening you. He seemed to have a soft spot for you for whatever reason. You felt the same way towards him. Even though people would look at you like you’re insane, you don’t care. You can see something in him that nobody else can. He always had a bit of a protective nature towards you the moment you two met. You thought he would’ve killed you, but he just laughed at how scared you looked and ensured that he doesn’t kill without a motive. And in his words “won’t dare harm a pretty thing like you.”

He is currently god knows where. You were tagging along with him but he went to go get more vials. He said he knows a spot where he can snag a couple. That was about two hours ago. It would be great if he just miraculously appeared right now.

“L-listen. I don’t want any trouble, okay? I’m just passing through.” You say, trying to sound brave but the whimper in your voice made itself known.

“Yeah, passing through OUR territory.” One of the men said, with a raspy tone.

“I didn’t know! I’ll go. Right now.” You say quickly, starting to move forward.

“Uh-uh!” One of them yelled.

You hear all their guns go off safely and you stop dead in your tracks. The panic and fear you feel makes your skin develop goosebumps.

“We can’t let you go, can we? What kind of example would we be settin’ if we did?” One of them spoke.

“Oh, just walk right into our territory, It’s all good!! It wouldn't be our territory if we did that, would it?” One of them say in a mocking tone.

“P-please. I just-“ You begin to say.

“Now what on hells creation is goin’ on here?” You hear no other than Cooper’s voice in the other direction.

You subconsciously release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

All the people snap their heads to the ghouls voice. Some of them look scared, but some of them look angry that their fun got spoiled.

“Well? Gonna keep gawking or is somebody going to tell me what the fucks goin’ on here?” He says.

“W-well we caught this one roaming on our territory.” One of the people spoke up.

“And?” Cooper questions them, as if daring them to say what they were going to do to you.

They’re all silent. Except for one. He must be new here or something because he speaks up in an angry tone, “and were gonna kill them.” He says, pointing the gun at you. He looks around at all his other gang members, and how they’re not pointing the gun at you anymore.

He raised a brow, “what’s the big idea? Why’s nobody else-“

BANG

Cooper shoots the man in the arm, not letting him finish his sentence.

Everything went slow from there. You see Cooper giving the man cold eyes, and then from your vision, you see the man look down at his arm, then you see him, with his other hand, grab his gun and quickly shoot you in your thigh before Cooper sends another bullet straight through his head, leaving him instantly falling to the ground.

You hiss out in pain and look down, seeing red liquid gush out and stain your pants.

Cooper whips his head towards you.

“Fuckin’-“ He mumbles as he rushes over, getting on his knees in front of you.

Everyone around immediately makes a quick exit, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the other guy.

Cooper would’ve killed them all for that, if it wasn’t for him not wanting to take his eyes or attention off of you. He feels scared, worried, mad, and mostly desperate. Desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to go back in time and never leave you alone in the first place. He would laugh at himself for feeling these feelings any other time, just not now. Now he has to focus all his attention on you.

“Is it bad?” You mumble out to him, not wanting to fully look at it.

Cooper thankfully notices how it isn’t in a vital place. The bullet went right through, so he doesn’t have to worry about digging it out or it causing complications.

“Well you got shot, sweetheart. It’s bad but it isn’t deadly. You’ll be alright.” He says, trying to ease the worry off of you.

He’s got to get you to a safe spot so he can properly treat the wound. Luckily he has lots of experience with these kinds of situations.

He stands up and leans down, putting his arm behind your knees, lifting you up and carrying you bridal style.

Your eyes go wide and you gasp in shock, but don’t complain. You don’t think you can walk anyhow.

Your cheeks flush and you feel a swell in your heart from his actions. He walks in silence, his brain wracking at how he shouldn’t have left you alone, and how he swears to make sure this won’t happen again. You’re in his arms, hurting, but for some reason you swear it hurts a little less because he’s close to you.

“This won’t never happen again, I swear it. You better be more cautious around these parts though, darlin’. Especially with me not around. People don’t give no mercy.” He says to you.

A little while later, you’re sitting on a mattress in an abandoned building. Your pants are pulled down a bit on one side, so he has access to the wounded leg. Cooper carefully cleaning and wrapping up your wound with a concentrated face. You stare at him and how his eyes look, how his forehead is frowned down in focus, and how his hands are handling you carefully, as if they aren’t used on a daily basis for killing and violence.

“You’re lucky it’s in this spot. A little to the left or right, and you might’ve not been able to use this leg again. Would’ve had to get you those robot leg attachments.” He says, laughing at the end of his sentence.

“You mean the ones that practically rip your leg to shreds? No thanks.” You say, laughing.

You look at him softly as he’s smiling gently, while finishing up wrapping your leg.

“Now would you look at that? All better.” He says, gesturing to your skillfully wrapped leg.

“Thank you, Coop.” You say. “I’m really lucky you came in time.”

“Well, I’d argue I was a tad bit late, but of course, darlin’. I’m glad I got there before things could’ve gotten worse.” He says back to you, adjusting his hat on his head.

He cares about you. It realized that right when he heard that gun shot go in your direction. His heart sank to his stomach immediately, thinking the worse. He’s going to make sure to keep a tight leash on you from now on out. Not in a bad way, just in a way that he’s able to be there if anything happens.

“Thank you, Cooper.” You say softly out of nowhere, looking at him with a bit of blush on your cheeks.

He nods his head in your direction. “You’re quite welcome, sweetheart. Now why don’t you be a doll and rest up. I might’ve wrapped it all neat n’ all, but you’ll still need to let it heal. We can take a couple hours break here."

#my works #fallout #fallout x reader #ghoul #the ghoul #ghoul fallout #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fallout x reader #ghoul x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout ghoul x reader #ghoul fallout x reader #cooper howard fallout #cooper howard x you #fallout fan fiction

[hayakawalove]

The Perfect Present

Summary: You and Satoru think of what to get Suguru for his birthday. What do you get a man who doesn't ask for much? (It's sex)

A/N: And if you look at your calendar, you'll see that the date is February 3rd (it's not) (pretend it is). Another poly satosugu fic for the books. I'm a bit worried my presentation of reader and Gojo's relationship is coming off bad... In all the fics I have for them, their relationship has a heavy emphasis on teasing each other and just being light. I hope it doesn't seem like I don't love him as much, or that he and reader don't like each other. Comments always appreciated!

CW: Smut, Polyamory, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Oral Sex, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Dom/sub, Masturbation, Come Swallowing, Nipple Play, Creampie, Dom Suguru, Sub Reader and Gojo, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 4,028

Credit to Benkeibear for the banner

A low clicking sound is the only noise in your living room. You have your feet kicked up on Satoru’s lap, the heat of his laptop resting on top of your shins. 

“What about a necklace?” You break the silence, fiddling with your shirt. 

Satoru hums, backing out of yet another online store. The two of you were looking for a birthday present for Suguru, a notoriously hard task. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful. He was too grateful, that was the issue. He liked everything you got him, his face always breaking into a smile even if you bought him something he already had. This year you and Satoru wanted to get something he would love. 

“This is hard.” Satoru drops his head back. 

You look up towards him. His hair was messy as he kept tugging at it as he browsed the internet. Satoru looks back down and furrows his brows, rapidly clicking his mouse. 

“This is so annoying, I keep getting adverts that are basically soft porn.” 

You lift a brow at him, admiring his face. 

“They say ads are algorithmic. Maybe stop searching up soft porn and you won’t get them.” 

Satoru scowls at you, pinching your leg. You yelp and watch as he runs his fingers through his pale hair again. 

“I don’t look that stuff up, why would I need to? I have you and Suguru, my own personal porn stars.” 

Your lips twitch in response. You rarely got embarrassed by Satoru anymore, but occasionally he would say something that left you reeling. 

And he wasn’t really wrong. You did feel like a porn star for the two men at times, ready to perform for them at any given second. 

An idea pops in your head. 

“Satoru, what if we let Suguru do whatever he wants for a day?” 

Satoru grins and backs out of the page he’s on. 

“I’m listening.” 

~~~

Your skin prickles in anticipation as your legs cramp below you. You were sitting on your knees, a dull pain beginning to take root in your muscles. The lingerie you were wearing was digging into your sides, the sensation mildly uncomfortable. You knew it was worth it though. You never wore lingerie for Suguru, so you were filled with excitement at how he would react. 

Satoru whines beside you, running his finger underneath the strap that bit into his chest. You told him he didn’t have to wear lingerie too, but he insisted. Wanted to match you, he said. 

“I’m home!” You hear Suguru’s voice call out. Butterflies fill your stomach as anxiety starts to take form in your stomach. 

You and Satoru were in your bedroom, waiting for Suguru to find you. Satoru was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. You can hear Suguru set down his backpack, before filling up a glass of water. 

What if he thought you looked stupid? 

You knew he wouldn’t, but the fear gnawed at you nonetheless. 

“Where are you guys?” Suguru asks, footsteps getting louder as he makes his way to the bedroom. 

You hold your breath as the door knob turns, revealing Suguru. His expression turns from confused to hazy as he notices what you’re wearing. 

“H-happy birthday Suguru.” You attempt to speak loudly, fingers digging into your thighs. 

“What do you think?” Satoru asks, his face lighting up in a smile. 

You notice Suguru’s fingers grip the cup tighter and you wonder for a second if the glass may shatter. 

“What do we have here?” Suguru questions, walking further into the room to set his glass down on the nightstand. 

He comes back around and stands in front of the two of you, head tilted to the side as he watches you. You feel like you’re being assessed, graded on your posture and by the stillness of your body. 

“It’s your birthday, we wanted to celebrate you.” You say meekly. 

Suguru lifts up a hand that you nuzzle into, your cheek smooshing against his palm. 

“Is that right?” He asks, lifting his other hand to caress Satoru’s face. 

Suguru leans forward to place a kiss on Satoru’s lips. The act is a bit aggressive, you’re able to see a wince form on Satoru’s face. You would think he hated the rough treatment if not for the low groan escaping his throat. 

When Suguru pulls back, Satoru’s face is tinged a dark pink. Anticipation begins to build up in your stomach, taking a physical form by leaking between your legs. Suguru turns his head to you, locking his lips against yours. He kisses you much softer, always bordering on the line of not enough. 

You wanted him to be rough with you. 

You wanted him to ruin you. 

He pulls away the second you feel your oxygen depleting. There are stars in his dark eyes, shining as his gaze flicks back and forth between you two. You can practically see his mind churning, thinking about what he wanted to do. 

Satoru’s panting beside you already and you almost feel sorry at the sad sight. It wasn’t about him tonight, but you wanted to help ease the ache between his legs. You knew he was feeling it, because you were feeling it too. 

“What am I going to do with you…” Suguru speaks under his breath. 

Satoru raises his hand, brushing it against the front of Suguru’s pants. He’s about to start unbuttoning them before Suguru grabs his wrist, fingers digging into Satoru’s pale skin. 

“I think you should ask first, don’t you?” 

The oxygen is sucked out from the air around you, and your throat immediately feels dry. Satoru is trembling beside you, probably from excitement. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Can we suck your cock?” Satoru asks. 

“I don’t think you asked politely enough. Try again.” Suguru looks unamused as he stares at Satoru.

Satoru whimpers before his hand falls limp in Suguru’s hold. 

“Can we please suck your cock, sir?” 

Suguru cracks a grin, releasing Satoru’s wrist. He’s immediately fumbling to unbuckle Suguru’s pants, the heat of the room rising. 

Satoru pulls Suguru’s pants down, eyes wide as he gazes upon the bulge. You were barely able to stay still at the sight. Satoru peels his underwear off, mouth dropping open once Suguru’s cock falls out. He places a lick at the bottom, dragging his tongue until he reaches the top. Suguru’s face remains neutral as he watches Satoru. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, scooting closer to the two. 

The heat radiating from Satoru was almost scorching your skin. When he pulls back, you’re able to see the saliva shining on Suguru’s cock in the low light. Irresistible. Satoru groans as he pushes his mouth all the way down, nose being met with a mess of curly black hair. Tonight wasn’t about you either, but you almost felt like it was. The sight of the two was almost too good to be true. 

You release a quiet whine, thighs shuffling beneath your body. You’re getting impatient now as you watch Satoru indulge himself. 

Suguru’s eye flick over to you and a coo slips from his lips. His large hand combs through the crown of your hair, the warmth of his palm seeping through your scalp. 

“I know baby, Satoru’s hogging all the fun, isn’t he?” 

Your brows furrow as your teeth dig in your lip, nodding up at Suguru. He coos once more before using his other hand, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair and yanking him off his cock. A gasp of air is released from his mouth as he winces, following the motion of Suguru’s hand so as to not cause more pain. 

“Good pets know how to share.” Suguru scolds. 

You wait for permission as you look up at Suguru. You can practically see the hearts swimming in his eyes, but they may just be a reflection of your own. 

“Take it.” Suguru says. 

You scoot forward and wrap your lips around Suguru’s cock, Satoru’s saliva mixing with yours. It’s a filthy sight, the way you look kneeling before Suguru. Satoru’s panting beside you, hair still being pulled by Suguru. 

You allow your tongue to slide down, caressing the sensitive skin on Suguru. He shows no emotion that may tell you he’s enjoying himself, but that only makes you want to try harder. Tears leak from your eyes as you force yourself down even more, the weight of his heavy cock causing your jaw to ache. 

Suguru’s eyes are cold and calculating as he watches you. There’s a pit growing in your stomach, the urge to make him come undone stronger than anything you had ever felt before. If it was Satoru in front of you, you would be gifted with a slurry of groans and curse words. They balanced each other out, you guess. 

“You guys got all pretty for me?” Suguru asks, eyes drawn to the way your lips were wrapped around him. 

Satoru has to speak up a bit louder than normal in order to talk above the sounds of you choking on Suguru. 

“Yes sir.” Satoru plays nice, face still wincing at the pain shooting through his head. 

You can’t breathe. You aren’t sure you want to, either. The lack of oxygen is going straight to your pussy, a throbbing beginning to start. Suguru must notice the twitching of your fingers. He notices everything. 

“Satoru, you wanna be a good boy for me?” 

“Depends-“ Satoru gasps as Suguru yanks his hair tighter. 

“Why don’t you get yourselves ready?” It’s not a question even though Suguru poses it as such. 

He releases Satoru and allows him to move closer to you. You feel the ghost of a kiss against your shoulder, Satoru’s lips brushing against your exposed skin. You break out in goosebumps as you thrust your mouth over Suguru’s cock, a mix of salty precum beginning to drip down your throat. 

Satoru’s hand glides over the skin of your thighs, parting them for you. Once his fingers make contact with your clothed clit, you jump, a moan muffled around Suguru. Suguru runs his hand through your hair, soothing you as you suck his cock. 

Satoru buries his middle finger in your slit, molding the lingerie to your dripping pussy. He rubs over it several times before pulling his finger back, sliding it in his mouth before hooking the fabric, easing his finger into you. The stretch is delicious as he dives his finger inside, thrusting in twice before sliding in another finger. As he does this, he uses his other hand to wrap around his cock, rubbing it through his garments. 

The two of you are moaning, filling the room with pornographic sounds. Suguru looks entranced as he watches you two. You wanted tonight to be for him, but it was starting to feel like you and Satoru were having the most fun. Then again, you felt as though Suguru got even more pleasure watching you both, controlling when and how you were getting off. 

Satoru pulls his cock out, tugging it at the same pace he finger fucked you. Satoru’s fingers slide against your sensitive walls, fucking you even though your tight pussy was practically holding him in place. You try to stop yourself from grinding against his hand, desperate to not appear any more pathetic than you already felt. Satoru’s cock is wet and hard, the sounds of his hand sliding down nearly echoing. 

Suguru’s lips are parted as he stares down at you. Something akin to pride blooms in your chest as you look up at him. 

“Is she ready?” Suguru asks, reaching up to let his hair fall down. 

Satoru’s brows are furrowed as he groans, reaching his fingers deep inside you. You dig your nails into Suguru’s thighs, craving for more. 

Suguru pulls back, releasing your mouth from him. You’re finally able to get fresh air, your throat already sore from the rough treatment. You heave as you look up at him, completely disregarding the obscene strings of saliva connecting you to his cock. 

“You look so pretty, don’t you baby?” Suguru says, leaning over to swipe the spit from your face. 

“Y-yes sir.” The only thing on your mind is him. How can you make him feel good?

Suguru coos and helps you to your feet. It’s borderline tortuous to have Satoru’s fingers slide out of you. He also winces in disappointment, popping the fingers in his mouth. You get on your hands and knees on the bed, shoving your ass out to signal how badly you needed contact. 

You can feel the burn of Suguru’s stare on your body, and you’re trembling with excitement. His large hand comes up to graze across your sensitive flesh, eliciting a soft groan. Suguru grips your ass and spreads it, sliding his cock between you before easing himself inside your pussy. 

Satoru’s fingers did warm you up, but you weren’t so sure it was enough. Your mouth drops open and your body tenses up, pussy almost pushing him back out. 

“Hey, hey, relax baby. You gotta loosen up for me. It’s my birthday, remember?” Suguru speaks. 

You whine and try to force your muscles to comply. The action gives Suguru the ability to slip in completely. 

“Fuck.” Suguru moans, digging his fingers in your ass. 

You aren’t able to see, but Satoru is standing next to Suguru, a frown plastered on his face. 

“What’s wrong Satoru?” Suguru appeases him. 

“I, I need-“ Satoru can’t get the words out, he’s grabbing his cock as he tries to figure out how to ask for what he wants. 

Suguru pulls back slightly, before shoving myself back in. You let out a sharp gasp and drop your face into the bed. 

“Why don’t you tell me what you need?” It sounds like a trap with the way Suguru asks it, his voice sickly sweet but his eyes dark. 

Suguru grabs Satoru’s cock, rubbing it a couple times as he stares at him. He paused his movements in you, his cock completely still as it rested deep inside you. You’re close to fucking yourself on him, your anticipation gripping you like a vice. Satoru’s breathing heavily behind you, his hand holding Suguru’s arm. 

“Need more, please.” Usually Satoru would fight back, but he was a pile of mush today. He must really want it bad. 

“Such a good boy today.” 

Suguru speaks, grinning as Satoru almost doubles over. Satoru lets out a groan, thrusting his hips forward to meet Suguru’s palm. Suguru starts to fuck into you at a leisurely pace, his cock grazing your sensitive walls. You try to remind yourself that it’s his birthday, that this isn’t for you, but your patience is waning. His cock is still keeping you stuffed, nearly full to the brim, but just like Satoru you wanted more. You wanted him to bring his hips back only to slam into you so hard you couldn’t breathe. 

“Why don’t you use the front, you’ll let him do that won’t you sweetheart?” The question is aimed at you, but it’s hard to respond with your mind being clouded with need. 

“Mhm.” Your face is smashed in the bed, as you breathe deeply trying to collect yourself. 

Suguru lets go of Satoru, watching as he stumbles to the bed. When he gets on top, he sits on his knees in front of you. Suguru reaches up and laces his hand through your hair, yanking it back to expose your face to Satoru. The action is painful, a low groan falling past your lips as you try to focus on Satoru. His face is bright red above you, his leaky tip inches from your lips. Your stomach twists at the sight, he looked so fucking good. You stick out your tongue, hoping it will distract you from the desire seeping in your core. 

“I’ve neglected you, I’m sorry.” Suguru murmurs, smoothing your ass with one hand. 

He pulls back and thrusts into you hard, jolting you forward. It was exactly what you needed. Satoru takes the opportunity to slide his cock in your mouth, moaning at the warmth that coats him. It’s getting hard to breathe between Suguru slamming into you, his pace slow but forceful, and Satoru’s cock filling up every inch of your mouth. If you listen closely enough, you’re able to hear Suguru’s soft moans behind you. Satoru’s precum is salty as it slides down your tongue. Suguru’s the one who sets the pace for you, his hand still gripping your head. He controls how your mouth moves, smirking to himself when he sees Satoru’s fingers twitch. 

Each time Suguru presses into you, his cock pushes against the sensitive spot in your walls that leaves you breathless. He knew your body like the back of his hand, his touch never failing to leave you reeling. You can hardly focus on Satoru’s cock, moans spilling from your lips at the way Suguru stretches you. Your jaw aches from keeping it open, tears beginning to well up in your eyes from the pain of Satoru’s cock nudging the back of your throat. You aren’t sure how much longer he’s going to last, his whimpers filling the room as he tosses his head back, his face almost completely pink. Suguru pushes your head down at a faster pace, breathless chuckles following once he hears you struggling for air. You swirl your tongue underneath Satoru’s cock, as your head bobs along his cock. 

“Suguru…” Satoru moans not your name, but the name of the man behind you. 

The name of the man who controls the two of you like puppets, created only for his pleasure. 

“Feel good?” Suguru asks, his face briefly pinching up. 

Satoru’s stomach is flexing above you, you can see it through the expensive lingerie that donned his body. 

“So, s-so good-“ Satoru’s precum is dribbling down your throat, and you have to continuously swallow. 

“I know, she’s perfect.” Suguru voice is almost muffled in your ears, your mind swimming. “You gonna cum?” 

“Yes, need to cum, need to-“ Satoru’s voice breaks off into a loud moan. 

He’s holding back, you can tell. 

“Oh you need to? You have a lot of needs today, don't you think that’s weird if you’re celebrating my birthday?” 

Your walls clench around Suguru at the harshness of his words. You hope he won’t point it out, you aren’t sure you could handle the humiliation from him right now. You might cum on the spot. 

“Please,” Satoru sobs. 

Suguru hums, his hands full of the flesh in front of him. He kneads your ass as he talks. 

“Please, please, Suguru I’m gonna!”

Suguru’s breathing picks up behind you. He’s getting off on this. He likes knowing Satoru needs him. He likes hearing him groan his name, even though he isn’t touching him. 

“Alright, alright.” Suguru slams your head all the way down, the action nearly bruising the back of your throat. 

Satoru moans loudly, his breathing stuttering as cum begins to shoot out into your mouth. You choke at first before you regain your barings. 

“Don’t swallow.” Suguru tells you. 

Suguru pulls you off Satoru’s cock once he sees Satoru regain composure. Suguru pulls you up until his toned chest is pressing into your sweaty back. He tilts your face towards his, digging his fingers into your jaw and pressing his lips against you. The cum leaks from the corner of your lips as Suguru laps it from your mouth, desperate for a taste of Satoru. His hips stop as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His breath is heavy as it mixes with yours. 

Suguru pulls back, admiring your face before pressing down on your back, shoving you into the bed. You yelp as he starts to thrust into you again, your walls sensitive from all the constant teasing. 

“Taste so f-fucking good Satoru.” Suguru moans, holding your hips as he fucks into you. 

Suguru’s pace is steady now that he’s able to fully focus on you. He reaches his hand around and slides his fingers onto your pussy, circling your clit. You moan into the bed as he presses into you. Overwhelming, Suguru was overwhelming. 

“Satoru, get under her.” 

The two men move your body until Satoru is laying beneath you, bright blues looking up as his hand caresses your face. You whimper as you look down at him. He leans up to press his lips against yours, silencing all your sounds. You try to force your body to remain stable on your two wobbly arms, but your body was feeling useless. His tongue slides against your bottom lip, diving in the second your mouth opens. He tangles it with yours, his eyes rolling back once he tastes the remnants of his cum. Satoru slides his hand down your body, grazing against your chest. His fingers take advantage of your hardened nipples as he pinches them. Suguru breathes in a sharp breath when your pussy clenches around him. 

Each part of your body was being stimulated by the two men, your senses nearly burning out from the pleasure. Satoru pulls away, looking up at you as he continues to tease your chest. His eyes are closely monitoring each of your reactions, lips parted as he watches. 

Suguru strokes your clit, speeding up once he starts fucking you faster. Moans were falling from your lips now that you were unrestricted. You knew you were going to cum soon, and it scared you knowing that the men would be able to keep this up for endless amounts of hours. 

“Good, s-so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You sob, forcing your eyes shut. 

Suguru slams into you, groaning at the intermittent squeezing of your walls. His cock is drenched in your lust, the lubrication making it all the more easier to thrust into you. 

Satoru continues to play with your nipples, switching between sliding his thumbs over them and pinching them. He’s mesmerized as he watches your face twist in pleasure, nearly jealous that Suguru’s the one who’s balls deep inside of you. 

Suguru’s circling your clit as he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge. He wants you to cum first. 

You let out a long moan as you tighten around Suguru, so much so that it’s hard for him to continue fucking you. You cum on his cock, Satoru refusing to stop touching you. You cum so hard you nearly black out, almost afraid that your arms would give out on you, causing you to fall onto Satoru. 

“Fuck, that’s it baby, come on.” Suguru murmurs, his breathing more labored. 

He pulls his fingers away once you settle down and reaches them forward to stick into Satoru’s mouth. You get a front row seat as Satoru licks Suguru’s fingers, groaning at the taste. Once he’s finished, Suguru leans back to hold onto you. His pace is irregular, letting you know that he was close. You stare into Satoru’s eyes, maintaining eye contact. Suguru pushes into you, his hips stuttering as he starts to cum. He isn’t as noisy as Satoru, but the sounds he makes still travel to your ears, the low moaning making your body melt. Suguru stays inside you for a couple of moments, wincing when he pulls out. He admires the cum filling your hole, looking around to find something to clean you up with. Satoru brushes your hair back and slides from underneath you, appreciating your trembling figure on the bed. 

Suguru cleans you up, carefully helping you lay down. 

“I love you.” Satoru grabs Suguru’s wrist, pressing his lips against his. 

“I love you too.” Suguru says. 

You look up at the two men, your bottom lip jutting out. Satoru chuckles and Suguru’s lips spread into a soft smile. 

“I love you too.” Satoru aims towards you. 

Suguru repeats the sentiment, your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. 

The two men make their way to the bed, and instead of sandwiching you in the middle, Satoru waits until Suguru lays down before he lays on his other side. 

“Can we sing to you now?” Satoru asks. 

“Please don’t.” 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak

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#my writing #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #suguru x reader x gojo #poly satosugu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 33 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

As it turns out, the Underworld provides a whole slew of services designed to deal with circumstances just like this. Medical care, emergency home repair–and body disposal, all for the price of a handful of gold coins.

You sit with John as a man your lover so descriptively calls Doc sews up Wick’s wounds. There is blood on your face, and your silk pjs. Dog sits on your foot, clearly anxious about letting either one of you out of his sight. In the same spirit, John’s good hand is clasped in yours, or yours in his–neither of you have been able to let go. 

Another man known simply as Charlie orchestrates the removal of the collection of corpses through the house. Yet more tattooed tradesmen work on boarding up the blown out window in the kitchen with a big piece of plywood. 

It’s a miracle, really, the house didn’t burn down. 

“Thought you’d left all this behind you, John?” asks Doc, making a neat knot in the former assassin’s side. 

“So did I.”

“What will you do?”

“The same thing I always do when I’m lost. Talk to Winston.” 

The two men share a snort of laughter you don’t entirely understand. 

When Doc finishes with John he gives you a bottle of pain meds, and a bottle of what are, as far as you can tell, pharmacy grade amphetamines. “In case he has to work again.” You take them with wide eyes and a nod, praying to whatever devil might be listening that that won’t be necessary. 

You’re fairly certain that no one up above is interested in any of you anymore. 

You killed a man. 

You killed a man with a gun to save John, and you do not feel sorry at all. 

Numb, perhaps, but not sorry. 

John groans as he adjusts himself on the couch. You reach out to steady him, helping him best you can. He is heavy, and you look at the stairs with doubt. “Maybe we should sleep down here tonight?”

He blinks at you, undoubtedly thinking you incredibly naïve. “We can’t stay here, baby. It’s not safe.”

“Where will we go?” 

“We’re going to the city,” says John, sounding weary as a man twice his age. “I know a place. Can you drive?”

You have to admit you’re a little dizzy from the whiplash. In the span of a few hours, you’ve gone from being locked up like a princess in the castle, to murdering a man, and now John is going to let you drive?

He must read the blatant surprise on your face. He doesn’t like it, his grip tightening on your hand. “These are bad, bad men who would eat you for breakfast. You’ve got to stick with me.” 

You bristle at this, because even though you absolutely should be thinking about escape? You’re not. You were thinking about how you were going to manage taking care of him in this state, and it pisses you off that he’s still so fucking worried about controlling you that he can’t see the writing written in blood on the wall. 

Or at least, written in blood, on the kitchen floor. 

“You asshole,” you say for the second time tonight. It wins you a lordly scowl that for some fucked up reason thrills you to the tips of your toes. But it’s too late to turn back now. “Were you there, when I fucking shot a man for you? Maybe this is just business as usual for you, but it’s fucking new to me.”

He clenches his other fist on his knee, seeming to count to ten with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he finally grinds out. “I know…Are you alright?”

You guess that you put up a good enough front that he forgot that maybe he should ask. Good on you. Maybe.

“No, not really,” you answer truthfully. “But I don’t have any choice, do I?”

He actually has the grace to cast his eyes down, seeming to really think on what you’re saying. “You had a choice,” he muses quietly, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. “In the kitchen.”

You stroke Dog’s head for something to do with your other hand, which is shaking. Your thundering heart beats painfully in your chest. From the corner of your eye you take in this anomaly of a man. This man, who kidnapped you, who has been playing mental games with you for months, who has kept you prisoner, who has taken your body to heights you never even knew were possible, who has spoiled you, who has adored you and degraded you all in the same breath–this man, who somehow, you know you love with your whole heart. 

“John…” He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes glazed with pain. You’re not sure if it’s physical or mental at this point. “Did you really think I could shoot you?”

Perhaps he did, because in his mind, the only acceptable answer to a wrong against you is murder. 

Perhaps in the brutal world he’s occupied since he was just a child, it is. 

Suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. “Maybe I would deserve it, y/n.”

The fact that he knows that is definitely a good sign. 

But the tricky truth is–it wasn’t all bad. And the good? The good was almost worth the bad, you dare to think now that you’ve survived it. You know better than to say that, because you know you are in the midst of a negotiation right now.

“I love our life together, when you’re sweet to me, John. I only want to murder you when you boss me around. And I only mean that figuratively.”

A huff of laughter escapes him; there is a glimmer of hope in his miserable dark eyes. You know it’s insane, after everything he’s done, but you feel sorry for this man. 

“If you would just treat me as an equal, instead of constantly trying to control me…” I’ll be your ride or die. You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud yet. He already has enough power over you. “Do you think…that’s something we can work on?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, when slowly he nods, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. “If you don’t want to murder me after everything I’ve done to you…maybe anything is possible.”

You on the other hand, can only blink. Did you just hear what you think you heard? 

That blood-pressure induced ringing has returned to your ears again. The explosion and gunfire surely didn’t help, but somehow this is far more momentous to you. Your surprise for the magnitude of this admission surprises you, and you must show it in the lift of your brows. It makes him smile ruefully; you’re not sure why the sight of it squeezes your heart so. 

You are not so stupid as to think this traumatic event has healed him miraculously, knocked some loose screw back into place. The mind doesn’t work like that. But just maybe, it did put some things into perspective. You are allies now against a mutual cause, rather than enemies of each other. And just maybe, when you tell him that you don’t want to leave him, he will actually believe you from now on. 

“Anyway…I can drive the Rover…” you say with confidence, even though you are still utterly flabbergasted he’d even give you the opportunity. “I don’t know about the ‘Stang.” The Mustang you think you could manage in an emergency, but it’s been a long time since you had to drive a stick, and being responsible for his baby doesn’t sit well with you. 

“That will do.” He grumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ve got to teach you to drive. There is so much I need to teach you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that. You are too tired to hash it out completely right now, but you sense that something, a whole lot of something, has changed in the past few hours between you.  

He makes to get to his feet with a groan–and can’t quite. “Maybe I am too old for this shit,” he grouses. 

“John, you got shot, stabbed, and fought off ten heavily armed assassins. I think you can count tonight as a win.”

Again, that bitter huff of laughter escapes him. You help John to his feet, trying to steady him as best you can. If he’d injured one of his legs badly you would be so fucked; there was no way you could carry him.

“Um…who were they?” You realize you haven’t even talked about who was just trying to kill him. You suppose you already think you know the answer, but then again you could be wrong.

“Camorra goons, I’m pretty sure,” hisses John, clearly in pain. “Guess I should have kept someone alive for questioning…I’ve always been bad at that.”

You press your lips, because it shouldn’t be funny…but if you don’t laugh about it, you might cry. Your life has been so weird lately, it almost just seems par for the course in a way. 

“John…” you chortle and sigh. “Surely the d’Antonio kid gets the picture now? You’ve killed everyone he’s sent after you? Why can’t these assholes just leave you alone?” Why the prince of the Camorra would court such trouble is beyond you. 

“Good question.” He groans as he takes a step, his good arm slung over your shoulder. “The young ones, especially the second or third generation, think they have to prove themselves. Or maybe…he loved his mother and wants me dead. It’s a faint possibility.” 

“Italian boys and their mothers.” 

John chuckles a little, then winces. “Please, sweetheart,” he entreats you. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Maybe you are a silly creature, but hearing the endearment for you warms something in your heart that had been left out in the cold for too long. “Fine,” you agree, even though humor is absolutely your biggest coping mechanism. “Tell me what we need to do next?” 

“We need to pack.”

“Ok. What?”

“Suits, and guns.” 

You guess in a nutshell, that was the essential distillation of his world, once upon a time. Now, quite against your will, you both are being kicked back into it. By the look in John’s dark eyes, for some reason you have a feeling it’s the Camorra who are going to regret it. 

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Bryce/Jared; quick learner

For the prompt: I would really like to see someone (coach or media) realize Bryce is not actually an idiot (at least about hockey)

SO: How is it, having Bryce Marcus back in the roster for this final run before the playoffs? Is it a relief to have him back? BF: We have faith in all our guys, but I mean, of course we’re glad to have Bryce back. LR: I wouldn’t use the word relief, though. That’s not the feeling I get. It’s a treat to have him back with us. BF: Yes. LR: And I don’t just mean on the ice. The guy’s a sponge, truly. Everything I teach him, he either picks it right up, or he knows it already. I’ve coached some of the best players in the world, here and internationally, and I’d like to think I’m pretty accustomed to bright hockey minds. But it’s a treat. It’s a treat. SO: High praise. LR: My guys know — I never give a compliment unless I mean it. BF: Is that why you never give me compliments? (Laughter) LR: The only thing I don’t like about that guy is that I won’t get to coach him in the Olympics. SO: You don’t see a defection to Team USA in his future? LR: Nah, pretty sure the guy’s heart is right here in Vancouver. BF: If there’s a place for a heart to be… LR: It’s a pretty good one. BF: Great one.

-After Hours, feat. Vancouver Canucks Coach Landon Rutger and General Manager Brian Foster

*

Jared’s honestly a little surprised it takes as long as it does for the coaching staff to realise just how bright Bryce is. Or more, to pick up on just how broad that intelligence is, because it doesn’t take long for them to figure out how quickly Bryce picks up strategy, almost no time at all before he’s quarterbacking the power play, stage-directing before face offs. But Jared doesn’t know if it’s Bryce’s reputation preceding him or what, but the way they seriously pay attention to what Stevie has to say, to Gabe, Bryce doesn’t get that.

Thankfully that doesn’t extend to the team: they start listening to Bryce almost straight away, on the ice and off it. Jared thinks Gabe had something to do with that, letting everyone know Bullet has a good eye, that he’s worth listening to, but it probably would have happened even if Gabe hadn’t said a thing. This isn’t Calgary, nobody’s tuning him out, assuming the only things he knows about are scoring goals, picking up women, and taking bad penalties.

Bryce’s linemates are the first ones to notice, unsurprisingly. Usually where the first line goes, so too goes the team, and the Canucks are no exception. It’s only a handful of practices before Bryce is sticking around after the coaches leave, staying on the ice to give dudes pointers, give them a little extra practice on the things they need to work on.

It means Jared has to stick around a little longer, and Gabe too, if they’re carpooling, but Gabe claims not to mind, and whenever Jared gets impatient, he just has to think about how Bryce ran him through almost every single exercise before the combine, rented private ice time when Jared was getting too into his own head.

It’d be selfish, not wanting his teammates to get that too. And, far more importantly, it'd be completely counterproductive. It makes Bryce happy too, and Jared’s always going to be a sucker for that, though, thankfully, Bryce never seems to realise quite how big a sucker he is.

But in the final regular season stretch, Jared swears he can see it click, all at once, and suddenly Bryce is getting pulled aside by Coach, waved over to serious conversations with the team vets, Rutger leaning down to intently listen whenever Bryce turns to tell him something mid-game.

“Coach told me I should consider a career behind the bench after I retire,” Bryce says when they get home after one particularly long post-practice conversation.

He sounds a little stunned, like it’s something he never considered before, which is kind of funny, considering he was technically supposed to be one when he met Jared.

Jared would have laughed his ass off at the idea of Bryce coaching back then — and he did — but now?

Well, maybe he wouldn't be the best head coach, because Jared can see Bryce getting his ass thrown out of the game after losing it on the refs — he’s almost done it a few times as a player. He can see him being loved by his players, the kind of coach they’d run through walls for, but he can’t so much see him handling the disciplinary side of things, or delivering the bad news of roster re-assignments, scratches, which goalie’s in, which is out.

Not that he couldn't do it — Jared’s sure he could — but he’s equally sure that shit would stick with him at the end of the night, get in his head, follow him home. He’s too nice to be a head coach.

Jared’s not saying head coaches have to be assholes, except — maybe he is, a little. All of Jared’s best coaches were dudes he’d never be friends with, and that’s probably part of it. Better to be feared than loved, right? That’s Machiavelli, Jared thinks. Dude had some solid points, reputation aside.

But assistant coach, well — Jared can see that. Bryce running the power play, maybe, or special teams in general — he may not play on the PK, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t run a good kill. Or maybe be the coach that takes the lead on player development, the friendly one checking in how the rookies are doing and if anyone’s dealing with shit off the ice, helping them grow as players.

“Huh,” Jared says.

Bryce gives him a curious look.

“You would, you know,” Jared says.

“You think so?” Bryce says.

“I really do,” Jared says. He doesn’t know why Bryce lights up at that, when he’s just been told the same thing by someone who knows a hell of a lot more than Jared does, but he accepts the grateful kiss that comes his way. He hasn’t earned it or anything, but he’ll take it anyway. He always will.

*

SO: So I think it’s safe to say you’re both big fans of Bryce Marcus. BF: I know we’ve spent most of this interview singing his praises, but he deserves it. We’re lucky to have him. Delighted to have him back. LR: I think most people respect his hands, and his shot, but I don’t think very many people have realised what a keen mind for strategy he has. I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t realise until he was playing for me. BF: In hindsight, it might have been a better idea to let them stay in the dark on that one. (Laughter) LR: Maybe. But I think anyone paying enough attention will figure it out sooner rather than later. I think he’s going to make a lot of people eat their words. BF: I'm looking forward to that moment. LR: Me too. -After Hours, feat. Vancouver Canucks Coach Landon Rutger and General Manager Brian Foster

#fic snippet #bryce marcus #jared matheson

[fushipurro]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 3 - Malevolent Desire

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, darker themes, yandereish!sukuna, sukuna is bad at feelings, brief mention of an implied kidnapping/murders, brat taming, orgasm denial, vaginal/nipple foreplay, cunnilingus, creampie, sukuna calls you a slut (affectionate), biting/small blood mentions

☆ Word Count: 5.9k

Never in your life did you think one town could look as good as it does right now. It’s like a desert mirage that calls your name, urging you closer with the promise of rest.

After reclaiming your fateful bay mare, the trip home felt greater in lengths, heightened by the midday rays of the hot sun down the back of your neck. Now, the city of Valentine sits ahead of you, basked in rich golden hues.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the levels of exhaustion you face now. It pulls on your mind, body, and soul alike ─ demanding everything you’re able to give.

Upon your return with the empty-handed lawmen, Satoru offers a not-so-subtle notion that if you’re sore or injured after any “strenuous activities” to stop in at the neighboring doctor’s office for some care.

You decide to take him up on it, hoping to find some sort of reprieve, at least from the warm sensations where clothes couldn’t protect you from the harsh touch of sunlight. There, you find a woman by the name of Shoko Ieiri ─ an old friend of the two you had spent your day with, and the resident physician.

She proves especially helpful in restocking whatever medical supplies you needed, and even more understanding with any matters relating to ones with Satoru’s involvement. In fact, all you had to do was mention his name and referral, and it was as though you gave her the key to a closet full of tonics dedicated in his name.

During your time shopping, a man clad in dark jeans, a purple button up, and a black vest steps into the office. Just like you, he’s here to restock, claiming to be on the hunt of a local predator who recently claimed another victim.

Turns out, the man you had a shootout with went missing sometime late last night, leaving behind a trail of blood that didn’t go far. The modus operandi matches that of the killer he and his partner are after. Whether they’re alive still or not is unknown, but it won’t be long before a decaying body surfaces with a cryptic message to follow.

You’ve always been intrigued with bounty hunters, at times becoming one yourself to make a few extra bucks if need be. It was something your father had done on the side to put food on the table considering how picky businesses can get with new hires.

In your discussion with Shoko and the man called Choso, you made a mention to your little adventure with Satoru and what all your poor Valentine has been through. Surprisingly, Choso claims to have some veterinary knowledge, offering to look her over for any potential injuries, free of charge.

You accept of course, her health is of the upmost importance to you. Even if you don’t believe Suguru would have purposely harmed her, you can’t say the same for his crew. That, and how she was in the middle of an ongoing robbery. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Choso not only ensures that Valentine’s in tip top form, but also checks over Clementine. You appreciate it, knowing how much you’d hate yourself if something were to happen before she’s reunited with Kento.

The two of you are joined by his partner, Yuki, who had been resupplying at the weapon’s shop across the street. She reminds you a lot of yourself, perhaps even cut from the same cloth. It’s always a pleasure to meet another woman on the frontier that can hold her own, and you hope to run into her again someday ─ maybe while hunting a bounty to compare skills.

In the meantime, she can’t help but swoon over the two mares in your care, even showing off her own that she raised from a filly ─ a silver turkoman dubbed Garuda. Choso’s steed on the other hand is a leopard appaloosa gelding by the name of Nova.

When everything’s said and done and the hunters take their leave, dusk has settled over Valentine with a thick blanket of stars. All that’s left for you to do now is to get your meat and you can be on your way for some food and rest.

…so long as the butcher’s stall is actually open, which in this case ─ it’s not.

Tough luck.

So much for getting your dinner now, guess you’ll be going to bed hungry. You opt to head for the hotel, which only serves to sour your mood further as the clerk tells you your stay is up and there’s no other rooms left to rent out. At the very least, you’re still able to pay for a bath to wash off the various dirt, grime, and other slick stuck to your body.

Now you could head off into the nearby prairie, or down by the Dakota River to camp, but as highlighted earlier, you’re exhausted. With two horses under your care and all your worldly possessions, you need to be extra careful what you do and where you go as a woman in this wild age.

Luckily, there’s a dozen barns to choose from in town, and even more available stalls to sneak into. At this point, straw poking your back is the least of your problems if it means getting a night of rest.

You lead the two mares over to an empty corral behind one such stable, freeing them from their tack and hiding the evidence under a pile of alfalfa bales. Save for the saloon, the rest of town has quieted down as others have now retreated to their homes and families.

That used to be you once when you were younger, now here you are sneaking inside a barn to get some shuteye. Oh, how your father would be so proud.

There’s just one problem.

You’re not alone.

As soon as you enter through the barn doors, you’re met with a few lit lanterns and a huge horse on the crossties. We’re talking the definition of a war horse here, with a blood bay coat to match. Their feathering is light, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out there’s some warmblood mixed in with some draft breed. At the sound of their deep, echoing neigh, a head pops up from between their hindquarters.

“Who the fuck ─ ahh, it’s you,” the voice remarks, and it’s one you remember quite well.

The Butcher.

“Come to finally collect what’s yours?” he asks, a tinge of playful annoyance lacing in his words.

You approach the man, narrowing your eyes. He spares you his own sharp look before resuming his work clipping the giant’s hoof.

“Since when does Valentine’s butcher do farrier work?” you question, admiring the look of dark chaps around his beefy legs. It pairs nicely with his black pants and the red shirt he has on.

He snorts, “I do a lot of different work ‘round here, sweetheart.” His nickname falls short when paired with sarcasm. “Whatever pays the bills while I’m here, and besides, this is my own mare so it’s not like I’m being paid.”

“Leave it to a bloodied man to ride a red mare,” you mutter under your tongue, hearing him huff anyways. “Can’t lie though, she’s a beauty.” You reach out to pet the girl, only to retract your hand the second her ears pin backwards and she about bites your hand off.

“That she is,” he chuckles lowly, uncaring to what almost occurred, “Calamity here is loyal and obedient, just how I like it.”

You scowl in response, ultimately realizing any interactions with this man require a level of caution to be taken. He’s not to be trifled with.

Then again, Daddy didn’t raise no coward.

“You sure you’re not compensating for something?”

Not that he needs to. Appearance wise, he’s very attractive, even if he waves enough red flags at you to be called a matador. You are a stubborn bull at times, so it may be a fair tradeoff. Being tired and hungry don’t mix well for any wicked cowgirl.

“Please,” the butcher scoffs. “I have no reason to need to. Why, you interested in taking me on?” He throws a smirk at you from over his shoulder, grabbing a large file in the process to shave down the mare’s hoof.

You roll your eyes, leaning up against a wooden post to admire his workmanship. “Please,” you mock, “I think you’re exactly the type of man my father would tell me to put a bullet into and call it a day.”

“If you think my ‘services’ are inadequate, then you’re more than welcome to,” he retorts, finishing up the hoof with a beautifully crafted horseshoe nailed perfectly on. He stands up after, dusting off his hands and turning to you in full. He certainly has a height advantage on you amongst other things.

You don’t back down, not even when you’re at the disadvantage. “We’re still talking about work, right? ‘Cause you have something of mine.”

The butcher steps forward into your space, like a predator stalking its prey into a corner, only you don’t move. “Is that really why you came creeping in here? Or maybe you’ve been following me,” he muses with sultry words.

“I’m not here for you, your highness.” Those choice words deepen his annoying grin. “But since you are here, then I’d like to get my meat and go. I’ve had quite a long day.”

His eyes darken as a thought crosses his mind. “I think I can help with that… if you’ll give in to me,” he says, moving one hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. You slap him away, earning a click of his tongue, “Don’t be a tease.”

You ignore his accusation. “What exactly are you offering here?”

“Instead of sleeping in a stall full of shit…” he pauses, letting his words register that yes ─ he knew exactly why you were here to begin with. He’s as smart as he is cocky, that’s for sure. Not a bad combination, but only if you can back it up. “…why don’t you come back home with me, and I’ll treat you to some care?”

A tempting offer, but full of risk.

“And how am I supposed to believe you aren’t planning on robbing or gutting me the moment we’re alone?”

He laughs again, only this time it resembles some cackling coyote in the dead of night. “Guess you’ll just have to be good and trust me.”

“Howreassuring of you,” you reply sarcastically.

“It’s up to you, brat.” He shrugs nonchalantly, picking up his heavy western saddle. “Whether you want it or not, make your choice now or forever hold your peace.”

You keep a horse-length behind the man, Sukuna, atop your mare; your eyes are glued to the back of his head with one hand close to your iron if the situation warrants the need. The environment around you both is eerily calm ─ as if nature knows something about a potential threat that you don’t.

Perhaps your foremost thought about him being a serial killer on the side wasn’t too far off.

It doesn’t help your nerves either or his case for that matter when his home happens to be a cabin in the woods. There’s a set of storm doors that immediately catch your eyes upon arrival. They’re tightly bound and sealed with the use of heavy chains but at this point, would it really surprise you if there’s something down there he doesn’t want others to see?

Rationally, it could just be where he stores excess meats and other parts of his work, and that the chains are only there to keep predators out. He is a butcher after all, that would be the safest option.

…Unless of course the seal exists to prevent anything from escaping.

You decide to push those thoughts away for now. You’ve wrestled with bears numerous times after all; if Sukuna decides to betray the trust you’re giving him, then you won’t be going down easily.

Sukuna rides up to the pasture gate, hitching Calamity up to a post to untack her. You join him near his side with both Valentine and Clementine to do the same. Hopefully his mare’s temperament doesn’t affect either of your girls in the field after Choso gave them the okay. Explaining any new injuries to Kento would not be easy after he’s already gone out on a limb for you.

You’re then led up into his cabin, where the interior is surprisingly clean. For a butcher, he seems careful enough about it, as nothing you see has a speck of blood staining it.

“Take a seat,” he practically demands, pulling out one of his dining chairs for you on his way into the kitchen. You oblige, choosing not to comment on his tone.

You watch him from afar as he cooks, to which it appears to be yet another skill he excels in. His precision with a knife also tells you that in the event of any fights to the death, you’re gonna need a gun to win. He spares you a few glances here and there, but otherwise his focus is kept solely on the stovetop until he’s walking back into the room with dishes in hand.

You can honestly say that Sukuna’s cooking is one of, if not, the best you’ve had the privilege to eat. He’s prepared a selection of different meats paired with fresh vegetables and is eager for you to try everything he’s whipped up.

Conversation is kept to a minimum, not that you can complain. His earlier attitude seems to have softened after a good meal, yet the tension still hasn’t let up. After dinner, you offer to help clean up as thanks, but he shuts you down, even taking your plate straight from your hands.

There’s a look of mischief that plays across his crimson eyes as you’re turning back to the table. Now there’s one thing to always be cautious of when sharing company with a predator, and that’s to never turn your back on one.

A full belly must’ve dulled your senses, subsequently lowering your guard to forget that rule. Your mistake comes with a consequence, or maybe a blessing ─ Sukuna now caging you between himself and the dinner table.

His voice, deep and velvety, murmurs in your ear, “Ready to discuss payment?”

It makes your body shiver, and you hope it wasn’t too obvious. He chuckles, so you know that was a bust. Good thing you’ve still got some sass in you.

“You’re telling me you didn’t do this out of the kindness of your heart?” you tease with the man.

“Fuck no.” Sukuna inhales your scent, making your eyes flutter shut. “I’m not about to let some other maggot get in my way,” he says, brushing the hair off the side of your neck, revealing splotches of red and purple bruising. “This time…you’re mine.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you tell him, but your efforts to remain in control are in vain.

Sukuna starts to pepper kisses across every discoloration his eyes can find, his other hand now pulling you closer to his body.

He’s hard, and nor was he lying either when he said he has nothing to compensate for.

With one hand placed inches above your needy core, he encourages you to grind against his own. It’s an action so specific, you can’t help but wonder if there’s some hidden meaning to it. Either way, Sukuna knows right where to get you along your neck until you’re weak in the knees and grasping the edge of the table for stability.

“What’s the matter?” he asks between kisses. “No more bratty comments?” You can feel his lips hovering over your carotid artery, smiling against the flesh as your heartbeat quickens in response.

“Fuck you,” you spit in a low volume, your grip on the table growing stronger as Sukuna’s hand moves fast to cup your sex.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” he muses. “I intend to enjoy every minute of this.” He lifts his hand upwards, pulling you off your feet for a hot second causing a gasp to leave your mouth. He then lets go of your body, backing away a few steps.

“Strip,” he commands, and you find yourself throwing caution to the wind. As you start to unbutton your shirt, he stops you, “Aht aht, turn around.” He motions with his finger almost impatiently so.

You roll your eyes before doing so, continuing where you left off. “Better, my lord?”

“That’s it,” he drawls, ignoring your snarky tone in favor of the new title of worship. “You’ll do well to listen and take orders.”

“You know, maybe I should put a bullet in you if you think I’m gonna sit back and become one of your pets. Better yet, I could always just cut your dick right off or maybe gelding would be more fun,” you warn him with an amused smile.

“Your words only arouse me, brat.” He stalks closer, baring his canines towards you with a similar, more salacious grin. “Stick around long enough with me and I’ll show you the best way how to do all of those things.”

Unlike you, you don’t believe he’s joking.

Sukuna takes a moment to admire your body, feeling his own cock strain in his pants. He leans his head down, taking you by your mouth in a ravenous embrace. He roughly bites your bottom lip, making you gasp yet again. Sukuna uses this chance to slip his tongue past your teeth, savoring the metallic flavor all while a free hand slips between your thighs.

He spreads you open, prodding his middle finger against your opening. “My… so wet already? I’ve hardly touched you.”

For how much you hate him for his arrogance, he certainly knows how to make a gal feel oh so aroused. You’re enjoying this more than you had expected to.

Without warning, he thrusts his finger upwards, lifting your body to rest atop the dining table. “Fuck!” you shriek, the pain turning to pleasure when his thumb coos your throbbing clit. With deft motions, he pumps his finger in and out.

Sukuna laughs in an almost sadistic manner, thoroughly enjoying the reactions you’re giving him. It’s always more fun when his prey has some fire that makes his efforts to break them all the more satisfying. Pretty soon, you’re rolling your hips against his knuckles on your own, aiding his motions.

“Look at you, slut,” his voice, full of sin, whispers in your ear. He bites the sides of your neck overtop the pre-existing marks, thus overriding the claims. “So desperate. You want to cum, don’t you? I can feel it.”

You nod your head, unable to hold back your noises as you grow closer to that sweet release. His touch is like wildfire against your body, igniting you with otherworldly passion.

“I wonder, what would happen if I were to deny you?” His grin widens and he retracts his hand from your body.

“Asshole!” you hiss breathlessly, groaning from the loss.

Sukuna loves how easy it is to push your buttons. Each action serving to intoxicate you under his full control. If one simple finger of his could do all of this for you, then he can’t waitto impale you with his cock.

“Such a bad girl,” he purrs against your ear once again. Both of Sukuna’s hands hold you at the hip while he rubs his clothed self against you. “Tell me you’re mine and I’ll please you over and over again until all you can think about is me.”

“I’m starting to think it was love at first sight with you,” you chuckle through a moan, “Can’t ask a girl out like a normal person?” That remark earns you another reprimand as he suddenly pushes himself hard against you, forcing you back onto your forearms.

“Last I checked, I already made you dinner and offered you my home. If you’re having second thoughts then I’ll gladly let you go,” he states, but you can tell that’s a lie.

Sukuna would much rather you stay and give in to his desires. The offer is quite tempting to, as with any deal with a devil. It proves even harder to deny the effects Sukuna has on you, your stomach endlessly performing flips with emotions.

His whole domineering self is a forbidden type of decadence that draws you in, hypnotizingly so. There’s a lot you don’t know yet about him, and if one thing is obvious, it’s that the longer you stay at his side, the more you want to slip into depravity with Sukuna.

It might even help you become a better version of yourself. No longer would you be alone trying to survive in a world pitted against you.

Then again, your feisty nature is what got you here to begin with. Where’s the fun in letting that go now when you have someone that can keep up with you, with plenty to offer if he stays true to his word.

With a devious grin of your own, you tell him, “Fuck. You.” Emphasizing each word to better toy with him.

He laughs again, louder, and more boastful this time. He knew you would continue to deny yourself, punishing yourself in the process. You’re only making this easier for him to have his way.

“You won’t say it?” He stares down at you with a darkened expression, flashing those wolfish fangs again. One of his hands swoops up to cup your breast, pinching the bud as he makes you lie flat for him. “Oh, I’ll make you say it.”

In the blink of an eye, his mouth latches onto your swollen pearl, sucking with an intense force that leaves you writhing beneath him. One way or another, he’ll shatter your will. He knows it’s just a matter of time before you admit what you already know to be true.

Sukuna’s tongue swipes upwards once before pushing inside. He licks up every last drop of your arousal, feeding into his own animalistic desire to claim you.

To ruin you.

He moans at this thought, savoring your delectable taste like it’s his last meal on earth. The sweet flavoring pairs perfectly the way you cry his name out. One of your hands even holds the table in a white-knuckle grip, with the other struggling against his head. You can’t escape his touch, even if you tried. His own hands brandish your hips tight enough to bruise ─ making you in his name.

“S’kuna,” you groan, feeling your mind reaching a state where it has no choice but to unravel.

“Just say those three words,” Sukuna insists, spelling it out for you with the tip of his tongue. He’s edging you a second time now, knowing all too well how close you are. “Three words, and I’m all yours,” he urges.

“Fuck! Please, please, let me cum!” you beg the man, rocking yourself against his mouth for the needed stimulation. Sukuna clicks his tongue but doesn’t let up, sucking more vigorously now. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head, your spine arching off the table from the force your climax hits you with. “Sukun-aah!” you cry out in pleasure.

Your mouth falls agape with a silent scream, falling limp against the wood. It takes a minute to come down off the high, but when your vision clears, you look to Sukuna whose shirt has been discarded. Now, you can clearly see his sculpted chest and all the black ink that adorns his body.

The sound of metal teeth fills your ears, and his jeans are the next to go. He doesn’t even give you a chance to see the rest of him in his full glory before you’re scooped into his arms, forced to wrap your tired legs around his waist. Contrary to his abrasive personality, he holds you with a lot of care, and you think you if this goes on, you could fall asleep just like this.

Sukuna lowers himself onto his bed, and in the process forces you into a straddling position. He briefly kisses your lips ─ another sweet act ─ and then leans back, tucking his hands behind his head.

“Ride me,” he commands. You shoot him a questioning glare in response. “What, you thought I was going to do all the work tonight?” he scoffs, “I told you already what I want to hear.”

You sigh, lips stretching into a fine line. It doesn’t seem like any amount of begging will save you from those three words he wants you to say, but are you ready to admit it?

“Come on, cowgirl.” Both his tone and expression carry a hint of mocking, albeit playful as part of his nature. “Let’s see some bareback riding… I want to watch you make yourself cum on my cock.” Sukuna pats your thigh before pulling it back behind his head.

You lift upwards, feeling a burn in your legs as you do so. Between days of being on the saddle and Sukuna marking the fourth man in your unintentional conquest of the city of Valentine, you ought to get a medal for how hard you’re working. At this rate, you may as well embrace the buckle bunny trope.

Reaching between your thighs, you take his cock in hand. The size is bigger than you imagined, even after feeling it through his denim. He’s no doubt the biggest you’ve taken thus far, and you can’t even feel the tips of your fingers around his girth.

There’s a bit of uncertainty that starts to bubble up, but as the famous saying goes ─ country girls make do.

And so, you line him up, rolling the fat mushroom tip across your slit to gather the necessary lubricant before even attempting to sit over this monster. You wince at the first stretch, your insides burning unimaginably so.

Sukuna wants to laugh. He’d love to keep teasing you but even he’s having trouble forming words in this situation. It’s hard enough resisting the urge to go all in and get it over with, but that won’t end well for him.

He wants you to trust him after all.

He wants you to be his.

After what feels like a century, you finally bottom out, hips kissing his pelvis in full with a deep, guttural moan to follow. Any slight movement on either of your parts sends shockwaves heavier than his heavyweight draft.

In this moment, Sukuna decides to play nice. His hands move from his head down to the dips of your hips, helping you through the motions with a gentle touch. It’s mostly an excuse to get you moving already, but also due to how deeply he wants to feel every bit of you.

Pretty soon he lets you take over, as he originally planned. At first, your pace is agonizingly slow, fueled from your exhausted state much to his discontent. Despite this being his way of tormenting you, it affects him equally so. Sukuna’s also punishing himself for not making his move earlier when he had the chance.

“Is that all you got? Here I thought you wanted to cum,” he teases. “You look so pretty with my cock buried in you, slut.”

The degrading term aside, his sudden compliment has you moaning a saccharine tune. Your body hunches forward, curving his length to reach greater depths you didn’t think possible.

“Oh?” Sukuna groans deeply. “Does someone enjoy being praised?”

“Y-yes, ‘Kuna.”

“Good girl,” he hisses with lustful joy, clenching his teeth together. Sukuna wasn’t prepared for the feeling you created by saying his name in such a delectable way.

He could eat you right up for that.

“My dove is doing so well,” he murmurs against your ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth. “Now if only you’ll say those three words already,” he urges you once more, wishing for you to give into him.

You huff, “What haa-happened to saying please?”

“Tch.” The palm of his hand meets your ass. You gasp into a cry, clenching around his length. “Don’t be a brat after I’ve been nice and complimenting you.”

Fresh tears gloss your eyes but are quickly soothed by him rubbing circles over the forming red handprint. That hand then moves deftly over your stomach to where it had rested earlier. Sukuna pushes with his palm slightly, feeling himself deep within you.

Fuck, it feels good, but it’s not enough.

Your pace begins to slow as your body tries desperately to balance exhaustion with your building orgasm. Sukuna’s breathing turns disheveled, a sign that even he’s losing his patience ─ ready to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Nearing the precipice of your release, you finally come to terms with your inner turmoil. You’re here now, you may as well make the most of it. As downright intimidating as Sukuna can be, he just wants to please you in his twisted sort of way.

It’s not easy to admit, but in a way, he reminds you of your father ─ always pushing you past pain to grow stronger. It’s what made you into a rattlesnake in a world full of predators. Sukuna brings out that venomous side of you but also rewards you with subtle soft touches.

One might argue that your affection for Sukuna could be the result of losing your father years ago. On the other hand, this possessiveness Sukuna shows might be his own way of dealing with issues from his past. Whatever the case may be, you hope the lengths he’d go to protect what he deems his isn’t anything too maniacal in nature.

Maybe for the first time in your life, you will let go of control ─ let someone else carry your burden without always needing to put up a strong front.

“’Kuna,” you whine, leaning down in front of his face, cupping both sides of his jaw. A bead of sweat falls from a strand of your hair, disappearing in an instant from his hot flesh.

His eyes narrow in your hold, obsidian swallowing garnet. “Say it.”

And you finally do.

“I’m yours, Sukuna. All yours.”

That’s all he needed to hear for everything to snap into place. Sukuna’s arms reach around your torso, holding you tight to thrust himself into a brutal pace. His cabin now but a domain of lust, fueled by a cadence of sounds as body and souls unite as one.

“’Bout time,” he growls, the pitch of his voice noticeably lower. “I was just gonna mess with ya at first, tease you a bit ─ see how far I could back you into a corner,” Sukuna starts to reveal, his pace unrelenting. “Then I saw you showin’ off at the bar, fucking that bastard’s hand up without breaking a sweat. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life.”

The two of you bury your faces in each other’s neck, your hands struggling to find a grip anywhere to provide relief from the mounting state of rapture. The knot in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter by the second.

“Had to watch that blond fuck get to you before I could, and then,” he growls, “you ran off with that white-haired freak of a sheriff this morning.” His arms coil around you with more force. “Don’t think I’m not aware these marks are from him.”

“’Kuna, please,” you whimper into his collar.

“That’s right, tell the world who you belong to ─ who’s ruining you,” Sukuna’s laugh mixes with deep, groaning exhales. “Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my fat cock. You better be proud of yourself for what you’re doing to me.”

You cry out his name a dozen more times as he ravishes you, no sooner reaching the plateau of an ecstasy that unravels every fiber of your being. Your only thoughts now are of the man beneath you, drunk off his cock now shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside you.

The stimulation gets to be too much that you feel the overwhelming desire to bite down on his neck. Sukuna revels in this, spilling out every last drop he can manage until it overflows from within you and around the base of him.

You relinquish your hold on him, allowing your body to slump against his. “You’re mine now,” Sukuna declares with your name following his words. He moves one hand up and down your back, reminding you of his softer side, all before flipping your positions, still nestled within your body.

“Suku–“ You’re cut short by his lips pressing against yours in a warm embrace.

He kisses every tear down your face, and even the drool that trails the sides of your mouth before returning to your lips. Amongst everything else, you can still taste yourself on his tongue, paired perfectly with his own like seasoning on the finest of meals.

“Did you think we were done?” One hand moves to hook the backing of your knee, lifting it up to grant him better access. “I said I’d take good care of you, and all you had to do was submit your trust to me.”

You might’ve just created a monster without realizing.

“Take every bit of me now… you’ve earned it.”

You have no memory of when sleep overtook you. Sunlight peeks through the curtains now, illuminating the cabin in warm, rich tones. Your body, while sore and aching, feels renewed in all aspects ─ mind, body, and soul.

Sukuna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, with his other acting as a pillow beneath your head. Feeling you stirring, his eyes flutter open, glaring at you with his own tired expression.

“Mornin’, dove,” he greets, voice thick with sleep.

You stretch in his arms, moaning slightly as you wiggle closer for comfort and warmth. Sukuna smiles against your forehead, tightening his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll fly away if he lets go. It’s fine for now. After all, you made your choice to give in and it’s one you don’t regret.

He may joke about “fucking the brat out of you”, but let’s face it ─ Sukuna had plenty of frustrations of his own to get out. Now, you get to experience his softer side. While Sukuna will never admit he has one, he is glad you’re here and wants to keep it that way.

After another bout of sleep, he prepares a nice, fulfilling breakfast for you. It’s quiet as the two of you eat, both knowing full well you weren’t going to be staying for another night.

The fact remains that Sukuna has some unfinished business to attend to, and you yourself must return Clementine to Kento before making any lifechanging decisions in your journey of life.

On your way out the door, Sukuna grabs your wrist, spinning you back and up against the door. His knee wedges between your legs, one hand holding your jaw up for him to claim your lips in a fervent kiss goodbye.

“Come back to me soon, dove. I’m not finished with you.” He smiles, but it lacks the malicious intent he held earlier.

You think.

“See you around, cowboy.” You tap the back of your hand to his chest when he releases you, walking off from the porch and over to the pasture. “Oh, and by the way,” you call out from over your shoulder, “I give you five stars for your excellent service.” You wink, licking your lips.

Sukuna smirks from afar, remaining by his doorstep until you’re nothing but a shadow in the distance. His eyes pan over in the direction of his cellar, eager to pass the time until your hopeful return.

…but will you?

☆ Notes: I got stuck on this for a while during my writing slump as I’ve come to realize I’m not all that big on smut writing, tbh. It’s not something I feel confident with, nor is it something I actively seek out to read.

But god, writing Sukuna was a BLAST and a nice start for me cause I have several ideas I want to do for him in the future <3 I hope you guys enjoyed how I wrote him though; I tried to balance all my favorite aspects his personality and my own little headcanons.

Also had to throw in my own choso & yuki cowboy headcanons… originally I was gonna have choso working in the office with shoko, but I ship him with yuki hard and really wanted to include them one way or another in the series. blood manip just screams doctor AUs to me, and I think he’d be an awesome vet or peds doctor!!

For all the red dead 2 players though… do you recognize what house we’re in? :3

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #cowboy!au #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #choso kamo #shoko ieiri #ryomen sukuna

[calaisreno]

The Case of the Reluctant Bridegroom

1077 words / Prompt: Awkward

John Watson is not a mystery. 

Thirty seconds after he comes through the door, Sherlock knows that he’s not been sleeping well, probably because he’s drinking every night, thinking that will put him out. Mary has a cat which needs to be groomed so it won’t leave hair all over John’s trousers. She’s not a fastidious housekeeper. John’s shoes tell him this: they’re still wearing last night’s mud. She didn’t mind him wearing them into the house, and he was too absent-minded to notice he’d left them on. And he’s lost almost half a stone since Sherlock returned. A happy husband-to-be doesn’t lose weight. Mary might be an awful cook, but John has never been picky about what he eats. 

Absent-minded, not sleeping, weight loss, drinking more than he used to. John is troubled, and Sherlock would like to know why. 

Naturally, he can’t ask. They’ve never done that kind of probing, not since Sherlock deduced his cane and his phone and his haircut. They hadn’t even been introduced at that point, and Sherlock could see who he really was.

The man standing at the door is easily deduced, but none of those deductions explain what’s wrong. Any questions he asks will be awkwardly deflected.

The night Sherlock returned from the dead, John hit him. That’s something he certainly should have seen coming. John is a devoted man, and didn’t like having his devotion (his grief) mocked. 

Sherlock understands that, and regrets it deeply. His adventures in Serbia left him below par, or he wouldn’t have barged into that restaurant, thinking they would have a good laugh about his funeral. 

He understands the John who poured his heart out in the railway car, thinking they were going to die. And the John who was ready to kill him when he realised Sherlock had found the switch. He even understands why John didn’t hit him and walk away again, why he just shook his head when Sherlock said, killing me— that’s so two years ago. 

And this is the knot Sherlock must unwind: John blames himself. Everyone else has accepted Sherlock’s return, gotten past it, and moved on. It’s too long to be holding a grudge, John thinks, so he forgave Sherlock. But he’s troubled.

What does a man like John do with feelings? In that, he’s not so different from Sherlock. He declares them unimportant, non-existent, and pretends all is well. 

“Anything on?” John asks. 

Sherlock shakes his head. “Sorry, no. Dull as ditches. But I’m glad you’re here.”

John raises his eyebrows, frowns sceptically at his old chair. “Right. I suppose we haven’t seen much of each other. Sorry about that. Flu season, you know.”

“Of course. You’re well, though? And Mary?”

John blinks. He still hasn’t sat down. “Yeah. We’re fine. No problems.”

“I’ll make tea,” he says, “unless you’d like something stronger.”

“What’ve you got?”

He remembers the last time he opened the refrigerator. Better not do that while John’s here. “No beer. A half a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black.”

He pours them each a couple fingers, and watches as John settles into his chair. Settles is the wrong word. He ought to look familiar and comfortable sitting there, across from Sherlock. But he looks uneasy, like a man who is doing something that embarrasses him. 

What would embarrass John Watson? He’s an honourable man. He feels honour-bound to forgive Sherlock, but he’s still angry. He’s ashamed of his grief, of his anger. Sherlock was brilliant, as always, fooling everyone into thinking he was dead. Making a fool of John.

Sherlock has apologised. He did that as soon as he realised that John wasn’t just shocked, he was angry. Tricking John into forgiving him was more than a bit not good— but he knew that there had to be some way to get them beyond what neither of them could say. Talking wasn’t something they did; in their case it was useless. They just needed to get to the part where they were chasing criminals again. Back to before.

John refills his glass. Neither of them has thought of anything to say. He can see John’s eyes losing focus. 

“How are things—“ He breaks off, realising they’ve already covered non-specific pleasantries. “The wedding, I mean. The—“ he waves a hand vaguely, “the plans. I suppose there’s a lot to… erm… plan.”

“Mary’s got it all under control. I’m not sure why it takes nearly a year to plan something that’s twenty minutes of church, and then dinner.” John smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He truly has the most expressive face, but he’s guarded now, uncertain. Troubled. 

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” Sherlock begins. Again, he waves a hand vaguely.

“You?” John is smiling, but it’s an incredulous smile. “Plan a wedding?”

“I have a very organised mind.”

“And no tolerance for tedium,” John adds. 

“I’ll just… well, let me know if you need to escape. I’ll come up with a case.”

They lapse into silence again, and Sherlock imagines that it’s a slightly more comfortable silence. Not quite like 2010, but fine, in a different way from before. He remembers the silent breakfasts, both of them too sleepy after a late night to say much. Tea, toast, and John half-awake, his hair rumpled…

It’s too bad that a person can’t know in the moment when their lives are perfect.  That’s the tragedy of time, how perspective changes and we don’t realise we’re happy until we’re not. 

The two years he was gone barely seemed like two months. There were nights when he dreamed of Baker Street, wished for John’s company. On the whole, though, he was too busy surviving to think about how long it’d been. Not until he saw John’s picture, the horrible moustache, did it begin to sink in how long it had been. In the mind of John Watson, it must have seemed an eternity.

“I should go.” John stands and walks into the kitchen. Sherlock hears him rinse his glass and place it back in the cupboard. The bottle is empty, and Sherlock still hasn’t finished his first glass.

John stands at the door, looking at him for a moment, then nods and heads out. His feet are slightly unsteady on the stairs, Sherlock thinks. The front door shuts, and he’s alone.

In his mind, he’s opening a new file: The Case of the Reluctant Bridegroom. As always, his mind is already turning over solutions.

---

Maybe this one needs a sequel?

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @ninasnakie

#mayprompts2024 #bbc sherlock #johnlock #my fics

[epilary]

after school activities w/ inarizaki | headcanons

masterlist | requests are open

shinsuke kita

- he tends to spend time at home after practice - he would join another club but doesn’t have the time - between volleyball and helping his grandma - so to get in some time with you.. you’ll walk home together - you’ll go to your club and then the two of you will head out - sometimes grabbing a snack on the way - he’ll have hand sanitizer so that you won’t get sick - usually you’ll take some of his food - which he finds unsanitary (not that he’d say that to you though) - for both of you it’s a short walk - but it gives you a chance to catch up - ‘thanks for walking me home, see you tomorrow’ [you] - ‘yeah.. see you tomorrow’ [kita]

aran ojiro

- dude is pretty focused on his academics outside of volleyball - so you’ll spend your time together in a library - working on homework or studying for a test - he likes to share his earbuds with you - but then you’ll fight over what type of music to play - ‘we’re not playing mitski while studying for math’ [aran] - ‘well we’re not playing imagine dragons’ [you] - you’ll settle with lofi and just chat - you become a terrible influence on him - making him study separately as well…

atsumu miya

- the only way you get him to do anything is by passing a volleyball - ‘tsumu we’re not passing it while walking to the store’ [you] - but somehow he always convinced you - even if you’re trying to study you’ll just kick it back to him - cause it’s his passion - even if some of it is rooted in ego and fame - so you indulge him occasionally - ‘what’s the square root of 256? atsumu? miya?!’ [you] - ‘what- oh sorry, trying to get my spike down pat’ [atsumu] 

rintarō suna

- ‘rin…’ [you] - ‘y/n.. i see your pawn and take it with my knight’ [suna] - you two try to play a board game almost every night - after practice you’ll meet up with some two player game you can find - even if he’s not the biggest fan, he knows you like it - so he’ll take the time to learn - and he’ll be so ridiculously good at it - like no training at all and he’s acing it - suna is also really humble about it - he can jab at the twins but he can’t do it to you

osamu miya

- he takes a cooking class!! - he doesn’t tell anyone else - but he joined a cooking class that he drags you to every other day - and it’s so clear that he loves it - cooking is his element - of course he’s good at volleyball - but his seared salmon dish?? delicious - it’s something that he likes to share wholeheartedly with you - and no one else - ‘so it’s half a cup right?’ [you] - ‘yeah, let me grab the measuring cup for you’ [osamu] - sweetest guy in the kitchen - and he likes sharing that with you

#inarizaki #aran ojiro #shinsuke kita #osamu miya #atsumu miya #suna rintarō #suna rintaro #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #headcanons #headcanon #x gn!reader

[prettyg1irlstears]

Can you make a blurb were the reader ends up becoming pregnant and the father leaves but bff! Rafe steps up and helps her through pregnancy/raising the child.

omg :(( lmk if you want a part 2 :)

rafe’s soul almost leaves his body when he opens the door and sees you with tears all over your face. “what happened?”

“i—i’m.. h—he.. i..” you try to say but your panic and tears don’t let you. rafe immediately has a hand on your back and leads you to his couch, closing the door with his foot.

“hey.. hey, calm down, yeah? just breathe..” he guides you as you sit down on the couch, sniffling.

a few minutes pass and you eventually calm down. that was always one of rafe’s superpower; calming you down when noone else could. “now take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on, yeah?”

“i’m pregnant..” you whisper and those words are like daggers to rafe’s stomach. his heart tugs as he brushes his hand through his own hair.

“that fucker knocked you up? oh my god, y/n..” he starts to panic a little, but takes a deep breath. “fuck, y/n, did you not use protection or what?”

“we did! we did,” you defend yourself. you just want to cry again, to curl up into a bowl and die. “but it.. it broke.”

rafe sighs, knowing that unfortunately, shit like this happens. he read once that condoms are only 87% effective when he bought them. seems like you’re in the 13%. “alright, alright, uh.. did you tell him?”

you just nod quietly, trying not to break into tears again. “h-he said.. he said ‘god knows who did that to you’”

“oh that motherfu—” rafe stops, knowing that it wouldn’t help anything if he got angry. “alright, look, i.. i’m here, yeah? and i won’t leave like him. yeah? i won’t.”

you immediately hug him, head burying into his chest. “rafe i’m so scared..” you whisper, hands gripping his shirt tight as if you would fall if you let go.

“i know.. i know, y/n..” he whispers into your hair. “we’ll figure it out, yeah? just know i’ll support you no matter what your choice is, alright? i’m here..”

you sniffle into his chest, and he can feel your body getting heavy as you lean into him more. “alright, let’s get you to bed, yeah? we’ll talk about it in the morning. come on.”

he takes you in his arms and leads you into his room. you insisted on him sleeping next to you that night, even though he offered to take the couch. you just needed to feel protected and safe, something your boyfriend couldn’t do.

when you fall aslep in rafe’s arms, he just kisses your hair and looks at you. his heart tugs at the thought that your boyfriend who got you into this situation left you. what a fucking pussy. he was already thinking about finding him and beating the shit out of him. not that he’ll ever tell you.

divider creds here

#blurbs𐙚 #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #prettyg1rlstears #bsf!rafe

[yourheart-inmyhands]

hey! question/something you could turn into a concept if you wish. do you think yandere scaramouche (fatui era) would act differently than yandere wanderer? or do you think they'd act generally the same? it's so interesting to see peoples interpretations of different versions of scara lol :3

ah this was such a fun concept, i could talk endlessly about the differences between them but i kept it short and sweet for now! i hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including verbal abuse, scaramouche being a douche, delusional behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

There are very noticeable differences between Scaramouche and Wanderer and some that only those close would pick up on. For one, Scaramouche always walked with confidence, drawing attention to himself and commanding everyone’s eyes, Wanderer now prefers a different approach, lingering on the sidelines and watching others, observing.

Scaramouche’s porcelain was pristine, his cracks repaired and his joints flawless. Wanderer is rougher, some small hairline fractures and other larger chunks missing from different parts of him, patched over with bandages for the time being. His joints are no better, with him always in the forest he’s prone to getting dirt and rocks in them, making it not only difficult but also painful to move them. He often has to get assistance in cleaning them.

Those are some of the more noticeable ones, but less noticeable ones are how they would speak to a darling. Scaramouche is rough, standoffish to ensure he isn’t abandoned once more, left behind and forgotten again. Wanderer is snarky, a bit rude, but there’s less of an edge to it. He’s snippy to maintain a facade, not wanting others to see how soft he’s gone despite him being wiped from everyone’s memory. 

“You disgusting waste of space, you should be grateful I even spare you a minute of my time. Honestly, what purpose do you serve aside from keeping my bed warm? Pathetic.” Scaramouche doesn’t even look at you as he scoffs out insult after insult, his focus on himself in the mirror as he looks over a crack he’d recently gotten. He’d have to go to that wretched doctor to get it fixed, couldn’t go around looking broken, looking weak.

“You’re in my way, move before I make you.” The crossing of his arms and the annoyed, melodramatic tone of his voice are enough to move you away from the bookcase. Your eyes are wide, an apology caught in your throat as he huffs, grabs a book off the shelf without even pausing to look before stalking off again. It was like he’d done this before. As he walks off though, you can’t help but notice the strange way he moves, his left leg swings strangely, like there was something stopping it from bending all the way when he lifts it. Strange.

Neither are particularly nice or sweet, but you’re more likely to get Wanderer to warm up to you than Scaramouche. The cold-hearted puppet that was a Fatui member didn’t need anyone, nor did he want them, he only wanted power, wanted to be recognized for what he was and what he could do. Wanderer isn’t after that, he’s looking for himself in the trees, hoping that by rescuing another lost child, eliminating a camp of bandits, freeing one more Rishboland tiger from an illegal trap will tell him something. Will give him some hint or clue as to what he was really made for. 

Scaramouche works best with a willing darling who is ok with being pushed around, ignored, and verbally degraded. He won’t ever say he loves you, won’t coddle you when you cry or get hurt, won’t buy you gifts or make things for you. But he always returns to bed with you at night, laying beside you as he watches you sleep. He’s above it, but there’s a comfort in watching you sleep, a time where he can just shut his mind down and pretend he’s nothing and no one.

Wanderer works best with a darling who is a little more forceful in asserting themselves, showing up at the bookstore he frequents, following him into the forest to see what he’s up to, asking around about him until word gets back to him and he confronts you about it. It takes a long time for him to open up to you, even more so before he starts to seek you out himself, but slowly he grows to become as much a part of your life as you have his. And he doesn’t entirely hate it.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x male reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x male reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yandere wanderer x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere wanderer #yandere scaramouche

[taizi]

because it’s his birthday, can I ask for some fluff for the sunshine boy himself 🥺🥺

thankfully his birthday fell on a sunday and i had some extra time !! <3 <3

read on ao3

x

It’s hard to pin Ace’s little brother down in a way that doesn’t fall short of the truth. 

Summer boy, the villagers sometimes call him, but that’s not right. Luffy in the cold brittle heart of winter shines in exactly the same way he does the whole rest of the year. 

Golden child, and it comes a little closer, but the connotations, Sabo will say, nose wrinkling at something he heard all too often from the soulless tutors his parents hired, aren’t all good.  

Sunshine, Ace calls out once, not knowing he was going to say it until he did. Sabo blinked, taken by surprise. He turned to look at his twin, curiosity clear on his face along with a complete lack of confusion that was telling. 

They both knew who he meant. Luffy knew it, too, and came running the way he always came running when one of his brothers called his name. There were leaves in his hair and scraggly flowering weeds crammed in his pockets and—always—a big smile on his face, bright and beaming. 

It’s easy to complain about him because he makes it easy. Luffy is as low-maintenance as any little kid could be but he has an attention span so short you had to bend down to see it at all and he wouldn’t know how to stop talking if someone put a gun to his head. 

Ace gripes about him all the time, and sometimes he really does get angry at him and lose his patience, but in his heart he would sooner die than live without him. Ace may groan and drag his feet on those days in July when the heat is at its peak and the rainforest is humid and muggy, but he wouldn’t really want the sun to go away. Not really.

They need that stupid thing. The world would be dark and cold and unlivable without it. 

“Sunshine, huh?” Sabo says later that night, with Luffy a haphazard pile of rubber limbs sprawled bonelessly across his legs. 

Ace runs hot, and the idea of his little brother’s deadweight pressing into him on an already warm evening makes him want to kick his feet restlessly. But Sabo carries a chill around with him that he inherited from that mausoleum of a mansion he grew up in. Sabo always manages to feel cold. He never minds when Luffy dogpiles on him, clinging with sticky rubber limbs so that Sabo couldn’t shove him off even if he wanted to. 

Somehow, Luffy is the best at telling when Sabo gets cold. There’s no change in the air or the sky that gives it away—maybe Sabo is quieter than usual, though, or doesn’t laugh as much. So Luffy beelines for him, clambering over whatever or whoever is in his way until he can attach himself to his immediate older brother like a stubborn tree frog. 

Sabo, patient and indulgent where Ace is anything but, smiles down at Luffy when he gets particularly clingy as if Luffy is the one doing him a kindness. 

One day, the Celestial Dragons will come to Dawn Island and blow Sabo’s ship out of the water and blow a whole clean into Ace’s life, and his heart, and his future. He’ll understand then, that chill in Sabo’s house that stuck to him, that was never really about being cold as much as it was about needing warmth. 

Ace runs hot, but sometimes he’ll pass beneath a cluster of the bright tropical birds Sabo liked best, or Makino will drop off a case of the snacks they would always clamor for not knowing they were Sabo’s favorites, and Ace won’t even realize he’s shivering until Luffy crashes into him and loops rubber arms around him over and over and over. The sun coming out after a storm—and it was always there, just behind the clouds, it was always going to come back out. 

It will take Sabo’s departure for Ace to understand why he looked down at their sticky little brother like he wanted to thank him, he just didn’t know the right words. 

For now, Ace scoffs, tossing a stick into the fire. 

“Suits him, right? Annoying and gets in your eyes and follows you everywhere.”

Sabo laughs. Luffy turns his head towards the sound without waking, the way a flower unfolds in the morning light. 

———

Law is familiar with loss. The weight of it feels like a coat he never managed to outgrow, one that he’s been dragging around since he was a child. Sometimes the shape of it changes. Sometimes it settles a little kinder on his shoulders, not quite so heavy. Sometimes he can almost forget he’s wearing it at all. 

Eventually the grief becomes a thing you live with. Grow with. Something you unbox and sit with from time to time but know how to pack away again. 

But when it’s brand-new it’s a shit-show. 

Strawhat’s is outright destructive. 

The kid breaks apart everything around him, trying to tear enough chunks out of the world that it feels even a fraction of the pain he’s in, and when that isn’t enough he moves onto tearing chunks out of himself.

When Jimbei hauls him out of the forest, trembling and too weak to stand and bleeding through his bandages, Law thinks I risked myself and my crew and my whole goddamn mission for nothing because Strawhat looks like he’s about to drop dead. 

It was a shot in the dark in the first place, and the surgery was long and grueling and just barely on the right side of impossible even for the master of the Op Op Fruit. The only way Strawhat could live through it is if he wanted to. 

Law understands loss. Law once sent himself on a suicide mission when he was barely more than three feet tall because his life was empty where it used to be so full and he couldn’t conceive of anything that could make it worth living again. 

He also learned the hard way—the stubborn, gritted-his-teeth, fought-it-every-step-kicking-and-screaming way—that you can survive losing everything and come out the other side. 

Cora-san showed him that other side. Cora-san carried him there, betraying and abandoning everything else, making a promise he knew was a lie because it was the kindest thing he could do.  

“I love you,” he said, knowing as he said it that he would die because of it. Choosing to. There was no other choice he could make.

And somehow Law survived losing him on top of it all. It was a choice he had to make, too. One he still has to make, some days. 

Fire Fist Ace died in about the worst way he possibly could have. He couldn’t have made it more traumatizing for Strawhat if he had actually tried. But it was an act of love like Cora-san’s. Protecting something more important to him than anything else with his own life, his own body. 

If Strawhat Luffy survives, it will be because he wants to. Because he dug in his heels and put in the work and fought for it. 

Jimbei sits him down on a bed in the recovery room, his deep, proud voice rumbling, “I’m going to find a blanket. You’re freezing.”

Strawhat hums as he leaves, eyes lined with red and puffy from crying. He studies the rust-stained bandages on his hands, flexes his fingers, and looks up at Law.

“I’m cold?” he says, like it’s a question. 

It’s the first coherent thing he’s said since waking up that wasn’t just hopeless, helpless screaming for someone who would never answer him again. Law doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking, but he says, “Heat loss is normal after a surgery. You’ll be fine.” 

There is a brightness to the younger supernova that draws the eye. A boldness that was apparent from the very first moment Law glimpsed him at that auction house in Sabaody. Something simple and magnificent at the same time.

Back then, Law looked at him and saw a stranger it might be worth it to take a chance on.

Now, despite himself, he sees someone young and hurt and far away from home. 

He can’t be for this kid what Cora-san was for him. He can haul someone back from the brink of death but he can’t give them a reason to keep existing. There isn’t enough of himself left to carve out that kind of hope or kindness for someone else. There isn’t enough of himself left to even really want to. 

All he has to offer is, “Shachi is making soup.”

“Sanji’s soup is better,” Strawhat announces with perfect authority, even though there is no way he could possibly know that, having literally never tried Shachi’s cooking before.

Law is too exhausted to feel anything but mildly annoyed. It’s enough of a return to what passes for normalcy that he leans in to begin checking the kid’s vitals. 

Hand on Strawhat’s wrist, he says, “If you want Sanji’s soup so bad, go get it then.”

Strawhat tilts his chin up, defiant. His pulse thunders beneath Law’s fingers, like one or two or a dozen drums. 

“I will!” he declares. 

This is the boy who shot down the World Government flag at Enies Lobby, and attacked a Celestial Dragon while knowing what would come after, and stormed an impenetrable prison and then the front lines of a war, all for one person. 

Each time, for just one person. 

How stupid do you have to be?

How simple and magnificent, like looking up at the same sky you see every day and letting yourself be stunned into stillness by the endless, vivid blue?

By the time Jimbei comes back with a quilt under one arm, and a meal tray in the opposite hand, it’s a much livelier Strawhat Luffy who greets him. 

The recovery room, sparse and sterile, is always a little cold. But as Law sits back in his chair and draws his newest patient’s baffling medical charts closer, the thought occurs, fleeting and insignificant, that it feels warmer than usual. 

———

Someday, when the Gum Gum Fruit that was never actually the Gum Gum Fruit awakens into something spectacular and Luffy unlocks his fifth and final gear, his crew acclimates with startling quickness. 

His crew, who sometimes had to squint when they looked at him, like they were staring at something high in the sky in the middle of a cloudless afternoon. His friends, who spent every day and night beside him and got used to it early on—the packed heat he put out like a little furnace, the way whatever room he was in would always get warmer when he laughed. His nakama, who loved him in all shapes, in all weather, from the beginning and all the way to the very end. 

“Sun god, huh?” Zoro would say. Discarding a former truth and embracing this new one, as casually as every other impossible thing he had ever done. Future historians would be ripping their hair out, trying to make sense of what it could mean. According to legend, the pirate king’s first mate only said, “Sounds about right.”

But in this moment, in the underbelly of a colosseum, Luffy’s fruit is still just the silly, bouncy thing he ate when he was a little kid and there’s no reason to believe it will ever be anything else. 

He’s wearing a costume that does nothing to hide his identity from the people who really know him. 

He’s anxious and seems torn in two directions, wanting to help his friends but unwilling to leave his big brother’s fire in the hands of someone who wouldn’t use it the way Ace would want. It makes him short-tempered and quicker to pick a fight than usual, frowning at the stranger who approaches him so familiarly. 

He’s the brightest thing for a thousand miles, the focal point of every room he walks into and the center of the galaxy, but not because of any fruit.  

And looking at him, at his wide brown eyes and the curve of a smiling scar on his cheekbone, the chill in Sabo’s chest warms to nothing for the first time in twelve years.  

His little brother, all things summer and golden and shining. Didn’t Ace say it best?

“Hi, sunshine,” Sabo says. 

#op #one piece #asl bros #portgas d ace #monkey d luffy #revolutionary sabo #trafalgar d law #donquixote rosinante #my writing #opfic #wizardmafianinjapirate #a little offering for the future kings bday 👑

[smoshyourheadin]

Maybe u could do a Spencer besties to lovers? Like they've known each other a long time yk

Thankssss no pressure if ur busy ofc <3

It’s Always Been You

cw: reader has a boyf who she breaks up w bc he’s an alchaholic!! don’t read if you aren’t comfortable, i’ll catch you another time ml 💛

a/n: EEK IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT ANON 🫶🫶💛💛 also im taking this as smosh spence not cm spence so feel free to re-request if you’d like <33 ps, ive written that he listens to pink floyd here so thats who syd barrett is if you don’t know :))

requests r open!!

///

pairing: spencer agnew x fem!reader

florida, 2002

you and spencer were scurrying around in the freshly mown grass of his backyard, playing tag.

“you didn’t get me, you cheated!” you exclaim, ducking as he reaches out to get you again, tumbling to the floor.

“did too!” spencer retorts, his grazed knees dropping to the floor so he can lean over you. he meets your eyes, pulls a tongue, and hoists himself back up to run to his tyre swing.

all 11 years you’d known, you’d known them with spencer. your moms had been great friends since way before you were born, being in the same book club. or was it an art night? you didn’t exactly know, but you did know that because your moms were best friends, so were you and spencer.

as you sprung back up to your feet, your moms watched your antics through the kitchen window.

“whoever can swing the other the highest gets to have the last red popsicle!” he yelled as you ran over

“oh you’re so on!”

your hands gripped the tyre and you pushed like your life depended on it.

“y’know,” your mom said “one day, they’re going to end up together.”

his mom looked over at yours and smiled,

“i’d be surprised if they didnt honestly!”

los angeles, 2024

you walk through the door of your apartment, and you kick the door closed behind you. your bag slides off your shoulder, and you throw your keys onto the dresser next to the door. you only manage a long groan before flopping onto the couch.

“heya, charlie!” you scrunch your face up as you feel your dog’s cold, wet nose press against your cheek, as he gently wags his tail

“i missed you too boy, work was so tiring today.” you work at smosh with spencer, and have done for the past seven years after you left your job at another channel to join him. it was basically the best decision you’d ever made, every day filled with laughs; practically just a 24/7 hangout. you work with spencer on smosh games, but rarely ever go on camera, even if spencer’s there. you enjoy it anyway though.

you sit up and scratch behind his ears. he wiggles his body contently at your fondness. and then your stomach growls. it made sense, it was currently 6:43pm, and you last ate at noon, so you get up and drag yourself to make some mac n cheese.

as the pasta boils your phone starts ringing.

its james.

rubbing your hands over your face, you answer the dreaded call from your boyfriend james.

“heyyy~ sweetheart, y’doin okay? you were hic bein’ a bit of a bitch today, didnt answe my calls, what, you hate me or sumn?” he rambles, most of his words just slurring off.

“james, are you drinking again?” your voice is agitated, hearing the chattering and low bass of a bar in the background.

you know he has a problem, and you’ve tried to get him to stop so many times. but you just can’t. he just won’t take your help.

“wha- i mean- well- no- but um- well y’r just gonna be mad at me like y’allways are” he stammers, not wanting to tell you the truth.

“no, i’m done with this. you say all this to me when you’re drunk, and then act like everything is fine! i’m sick of it! you spend so much time at the bar, and its the only place we ever go on dates, and i just end up babysitting! so yeah i am mad! but for the last time! fuck you james.”

you hang up.

you start to tear up, the knot in your chest tight as your emotions come rushing to you, face heating up as tears begin to fall. the hissing of something behind you snaps you out of it.

“shit!” you rush over to to your stove, where the water from your pasta spills over the sides, the flames licking at the bottom of the pan.you take it off the heat and turn it off. it looks done anyway. you add some butter, and, of course, cheese. stirring gently, you sob.

james was so nice to you, always showering you with gifts and praise and love. but it was all for nothing. he just didn’t love you like he loved drinking in the end.

pouring the mac n cheese into a bowl, you call spencer.

“hey lemon! how’s my favourite person this fine evening?” you smile at the nickname.

florida, 2007

“spencer, you’re a boy. why are you so complicated? i mean, its just annoying!” you walk into his bedroom after his mom let you in, clearly pissed off. being 16 isn’t fun, especially when boys you like are rude to you.

“what did he do?” spencer doesn’t look up from his computer, just slightly turn his head.

“he said that i must eat lemons because of how bitter i am. i mean come on!” you lie on his bed and watch him play runescape.

“lemon… hmph” he just smiles and continues whatever he was doing on his game.

“what? nothing to say? ugh! you suuuuuck!”

los angeles, 2024

“yeah, i mean, no. i broke up with james.” you sniffle, and eat a forkfull of your food, elbows resting on the cold marble of the kitchen island.

“i mean- um- yeah thats horrible…” he says

“you’re allowed to celebrate, i know you hated him. and so did everyone. but still. im fragile right now!” you giggle through your gentle tears

“well, i mean, honestly? glad he’s gone. he sucked dude. not sure why you didn’t do it sooner. well, one positive to come of this, your pillows won’t stink of beer next time i nap at yours!” he replies, clearly happy for you.

“yeah,” you chuckle at the memory of spencer falling asleep on your bed, then completing his hair smelt like budweiser “that is true.”

“all seriousness though, are you okay?” his voice is genuine this time, filled with concern.

“no, not really. it’s just… different i guess. but, not much has changed y’know? like, it already felt like he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore…” you begin to ramble for at least 20 minutes, only to be met with the occasional ‘mhmn’ and ‘yeah’ from spencer. mid sentence, there’s a knock at your door.

“oh one sec, someone’s here.” you get up from your table and swing the door open to see a very sympathetic looking spencer, two target bags in his hands.

your jaw is on the floor. you were just crying to him over the phone, and he’d stayed whilst going out to get what you can only assume is things like sour patch kids and vanilla ice cream, which you could see at the top of the bag. your favourites.

“girls night?” he smirked and raised the bags at his sides.

all you can do is smile ear to ear, and wrap him in a tight hug. he leaned into you, basking in your sweet citrusy perfume.

“you’re my favourite, spencie.” you say into his shoulder.

as you both walk inside, charlie comes bounding over to spencer, his favourite person.

“who’s a good boy! charlie is!” spencer was now crouchedby your kitchen island, fussing over your dog as you walked to put on something more comfortable. you slid on some track pants and an old atari hoodie. walking back into your kitchen, spencer has unpacked the bags, and is creating his favourite conconction, The Agnew Sundae. basically the most sickeningly sweet ice cream ever. his dad made it for you both in the summer, and it consisted of:

vanilla ice cream

chocolate syrup

caramel sauce

whipped cream

sprinkles

mini marshmallows

chocolate chips

m&ms

and some crushed oreos to finish.

god, you know you’re going to regret this later, but boy was it a good way to cheer you up.

also strewn on the counter was his switch and copy of animal crossing, a few of his dvd’s for you to watch, and his mom’s chocolate chip cookies.

“spencer, how on earth did you get these? your mom lives across the country!” you hold up the baggie, and raise an eyebrow.

he looks up from his ice cream assembly station, and smirks.

“a magician never- ow!”

you cut him off by lightly jabbing his arm

“okay okay, she visited not to long ago - when she took you to the mall? and she gave me these to freeze and keep for an important event. i think she’d agree this is important.” you cant help but smile at his remark. you missed you moms.

“i’ll have to ring her later to thank her.” you say.

the night goes on, and you and spencer sit on the couch under a blanket watching barbie princess charm school. because what else are you going to watch?

as the movie goes on, and the effects of the agnew sundae kick in; you were dozing off on his shoulder. towards the end of the movie, so does he. he drifts off, comforted by your soft hair occasionally brushing against his face.

you stir awake, the sun beaming into your eyes through your semi-open blinds, and you’re hit by a wave of memory. everything that happened last night comes flooding back.

james’ call.

spencer’s call.

spencer showing up for you.

at the latter, you smile slightly. you prop yourself up on the sofa, and notice the absence of spencer’s warmth by you. frowning slightly, you walk into the kitchen.

“morning sleepyhead” his sweet voice rings through the room

“hey. i thought you’d’ve gone home”

“no, im not that mean! who do you take me for?” he retorts, his attention turning back to the pancakes on the stove.

“pancakes? what time is it?” you come up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder.

“yeah, and it’s about 10:30.” he leant his head on yours, flipping one. you had to admit, they look pretty good.

“10:30!?” you lift you head in surprise, looking at your phone “shouldn’t we be in work?”

“nope, i called us in sick. said my mom was having surgery. which she is, but i made it sound dramatic so we could stay off.” he looks at you, and smiles slightly.

“well, send her my love! i think i’ll go get dressed now.” he hummed, and you left the room.

opening your closet, you pick out a yellow baggy t-shirt and some grey sweatpants. you pull on some fluffy socks, and slip on a zip up hoodie. walking back out into the living room, spencer walks in with two plates piled high with pancakes, drenched in syrup and strawberries

“so,” you say, a fork full of pancakes in your mouth. “whats the plan for today?”

he looks over at you, and shrugs slightly. “not sure, we could go to the book store you like?”

“ah, you know the way to a girl’s heart“ you put a hand over your chest and giggle a bit.

a few hours later, you walk into the store, door creaking just a bit as a small brass bell chimes overhead. the air is filled with a comforting mix of old paper, leather bindings, and a hint of freshly brewed coffee from the corner cafe that you and spencer like to get tea from. you breathe it in deeply, a sense of calm washing over you. as you walk over the creaky wooden floorboards beneath you, soft warm light filters down from antique lamps, and cast a gentle glow over the rows of books. you ghost your fingertips over the cloth spines while the quiet murmur of whispered conversations and the occasional rustling of pages create a soothing background noise, almost like a lullaby. through spencer’s airpods, syd barrett serenades you both, and his voice blends seamlessly with the ambiance of the store.

“anything good today lemon?” spencer says as he shimmies up next to you in the aisle of towering book shelves, his voice like honey rolling off his tongue. his hair was unruly as always, but he looked so pretty in this light. his face was littered with freckles that you wish you could kiss. he’s smiling at you, and it snaps you back to reality, and reminds you of the fact you’re staring at him

“uh, yeah, i think i’ll get this one” you smile back, holding up a copy of memoirs of a geisha by arthur golden

“cool, shayne likes that one i think. but he likes every book so…” he smiles at his own remark “um, you want me to grab our normal seats in the cafe while you pay for that?”

“yes, please!” you reply eagerly, smiling as he walked off.

you walk up to the cashier, an older lady who always gives you a bookmark.

“thank you m’darlin’, have a lovely day!”

“you too mrs bryson!” you reply, heading over to spencer who’s sat in some plush leather armchairs. as you sit in comfortable silence with him, time seems to slow down, and for a moment, it's just you, spencer, the books, and the comforting atmosphere of this charming bookstore.

“i got you your sweet tea.” he says, handing you a plastic cup filled with your favourite tea.

he remembered.

fuck.

you were in love with spencer agnew, and it took you him handing you your favourite tea to realise it.

“thanks spence.” you say, still grasping the feelings in your chest.

while you read you book and drink your tea, you feel your attention drifting to him. you can't help but glance up from the pages every now and then, watching him as he sits across from you, his focus on his own book. his fingers absently tracing the rim of his coffee mug, his brow furrowing as he reads. the way the sunlight filters through the small window, casting a warm glow across his hair, highlighting the subtle streaks of lighter brown among his dark curls. you find yourself smiling at the sight of him, wondering when these small, mundane moments began to mean so much to you. the bookstore is quiet, aside for the murmur of others reading or talking in hushed tones. yet, with spencer sitting just a few feet away, the world feels like it's faded to the background. it's just you and him, sharing this space, this moment. you watch the way his lips move slightly as he reads, how he occasionally tilts his head in concentration, and the way his eyes light up when he finds something particularly interesting. as he looks up and catches you watching him, you feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest. he smiles at you, a slow, easy smile that makes your heart skip a beat. he raises an eyebrow, and you quickly look back down at your book, feeling your cheeks flush. but you can't help it; your gaze finds its way back to him, like he's the most interesting story in the room. he seems to notice the shift in the air between you. he closes his book and leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“everything okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

“yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual, though your heart is racing. “just... glad to be here with you.”

he nods, his smile growing a bit wider. “me too.”

as he settles back into his chair, you realize that this simple exchange has changed something. the air feels lighter, the connection between you stronger. you may have come here to read and relax, but now, sitting across from spencer, you know you've found something else entirely - something you never want to let go of.

as you leave the store, you’re panicking slightly as you realise you don’t know what to do. so instead you make up an excuse.

“i forgot my keys ," you blurt out, looking back at the bookstore. it's a thin excuse, but spencer doesn't seem to notice. he simply nods, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"do you want me to wait for you?" he asks, already reaching for his phone to check the time.

"no, it's fine," you reply quickly. "you can go ahead. i’ll just be a minute."

spencer seems reluctant to leave, but he nods, offering a warm smile before stepping out onto the street. you watch him walk away, his figure blending into the crowd as he heads toward the main crossing. your heart sinks a little as he disappears from view, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse.

the bookstore feels different now. the warm glow and soft murmurs are still there, but without spencer, it's like the color has faded a bit. you stand by the door, uncertain of what to do next. you could go back outside, catch up with him, and just say it. tell him how you feel. but the words seem stuck in your throat, and the thought of laying your feelings bare feels like too much, too soon.

you step back inside, pretending to look for something you might have left behind. the stacks of books seem to stretch endlessly in front of you, a maze of comforting distractions. you wander through the aisles, hoping to calm your racing thoughts, but all you can think about is spencer - his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the warmth of his voice.

eventually, you find a quiet corner and sit down, closing your eyes for a moment. you know you have to do something. you can't just let him walk away without knowing how much he means to you. but the fear of rejection, of changing everything, feels overwhelming.

you realize you need time to sort through your feelings, to figure out the best way to approach this. with a heavy heart, you decide to make your way home, hoping the familiar surroundings will bring clarity. as you step out onto the street, the cool breeze brushes against your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside you.

on the journey home, you replay the moments with spencer in your mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of how much he means to you. you know you can't keep hiding your feelings, but you also know you need to approach this with caution. as you unlock the door to your apartment, you make a silent promise to yourself—to take the time you need, to listen to your heart, and to find the courage to follow where it leads, even if it means risking everything for him.

when you get home, spencer tries calling you as he paces around his bedroom, his phone pressed against his ear. the ringing continues, but there's no answer. he frowns, feeling an uneasy twist in his stomach. maybe you're still in the bookstore. maybe your phone is on silent, or maybe you're just busy. he tells himself there's a reasonable explanation, but the doubt lingers.

as he walks to his kitchen, he dials again. this time, the call goes straight to voicemail. his instincts tell him something isn't right. the keys excuse felt odd, and your hurried departure only amplifies his worry. he takes a moment to think, then leaves his apartment, jumps in his car, starts the engine, and drives toward your apartment.

the streets pass in a blur as he navigates through the evening traffic, his mind racing with possibilities. he finds a parking spot near your building and heads to your door. the hallway is quiet, save for the distant sound of a tv from a neighbouring apartment. he takes a deep breath and knocks.

nothing.

he knocks again, this time a little louder. the knot in his stomach tightens. what if something's wrong? what if he's too late? he knocks a third time, and this time, he hears a faint rustling from inside. the door opens slowly, and there you are, standing in the doorway with a look of surprise and confusion.

"spence?" you say, blinking at him as if he's the last person you expected to see.

"i - i was worried," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "you didn't answer your phone, and i - i didn't know if you were okay."

you tilt your head, trying to process why he's here. his eyes search yours, and you can tell he's anxious, almost desperate to explain himself. "i'm fine," you say, "just had some stuff to think about."

he nods, but you can see he's not entirely convinced. there's something else, something deeper. he takes a step back, as if he's about to leave, but then he hesitates. "i - i have to tell you something," he blurts out, his words coming out in a rush. "i like you. like a lot. like i think i love you? and i know it might be weird, and i don't want to mess things up, but I just had to say it - because i couldn't keep it to myself anymore.”

he looks at you, his eyes full of emotions you can't quite decipher yet. you nod, urging him to continue, even though your own heart is racing. there's something in his gaze that makes you realize this isn't just any confession - this is something that's been building for a long time.

"i've liked you since we were kids," he says, almost breathlessly. "i mean, you were always the coolest person I knew. you didn't care what anyone else thought. you were smart and funny and just... so genuinely kind. i remember when we used to ride our bikes around the neighbourhood, and you'd always be the first one to try something new. like, remember when you climbed that huge tree in mr lawson's yard just because you wanted to see the view from the top? i thought you were so brave."

he chuckles softly, his gaze softening as he reminisces. "and then, when we got older, you were always there for me. when my parents split up, and i felt like everything was falling apart, you were the one who came over with a pizza and just listened. you didn't try to fix it; you just let me talk. that's something i've always loved about you. you're a great listener, and you care about people. like, really care."

he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes locking with yours. "it's not just that, though. It's the little things, too. the way you laugh at the dumbest of angela’s jokes, the way you get excited about your favorite books, and how you always know the right thing to say when I'm feeling down. you make everything feel... lighter, you know? like, even when things are tough, you find a way to make it better."

spencer pauses, his voice growing more earnest. "so yeah, i've um, been holding onto this for a while, and i just, couldn't keep pretending that i didn't feel this way. i like you - a lot. and i don't know if you feel the same way, but i just couldn't not tell you anymore."

he takes a step back, the tension in his shoulders indicating that he's prepared to leave if needed. "i don't want to make things weird between us. if you don't feel the same, that's okay. i just had to say it, because you're the best thing in my life, and i can't keep acting like you aren't."

his confession takes you by surprise, but as he speaks, you feel a surge of warmth in your chest. the words you were struggling to say are suddenly so clear, so obvious. you watch as he starts to turn away, his shoulders slumping in resignation. before he can take another step, you grab his arm and pull him back, your lips pressing against his in a gentle, yet desperate kiss.

he freezes for a moment, stunned by your sudden action, then his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. when you finally break the kiss, you look into his eyes, and there's no doubt, no hesitation.

"it's always been you," you whisper, your voice soft but sure. "you're my person, spencer."

he hugs you tightly, his grip firm and comforting, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. it's a perfect moment, one that feels like the beginning of something new, something beautiful.

and as you stand there in each other's embrace, you know that everything's going to be okay, because you have each other. and that's all that matters.

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh #smoshyourheadin #angela giarratana #amanda lehan canto #arasha lalani #courtney miller #shayne topp

[ikeromantic]

Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 4

Thank you again to @otomedad for this fantastic idea ^_^ This one has Mitsuhide, Keiji, and Ieyasu! Approx. 2600 words of tattoo and MC appreciation!

Mitsuhide

Mitsuhide’s smile was infuriating. You wipe the sweat from your forehead and stretch your aching muscles. After five hours of practice, you were tired, your hair was a tangled mess, and your clothes looked even worse. And Akechi was just standing there, grinning, not a single hair out of place.  

“That was much better, little mouse. Almost passable.” His grin widens. “In another week or two, you might be able to fend off, say, a small rabbit? Perhaps a squirrel?”

You throw a sweat-damp rag at him, which he dodges easily. 

Mitsuhide’s eyebrows arch. “What’s this? Another match? I could never deny my little one.” 

“W-wai-ahhhh!” You hold up a hand to stop him, only for him to grab your hand and send you up and over his shoulder. He holds you there, your head flopping against his upper back, legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“Hmm. I think you’ve lost this round. You don’t seem to be able to get down.”

You seriously consider biting him, but there’s no easy spot to clamp down on. Besides, he’d probably just - 

“If you bite me, I will return the favor.” You hear the laughter in his voice, and feel his breath on your leg.

“Put me down!” 

Mitsuhide does laugh then, a low, wicked chuckle that sends feelings skittering through your frayed nerve endings. “I don’t think I want to, though. You’ll have to convince me.”

You struggle some more, trying to grab hold of him so you can leverage your grip to wriggle out of his. It’s impossible not to be aware of the flex of his muscle, covered by thin linen. The way he holds you, gentle, but implacable. Your pulse is racing and your face is red from more than exertion. I’m just embarrassed, you think, knowing that’s not quite true. 

With some effort, you manage to grasp his clothes firmly enough to pull yourself down, but you feel the loose folds of your hakama slide away from your hips as you do. You freeze, held by the terrible image of Mitsuhide carrying a pantless you, your rear in the air, legs kicking. 

“It seems my little mouse has only further ensnared herself.”   

The low, smooth tone of his voice sends a little shiver over the newly bare skin of your hip, and you fancy that you can feel his hair tickling that sensitive spot. “You - I - this - this is your fault!” It’s hard to think, and you wonder if he’s distracting you on purpose. Teasing, as always.

Mitsuhide chuckles, the laugh more something you can feel than hear. “But however will you escape? Perhaps you could persuade -” He pauses, holding very still.

“Ummm. Pretty please? Put me down?” You stop squirming, hopeful this means he’s done with his current game.

Instead, he shifts his grip on you, and you feel a cool, calloused finger drag against your hip. 

The unexpected touch, featherlight, sends a jolt of heat through you, and you bite back a pleased sigh. There is no way you’re letting Akechi get to you. Nope. No. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing his taunting touch got to you this time. “Mitsuhide -”

“You have been marked. What is this, my naughty little mouse?” 

For a moment, you have no idea what he means and then you realize. He must have glimpsed your tattoo. Your face, already hot, grows hotter still. This was something you hoped to keep to yourself. Especially given . . .

You feel his fingers catch the waist of your hakama and pull it a little further down. “Wait! Stop!”

Mitsuhide pauses, though now you can feel the cool air and his warm breath teasing your low hip. “This is no irezumi kei.” His voice has changed, the teasing replaced by strained curiosity.

“I told you I’m from the future. People have all kinds of tattoos there.” You hope he hasn’t realized what the design is. Please, please, you think, if there is any goodness in the world, he won’t see enough to -

“Little one. This is a -” His voice is so low you don’t catch the end of his sentence. 

You let out a breath, realizing there’s no escaping it now. “Look. I got that a long time ago. It was supposed to be the first part of a full leg sleeve.”

He sets you down gently, his hands lingering at your sides. His eyes are molten gold, and you find it hard to look away. “May I see it?”

 It is tempting to tell him no. To return some of the frustration you feel with his obtuse answers, his hot and cold behavior. But you find that you want to show him. Afterall, who else would appreciate this particular design more? You carefully tug your hakama down to display your hip and upper thigh. There, etched in bright colors is a nine-tail fox. The kitsune leaps from cloud a cloud toward a flower that looks like a cloud - or perhaps it’s a cloud that looks like a flower - and below that, the first hint of a river that was meant to tie the leg sleeve together. 

Mitsuhide’s smile widens and he kneels to get a closer look. 

“Go ahead,” you sigh. “Say what you’re going to say.”

His breath is warm against your skin as he leans close, his hand not quite touching. He stares into the soulful eyes of the inked kitsune, one fox to another, as if it might hold answers for him. When he looks up at you, your heart stutters in your chest. “You somehow manage to surprise me still, little one.” 

You aren’t sure what to say, and honestly, you feel as if you can barely breathe much less speak. It’s not just Mitsuhide’s closeness, or even your vulnerability in this position. It is the expression that haunts his eyes, a flicker of something hopeful, something raw beneath his usual smiling mask. 

“Why did you choose this? This . . . unworthy trickster?” His voice is almost inaudible, as if he too is having trouble breathing.

“Unworthy?” Your eyes go wide. “Kitsune are wise. Tricksters, yeah, but that just means they didn’t lose their sense of humor. They are noble and cunning and they pursue knowledge, even when it’s forbidden, and - and I wanted to be all those things too.” You fall silent, wondering why his comment upset you so much.

Mitsuhide stares at you, his brows arched high, his lips parted. Then he laughs, a paper thin, breathy sound that rises to a low chuckle. “Truly you are something . . . else.” He stands gracefully, his gaze still on your face.

“You too,” you mutter and turn away, busying your hands with fixing your clothes. It isn’t fair how he always tangles your feelings, you think. Looking at you like that, his voice, his eyes, his touch.

“Your tattoo is lovely. As lovely as you are.” He brushes a hand down your arm, a tender gesture. 

You freeze, butterflies filling your chest. His compliment means so much to you, but you don’t know what to say in return. Your throat feels parched and tight. After a shaky breath, you look up, determined to ask him why he teases you so, but he is already moving away, his back to you, the moment gone.  

Keiji

“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother,” you murmur to yourself. The subject and cause of your annoyance crouches a few steps away, all but ignoring you, his gaze turned toward the street just beyond the mouth of this narrow alley. You think you might prefer his silence to his commentary. 

He turns his head slightly to regard you, and you have the uncanny sense that he heard your whispered complaint. Chagrined, you offer him an apologetic smile, which earns you an eyeroll and a smirk. 

You do your best to ignore his reaction, but you can’t help the flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, or the way his regard makes your pulse pound.

A few short minutes later, he gestures you forward as he steps out into the clear street ahead. You follow, a nervous energy in your steps. In fact, you are so nervous that your feet tangle mid-step. 

Keiji catches you before you hit the ground, his warm arms pulling you up in an unexpected embrace. “Careful,” he admonishes you sharply, but you see the genuine concern in his gaze.

“Thanks.” You pull away, self conscious and even more embarrassed now. At this rate, Keiji will never ask you along to anymore of his clandestine missions. You try not to meet his gaze again as you straighten your clothes.

He reaches out, grabbing your hand before you manage to tug your sleeve back into place. “Is that - are you - princess . . .” The sharpness in his tone melts into surprise as he pulls your sleeve back up. 

“Ehehe, umm . . . it’s a tattoo?” The inked lines of three noh masks stare back at the two of you. “I did costuming for theater and I, I liked these designs.” You end on a defiant note, practically daring Keiji to say something snarky.

Surprisingly, he says nothing, just strokes your marked skin with the rough pad of his thumb. The touch sends a pleasant shiver through you, which you hope he doesn’t notice. 

“So . . . can I have my arm back,” you venture after a few awkward moments. 

Keiji nods, but doesn’t let go of you. “Do you know what these mean?” His voice sounds distant, soft and surprisingly tender. 

You nod. “I . . . yes.” Your gaze follows his thumb to the three faces. I got Zō because I feel like she represents the best in women. Divinity and beauty. Wisdom. And then, Namanari because hell hath no fury, right? Holding onto anger makes me a demon. So she’s kind of a warning for me to let it go, but also, like, a reminder that it’s ok to be angry too.”

“And Rōjo?” He looks up, his warm amber eyes meeting yours. 

“To remind me that getting older is ok too.” You shrug uncomfortably, feeling oddly exposed by the confession. 

Keiji studies you, tension in his shoulders and jaw. “It’s nice. Your tattoo.”

Your eyes widen a little at the compliment. “You know you don’t have to fake things around me,” you tell him, half hoping he means it and half sure he doesn’t.

“I said I like it, ok? It’s pretty.” He frowns, a little crease forming between his eyebrows.

For some reason, the all too familiar expression of disapproval combined with the kind words sends little butterflies spinning through your tummy, and makes your heart do a funny little flip in your chest. He has no right to look so cute, you think. Or to say such nice things while his thumb makes little circles on the inner side of your arm. “Th-thanks.”

One eyebrow lifts slightly along with the corners of his lips. “You’re blushing.”

You jerk your arm away, trying to get ahold of your galloping heart. “I am not!” 

He laughs, a sound free of nega-Keiji’s bitterness, one full of a sudden, intoxicating joy. 

This does nothing to help you rein in your reaction, but you find yourself joining in the laughter with him. “Come on, let’s just go meet your contacts,” you say through your giggles. 

“Yeah. That’s right.” He smiles and you feel another flush of heat in your cheeks. One that only grows as he reaches for your hand.

Ieyasu

“Hold still.” Ieyasu’s crisp tone brooks no disobedience. 

You stop squirming and take a deep breath. “Sorry,” you mumble. “It just hurts.”

A faint smile curls the edges of his mouth. “Yes, well, tumbling down a gravel path usually does. You should be more careful. At this rate, I’ll have to accompany you everywhere just to ensure you don’t hurt yourself.”

You feel a goofy happiness at the gentle expression on his face as he says it, though his tone stays sharp. “I’m not that clumsy,” you argue. “I don’t need babysitting.” 

“The evidence leaves that very much in doubt.” Ieyasu tugs your kimono aside, revealing your hip and thigh. There is an angry red patch of skin where the gravel scraped you badly, and his eyes flick over the wound with concern. Then his gaze travels up and you notice his brows rise. 

“What? What is it?” You start to move again and stop as he rests a hand on you. 

Ieyasu frowns, his fingertip tapping just above your injury. “You have a mark. Like a painting but -” He drags his finger over the ink of your tattoo. 

“Oh, that.” You laugh self-consciously. You hadn’t been thinking about the tattoo at all - especially not after your spectacularly embarrassing accident that morning. Tripping over a rock and sliding halfway down a gravel and sand path while out walking with Hideyoshi. And to make matters worse, he’d insisted on carrying you to see Ieyasu for treatment. Thankfully, he hadn’t stayed. You could easily imagine his disapproving expression. Probably more so than the face Ieyasu was making now. 

“Yes. That.” He leaned closer to your leg, studying the colorful image there. “It looks like an octopus. Holding a flower?” Ieyasu’s voice has lost some it’s usual coldness, thawing to an unexpected warmth with curiosity.

You feel another little flutter in your chest and tell yourself to calm down. “It’s supposed to be Akkorokamui holding an anemone. I got it after my parents passed away.” The memory of your intense grief is enough to make you pause. It’s been so many years since you lost them, but it still hurts. A dull, distant ache you don’t notice most of the time. Only on those lonely, long nights when there is nothing to distract you. 

Ieyasu looks up, concern in his wide green eyes. “You don’t need to tell me if it’s too much.”

“No, it’s ok. I can talk about it. That was several years ago and I - I’m alright now.” You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I read that the octopus was a symbol for adaptability. And that Akkorokamui meant healing and wisdom. So . . . I got it as a tattoo, so I would never forget I can handle everything life throws my way. That I will always heal, in time.”

His warm palm strokes your thigh, a gentle touch meant to be calming. The effect on you is less than, sending your pulse skyrocketing. “I see.” He continues the tender caress, though his brows furrow. “But why is it holding a flower?”

“Fragility and strength. Because I’m fragile but I want to be strong.” You take a breath, trying to calm your heart and settle the ache in your soul. Surprisingly, your grief already feels less, as if Ieyasu’s closeness has chased it away.

He nods, looking back down with his thoughtful expression. “I think it’s nice.” 

You can’t miss the flush of red in his cheeks, or his sudden shyness as he pulls his hand away. 

“Too bad such a pretty picture can’t stop you from being a danger to yourself. But I don’t think this will leave a scar on your lov- er, your skin.” Ieyasu’s coldness returns in full force, his eyes as hard as jade.

“Do you really think it’s pretty? I like it but -”

“Of course it is,” he snaps back, already pulling out a tincture to clean your wound.

You bite your lip at the sting, eyes watering a little. 

Ieyasu sighs, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Sorry. I should have warned you. This will hurt a little.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you like me - ah - my tattoo.” 

His eyes widen at your slip in speech, his mouth open. The red in his cheeks spreads to his ears, and something in his gaze wavers. “Well. Even I can admit when someone-thing- is pretty. I’m not blind.”

You feel a giggle rising up and clamp down. Laughing now would not be a good thing. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he mutters, turning away. You can still see the red tips of his ears.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen keiji #ikesen ieyasu #mitsuhide #keiji #ieyasu #fanfiction #otome #fanfic #otome guys #fluff

[miniwheat77]

Hey. Me again from the Stepdad! Graves though while exams are killing me. What if he catches her with his hoodie (yk girl just wanna have some fun), one that says Commander Graves on the left side of the breast or something.....or even his iconic blue shirt from the game. Anyways lemme head out. Just came out of a 12 hour crash course and I wanna die. Bye 👋

!smut, p in v sex, stepcest, NO MINORS!

Sorry this is so short. I just wanted to give you at least something to tide you over for exams, good luck!

He knows what she’s out doing.

He knows that she’s been seeing another man for nearly the entirety of their relationship. But he doesn’t care.

Because why would he be so hung up on her when you’re right here?

You’re a good girl, you obey him and abide by his rules. You don’t talk back, the only responses he gets from you are “yes sir” and “of course.” He loves that about you, how sweet you are. But only he knows how desperate you are.

When she’s off with her secret lover, you’re in his bedroom, his head buried between your thighs while you plea with him, for more. To give you what you so desperately want. She has no idea of course, and he intends to keep it that way. She’s busy anyways.

It’s weeks like these that are his favorite. When she’s off on a “business trip” and he gets weeks on end alone with you. He takes advantage of every single second that he gets to spend with you. Most of it spent with you crying on his cock, sobbing for more. The need seeping into your bloodstream, infecting you like a plague. He’s comparable to a disease. Taking control of you. In the dead of night when it’s dark and no one else is around, you’re crying out for him and he’s praying the neighbors don’t hear. They don’t need to hear what he’s doing to you, he doesn’t want his secret getting out. Because that means he won’t get his alone time with you.

He knows how much you care about your relationship with your mom, how you don’t want to betray her. She can never find out.

So he keeps your secrets as long as you keep his.

“Please-“ you mewl. He chuckles. Reaching for his belt. “Relax. I’ll give you what you need.”

He’s turned you into something you’ve never seen. You’re needy, desperate. Begging for him. Even if it’s for a second while she’s at the store. You need him to fill you. There’s a thirst only he can quench. He moves between your legs, he’d usually take his time with you, start with his tongue and work his way up, but you’ve been waiting for too long. And what kind of monster keeps a pretty girl like you waiting? When he’s inside of you, your walls stretched to perfection around his cock, you can’t think about anything else.

Your eyes gloss over, lips part. Cries will leave your lips as he pushes your legs up and goes even deeper. Bruising your cervix with his harsh thrusts. “P-Phillip!” You cry out, clutching at his biceps. His muscles flex and he grits his teeth. His pace is slow but his force is strong, the glide of his cock inside of you draws moans from your lips, you want more. You keep asking for it. You’re so desperate. “Should’ve known better than to wear my hoodie sweetheart, you knew this would happen.” His laugh is deep and taunting. Thinking about how fast he’d jumped you when he saw you wearing it. He lowers himself to take one of your nipples into his mouth, assaulting your skin with his lips and teeth. Leaving behind bruises and hickeys. He holds your hips tight to the mattress, fingerprint sized bruises will be there for the remainder of the week your mom is gone.

When you cum, you’re crying out. Hips bucking, body jerking hard. He always makes you cum so hard.

How on earth could she have this at home and still want to go find someone else?

#cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #mw2 smut #graves x y/n #graves cod #graves smut #phillip graves #graves x reader