First of all, it takes so much to write that often and always be taking requests so ily for that, take care of urself twin๐ anyways, can I request fem! Reader who saves Doppio at the coliseum? Let's just imagine bc he's near death, he's not in Bucciarati's body anymore either.
โฆ | Doppio isnโt meant to survive this. Not here. Not like this. But you donโt leave him behind.
โโโ
The coliseum is too quiet.
Not peacefulโnever that.
Justโฆ empty.
Like something important already happened, and the world decided it didnโt need to stay and watch the aftermath.
You shouldnโt be here.
You know that.
But your feet donโt listen.
They carry you through broken stone and scattered debris, past the echoes of something violent, something finalโuntil you see him.
โโโ
At first, you think heโs already dead.
Heโs too still.
Too small against all that ruined space.
Pink hair dulled with dust, body twisted slightly where he fell like no one bothered to move him after.
Your chest tightens.
โโฆHello?โ
Nothing.
You step closer anyway.
Careful.
Slow.
Like he might disappear if you rush it.
Thereโs blood.
Too much of it.
Your stomach twists, but you kneel anyway, hands hovering just above himโunsure where to touch, what wonโt hurt more.
โโฆHey,โ you murmur, softer now.
Still nothing.
Your hand finally settles against his shoulder.
Warm.
Not cold.
Not yet.
โโฆPlease donโt be dead.โ
โโโ
A breath.
Itโs weak.
Barely there.
But itโs enough.
You freezeโthen lean closer, pressing your fingers lightly against his neck.
A pulse.
Faint.
Uneven.
But there.
โOh my godโโ
Relief hits too fast, too sharp.
โHeโhey, can you hear me?โ
For a second, nothing changes.
Thenโa twitch.
His lashes flutter, barely lifting.
โโฆnghโฆโ
Your breath catches.
โHeyโhey, itโs okay, donโt moveโโ
His eyes open just enough to be unfocused.
Not seeing you.
Not really.
โโฆBossโฆ?โ
The word is slurred.
Small.
Like a child trying to find someone in the dark.
Your chest aches.
โNo,โ you say gently. โNot your boss.โ
His expression shiftsโconfusion, then something closer to panic.
โโฆphoneโฆโ he murmurs weakly. โIโ I needโ I need to answerโโ
His hand twitches uselessly against the ground.
Like heโs reaching for something that isnโt there.
โโโ
โItโs okay,โ you whisper quickly, catching his hand before it can fall again.
Your fingers wrap around his, grounding.
โThereโs no phone. Youโre safe, okay? Youโre okay.โ
He doesnโt look convinced.
His breathing stutters, uneven, eyes darting slightly despite how little strength he has.
โNoโ no, I have toโ heโs callingโ I canโt miss itโโ
His grip tightens weakly around yours.
Desperate.
You shift closer without thinking, one hand moving to support his head, lifting it just enough so heโs not pressed against the cold stone.
โHey. Hey, look at me.โ
It takes effort.
But slowlyโhis gaze finds yours.
Blurry.
Unsteady.
โโฆwrong,โ he whispers. โYouโreโ youโre notโโ
โI know.โ
You brush the dust from his cheek, careful around the blood.
โI know. Just stay with me, okay?โ
โโโ
He doesnโt understand.
You can see it.
Nothing is connecting the way it should.
But he listens anyway.
Not because he trusts youโbut because he has nothing else left to hold onto.
โโฆhurts,โ he mumbles.
The word is small.
Embarrassed.
Like he shouldnโt be saying it.
Your chest tightens again.
โI know,โ you whisper.
Carefully, you shift him just slightly, trying to ease the worst of the strain on his body.
He flinchesโsharp, immediateโthen relaxes when your hand steadies him again.
โS-sorry,โ he breathes.
โYou donโt have to apologize.โ
โIโ I messed upโฆโ
His voice cracks.
Soft.
Confused.
โI think I messed upโฆโ
โโโ
You donโt ask what that means.
You donโt think he could answer you even if you did.
Instead, you press your forehead lightly against his for just a secondโgrounding him, grounding yourself.
โYou didnโt mess up,โ you murmur.
He lets out a shaky breath.
โโฆBoss is going to be madโฆโ
The fear in his voice is real.
Deep.
Instinctive.
Something carved into him.
Your jaw tightens slightly.
โNo oneโs mad,โ you say softly.
โIโve got you.โ
โโโ
You donโt know if thatโs true.
You donโt know what happens after this.
But you know one thingโyouโre not leaving him here.
Carefully, you shift your grip, one arm bracing under him, the other steadying his weight as you prepare to lift.
Heโs lighter than you expect.
That makes it worse.
โโฆgonna drop me,โ he mumbles faintly.
โIโm not,โ you say immediately.
He makes a small, uncertain sound.
โโฆyou donโt know thatโฆโ
โI do.โ
Your voice is firmer this time.
Enough that he stills slightly.
โโโ
Itโs not graceful.
Not easy.
But you get him up.
Holding him close enough that he doesnโt slip, adjusting every step so you donโt jostle him more than necessary.
His head lolls slightly against your shoulder.
โโฆwarmโฆโ he murmurs.
You swallow.
โYeah.โ
โโฆdonโt go,โ he adds, barely audible.
Like heโs afraid youโll disappear if he doesnโt say it.
Your grip tightens just a little.
โIโm not going anywhere.โ
โโโ
For a moment, he relaxes.
Just a little.
Enough that his breathing evens outโnot stable, not safeโbut less frantic.
His fingers curl weakly into your clothes.
Holding on.
โโฆokayโฆโ
Itโs quiet.
Fragile.
But itโs there.
And you hold onto that.
Even as you carry him out of the ruinsโeven as the silence of the coliseum follows youโeven as you have no idea what comes next.
The night air feels colder outside, sharper against your skin, but you angle him closer instinctively, shielding him from it as best you can.
His breathing stutters again for a moment, and you adjust your hold, murmuring something softโnonsense, reassurance, anything to keep him tethered.
โโฆstay,โ he mumbles faintly, barely conscious now.
โI am,โ you whisper back immediately.
โIโm right here.โ
His grip weakens, then tightens again just slightly, like heโs checking.
Like he needs to be sure youโre still real.
You donโt stop moving.
You donโt loosen your hold.
And even when his weight goes heavier in your armsโwhen his voice fades to nothingโyou keep talking anyway, soft and steady, like if you stop, he might slip away with the silence.
Hello! I hope you're having a great day/night! I cannot wait for SBR!
May I request showering Johnny with kisses despite his "protests" to it? It can be suggestive and you can the add the other characters if you like. I just need to give Johnny some more love. ^^
โฆ | Johnny knows exactly when things get out of hand.
Itโs never sudden.
Never dramatic.
Just a slow, deliberate unravelingโthread by threadโuntil something simple isnโt anymore.
And right now?
This is absolutely one of those moments.
โโโ
โDonโt.โ
Flat. Immediate.
You barely pause.
โDonโt what?โ
Johnny doesnโt move from where heโs stretched across the couch, but his eyes flick toward youโsharp, unimpressed, already irritated in anticipation.
โYou know exactly what.โ
You hum like youโre considering it.
Then step closer anyway.
That earns you a look.
Not a warningโnot yetโbut something measured. Calculating.
โYouโre hovering,โ he points out.
โIโm standing.โ
โYouโre looming.โ
โThat sounds like a you problem.โ
His eye twitches.
โโโ
Itโs quiet for about three seconds.
Thatโs how long it takes before you lean downโand press a quick, careless kiss to his temple.
Can I request Johnny x a reader who loves to dance, and always accommodates him when she does? Like she holds him up completely with all her strength and leads the dance or still dances around/with him while he's in his wheelchair (for the wheelchair part I'm kinda thinking that scene from Wicked with what's his name and Nessarose yk)
โฆ | The air is still in the small, sunlit room. Giorno notices before you say anything.
โโโ
His eyes donโt just seeโyou feel his attention.
Every subtle curl of your shoulders, every shallow exhale,
every small way you try to make yourself smaller in the painโhe notices it.
โโฆYouโre in pain,โ he says quietly,
matter-of-fact, as if stating something he already knows.
No alarm,
no question just acknowledgment.
You hesitate, looking down, a small nod escaping.
Thatโs all he needs. Thatโs enough.
He moves closer. Closer but careful, respecting space, yet filling the quiet room with presence.
His hand rests gently over your abdomen.
Warm. Steady. Familiar.
Then Gold Experience activates.
Itโs subtle at first, a gentle, even heat spreading from his hand, almost like a pulse of calm.
Gradually, the pain eases, the cramping dulls slightly, not gone, but softened.
You let out a quiet breath you didnโt realize you were holding,
and he tilts his head ever so slightly, noticing the small change in your expression.
โโฆBetter?โ
You manage a soft nod.
โI canโt remove it entirely,โ he murmurs, voice low, โbut I can make it manageable.โ
His hand adjusts slightly, moving minutely to maintain that exact warmth and pressure.
You realize heโs not just easing the painโheโs observing it, learning the exact way it touches you, where it lingers the most, where relief is needed first.
โโฆYou donโt have to endure this alone,โ he says softly.
The sound is comforting in a way that has nothing to do with wordsโitโs the way he holds himself, the way his presence surrounds you.
Even when the others are around, Giorno remains closest.
Steady. Unmoving. His focus unbroken.
You feel almost cocooned in the small bubble of warmth and attention he creates,
and for the first time since the cramps started, you feel like itโs possible to just rest.
โฆ | Mista panics the moment he notices you arenโt yourself. His words come first, before thought.
โโโ
โOi! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!โ
You sigh softly, trying to assure him,
but heโs already moving, a blur of energy,
disappearing for a moment and returning with snacks, water, maybe a heating pad, maybe something unnecessaryโbut he sets it all down carefully, taking charge.
โYouโre not moving, alright? Not a muscle. I got this. Eat somethingโฆ maybe drink somethingโฆ justโdonโt pass out, yeah?โ His voice wavers between panic and careful attention.
He hovers, fidgeting, occasionally glancing at you to make sure youโre actually resting.
And then, quieter, he settles closer. Not invading space, just staying near enough that you feel him there.
His presence is messy, chaotic, but undeniably caring.
Every time you wince, he reacts.
Every time you shift, he adjusts blankets or nudges a pillow.
You catch little murmurs from him under his breath โDamn itโฆ I just want you to feel better.โ
Heโs not perfect at this, but his effort is unwavering, and thatโs its own comfort.
โฆ | Narancia reacts immediately with panic, though it quickly softens. โARE YOU DYING??โ he yells first, then quiets down when he realizes youโre just in pain, not danger.
โโโ
He sits down beside you, voice lowering. โโฆDoes it hurt?โ
You nod.
โโฆThat sucks,โ he mutters.
His usual energy is tempered, unusual quiet settling over him.
He nudges closer, awkwardly, offering his shoulder as a support or a pillow for your head.
โโฆDo you want me toโฆ likeโฆ distract you?โ
He doesnโt know exactly how to help, but his effort is consistent.
Talking, staying close, handing you water or snacks, occasionally fidgeting with blankets or pillows.
Heโs not precise, not perfectโbut entirely present.
Every action says, โI care. Iโm here. Youโre not alone.โ
โฆ | Fugo watches, tense, observing your posture, your breathing, your every subtle movement.
โโโ
โโฆYou should be resting,โ he says sharply, then corrects himself. โโฆProperly.โ
He adjusts your positioning, small precise gesturesโblankets, pillows, your seated or lying posture.
He mutters softly about tension, posture, and relaxation, occasionally brushing hair out of your face or adjusting your sleeve.
Everything is measured, precise, controlled. Unlike Naranciaโs chaos or Mistaโs flurry, Fugoโs care is methodical, but underneath it, undeniably kind.
He stays, monitors, waits for reactions, and subtly nudges adjustments, ensuring your comfort.
Hi! I absolutely fell in love your writing of the JoFoes since you popped up in my feed! (^^ )
Could I see a JoFoes dealing with a S/O who is the equivalent of a human furnace and canโt cool down? Like, needs to constantly have a fan on, struggles with any sort of cuddling, and canโt be in the sun for long otherwise they pass out.
I can totally see Kars being confused as hell at how a human canโt stand the sun and tries to avoid it like the plague lol.
โค๏ธโ๐ฅI love how you write NSFW so much, its just something about itโค๏ธโ๐ฅ
โค๏ธโ๐ฅIf you're comfortable, i was thinking... how would the main jofoes react when they get their S/O to come? Maybe its their spouse, you know, they just love them so much... well... enough to make them finish.
For example, i for one think Doppio would be almost concerning levels of giddyโกโค๏ธโ๐ฅโก
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโจ๐/๐: Gojo is still losing the war against his feelings. Unfortunately for him, the reader has started noticing. โกโจโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
โฆ | The problem with spending time around someoneโฆ
Is that eventuallyโ
They start spending time around you.
โโโ
It starts small.
Mostly accidental.
Probably.
Gojo would insist itโs accidental.
Everyone else disagrees.
โWhy are you here?โ
Gojo glances up from where heโs leaning against the doorframe of your classroom.
โโฆPassing by.โ
You look at the empty hallway behind him.
โYour classroom is on the other side of campus.โ
โDetour.โ
โโฆFor twenty minutes?โ
โLong detour.โ
You stare at him.
Gojo stares back.
Completely serious.
After a moment, you sigh and gesture inside.
โWell, if youโre going to hover, you might as well help.โ
โI do not hover.โ
โYouโre literally leaning in my doorway.โ
โThatโs a wall support position.โ
โโฆCome grade papers.โ
Gojo pauses.
Then walks in anyway.
โโโ
This has becomeโ
A routine.
Somehow.
It isnโt planned.
You never ask.
Gojo never offers.
But more often than notโ
When you stay late grading assignmentsโฆ
Gojo appears.
Like a very tall, very annoying ghost.
โYour students are still writing like theyโre fighting curses,โ he mutters, flipping through a page.
โTheyโre trying.โ
โThis one wrote three paragraphs and answered none of the questions.โ
โThatโs confidence.โ
โThatโs chaos.โ
You laugh quietly.
Gojo glances up.
And pauses.
Again.
Because heโs starting to notice something unfortunate.
He likes that sound.
A lot.
Which is deeply inconvenient.
โโโ
Across campusโ
The students are watching.
Unfortunately.
โSenseiโs in their classroom again,โ whispers Yuji.
Nobara squints through the window.
โHeโs grading.โ
Megumi sighs.
โHe hates grading.โ
Yuji nods gravely.
โHeโs in deep.โ
Inside the classroomโ
Gojo looks up suddenly.
โโฆWhy do I feel judged?โ
You donโt even glance up from your papers.
โBecause youโre sitting in a teacherโs chair sideways.โ
โItโs comfortable.โ
โItโs illegal posture.โ
โYouโre jealous of my flexibility.โ
โYouโre six feet of inconvenience.โ
Gojo grins.
You shake your head.
But youโre smiling.
And Gojo notices that too.
Unfortunately.
โโโ
Later that weekโ
Something changes.
Very slightly.
Youโre walking across campus when you hear footsteps behind you.
โHey.โ
You turn.
Gojo jogs up beside you.
โYouโre leaving already?โ
โClasses ended.โ
โRight.โ
You keep walking.
He walks with you.
For a moment thereโs quiet.
Then you glance at him.
โโฆYou donโt have to walk me every time.โ
Gojo shrugs.
โIโm going this way.โ
โYou never go this way.โ
โNew route.โ
โโฆFor the past week?โ
โItโs scenic.โ
You hum thoughtfully.
Then after a momentโ
You hold out a small paper bag.
Gojo blinks.
โโฆWhatโs that?โ
โThank you gift.โ
โFor what?โ
โYou keep helping me grade.โ
Gojo stares at the bag like it might explode.
Slowlyโ
He opens it.
Inside is a small box.
Kikufuku mochi.
His favorite.
Gojo looks up.
โโฆYou remembered.โ
You shrug lightly.
โYou remember my coffee.โ
โThatโs different.โ
โHow?โ
โโฆI donโt know yet.โ
You smile faintly.
Gojo stands there for a second.
Processing.
Across the parking lotโ
Yuji nearly falls over.
โOH MY GOD THEY BROUGHT HIM SNACKS.โ
Nobara smacks his arm.
โSHUT UP.โ
Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose.
โWeโre witnessing a historic moment.โ
โโโ
Gojo clears his throat.
โโฆYou didnโt have to.โ
โI know.โ
โYouโre bribing me.โ
โMaybe.โ
โFor grading.โ
โYes.โ
He considers this.
Then nods once.
โโฆAcceptable.โ
You laugh again.
Gojo pretends the sound doesnโt affect him.
It does.
Greatly.
You laugh again.
Gojo pretends the sound doesnโt affect him.
It does.
Greatly.
โโโ
For a momentโ
He just stands there holding the small box of kikufuku movhi.
Processing.
Which is unfortunate.
Because processing feelings is not one of Gojo Satoruโs strongest skills.
โYouโre bribing me,โ he says again.
โYou already said that.โ
โJust confirming.โ
โDid it work?โ
Gojo opens the box.
Looks at the mochi.
Then at you.
Then back at the mochi.
โโฆPossibly.โ
You start walking again toward the parking lot.
Gojo follows automatically.
Still holding the box.
โโฆYou didnโt have to remember that,โ he says after a moment.
โฆ | Diavoloโs presence is imposing, yet strangely comforting. Even before anything happens, thereโs a tension that hangs in the air.
โโโ
He leans casually against the edge of the lavish bed, gaze sharp but attentive as you sit across from him.
His fingers tap lightly on the bed, almost impatiently, but his expression softens when he notices you watching him.
โDo you always linger like that?โ you murmur, smiling softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Diavolo tilts his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. โOnly when itโs worth it.โ
King Crimson hovers just behind him, ethereal and silent, its form almost blending with the shadows.
You can feel its presence, calm yet overwhelming, like the quiet assurance that nothing will interrupt the moment unless Diavolo allows it.
โYouโre quiet today,โ you say softly, leaning forward. โCalculating almost.โ
He laughs low, warm, brushing a thumb over your hand when it rests on the table.
โI calculate many things,โ he murmurs. โBut youโฆyou are unpredictable.โ
Diavolo's arms wrap around you gently, his fluffy hair brushing your cheek as he lifts you onto the soft bed.
His lips find yours in a deep kiss, tongue exploring slowly while his hand slides up your thigh,
fingers dipping into your wetness. You gasp, legs parting wider.
King Crimson steps into view, its presence skipping the brief awkward pause, diving straight into rhythm. Diavolo's cock presses against your entrance, then he's inside you, filling you completely with smooth, unyielding strokes.
"All mine, forever," he murmurs softly, hips rolling as he fucks you deep, your walls clenching around his thick length. You cum first, body shaking, and he follows, spilling hot cum inside you, the erased time making the pleasure stretch endlessly.
โโโ
During your climax, King Crimson skips forward to amplify aftershocks, turning one orgasm into waves of unrelenting ecstasy.
You're straddling Diavolo's lap, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples as you grind down onto his hard cock.
He groans, fluffy curls falling over his eyes, pulling you closer for a tender bite on your shoulder.
Suddenly, your release crashes harder, your walls pulsing wildly around him without pause.
He thrusts up,
balls slapping against you,
until he unloads deep,
cum flooding your core as the skipped seconds make your body quiver in prolonged delight.
โโโ
King Crimson wipes away any traces of doubt or fatigue,
leaving only pure, affectionate hunger in your intimate encounters.
Diavolo pins you softly against the wall,
his touch firm yet caring, spanking your ass lightly before kneeling to lick you.
You moan,
fingers tangling in his soft hair.
As he stands and aligns his cock with your tight hole, pushing in slowly from behind,
King Crimson brushes your mind, erasing the subtle ache of the day.
Only warmth remains, his shaft stretching you perfectly.
He fucks you steadily, one hand on your hip, the other reaching around to rub you.
You cry out in release, walls gripping him, and he grunts,
pumping his seed into you, the erasure ensuring every sensation is flawless and loving.
โโโ
In moments of vulnerability, King Crimson skips pain to pure pleasure
Diavolo ties your wrists loosely with silk,
his eyes soft as he spanks your cheeks red,
then spreads your legs to thrust into you.
You gasp at the stretch, but King Crimson touches you, erasing the burn into throbbing heat.
He moves with care, cock sliding deep while kissing your neck.
The rhythm builds,
your body yielding fully,
cumming hard around his girth.
He spills inside, holding you close, the stand ensuring only love and lust remain.
previous narancia and jofoe requester here sending you hugs rn โค๏ธโค๏ธ off topic im addressing myself as ๐ง anon if its not already taken ๐๐๐
one main course (oneshot) of baking with diego and funny valentine all while reader is trying to stay focused every time they help her with small things (putting their hands on hers and helping her mix, crack eggs, etc). both of them are arguing the entire time until they start to realize that they can make her so much more flustered if they work together for once in their lives
STEEL BALL RUN SOON ๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน be drinking your water twin and focusing on yourself โค๏ธโค๏ธ
โฆ | Baking with them should have been simple. You had planned a quiet afternoon, a simple recipe, and maybe some time to relax. Unfortunately, these two seem far more interested in testing your focusโand making you flustered.
โโโ
The kitchen smells like sugar and butter, warm and comforting. You had all your ingredients measured and lined up, the recipe open beside the mixing bowl. Flour, sugar, eggs, butterโsimple. Easy. And yet, as soon as Diego leans against the counter, arms crossed, his sharp gaze on you, and Valentine strolls in, far too comfortably, your plans unravel immediately.
โYour technique is inefficient,โ Diego remarks suddenly.
You donโt even look up. โItโs a cake, Diego.โ
Valentine hums softly. โI must agree with Mr. Brando on one thing. You appear to be mixing rather slowly.โ
Two pairs of eyes on you. Closely.
You sigh. โThen one of you can do it.โ
Neither moves. Of course they donโt.
Diego pushes off the counter, stepping closer. โHere.โ Before you can react, his hand closes over yours, guiding the whisk. Warm, steady, practiced.
โYouโre using too much force,โ he murmurs near your ear. โLike this.โ
Your face warms. โIโI was doing it fine.โ
Valentineโs eyes glint with curiosity. โAllow me.โ
He steps behind you, close, hand sliding over yours, adjusting your grip. โYour wrist should turn more naturally.โ
Now both of them are holding your hand. Guiding the whisk together. Their shoulders nearly touch. Theyโre still arguing.
โNo,โ Diego says sharply, โthat angle is wrong.โ
Valentine smooths, โYour method is unnecessarily aggressive.โ
Your brain freezes. โโฆI can mix it myself.โ
Neither moves. Diego leans closer. โCan you?โ
Valentine tilts his head. โYou seem distracted.โ
You try to focus. Flour, sugar, eggs, butterโthe normal things.
โNext step,โ you say quickly. โEggs.โ
You pick up one. Crack. Perfect. Second egg. Diego is suddenly beside you. โNot like that.โ
Before you can respond, his hand is over yours again, guiding the crack. The egg slips into the bowl cleanly. Your heart jumps.
Valentine steps closer. โToo rough with the shells.โ His fingers warm as he gently adjusts your wrist, positioning the egg perfectly. โWatch closely.โ
One tap, two taps, thumbs guiding the crack. Smooth.
You swallow. Theyโre both still unnervingly close. Still touching your hands. Still arguing.
โExcessively delicate,โ Diego mutters.
โControlled,โ Valentine replies calmly.
The batter is mixed. You have no idea how. Your attention is trapped entirely by the two men.
Next, flour. Diego reaches first. Valentine reaches for the same cup. Their hands collide. Glares. โYouโre in the way,โ Diego says flatly. โYou reached first,โ Valentine counters. You slowly take the cup. โโฆFlour.โ
They both watch intently as you measure it. Then, in perfect sync, they step closer. Diego holds the bowl, Valentine passes the whisk back. You begin stirring.
Diego moves behind you again, hand settling lightly on yours. โSlower.โ
Valentineโs fingers adjust your other wrist. โRelax your grip.โ
Your face burns. โโฆYouโre both doing it again.โ
โYes,โ Diego says.
โQuite intentionally,โ Valentine hums.
You freeze for a moment. Theyโre not arguing anymore. Theyโre working together. And the effect is entirely different.
Diego leans closer to your ear. โYou get distracted easily.โ
Valentine tilts your chin so you look at the bowl. โFocus on the batter.โ
Your hands are trapped between theirs. Every motion guided. Every movement observed. Every glance from them calculated to make your pulse race.
The cake is likely perfect by now. You have no idea. Youโre too busy trying to breathe normally while they exchange a glance over your shoulder.
Itโs the first time you realizeโtheyโre actually enjoying this. The chaos of seeing you flustered. The tension between them is gone, replaced with a single goal: making you utterly aware of how close they can get while โhelping.โ
You drop the whisk once, flustered. Diegoโs hand steadies it, Valentineโs thumb brushes over yours. You choke on a laugh.
Diego mutters, โClumsy.โ
Valentine smiles softly. โDistracted.โ
You spin, trying to focus on the recipe instead of the two men laughing quietly behind you.
Eggs, flour, sugar, butter. Mix, fold, stir. But your hands keep brushing against theirs. Every time, a spark, a flare of warmth, a blush you cannot hide.
Diego nudges the bowl slightly closer. โDonโt tilt it like that.โ
Valentine leans just a little too near. โWatch your angle.โ
Itโs simultaneous. Coordinated. Dangerous. And utterly entertaining for them.
You drop the spatula. Diego catches it before it hits the counter. Valentine adjusts your wrist mid-motion. Youโre trapped.
Finally, Valentine leans back slightly, smirking. Diego does the same, matching him perfectly.
โDone,โ they declare in unison.
You stare at the batter, at them, at your own hands. Mixed perfectly. Flustered completely.
โYou two,โ you start, exasperated, โare impossible.โ
Diego shrugs, hand still brushing yours. โAnd yet very effective.โ
Valentine tilts his head. โWeโve discovered something quiteโฆ enjoyable.โ
You groan, but canโt help laughing. They share a glance that speaks louder than words: a rare, silent agreement to work together, if only to make you blush.
For the rest of the afternoon, you realize that baking was never really the point.
It was a lesson.
A lesson in distraction. And in just how cooperative two people can be when theyโve decided a shared goal is far more fun than fighting.
You finish the cake eventually. Perfectly golden, fluffy, and sweet. But the lingering warmth in your chest is not from the oven.
Itโs from the two men who stand behind you, arms brushing yours, smiles just a little too amused, quietly enjoying every second of their little scheme.
And somehow, you think you might secretly enjoy it too.
Welcome back Diva! I hope you got plenty of rest, I was so happy to see you back in action!
I came here to make a request, take your time! Or don't, haha, do what you think is best.
I would find it very funny if the Jofoes and a Stand have a dynamic like this: the Stand is a tired worker who realizes how bizarre these guys are, like, an interaction with them and he's like "Yeah, this guy's not right in the head and is clearly dangerous. I'm going to stay out of it" with the most dead and tired expression of a worker who already deals with too much crap at work, but it seems that life makes us encounter them and since we don't want to get involved anymore, we try with all our might to ignore them, the problem is that the Jofoes are like "Damn, I want this tired worker. NOW".
I don't know, I find the scenario of the Stand sweating while looking to the side trying to ignore the Stands and the Jofoes hovering over them while they are shamelessly eyeing them up to that point very funny. Could you do the s/o by having jobs that kind of involve being in the presence of the Jofoes?
โฆ | Your stand clocks Dio as dangerous within seconds. Unfortunately, ignoring him only seems to make him more interested.
โโโ
Working the night desk at a quiet hotel means youโve seen strange guests before. People passing through at odd hours, people who avoid eye contact, people who linger too long in empty hallways.
Still, the moment the doors open and Dio walks in, your stand appears beside you automatically.
It studies him once.
Just once.
Then it exhales slowly and turns its head away, staring at the wall like an employee who has already decided this customer will become someone elseโs problem.
You glance at it.
โโฆThat bad?โ
Your stand gives you a flat look.
Dio approaches the desk like he belongs there. His gaze moves from you to the stand beside you, taking in the way it is very deliberately pretending he does not exist.
โHow curious,โ he murmurs.
You slide the key across the counter without meeting his eyes.
โThird floor.โ
Your stand wipes imaginary sweat from its forehead.
Dio laughs softly.
And over the next few nights he keeps finding reasons to stop by the desk again โ asking questions he doesnโt need answered, watching the stand that refuses to acknowledge him.
โฆ | Your stand identifies Kars as a walking disaster immediately and reacts exactly like a worker realizing someone just broke museum policy in the worst possible way.
โโโ
The museum is normally quiet.
Fossils, ancient relics, carefully labeled exhibits.
Your stand usually spends its time leaning against display cases looking as tired as you feel halfway through your shift.
Until the day a man appears in front of the pillar men exhibit.
Your stand stiffens instantly.
Its eyes narrow.
Then it drags a hand down its face like someone realizing a visitor just climbed over the barrier rope.
You glance at it.
โโฆWhat now?โ
Before it can answer, the man turns.
Tall. Perfectly composed.
Inhuman.
His eyes meet your standโs.
Your stand freezes for half a second.
Then slowly turns around and begins staring very intently at the opposite wall like it has discovered something fascinating about the architecture.
Kars notices.
Of course he notices.
โA fascinating creature,โ he says, voice thoughtful.
You busy yourself with paperwork.
Your stand pretends it has never met this man in its life.
Unfortunately that only seems to make Kars more curious about the museum employee whose stand refuses to acknowledge him.
โฆ | Your stand refuses to make eye contact with Diavolo the same way a worker refuses to engage with a customer who clearly wants trouble.
โโโ
The bar is quiet tonight.
Youโre polishing glasses behind the counter while your stand leans against the shelves nearby, looking as bored as you feel halfway through the shift.
Then someone sits in the corner booth.
Your stand glances over.
Freezes.
Then it immediately turns its entire body the other direction, staring at the bottles.
You blink.
โโฆWhat?โ
Your stand shakes its head once โ the universal coworker signal for do not get involved.
You shrug and keep working.
A few minutes later the man approaches the counter.
Pink hair. Intense gaze.
Your stand is suddenly polishing the same glass for the fourth time.
โYou seem observant,โ he says quietly.
You slide the drink toward him.
โJust doing my job.โ
Behind you, your stand presses its palm to its face like someone dealing with the worst shift of their life.
Because the one person it wanted to avoid is now standing directly in front of you.
โฆ | Your stand recognizes almost immediately that the man in front of you holds an absurd amount of power โ the kind that makes normal people nervous and tired workers even more determined to stay uninvolved.
โโโ
Working in government records means long hours, quiet offices, and stacks of paperwork that never seem to end.
Your stand usually spends its time leaning beside your desk, lazily flipping through folders while you sort documents.
Most days are boring.
Predictable.
Then the President walks in.
Your stand looks up from the desk.
Studies him carefully.
And immediately exhales like someone realizing their shift just became significantly more complicated.
Funny Valentine stops in front of your desk.
Your stand slowly leans back in the chair and turns its head away, pretending to be extremely interested in a stack of papers it was ignoring five seconds ago.
You glance sideways.
โโฆYou could at least pretend to help.โ
It does not move.
Valentine notices the interaction immediately.
His gaze shifts between you and the stand with quiet curiosity.
โA diligent worker,โ he remarks calmly.
You continue stamping paperwork like nothing unusual is happening.
โJust doing my job, sir.โ
Behind you, your stand rubs its temples like someone already anticipating overtime.
Because the most powerful man in the country has suddenly taken an interest in the employee whose stand clearly wants absolutely nothing to do with him.
Can I request whipped Gojo whoโs clearly infatuated with reader (they work together as teachers) but refuses to admit it when the others tease him about it?
i requested the narancia oneshot a while ago and i wanted to start bawling my eyes out IM SENDING YOU HUGS RN
iโll order one plate of jofoe headcanons with a side of a reader who canโt hold eye contact for too long nor being touched gently without getting flustered
if you could do for the part 7 villain both diego and valentine BUT IF YOU CANT THATS OKAY โค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธโค๏ธ๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน valentine is great on his own
remember not to overwork yourself and drink a billion gallons of water twin๐๐
โฆ | The dim mansion hall is quiet, lit only by tall candles casting long shadows across the marble floor. At the center sits DIO, reclining like royalty observing something mildly entertaining. Behind him, The World stands silently, golden eyes reflecting the flickering light.
โโโ
DIO notices your habit immediately.
It would be impossible not to.
Every time you speak with him, your eyes meet his for barely a second before drifting away again โ toward the floor, the wall, anything except him.
At first he assumes the obvious.
Fear.
Most people cannot withstand the weight of his gaze for long.
But something about your reactions feels different.
โLook at me,โ DIO commands suddenly.
You try.
Your gaze lifts slowly.
One second.
Two.
By the third, your composure collapses and your eyes drop again.
DIO chuckles quietly.
โWell nowโฆโ
That wasnโt terror.
That was embarrassment.
Interesting.
He rises from his chair, boots echoing against the stone floor as he approaches. The World shifts faintly behind him.
โYou struggle to maintain eye contact,โ he observes.
Then his gloved hand lifts.
Two fingers gently tilt your chin upward.
The touch is light.
Almost careful.
Your reaction is immediate.
Your breath catches. Your face warms. Your eyes dart away again despite his hand guiding your gaze.
DIO pauses.
Then laughs softly.
โSo thatโs it.โ
His thumb brushes lightly beneath your chin.
You fluster even worse.
โPathetic,โ he murmurs.
But the tone isnโt cruel.
Itโs amused.
โHere I thought you were afraid.โ
He leans closer, golden eyes studying every reaction.
Instead of letting go, his fingers remain lightly against your jaw.
โYet something as insignificant as a gentle touch reduces you to this.โ
Another quiet laugh escapes him.
โโฆHow entertaining.โ
The World looms silently behind him.
โYouโll have to get used to looking at me eventually.โ
A pause.
His thumb traces softly across your cheek.
โAfter allโฆ I quite enjoy watching you fall apart.โ
โฆ | Wind moves through ancient stone pillars while sunlight glints faintly off the red stone embedded in Karsโ forehead. He stands beside you with the composed elegance of something far older than humanity itself.
โโโ
Kars notices everything.
Subtle movements.
Shifts in breathing.
Tiny reactions others would never catch.
So of course he notices your habit.
You rarely meet his gaze for long.
When you do, it lasts only a moment before drifting away.
Kars watches this several times before speaking.
โYou avoid my eyes,โ he states calmly.
You shake your head.
โThatโs notโโ
Your gaze lifts to meet his again.
And immediately drops.
Kars hums thoughtfully.
โFascinating.โ
Most humans struggle to look at him because of intimidation.
But youโve faced danger before without reacting like this.
So it must be something else.
He steps closer.
You stay still, watching him curiously.
Then his hand lifts.
Not aggressively.
Simply curious.
His fingers brush lightly against your cheek.
Your reaction is immediate.
Your breath hitches.
Your face warms.
You turn away almost instantly.
Kars pauses.
โโฆI see.โ
He gently guides your face back toward him.
โYou face danger without hesitation,โ he murmurs.
โYou do not fear my power.โ
His thumb moves slowly against your skin.
Yet the moment he does, your composure falters again.
You clearly donโt know where to look.
Kars studies you like a scientist observing something rare.
โโฆAnd yet this is what overwhelms you.โ
Another small touch.
Barely there.
Your reaction repeats instantly.
He smiles faintly.
โYou are a strange creature.โ
Not mocking.
Simply fascinated.
His hand remains resting lightly against your face.
โHuman behavior never ceases to surprise me.โ
A pause.
His thumb brushes softly beneath your eye.
โAnd you may be the most curious example Iโve encountered yet.โ
โฆ | The apartment is spotless, every object perfectly arranged. Kira stands near the window adjusting his tie while Killer Queen looms silently behind him.
โโโ
Kira values routine.
Predictability.
Peaceful patterns that never change.
So when he notices your unusual behavior, it stands out immediately.
You struggle to hold eye contact during conversations.
Your gaze flickers away within seconds.
Normally Kira might find that irritating.
But in this caseโฆ
Itโs convenient.
You donโt stare.
You donโt ask many questions.
You simply listen.
That works.
But then something unexpected happens.
One evening he notices the sleeve of your shirt slightly wrinkled.
Without thinking, he reaches out.
His fingers brush your wrist while fixing it.
You freeze instantly.
Your breath stutters.
Your face warms.
Your gaze drops.
Kira pauses.
โโฆHm.โ
Killer Queen tilts its head slightly.
Interesting.
The next day he tests it again.
This time his hand settles gently over yours.
The reaction repeats.
Immediate fluster.
Avoided eye contact.
Quiet embarrassment.
Kira studies the response carefully.
โIs something wrong?โ he asks calmly.
You shake your head quickly.
But you still canโt meet his eyes.
Kira exhales softly.
Predictable.
Controlled.
Acceptable.
His thumb brushes lightly against your knuckles.
You nearly combust again.
โโฆThis is fine.โ
He adjusts his tie calmly.
โI prefer people who behave predictably.โ
His hand remains resting lightly over yours.
You still canโt meet his eyes.
Kira glances down at you.
A faint smile forming.
โโฆJust stay like this.โ
After allโ
A quiet life works best when everything behaves exactly as expected.
Aaa Luv ur writing๐ท id love to ask for La Squadra w teammate that the power to heal with kisses. They all kind of develop a thing for them going as far as getting themselves hurt just to get their lips kissed :9๐ท
โฆ | Metallica ripples faintly through the air around Risotto as he stands near the window of the safehouse, watching the street below. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. He hasnโt moved since returning from the mission twenty minutes ago, though the dark stain slowly spreading across his sleeve makes it obvious something went wrong.
โฆ | Prosciutto sits with his usual elegance at the small kitchen table, calmly cleaning a knife with a cloth while The Grateful Dead lingers behind him like a patient shadow. He looks perfectly composed as alwaysโฆ except for the long bruise darkening the side of his jaw.
โโโ
โYouโre staring.โ
Prosciuttoโs voice is smooth as he sets the knife aside.
โItโs distracting,โ you reply.
โWhat is?โ
โThat.โ
You gesture toward the bruise.
He touches it lightly with two fingers.
โA minor inconvenience.โ
You lean down and kiss it before he can finish the sentence.
The bruise fades immediately.
Prosciutto freezes for the briefest moment.
Then he slowly lifts his gaze back to you.
โโฆRemarkable.โ
He tests his jaw thoughtfully.
โMmm efficient, silent , no recovery time.โ
You straighten, crossing your arms. โOr you could just not get hit.โ
Prosciutto smiles faintly.
โThat would be inefficient.โ
The next evening he returns from a mission with a shallow cut along his collarbone.
The one after that?
Another along his wrist.
Theyโre always small.
Always clean.
Always in places that make it extremely easy for you to reach.
Tonight you stare at the thin scratch across his cheek.
โโฆProsciutto.โ
โYes?โ
โYouโre doing this on purpose.โ
He leans back slightly in his chair, completely unbothered.
โMy dear,โ he says calmly, โIโm simply making use of a valuable resource.โ
โฆ | Melone sits cross-legged on the couch with his laptop open while Baby Faceโs interface flickers across the screen beside him. His attention is usually impossible to pull away from his workโฆ until you lean over and brush your lips against the scrape along his cheek.
โโโ
The wound disappears instantly.
Melone stops typing.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
โโฆInteresting.โ
You lean back slightly.
โWhat?โ
He studies your face like heโs looking at a rare specimen.
โThat reaction time was instantaneous. No visible delay in cellular regeneration.โ
โMelone.โ
โYes?โ
โYouโre bleeding.โ
โI noticed.โ
He taps a few keys thoughtfully.
โSo the ability activates through direct contactโฆโ
You sigh.
โThis is why I didnโt tell you earlier.โ
He smiles faintly.
โOh donโt worry. Iโm not planning to abuse it.โ
โฆ | Illuso stands in front of the hallway mirror adjusting his gloves while Man in the Mirror shifts lazily behind the glass. Thereโs a thin cut along his jawline that definitely wasnโt there earlier.
โโโ
โYou look terrible.โ
He smirks at your reflection.
โFlattery already?โ
You step closer and tilt his chin toward the light.
โHold still.โ
โWhy?โ
You kiss the cut.
It vanishes instantly.
Illusoโs reflection blinks.
โโฆWell thatโs convenient.โ
He touches his jaw thoughtfully.
โYouโre basically a walking first-aid kit.โ
โDonโt call me that.โ
He laughs quietly.
Later that evening you pass the mirror again.
Illuso is standing there with another scratch along his neck.
hiii welcome back!!! absolutely fiending for more of ur kars (feel free to include other jofoes as well though!!) โฆ. have you done any general nsfw headcanons yet? positions he likes, kinks he has, names he likes to be called, etc? i feel like, if kars deems you worthy of his affection, he would be suuuuper worshipful of his partner in bed, but iโm curious what u think!!! thanks for feeding us starving kars fans ๐๐ฉท
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ๐/๐: Sorry itโs so short! Iโd love to hear your thoughts on how I did. Iโm still learning how to write NSFW, so any tips on how to get better would be great.
โฆ | If Kars deems you worthy, he worships your body as a divine temple, every touch a ritual of adoration that elevates you above all mortals.
โโโ
Kars kneels before you, his strong hands parting your thighs with reverence.
He presses his tongue to you, tongue delving to lap at you, savoring your taste like nectar from the gods.
You gasp as he laps at you, fingers curling inside you to stroke that sensitive spot until you arch and flood his mouth with your release.
He rises, cock throbbing hard, and lifts you effortlessly, impaling you on his length in a standing embrace.
He thrusts upward slowly at first, whispering praises against your skin, then faster, your walls gripping him as he fills you with his cum, sealing your worthiness.
โโโ
โฆ Kars favors positions where he can gaze upon you fully, like missionary with your legs wrapped around his waist, allowing him to kiss and caress every inch while he drives his cock deep.
โโโ
He lays you on silken sheets, positioning himself between your spread legs.
His eyes lock onto yours as he slides his thick cock into your wetness, inch by inch, groaning at the tight heat enveloping him.
You cling to his shoulders, and he rocks his hips in a steady rhythm,
grinding against you with each plunge.
โMy eternal light,โ he murmurs,
lips brushing your forehead, then capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss.
He angles deeper, hitting that perfect spot until you shatter, clenching around him, milking his release as he spills hot seed inside you, bodies fused in perfect harmony.
โโโ
โฆ His kinks revolve around dominance through devotionโbinding you lightly with vines he summons, not to restrain but to frame your beauty.
โโโ
Kars summons ethereal tendrils from his essence, wrapping them gently around your wrists and ankles, spreading you open on the altar-like bed.
He trails his tongue from your neck down to your breasts, sucking each nipple until they're peaked and aching.
His cock presses against your entrance, teasing before he thrusts in fully,
the bindings holding you steady as he fucks you with controlled power. You moan his name,
and he growls, โSurrender to perfection, my cherished one.โ The pace builds, his balls slapping against you, until orgasm crashes over you bothโyour juices soaking him as he pumps cum deep,
the vines dissolving in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.
โโโ
โฆ Pet names from Kars are poetic and possessive: โMy divine vessel,โ โEternal mate,โ or simply โBeloved perfection,โ whispered like sacred vows during the height of passion.
โโโ
You straddle him in cowgirl, his hands on your hips guiding your descent onto his rigid cock.
He fills you completely, stretching your walls as you rock against him, breasts bouncing with each movement,
โRide me, my divine vessel,โ he commands softly, thumbs circling your nipples.
You grind down harder, rubbing against his base,
pleasure coiling tight. He sits up, wrapping arms around you, thrusting up to meet your pace until you cum with a cry, walls fluttering around him.
โEternal mate,โ he breathes,
flipping you beneath him for a few final,
deep strokes before erupting inside, his seed marking you as his forever.
โโโ
โฆ Kars indulges in sensory worship, using his enhanced senses to tease and overwhelm, like blindfolding you to focus solely on his touch and the sounds of your pleasure.
โโโ
He ties a soft cloth over your eyes, heightening every sensation as his fingers trace your curves.
His mouth finds your inner thighs, nipping lightly before his tongue plunges into your soaked entrance,
fucking you with it until you're trembling. You hear his low hum of approval,
then feel his cock nudge your lipsโโTaste your god,โ he says, and you suck eagerly, tongue swirling around the veined shaft as he thrusts shallowly.
He pulls back, positioning you on all fours, and slams into you,
the new tightness making you keen. Blind to all but him, you push back, and he reaches around to rub you,
driving you to orgasm as he floods your hole with cum, the blindfold removed to see the adoration in his eyes.
โโโ
โฆ In aftercare, Kars cradles you like a priceless artifact, licking traces of cum from your skin and murmuring how you've ascended to his level of perfection.
โโโ
Post-climax, he gathers you against his chest, his tongue gliding over your sweat-slicked body, cleaning the mingled fluids from between your legs with gentle laps.
โBeloved perfection,โhe intones, fingers combing through your hair as he kisses your temple.
His cock, still semi-hard, twitches against your thigh,
but he focuses on you, massaging your sore muscles until relaxation seeps in.
If desire stirs again, he spoons behind you, sliding back into your entrance for slow, lazy thrusts, building to another shared release where he cums softly,
Your Sukuna characterization feels so right I love it so much! It makes me curious, can I request head canons of your take on frat Gojo and frat Sukuna? Thank you!
โฆ | Gojo notices you because you donโt notice him.
Heโs used to attention. People laughing at his jokes before he finishes them, people watching him the second he walks into a room.
But you?
You glance at him once, shrug, and go back to whatever you were doing.
And suddenly the most entertaining person in the entire party becomes you.
โฆ | His flirting becomes ten times worse once he realizes he likes you.
Gojo is already a menace when it comes to teasing people.
But now heโs constantly leaning over your shoulder, making sarcastic comments about whatever youโre doing, or casually inserting himself into conversations youโre having with other people.
If you roll your eyes at him, he looks incredibly pleased with himself.
โฆ | He always finds a way to sit near you at parties.
Doesnโt matter where you end up โ couch, kitchen counter, the stairs โ Gojo will eventually appear nearby like itโs a coincidence.
His arm drapes over the back of the seat behind you, long legs stretched out lazily, sunglasses tipped down just enough to watch you from the corner of his eye.
โฆ | He loves making you laugh more than he expected.
Gojo tells jokes constantly, but most of them are just to keep the room entertained.
When you laugh, though?
Not a polite chuckle โ a real one.
He pauses for half a second like he just won something.
โฆ | If someone else flirts with you, he becomes extremely helpful.
Suddenly heโs offering you drinks, pulling you into random conversations, or insisting you help him with something in another room.
He doesnโt start fights.
He just smoothly removes you from the situation with a grin like itโs all part of the party.
โฆ | The frat house slowly realizes Gojo actually listens to you.
Which is shocking.
Because Gojo does not listen to people.
But if you tell him to stop standing on furniture?
He eventually hops down.
If you complain the music is too loud?
Five minutes later itโs quieter.
No one mentions it out loud, but everyone notices.
โฆ | When he realizes his crush is real, it surprises him.
Gojo isnโt used to feelings that linger after the party ends.
But suddenly heโs remembering small things you said days ago.
Wondering if youโll show up to the next event.
Looking around the room for you without meaning to.
โฆ | If you lean against him during a party, he freezes for a moment.
Not visibly.
Most people wouldnโt notice.
But his jokes pause for half a second, his smile softens slightly, and he doesnโt move an inch for the rest of the night.
โฆ | When Gojo likes someone, the teasing never stops.
But it gets softer somehow.
More personal.
Less about showing off and more about seeing you react.
โฆ | If someone asks him directly whether he likes you, he just laughs.
โRelax,โ he says casually.
But the way his eyes flick toward you across the room gives him away immediately.
