#BUT THAT'S WAY FUCKING BETTER THAN ONLY BEING ABLE TO SLEEP IN TWO HOUR BLOCKS

[nexus-nebulae]

dude okay i think taking melatonin for a couple weeks actually like. triggered my brain to actually start making melatonin on its own for once???????? i just realized I've forgotten to take my sleep meds for two weeks straight and I'm still actually sleeping regularly and consistently for the first time in my life

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡

♱ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ♱ ━━━ CW: CNC, SEX FANTASY, ROLEPLAY (INTRUDER & VICTIM), SEXTING, DEGRADING, PRAISE, ORAL (M. REC), FACIAL, PUSSY SLAP, MIRROR SEX, DYCRYPHILIA, HAIR PULLING, MIRROR SEX, RECORDING, FINGERING, MANHANDLING, CHOKING, SPANKING, UNPROTECTED SEX, FEAR PLAY, “NO” IS SAID BUT IS NOT A SAFEWORD, CLIT PLAY, MULTIPLE ROUNDS, CREAMPIES (2), AFTERCARE ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.6K ♱ ━━━ NOTE: ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Chan sighed as he looked at the text message. He truly did spoil his girlfriend, but he loved doing it. He always gave in to what she wanted since she knew she’d only ask if she really wanted it. If his princess wanted him to fuck her dressed like a serial killer, he would. 

     He worked for another hour before packing up and heading home to his girlfriend. Almost forgetting about the conversation till he walked through the door to their apartment. Being greeted by his very happy girlfriend wrapping her arms around him. “Hi, handsome.”

     “Hi princess,” Chan greeted as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pecked her lips. 

     “When’s the mask coming?” She asked, bouncing a little in her place as he slipped his shoes off and set his bag down

     “End of the week.”

     “And you’re off this weekend?” 

     Chan saw the little light in her eyes as he trapped her in his arms and walked her back to the couch, “Depends.”

     “Chris,” Y/n whined before he laid her on the couch and laid on top of her.

     The Aussie chuckled and leaned up to peck her lips. “How about you tell me how you imagine me fucking you in the mask would go and then I’ll decide if I go in and work this weekend.”

     Y/n smiled at the mischievous look in his eyes.

     Chan did go into the studio. Briefly mentioned to his girlfriend that Changbin and Han needed his help for a track. Promising to be back as soon as he could. Y/n pouted as he kissed her in the kitchen before he headed out the door. She knew damn well he’d be getting home late, knowing how those three always getting sidetracked when they were working together.

     But it couldn’t be helped. She went on about her day, checking in on her boyfriend every so often and reminding him— and the other two— to eat at meal times. Y/n did some chores she had to do around the house and ran a couple of errands she had to do. Getting home before it got dark. Making dinner and an extra plate for Chan for whenever he came home. 

     Y/n wound up in bed not long after, the TV in their bedroom playing as she waited for him to come home and cuddle. Y/n checked her phone. No messages about coming home yet. Probably deep in his work, normal. 

     11:48 pm

     He’d worked late but not this late. She sat up in bed and unlocked her phone. Opening up their messages and texting him. 

Y/n: Coming Home soon? 🥺 Channie💕: sorry Princess. This track is a lot more work than we thought. We’re trying to fix a few things. I’ll let you know when I leave. You don't have to wait for me, baby. Get some sleep. I’ll be there when you wake up 💕 Y/n: Mmmm want to fall asleep in your arms though

     Y/n sighed as she looked up from her phone and caught a glance in their free-standing mirror. She smiled and got out of bed. Tossing off her sleep shorts and underwear before sitting in front of the mirror in one of his zip-up hoodies. Unzipping it almost all the way down, just covering her lower half  

Channie💕: I know Princess 😖 I’m sorry but you know I won't be able to sleep if we don't fix this Y/n: But I won't be able to sleep without you        [1 photo]       Please, baby 🥺 Channie💕: Princess                   My baby looks so good in just my sweater Y/n: think I’d look better under you, getting split open on your cock.  Channie💕: Yeah?                    Can you show Daddy that pretty pussy?

     Y/n smiled and leaned back, taking her legs out from under her, and planting her feet on the floor. She unzipped the sweater fully so her wet folds were in perfect view of the mirror and camera. The sweater fell off her shoulder as well, exposing one of her boobs as well. 

Y/n: [1 photo] Channie💕: Been touching yourself, Princess? Your soaked Y/n: No Daddy. Just thinking of you Channie💕: Maybe Daddy should come home and help you out then Y/n: Please🥺🥺 Channie💕: Give me an hour and I’ll be home princess😉 Y/n: Channnnniiiieee

     Y/n waited for a response but nothing. She sighed and locked her phone, finally looking up in their mirror just for her mouth to get covered by a black gloved hand, white scream mask behind her. Their purple LED lights reflected off the mask. 

     Y/n squirmed in his hold and closed her legs, trying to save some dignity as she grabbed the arm that was covering her mouth dropping her phone on the floor. The masked man behind her pulled her legs open, “Don't want to keep ‘em open? Didn't have a problem showing off earlier.” he chuckled, gloved hand slapping her clit a few times.

     Y/n tried arching away but he had a tight grip on her jaw. Making her look straight ahead in the mirror. Y/n closed her eyes as he massaged her clit, trying not to moan. 

     “Open your eyes,” the man growled and slapped the inside of her thigh.

     Y/n screamed into his hand and opened her eyes, tears pricking her lash line. “Good girl,” He cooed, covered fingers running between her wet folds. 

     Y/n clenched as his fingers teased her hole, hoping she could keep him out if she clenched hard enough. She heard him tsk before he pulled his hand away and stood up behind her, letting go of her jaw. She turned her body to crawl past him and escape but he was quick to grab the hair on top of her head and kept her in place. The white mask looked down at her as he pressed her mouth against his clothed crotch. Y/n grabbed the ripped fabric of his jeans as his hard cock was pressed against her mouth. 

     She could feel him smiling under the mask and use his free hand to unbutton his jeans. Pulling her away to unzip and pull his hard dick out. Y/n tried pulling away from him but he had a tight grip on her hair. “Open up.” He tapped the red leaky tip against them.

     Y/n pressed her lips in a tight line in protest  He yanked her head back, Y/n letting out a pained moan as her jaw fell open in the process. Giving him the perfect chance to shove himself down her throat. Y/n gagged as his tip quickly hit the back of her throat, the built-up tears falling down her cheeks. 

     “See? Not that hard, is it?” He chuckled behind his masks, hand keeping her pressed down on him

     Y/n hummed to disagree but that did get across. Rather, the man moaned as her throat vibrated against his tip. Pulling his hips back and thrusting back into her mouth. Y/n gripped the frayed fabric of his jeans as he held her still for him to use. A tight grip on her hair that wouldn't let her pull away. 

     Forcing her to look up at him as he used her mouth. His free hand reached behind him and pulled a phone out. Her eyes went wide as she tried to protest. Whines went unheard as he pointed the camera at her. Switching to moving her head up and down rather than thrusting into her mouth. 

     Y/n whined as she tried to push against him only for his whole shaft to be shoved down her throat. Watching his head tilt back before he pulled her off him. Y/n coughed as she caught her breath just for him to laugh at her. Pulling her back down and fucking her throat again. Y/n whined in protest which made him moan. 

     Pulling out of her as he felt himself starting to cum. Some of the semen caught in her mouth while the rest landed on her face. Y/n’s jaw hung open as she closed her eyes, waiting for him to finish

     “Good slut,” He said as he put the phone away and all but pushed her back onto the ground. Getting down on his knees between her legs. Y/n tried backing up but she should’ve known better now. 

     He grabbed her legs and turned her on her stomach. A harsh smack landed on her ass and made her jump before her lower half was lifted. 

     “Look at this pretty cunt,” he said behind her. Y/n felt him spread her folds then two fingers pushing into her. “All nice and warm.”

     Y/n whined and covered her mouth with her boyfriend's sweater sleeves as he quickly pushed his fingers in and out of her. Whining into the cloth as more tears rolled down her face. Thumb moving to rub her clit. Trying her best to ignore his fingers spreading her out. Walls clenched around them as he worked her clit. Gloved fingers curled into her walls as she felt him lean over her back. 

     Grabbing her hands away from her mouth and pinning them in front of her on the floor. “Don't need to hide how good it feels. Having someone fuck your tight cunt open.”

     “It doesn't,” Y/n whined

     “No? Maybe another finger will help.” 

     A third finger entered her before she could protest. A moan left her as her walls spread to accommodate the additional girth. Biting her bottom lip, resting her head against the bedroom floor. The knot in her stomach tightened the more the little bud between her legs was stimulated. Small broken pleas went unheard as they were said into the floor. 

     Her walls clenched around his fingers more and more. Her hips bucked as she was getting closer. Trying not to let the pleasure take over and beg to cum. Not wanting to give that satisfaction. He got it anyway as she let out a loud moan into the carpet and came around his fingers.

     “Feel better now?” He chuckled as his fingers left her. Y/n felt his hand leave her wrist and she daringly looked up a her mirror while she was barely coming out of her high. She saw him up higher on his knees and spreading her cheeks. Feeling his tip sink into her had her trying to get away again, begging him not to. 

     “Take it out, please! I don’t—“

     “Who said you could make orders?” he barked and yanked her head up. Cock sank into her in one thrust. 

     “Cock sleeves don’t talk,” He growled as he watched her jaw fall open. Walls made way for his thick length. 

     “‘M not—“

     Y/n cried as another slap landed on her ass. Effectively cutting her off. 

     “Don’t act all innocent. You were whoring yourself out earlier. All wet and desperate for a dick inside you.”

    The masked man pushed her back on the floor and held her down. Hand on the back of her throat as he started pistoning himself in and out of her. 

     Y/n caught a glimpse of him leaning over her as he pounded into her. Whining with each hit. Still, uselessly, trying to get away from his grip. Each time she attempted she was met with a hard spank that made her jump. 

     “Maybe we should send that little video out. Let your boyfriend know he’s dating a whore.” 

     “No!”

     “Then stop squirming.”

     Y/n whimpered as she lay on the ground, seeing a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Then he moved his hand from the back of her neck to the front and lifted her head. Making her look in the mirror again. 

     Warm tears ran down her cheeks as his thrusting grew more erratic. Phone camera pointed at the mirror, capturing every movement and reaction. 

     “Gonna fill this little cunt up,” He groaned behind her

     “Please, pull out!” Y/n cried 

     “Mhm? Want me to fill you up?” He questioned, not hearing the last part. 

     “No! Pull out please!” 

     He buried himself in her and filled her sensitive cunt up. Cries left her lips as he dropped her head back to the floor. Y/n looked at him through the mirror. Hips pressed against her ass as he emptied himself inside her. 

     He pulled out after he was for sure finished and spread her folds apart. The camera captured his cum dripping out of her before he flipped her over onto her back. Pulling her legs over his hips as she tried to cover herself. 

     “Haven’t learned yet, slut?” he asked, slapping her thigh and tearing her hand away from her cunt, and running his thumb over her clit. 

     “No more!” Y/n whined, grabbing his wrist 

     “You can handle it,” He answered as he dropped the phone and slid back into her. 

     Y/n moaned as he filled her up again. The masked man chuckled as he rubbed her clit again, feeling her clench around him from the stimulation. Y/n could feel him getting harder inside her while she tried to push him away. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down against her chest. Adjusting himself to thrust into her again. Her whines turned into moans as she tried to pull her hands away.

     The man hummed as he pressed harder on her clit. Watching her body jerk through the eyes of the mask. No longer trying to squirm away or protest. “There we go,” he chuckled, “Poor slut just needed her clit touched again.”

     “Not… a slut,” Y/n said through her tears. 

     “Sure feels like you are.”

     His speed picked up again, leaning over her body. More moans fell out of her mouth as he rubbed the little bud faster. Feeling her walls contract around his length again, her body jolting ever so slightly. Soon enough she was covering him in her orgasm, arching off the ground and crashing back down. The masked man let go of her wrists but kept his thumb on her clit. Working himself inside of her to another orgasm. Dick twitched inside her as all her words died in her throat from the overstimulation.

     A groan left his throat as he came inside her again. Pushing a second load deep inside her. Stopping his movement on her clit and laying both his hands next to her head, leaning over her body. 

     After a moment, Chan took off the movie mask and set it to the side. Tossing the gloves off next before running a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. 

     “You okay baby girl?” He asked 

     “Mhmm,” Y/n nodded, a smile on her face.

     “Sleepy now?” Chan asked as he pressed a kiss to her neck

     “Yeah,” Y/n answered

     “Stay awake for me long enough to get you cleaned up? Then we can go to sleep, have a lazy day tomorrow?” Chan suggested 

     “Sounds nice,” Y/n said

     “Okay, princess. I’m gonna pull out then we're gonna take a bath.”

     Y/n nodded as Chan gently pulled out of her. Y/n made a small whine before he sat her up and pulled his jacket off her. Helping her into their bathroom and setting her on the toilet while he started the bath. 

     Leaving momentarily to grab her clothes and coming back. Filling up the tub before gently placing her in the warm water and getting behind her. Washing her body and leaving little kisses and praise in her skin. 

     “Feel okay princess?”

     “Just tired,” She grumbled

     “Hmm. Can you turn around so I can wash your face?”

     Y/n slowly turned around to face him as Chan cleaned her skin and rinsed it off before letting her fall against his chest.

♱ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

♱ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[risuola]

LOOKS LIKE WE'RE SNOWED IN FOR THE NIGHT — F. READER x KAMO CHOSO, with whom you got stuck in a cabin

A fireplace, a nice blanket, a bunch of snow and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree… for some it might sound like a perfect way to spend the night during the festive season, but not when you’re stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your biggest enemy. And it’s cold.

cw: smut, enemies to lovers, oral (f. receiving), angst-ish vibe, death mentioned (I put it as a warning, but honestly, if you're into jjk you're probably used to it, just sayin'), reader discretion is advised — 2,9k words

kissmas masterlist

“Looks like we’re snowed in for the night,” Choso pointed, making few futile attempts to push the doors open. “I can force the way out but I doubt you’re gonna survive it.” He added, venomous tone evident in his otherwise calm and low voice.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. This is horrible, you thought, it couldn’t possibly get worse than that. The cabin, secluded and nestled deep in the woods, once a welcoming refuge from the cold, was now a claustrophobic cage trapping you and Choso inside. The doors, blocked by the snow piled high behind them were impossible to open and the windows – old and grime-stained – covered with ice, offered no escape. The interiors, now cleared out of the cursed spirit that resided in here scaring the owners away, were as cozy as they could be with warm colors of the creaking wooden floors and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, that funny enough was the only thing that still was working inside. The furniture was faded and worn-down by the humid air, the cobwebs decorating every corner.

The task at hand was simple enough – get in, exorcise, get out – but the snow and the cold were making everything more difficult, not to mention the man you had to share the experience with. It was a part of introducing the Death Painting into the jujutsu society and a silent attempt to make the two of you fonder of each other, but the result proved itself to be starkly different, when you got stuck with him for the night, or god knows how long.

“Damn,” you groaned finally, realizing there’s nothing you can do to make the situation better. No escape, no signal, not even a goddamn kettle that would work.

“Looks like you’re really screwed, huh?” Choso mocked you, a smirk twisting his features because he knew – he just knew that you’re not gonna make it through the night and though he enjoyed the idea of watching you freeze to death, he involuntarily threw some more wood into the fire to keep it alive.

“I’m perfectly fine, fuck you,” you snapped, glaring at his stupid handsome face from your place across the room, hoping silently that maybe once in this world a glare could kill.

You and Choso had always been on opposite sides. Your fights always end up in blood, there was little to no respect between you two, and though in a fight you two were able to work together, outside of it, it was a much different story. You just couldn’t stand each other, you could never put a finger on the reason why, but you just never clicked. Always having different opinions, always too stubborn to let go and not even once agreeing on a plan of work. You trusted him just enough to know he will most likely not kill you in your sleep.

Now, as the sound of the howling wind outside was constantly reminding you on the dire situation, the storm outside showing no signs of letting up, the pressure between you and him seemed to reach a breaking point. At first, you moved through the cabin, walking back and forth, avoiding each other’s gaze and trying to ignore the fact you were trapped together. “Sit quiet and stop being annoying,” you growled at him, hating the way he was sprawled comfortably on the little sofa while you were feeling more and more cold as the hours were passing by. Kamo and his damn temperature regulation.

You had been fighting constantly since you arrived, each blaming the other for the predicament you were in. You argued and hurled insults at each other, both trying to assert dominance over the other. You were constantly on the edge, you bickered until both of you were that close to exploding. You fought about everything, from the mission to the tiny space you were forced to share. You could barely stand the sound of each other’s breathing, much less the sight of each other’s faces and the constant, near proximity. It was only a matter of time one of you snapped.

It felt claustrophobic, nearly – the way only four walls were surrounding you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite navigate yourself through the treacherous environment. You had no idea what exactly was oh-so wrong with this place. A desolate cabin with nothing but cold air and the palpable tension between you and Choso was slowly taking a toll on you. Harsh winter wind howled outside and it was clear that your spirits matched its bitterness. The twinkling, colorful lights adorning the mismatched Christmas tree in the corner did nothing to warm up the bleakness of the place.

Hours passed and you got tired of the banter. Choso noticed how slowly you became, quiet, less talkative. It became easier and easier to outsmart you as the cold was taking a toll on your body. Your retorts were less sharp, a little delayed as the temperature went even lower along with the night progressing.

“You’re gonna die in here?” He asked, his tone as nonchalant as ever, but it was getting to him that you might actually die that night. It was fun while it lasted and you did an excellent job in making him believe that you’re gonna survive the night, that you’re fine. He allowed his eyes, that up until that point were closed as he was resting on the sofa, to look at your form. You were shivering, seated on the furry carpet near the fireplace and though you were as close to the heat as it was possible, it didn’t do much to help you. Your breath was visible and you were constantly rubbing your hands together in hopes to stop them from going numb.

“I’m fine,” you said again, your voice much punier than you intended it to be and Kamo found it amusing how you forced yourself to sound strong, when in reality, you were so small and weak and vulnerable.

“Oh, are you?” The question had mocking qualities that Choso couldn’t hold back. “You know, all it takes is for you to ask nicely and I might consider warming you up.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, you were so stubborn. He shrugged and kept observing you.

The cabin fell quiet. The air was thick with tension and the only sounds were the occasional drip of water from the ceiling, crackling of fire in the fireplace and the soft tickling of a clock. The rattling of the windows in the wind accompanied the cacophony.

“Isn’t the big, strong sorceress now uncharacteristically quiet?” He joked once again, and you could have sworn that even in the freezing cold, he had an ability to make your blood boil. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I miss the times when paintings were not talking,” you retorted, wrapping yourself tighter in the imitation of a blanket you found laying around. “You have no idea how much I’d love to exorcise your half-cursed ass.”

“As if you were ever gonna be strong enough to put a harm onto me,” he said, pushing himself up from the couch. “Besides, you might wanna pick your words carefully. You’re at my mercy right now.”

“I’d rather be eaten by a polar bear than be at your mercy.”

“Oh, that would be a cool death, right?” He laughed, a taunting tone piercing the air and your soul, it seemed. “Or a curse. It would sound much better in the report later if I told your friends that you lost your life in battle, with bravery and strength, yeah? For sure it’s more appealing than a lame reason like freezing to death.”

“Oh, shut up…” you sighed, leaning your cheek on one of your knees. You kept them tightly pressed to your chest, a desperate attempt of storing any leftover heat along your torso, but it did little to nothing. “Come on, get your ass over there.”

“I already told you, you have to ask me nicely.”

“That’s as nice as I’m gonna get.”

“So that’s as close as you’re gonna get me,” he smirked, teasing you beyond decency, well aware of how delicate was a situation you were now in. To him, cold was nothing more than an inconvenience. In all honesty, he could break the doors open and just go through the snow during night and he would be just fine, but you… it was a different story and truth is that he stayed in the cabin only because of you.

“Choso, please, don’t be a dick, I’m freezing to death, literally,” you whined, forgetting about your pride and prioritizing the survival. “Please?”

“Much better,” Choso chuckled and moved from the sofa to the floor, sitting behind you with his legs on both sides of your frame. “Loosen up a little,” he ordered, throwing away your blanket and as his arm sneaked around your waist, he pulled you into himself, your back now pressed against his chest.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, shifting your position and wrapping yourself around him. He was hot and it felt like the heat was emitting from him, seeping onto you the moment you made contact with his muscular frame. You pushed your face against his neck, nuzzling your cold nose into his warm skin.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing?” He commented, putting on an indifferent, snarky mask but inside, he was feeling things. It was odd, it was new. He wasn’t exactly an expert in romantic situations, in fact besides few really brief adventures with women, it was the first time he was actually somewhat intimate. Choso’s mind was in a limbo, trying to fight the thoughts of his body which were going crazy. The way your frame fit so closely to his, the way you turned your face and melted into him… it was almost too much. Thoughts raced around his head a mile a minute.

“Aren’t you a scrooge for letting me freeze while you’re that hot?”

“Well, I’m your partner on the job, not your personal heater,” he shrugged, allowing his hand to run along the curves of your waist and hip. “Also, I’d assume that the low temperature is a natural habitat for a cold bitch like you.”

“Ouch,” you acted hurt but couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I have a great idea, why don’t you shut up?”

“Oh, did that sting you, princess?”

„I’m serious, you should shut the hell up,” it was a mumble, an unharmful one, but Choso must have gotten a different impression.

It was a flash. It took you few seconds to even register what just happened and once you did, you were already helpless beneath him. The soft, furry carpet now tickling you in the face as Choso kept you, chest down and pinned to the ground. It annoyed you how easily one of his hands kept both of your wrists pushed up above your head. You felt his weight on top of your thighs, his crotch pressed tightly to your ass and his other hand supporting his weight on the wooden floor.

“Now, if you’re gonna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you as one,” he said, his voice low and close to your ear as he leaned down and gathered some of your hair to the side to uncover your face to his eyes. Your hopeless pulls and wriggles did nothing to loosen up his hold. If anything, his fingers only tightened their grip around your wrists.

“Get off me,” you groaned, trying to find your way out of the situation, but the movements of your body seemed to make it worse. The man hummed darkly, aiming a mean slap at your ass.

“Stop wiggling,” he warned, smirking at the way your body tensed for a moment. He couldn’t tell what’s gotten him into such a playful mood. Maybe it was all the thick air between you two finally exposing its true colors – something once filled with anger and hostility, now crackled with an undeniable sexual tension.

“Did you just slap me?” You couldn’t believe it, but you’d sooner be dead than you’ll admit out loud that it somehow felt good.

“I did,” he said nonchalantly. “You whined you’re cold, huh? Well, guess I’ll have to warm you up for real,” Choso added, now grinning mischievously. “Be a good girl, I know you can do it. Now I’ll let go of your hands and you’ll turn around, yeah?”

You hummed in response, not really sure what’s gotten into him but you were far from minding it so you flipped to your back as soon as he gave you a chance. Still on top of you, Choso kept a controlling grip over your hip, his touch burning your bare skin over there.

The fire crackled and flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows on the two of you but you couldn’t tell if the sparkle in his eyes was a reflection of it or just pure lust. The latter, you thought, catching his gaze as it scanned your form, paying a little more attention to your lips, chest and the little strip of skin that showed from underneath your blouse.

Kamo was enticed by you, fascinated even, by the way his body was suddenly yearning for you. The unusual desire overflown his senses and he found himself inching closer and closer, until he was just one, mere breath away from your mouth. He could feel you gasp, see the look of your eyes and if he wouldn’t know better he would be convinced there was lust in them too.

“Nervous?” He whispered, with a slight shadow of teasing painted all over his stupidly handsome features. His nose, now brushing against yours initiated the touch, a prelude of sorts to what was going to come and Choso chuckled at the lack of response from you. It was, in a way, an opening for you to push him away, to set a boundary, to lay down the consent but you made no effort to do any of that. Instead, you let your fingers to find his hair and once you pulled at them, there was no going back.

His lips pressed into yours. The kiss and the heat from your bodies warmed the cold air around you, melting the icy tension that lingered between you as you, too, melted below him. The time seemed to slow down and the melody of howling wind and fire was now a white noise to the soft sounds and whimpers you were making. Your mouth parted and Choso took the invitation eagerly, running his tongue along your lower lip and reaching yours. They twirled and twisted, danced and explored each other and you swore at the moment that the world around you had fallen away.

It didn’t take long since you were bare, completely exposed underneath his muscular body; the cold air around you a stark contrast to the extreme heat that was coming off of Choso. He was all around you, exploring your shapes with touches so tender, you couldn’t help but feel worshipped. The way he touched you, the way he kissed and drank every inch of your skin made your heart rumble against your ribcage. He went down, tracing the ups and downs of your figure with wet, sloppy stamps of his lips until he reached your thighs – both of which he kissed with as much attention.

It was intoxicating. Kamo felt as if everything around him twirled and he was drowning in the soft feeling of your plush skin. The curves of you filled every bit of his mind. Addicting, you were, so addicting he couldn’t find a strength to pull back and before he knew it, his tongue was already lapping at your clit. The beautiful melody of your moans filling his ears as he worked his mouth over the puffy bud, sucking and licking simultaneously. Waves and waves of pleasure you felt, spreading from your core and reaching every part of you. It was hot, it was like nothing else you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh god, Choso~” you were whining, a surprise to you cause up until this time you would swear you’re not the one to make such lewd noises during sex. All of that went out the window when it came to the man between your legs. He was flicking his tongue, twirling it and pressing it flat; every movement centered and focused, sharing one objective – to abuse the most sensitive, sweet spot on your body. He took his time, it was wet and sloppy, it was messy. The silky sensation of his tongue, warm and soft… oh, man has a talent.

Your breath was stuttering, hands grabbing the fluffy fibers of the carpet as your thighs were trembling and the urge to squeeze them over Choso’s head was slowly becoming irresistible. The way he was making out with your clit drove you insane, it brought you to the edge and pushed you over. You came undone and you came hard. He wasn’t stopping, just slowing down and leading you through the high as if it was his job and the very core of his existence.

“Feeling warmer?” He asked, once slowly coming back up above you. His face was now a real painting, covered with your essence and his lips, swollen and wet, stretched into a grin of satisfaction as he was taking in the sight of your breathless form. You nodded, barely registering the subtle teasing undertone he had in his voice. “Good. But I’m going to make you even hotter.”

[starstruckkittensweets]

decisions

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

New year, new format, same old Star? I guess only time will tell. Anyway, here's my silly little self dabbling in a new fandom to get myself out of my writer's block. Blame BSD for being my current obsession, and for keeping me up way past my bedtime just to finish this lil fic just in time for new year's. Please be kind, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things! Also I haven't been able to get my mind off of Chuuya for like the last few weeks, send help pls I'm very concerned, it's currently 3:30am and I'm very sleep-deprived haha dividers made by @/hitobaby

warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol consumption, reader has a history with Chuuya (he's responsible for bringing her into the mafia in the first place), reader is a little sad with complicated feelings on new year's eve, Chuuya may or may not be ooc and I'm sorry if he is, this fic is totally not self-indulgent in the slightest, idk what you guys are talking about || words: 2.3k

Fifteen minutes to go. 

The air is chilly against your cheeks, the thin jacket over your shoulders barely doing anything to keep out the cold. Even with the buttons fastened all the way up to your neck and a scarf wrapped over your face twice, you’re still freezing your ass off. Oh well, better out here than in there. 

You’ve never seen the Port Mafia headquarters look so lively. You blame Elise—well, Mori specifically for feeding into her wishes to throw such an extravagant party in the first place. The first two hours were fun, but you decided to tap out once you saw the familiar red hue splashed across Higuchi’s cheeks. As much as you enjoy her company, the last thing you want to do is watch her make a fool out of herself in front of Akutagawa. (Who’s also getting a little tipsy himself, and it’s quite uncomfortable to watch.) 

Besides, it’s too loud and rowdy for your liking. So instead you’re leaning against the wall outside, your second bottle of cider clutched in your hands, secretly wishing the skirt of your dress was just a tiny bit longer. 

You glance at your watch and grimace. Fourteen minutes left. 

Fuck. 

“Party ain’t good enough for you, huh?” 

You jolt at the familiar voice; your cheeks are flushed, but you know better than to blame the drink in your hand. Seems that Chuuya just has that effect on you. 

You shrug your shoulders, gazing down at the pavement as he makes his way down the entrance steps. “It’s fine, just a little…crazy, I guess? It’s quieter out here.” 

“Cold as hell, though.” 

“Yeah…” 

An uneasy silence settles over the two of you. You clear your throat and swallow another mouthful of your drink. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other against the wall beside you, careful not to scuff up the fabric of his fancy blue overcoat. Never one to pass up dressing a bit nice for a party or banquet, huh? 

He hums, taking a sip from his wine glass (of course he brought it out with him). You’re about to open your mouth before he raises an eyebrow, sending a scathing look at the choice of drink in your hands. 

“…You still drinking that shit?” 

You roll your eyes with a huff, “Well, we can’t all have your stellar taste in alcohol.” 

Not your fault he has a thing for fancy wines that cost more than your entire wardrobe at home. You prefer something a little more comfortable, and sometimes a simple bottle of hard cider is more than enough to get the job done. 

He shakes his head, but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips (or maybe the alcohol’s making you see things already). “You’d think with all the time we’ve spent together, your taste in drinks would improve.” 

“As if.” You nudge your elbow into his arm before taking another swig. “Don’t try to take me away from my cider.” 

Your head is a bit fuzzy, but no amount of alcohol seems to warm you up. You fold your arms across your chest, careful not to spill your drink down the front of your coat. It would be just like you to go and make a fool of yourself in front of your superior like that. 

Eleven minutes to go. 

“…What’s on your mind?” 

Damn it, he must’ve seen you looking at your watch. You swallow hard, tracing your thumb around the rim of your bottle. And suddenly all the words you wanna say vanish on the tip of your tongue. 

So you just don’t answer. A few more moments pass in silence before he tips his head back against the wall, a heavy sigh filling the air around you. 

“Come on, you gotta be drinking out here alone for a reason. So what is it, huh?” His eyes are sharp when he finally glances at you. “Someone upset you in there, or what?” 

“Huh—no, nothing like that—” 

At least, nothing any of your coworkers said. They’re not at fault for your sour mood; the only one you have to blame is yourself. 

Oh well, you’re already a bit drunk. You already have a list of things you’ll regret tomorrow morning. What’s the harm in adding just one more? 

“I just…I don’t see the point in celebrating new years anymore…” 

You cringe the moment the words leave your lips. Way to go, dumbass. He definitely won’t think you’re trying to be edgy just to impress him. Not in the slightest. 

Eh, you’ve already made a fool out of yourself. Might as well go all the way, right? Rip the bandaid off now while you can. 

“It’s like, well, for the last few years they’ve just kinda…blended together? They’re repetitive and everyone makes a big deal out of them, and I don’t really get it anymore. Yeah, it was fun when we were kids, but now? I just gotta look forward to another year of being the same person I was the last twelve months. It’s fun for the first few days, but then everything reverts right back to the way it was. Nothing changes permanently, y’know?” 

Fuck me, it’s not like he’s your therapist! He doesn’t need to hear this shit! Shut your mouth while you still have a chance! 

But he doesn’t stop you—not that your mouth would know when to quit, anyways. 

“Dunno, maybe I’m just being a downer about it. It’s been like that for a while, though, not just because of new year’s… Higuchi says it’s because I haven’t even been kissed—because that’s supposed to make everything better, apparently. New Year’s kiss and all—it’s stupid, right?” 

Not that you ever believed her about that bullshit. Totally not. And that weird fluttering feeling in your chest right now? You’ve had too much to drink. Not that you’ll stop any time soon. 

The silence in the air is killing you, and you’re just about to down the rest of your drink in one gulp when you hear a soft snicker beside you. Chuuya shakes his head, smirking at you over the rim of his glass. 

“Sour mood just because you’ve never had a new year’s kiss?” 

“S-shut up! You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his voice softer than before, “I think I do.” 

He sinks himself down to the ground, the tails of his coat acting as a barrier between him and the freezing pavement. Setting his glass down he pats the space next to him, and it’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to follow his lead. Even when you’re all bundled up in your coat and scarf, your body curled into itself, you only start to feel warm when you’re pressed against his side. 

And he seems to notice, because he drapes an arm over your shoulder to pull you in close. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it still makes you feel antsy all the same. 

“Another year in paradise, eh?” 

You raise your bottle to meet his glass halfway, the soft clink sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Maybe it won’t be so bad this time around.” 

At least, that’s what you tell yourself every year. Maybe it’ll be okay this time. Maybe things will work out. Maybe this year, you won’t see yourself as a complete and utter failure. Despite your accomplishments and contributions to the mafia, maybe you’ll start seeing yourself as something more than a lowly criminal. 

Instead of the same simple girl he picked up from the streets all those years ago. 

The two of you finish your drinks, with only the buzzing of the voices inside breaking the silence between you. It’s getting closer to midnight, only five more minutes to go. You place your bottle down at your side with a clang, wincing when you start to feel a pang in your temple. And one look at Chuuya tells you his own drink is finally catching up to him; he grimaces and tilts his head back, his cheeks flushed red from the frigid air around you. 

“We’re both gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, huh?” 

“Bet yours will be worse than mine,” he challenges with a smirk. 

But you can see the exhaustion in his eyes; he’s always been a lightweight, as long as you’ve known him. Too many times you’ve helped him home from a night at the bar, other times you’ve been right beside him, just as wasted as he was. Perhaps it’s not the ideal superior-underling relationship to have at work, but quality drinking buddies are hard to come by these days. 

And besides, there’s just something about seeing him in such a vulnerable state that makes you feel a certain way. No, it’s not just that—it’s knowing that he’s letting you see him in such a vulnerable state. That he trusts you enough to get him home safe, to not take advantage of him when he’s too far gone to even remember his own name. And knowing that he would do the exact same for you, and that trust is returned in full (and then some, if you’re being completely honest with yourself). 

Because no matter how hard you try to talk yourself out of it, or convince yourself otherwise, you’re still that same stupid girl from the slums with a soft spot for the man who saved her. 

You press yourself deeper into his side, smiling when you feel his arm tighten around your shoulders. Three minutes left of the year. The voices from inside are growing louder, more pronounced as the seconds tick by. You don’t pay them much mind, not when you’re already half asleep, cuddled up against your boss. 

How scandalous—maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll pass out before midnight and won’t wake up till noon the next day. 

“You don’t have to be the same person you are now, if you’re not happy with it.” His voice snaps you awake at once, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s staring in your direction. “If you think you’ll be happier as someone else, then be that person.” He scoffs lightly with a shrug of his shoulders. “As long as you’re satisfied, I don’t see a problem with that.” 

Your lips open and close, reminding yourself of a fish. Your throat runs dry, but you manage to force a few words out. 

“It’s not that I wanna be someone completely different… I like myself sometimes, and other days…” You hate yourself and the person you’ve become. “…But I don’t wanna lose the parts of me I like, you know? Sometimes I wanna change, but I also wanna just stay being me… Ah, never mind, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” You force out a laugh, hiding your face in your frozen hands. “I’m drunk, I know I am. See what happens when you let me drink so much?” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol making your tongue looser than it normally is. You’ve only had two bottles, but combined with the wintry air and Chuuya’s warmth beside you… You fear you’ve gone off the deep end by now. And there’s no way you’re crawling back out of it until you crash and burn…and hopefully not take anyone else with you. 

He rolls his eyes, but they’re softer than they were before. A pretty blue shade, almost sparkling in the bright moonlight. Ah, damn it, who are you kidding? They’ve always been pretty—he’s always been pretty… 

You can hear people chanting in the distance. Must be the final countdown of the night, huh? 

“Don’t worry your head over it,” he whispers, and he’s so close you can almost taste the wine on his breath. Warm and comforting, reminding you of a home you once carved out for yourself. “I think I get what you’re saying.” 

You don’t even bother looking down at your watch. You know just how much longer you have before the year is up. 

“Whatever you decide to do,” he says, and you can feel his gloved fingers lacing through your own, “whatever parts of yourself you decide to keep, I’ll still be on your side.” 

A chorus of cheers erupts from headquarters; shadows dance along the golden windows, illuminating the streamers and confetti and drunken patrons as they celebrate the brand new year. You swallow hard, your cheeks burning against the cold, unable to tear yourself away from those pretty blue eyes. 

But then his words sink in, really sink in, and suddenly you want to cry. But you can’t stop yourself from smiling, even as you feel the first line of tears prick at your lashes. 

“That…means a lot to me,” your voice is hoarse, but you manage to get the words out just in time. “Thank you so much, Chuuya, I could just—” 

Kiss you now, like the idiot I am. 

Oh, what the hell? The lines have already been blurred, what’s the harm in actually crossing them? Or maybe that’s just the alcohol talking again. 

But you know damn well that this is one drunken decision you will never regret, for as long as you live. 

“…This might sound really stupid, but can I kiss you?” 

Call yourself stupid for asking, but he’s just as stupid for nodding—and the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms, lips pressed together with the roars of the crowd inside echoing in your ears. 

Who knows what the new year will bring? More of the same? A little bit of excitement? Only time will tell, you guess. You wonder how many parts of yourself you’ll start to shed, like a skin that’s grown far too tight for your liking. Or maybe you’ll fall in love with a few different parts, seeing them in a new way you’d never even thought of. 

At least you’re not alone in it, no matter what your decision is.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I loved your breakdown of the con ☺️ So glad you had an amazing time and something to hold onto from the boys! I know you got inspired, but it gave me a little inspo too. Soooo here you go:

Your lungs were screaming with the unpleasant burning of exhaustion. The sensation felt like it occupied physical space and limited the air you were desperately gulping and gasping down. But running as fast as your tired legs would carry you would do that.

Arms pumping, muscles aching, heart pounding, blood rushing in your ears-- everything in you rebelled against the idea of continuing on. All your body wanted was to stop. Fall to the ground and relax into the damp earth beneath you bare feet. Sleep like the dead that occupied the space under the gravestones dotted around you. 

But you couldn't– wouldn't stop. Not while you were being chased down, hunted by two psychos in masks. Good thing you hadn't skipped dinner otherwise this surprise cardio session would have ended well before you made it to the city graveyard.

It was a Friday night and you blessedly had the place to yourself. Parents gone for a week on a vacation to Tahoe. You'd declined tagging along the moment you heard the words rekindle the flame. There was absolutely no way you were hanging around if that was what they had planned. You had absolutely no desire to be any more scarred for life from their antics.

If they wanted a week of fucking, they could have it in peace far far away from you. 

So you'd slammed some pizza, alone, watching horror movies to pass the time. You could have called someone to hang, but you hadn't been feeling it. Horror movies sounded more like the company, or lack of, you'd wanted.

They weren't anything new though. You'd seen all the little video store had to offer�� Billy and Stu would have been so far up your ass if you hadn't. And not in a pleasant way.

At some point your energy was supposed to come down and you'd pass out. It seemed like your brain lost the memo. Restlessness was the only thing weighing on you.

When it was two am and you still haven't been able to find any sleep frustration creeped in. You'd just wanted a relaxing night with 7 or 8 hours of sleep. Instead, it was Restlessness and a masked face peering through your window reflecting from the blackened TV screen.

It took a moment to register what you were seeing, a calm that settled the antsy energy you'd had all night before you freaked out. Jumped up from the couch and ran.

----part 1 so the ask isn't ungodly long 👻🔪

Oh, I am putting them right here, let's go!

Part 2:

Slamming the back door open and barreling out had your shoulder slam into another tall imposing cloaked figure with the same ghostly screaming mask.

Momentum drove the figure back with a grunt and a stumble. Enough space for you to work with now that the stairway down wasn't blocked. You'd jetted through the back gate, down the road and kept going aimlessly. Destination wasn't at the forefront of your mind, only the need to get away.

That'd been at least an hour ago. Maybe longer? You weren't sure. There wasn't really a way to discern an accurate passing of time except for your own internal clock. And that clock had alarms going off that said, it's way past three am and time to chill the fuck out. It was laughable that sleep wanted to come now. When it was the last thing you wanted to do.

Your solace was a dense mistake hanging in the early autumn air. It provided some much needed relief to your flushed and overheating body. If only you could get a straw and suck the moisture out of it. You'd kill for water, soda, something right now. Rolling your eyes as the thought struck you as ironic. They wanted to kill you and here you were thinking of murdering for a drink. Sighing as you paused for a moment– if you ended up dying tonight, you hoped their reasoning was better than thirst.

How they were able to keep up with you in the pitch dark was a mystery. They were certainly still behind you if the tinny sound of metal dragging against stone was anything to go by. The snickering every so often all but confirmed they were some kind of darkvision utilizing demons.

Your body was giving out. You really couldn't go for much longer. But you'd be damned if you were about to roll over for them. Look around, you weighed your options. The graveyard broke off into a forest not much further away. You could continue this cat and mouse game there…but your muscles screamed against the idea of moving and your stamina was already nearing it's max.

The other option would be to stay here. Hide and hope they called it quits soon or just hold out as long as you could. There were enough gravestones, trees, and mausoleums that one of them had to have somewhere for you to hide…

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, the decision to stay was an easy one. Find somewhere to hunker down and wait it out. Shaking your head to clear the doubt creeping in– there wasn't time for second guessing. It was either action or death.

And you chose action by quickly running towards the closest mausoleum. It was similar to the others in the area, but lady luck seemed to smile on you because 4 stone flower pot vases lined the corner of the structure.

Moving around towards the back for more cover before shambling up the stone vase. It was sturdy enough and you were able to lean forward to grip the edge of the stone roof.

It was risky, sure, but you'd take your chances. Praying your upper body strength would hold so you could hoist yourself up. If you fell, well…you were out of ideas and would probably just lay there until one of them found you.

Clenching your jaw you sucked in a calming breath before springing off the vase. Your stomach slammed into the corner of the roofing and it dug in. A grunt left your lips as the wind was knocked from your lungs. But it was enough purchase for your fingers to dig into the little groves of the stone. Adrenaline doing the rest and provided just want you needed to be able to pull yourself up and over the roof.

-I realize now I should have just made this a post and put a link, but this is fun and whats done is done. Part three next 👻🔪

---

Part 3 👻🔪:

Stomach and cheek pressing into the stone had its chill penetrating through your clothes. It felt heavenly against your overheated sticky body. Clouds passed and moonlight flitted between dark and darker. It refracted against the mist making the area almost sparkle. If your breath wasn't already stolen, the sight might have.

In the illuminated mist you could see a shadow, two shadows moving around the landscape. A quiet snicker of your own escaped you. Even if they found you now at least you'd have ample warning of their approach.

So you stayed, watched, and waited. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes began to pile up. Maybe it was half an hour or more but at some point you'd began to doze with the loss of constant adrenaline. Enough that the hand circling your ankle and yanking was a complete shock to your sluggish mind.

The screech that left you could have woke the dead in the coffins below, but it was cut short by another strong yank and this time it had your tired body slipping off the edge. Panic shot through you, scrambling to hold onto the surface, but the small groves your fingers dug into wouldn't hold you when another yank, this time on your thighs, pulled you over the side.

Stomach dropping fast, but the falling sensation was cut short when two firm arms wrapped around you, "Finally found you, princess." Your panic calmed just a little without the threat of broken bones. He was still in the cloak and mask, but from the way he held you, you know which one it was, "Jesus Christ, Billy! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" His answering chuckle said maybe a little.

Relaxing your grip as you took a deep breath, "That's the game then?" He lowered you back down to the ground, bare feet firm on the stone, but he didn't release you yet, "You lasted almost 3 hours. Your best time so far." Three hours? It seemed long, but not that long. But that was probably right. Knowing Billy he had a stopwatch or something on him.

Now that you weren't playing the part of their prey, annoyance was settling in, "Did you guys have to wait until 2am to start?" He kept one hand on your side while the other pulled off his mask, "Thought it'd be fun to chase a sleepy stumbling final girl around." You shook your head, "such an ass."

He squeezed your side firmly, more of a threat than a caress, "Don't be a brat now. Stu and I were thinking of letting you be our pillow princess if you did well." He leaned down breath tickling your ear, "I can always tell him to edge you instead."

Billy was ruthless when he got into edging moods. And as much fun as you had during those sessions, it wasn't something you could handle in your current state. Blurting out an apology quicker than you'd like had him chuckle again. Pressing a kiss to your temple he squeezed your side before patting it, "You did a good job. Proud of you." And that had you melting. Praise from Billy was rare which made it hit just a little harder.

"Let's find Stu before I decide bending you over a headstone is good enough."

- uhhh yeah. I could add more, but that's it for now. Hope you liked what you inspired 😌 💕 love you 💕(sorry to anyone who I just forced to scroll past a crazy long ask post...)

---

Oh. My fucking. God. Dude. Jesus fucking Christ DUUUUDE! This is fucking amazing, insane, I WISH! This is THE dream, the act fucking dream, I have no words! Like a big long cat and mouse game, a big chase and it ending with a good hardcore fuck sesh because I was just sooooo good! Harley, you've killed me! I am DEAD!

[graftisms]

JOSHUA & JENNY — DAY THIRTY-TWO

location :    afternoon / pre-dates / lounge area & living room

featuring :    @blondcs

JOSHUA

if it were up to josh, they wouldn't be having this conversation. no part of him wants to talk to jenny, for many, many reasons. the way they left things? check. the way they reunited last night? check. that qanon looking dude she brought back? check. after sleeping on the scene that unfolded at the fire pit, part of him does feel bad for speaking to jenny the way he did. josh doesn't think anything he said was wrong—especially the part where he pointed out that she wasn't loyal to him while they were together—but he regrets doing it so publicly, when they didn't have a real chance to hash it out. she's not naomi or mimi, he knows; she doesn't get off on public outbursts. but that doesn't mean he wants to talk to her today either, perfectly satisfied with her and judd doing their own thing in the villa, and josh doing his. unfortunately, the producers had other things to say, and through a painfully long trip to the beach hut he came to realize that there's no getting out of a talk with jenny. if they didn't wear him down to reach out to her, they'd probably get her to do it instead, and he'd like to have the upperhand in the conversation. so he finds the lounge chair that she's sunbathing on and stands in front of her, blocking her sunlight. "hey," he says, a little hesitant. "can we talk?" 

JENNY

she can feel herself becoming too dependent on jude. the minute he gets up to go the bathroom or get a refill or talk to angel or whatever it is he's doing, she begins to shrink under the weight of everything she hasn't faced. production made it very clear she's meant to talk to josh today—started throwing scary words around about contractual obligations and the consequences of noncompliance before sending her off for counseling. they insisted everyone had to go post-casa, though something in their tone made it seem like they were just saying that to appease her. like she was gonna throw some kind of fit at being able to talk about herself for an hour straight, consequence-free to someone being paid not to judge her. it made her feel slightly better about everything, but the minute she catches josh's approach in her peripherals, all that forced calm goes out the window. her body tenses, wondering if he got the same spiel or if he's doing this of his own accord, eyes tracking him until he's towering over her. it's night and day from the last time they were together, those final tender touches under the duvet before he was whisked away. it'll never be like that again, she realizes, and her eyes flood with tears behind her sunglasses. she shakes her head no like that's an option, her mouth pinched into a wobbly line.

JOSHUA

while in casa, josh liked to remind himself that him and jenny had only been together three days. three and a half, if they're getting technical, though that half mixes in with his time with naomi in a way that's complicated and messy. not that him and jenny had been anything less than that. three and a half days isn't a lot of time, he liked to remind himself. maybe it's why she was so quick to fuck max behind his back. but standing in front of her now, josh is reminded of how in the villa, three and a half days is actually a lot of time. so much time that josh has seen that look on her face before, and he knows how to read it: she's trying hard not to cry, if successful at all. from the size of her sunglasses, it's hard to tell. she's not his favorite person by a long shot right now, but it's enough to make his hazel eyes soften a bit. "c'mon," he sighs, holding out his hand for her to take. "somewhere private. i promise i won't be a dick." whether he holds out on that remains to be seen, but right now he does mean it.

JENNY

she doesn't want to do this. she doesn't want to do this. she doesn't want to do this. the mantra's stuck in a loop that keeps her rooted in place like a petulant child, all her focus going toward not crying, though that's a losing battle when she dares another quick glance, eyes meeting his then immediately dropping to his outstretched hand. maybe she needs a bathroom break right now—come to think of it, she's super fucking nauseous—or maybe... yeah, she's pretty sure she's supposed to be in the beach hut any minute now. either of those would work, right? but she heaves out a shaky breath, accepting defeat the minute his eyes soften, one leaden hand dropping into his to let him tug her to her feet. "i really don't want to do this," she admits quietly, breaking the contact as soon as she's standing. touching him is too much, it'll cloud her judgment just like it always does, though she regrets it almost immediately. was that the last time they'll ever touch? was that the last time he'll help her up from a chair? was that the last time she'll hear him say 'dick'? she's caught up in all these silly finalities, momentarily lost in her own melodrama until the ground turns hot underfoot, enough to snap her back. "ow," she hisses, though part of her appreciates the distraction. not the pain, but the shock that roots her back in her body as she slips on her flip flops and lets her eyes search around for jude through a sniffle. then just a small shift of her head to let him know they're off for a chat. it feels like a fine line, letting herself crumble over what could have been when she's trying to pursue something else. too much agonizing over josh'll push him away, but she's never been good at swallowing her emotions—they're way too demanding. she's gotta grin and bear it, takes a deep breath as she moves to follow josh. "lead the way, then. god, i'm— i'm like, freaking out a little."

JOSHUA

"that makes two of us," he says under his breath, quiet enough for only her to hear. at least they're on the same page about something right now, even if it's how they'd rather be alone with anybody else right now. maybe josh should feel bad about it, that's its resorted to this. he certainly feels some type of way about it, though it's hard to feel bad when he really does blame the strain in their relationship on her. he's not really sure how he's going to be able to express that to her without making her cry or come off like a dick, so... josh isn't really sure what there is to say at all right now, throwing his mental flashbacks into the trash as he motions for her to follow him inside. the living room isn't the most ideal spot, considering it's where they spent their first night together, the beginning of the end, but there's very few options where someone won't walk in on them. what, like he's going to take her up to the terrace, after last night with naomi? he's not that stupid. "why are you freaking out?" he asks her, taking a seat on the couch and patting the spot next to him. "what do you think i'm going to say?"

JENNY

the living room. of course. because there’s no way he’s bringing her up the terrace now, maybe ever again. the trust is gone, another blow that lands her a fresh round of tears that blink down beneath the shield of her sunglasses. all that time in the villa she’s never actually gotten around to mourning josh. in a way, she hadn’t let herself believe naomi entirely. she figured they’d get back in the villa and she’d pretend to make him grovel and then win him all over again, same way she had the first time. believing naomi’s story challenges her entire narrative. it would mean that in actuality, she never had won josh the first time. it would mean, short lived as it was, the thing between them was never real, just a case of him biding his time, and that’s something jenny didn’t really want to tackle when there was so much other shit going on. now she wishes she’d braced herself a little more for this reality so she wasn’t stuck coming to terms with it in front of him. she’s furious at her past self for being so, well, selfish as she perches herself stiffly on the couch diagonal from him, framing the corner. “i don’t know,” she whines, tucking her hands up under her shades to wipe her eyes. “i don’t want to cry. i want to be angry at you,” she laughs without any humor. “i feel so stupid. like, for a second���“ she shakes her head, her gaze dropping down to her lap. “for a split second i thought you came back single for me.” god, it sounds so stupid out loud, doesn’t it? another slightly strangled laugh, though this one sounds more like a sob and quickly dissolves into one. she covers her face with one hand, the other held up to him, a silent plea not to say anything, just for a second… “it just—i feel like the whole thing was fake now. it feels… cheap. and i know i ruined it anyway. like, i know i don’t get to talk, but… i just feel so, so stupid.”

JOSHUA

it almost makes him laugh, her wanting to be angry with him. until this moment, josh hadn't been able to see past the most recent fact: jenny had slept with max, while they were together. to him, that was the absolute zero that canceled out anything he had done in casa and was doing now, because for him, that was the end of the road for him. but when she's crying like this, far more upset than he had expected, he allows himself to see it from her perspective: josh coming back from casa single and for naomi, the person josh had told her he was trying to get over. it's exhausting, the way both of them could be right and yet feel so wrong. he had thought that ending things with jenny would make him feel like a blonde weight has been lifted off his shoulder, but it's far harder to deal with her when she's actually in the flesh. during their time together, josh had enjoyed being the person that protected her, wiped her tears when she was sad and fought islanders who told her off. it's hard to be that protector when the reason she's sad is himself.  "jenny," he starts to say, but with a hand in his direction he lets her silence him, through he creeps closer on the couch, touching her knee lightly. trying to get her attention, and maybe be somewhat of a comfort. "c'mon, jen," his voice is sad, and it actually stings to hear her say this, especially when he had thought the same thing about her days ago. "it wasn't fake, c'mon. you have to know that. i really wanted us to work." he did, too, for reasons that had to do with jenny and not.

JENNY

all her focus snaps to her knee, the hand that rests there rippling heat throughout her body, zinging against her skin like a live wire. for a minute she just stares at it, tries to commit the pattern of his veins to memory while trying not to get distracted by everything those hands have done. being touched by him now kind of feels like torture. it’s comforting, sure, but in such a tiny dose it feels more like a tease than anything. she knows what it feels like to be completely wrapped up in him, how could she ever be satisfied by this? her eyes are still glued to that hand, this time noting howe his knuckles are slightly tanner than the rest, when she speaks again. “i believe you thought that, but i don’t believe you felt it. like, you wanted it in your head instead of your heart. and i think all of me wanted you,” she looks up, hazel eyes almost enough to take her out until she’s looking away just as fast. “it is what it is, right?” (like on his page.) she nervously bounces the leg he’s touching, her hand dipping beneath her shades to collect the tears. “i think she’ll forgive you.”

JOSHUA

her words sting, more than she cares to admit. it's enough to draw his hand back, finally feeling the burn that comes with getting too close to the blonde. for a few days, it had been so nice, easy. blissful. jenny had been exactly what he needed after the mess with naomi, and while he had implied to naomi last night that he had lost when it came to their breakup, being with jenny made him feel the opposite. josh liked that he could be himself around her, and that the chemistry was electric, impossible to ignore. he had felt things for jenny that came straight from his heart, but there is some truth to what she's saying; not enough time had passed for him to let go of naomi altogether. him and naomi had been in limbo long enough for josh to have one foot in on both girls, which wasn't fair to jenny, maybe. but josh had also tried, warning jenny that he still felt that way, and he hadn't done anything that (in his opinion) crossed a line. he can't say the same for jenny, which is why her comment digs into his skin too easily, itching to do something about it. she's crying and giving him an out here, bringing up naomi, and he should take it. but his pride and his feelings are still hurt, and part of him wonders if jenny is only acting so emotional so he won't bring up the elephant in the room. "you wanted all of me," he echoes, slowly. letting the words sink in. and then: "even the parts of you that fucked max in the shower, while we were still together?" she can't it is what it is her way out of that one.

JENNY

she looks away, towards the doors. past them but not through them, not focusing on much of anything, just unable to look at him. here she is trying to extend an olive branch, about to dish on naomi and how much she clearly cares about him if she let it slip in front of jenny. but now her lips are zipped, defenses reinforced. it feels like so much time has passed, it’s almost easy to forget that they never really dealt with the max of it all. “yeah, josh. sometimes people do shit when they’re scared. you know, like fake a whole relationship with a new bombshell because the girl they really want picked someone else.” she tucks her hands between her knees, then crosses her arms over her chest, anxious and fidgety. “who, coincidentally, probably only did that because she was scared.” her hands curl up over her shoulders, stroking nervous patterns over her skin. “who ended up telling you? you knew that night.”

JOSHUA

he doesn't know what he's doing, really. before he brought up max, josh could've let this thing end with a neat bow wrapped on top, taking the out she had offered him by mentioning naomi. but, as always, his pride is too strong for that. and jenny's words only twist the knife that she had lodged in his back five days ago, when he had found out that she had screwed max. it's certainly enough to forget about her tears, whether she's still crying or not behind those sunglasses. he doesn't really care. "don't give me that bullshit, jenny," he scoffs, shaking his head. he knew she would do this, blame naomi as a reason because he offered it up on a silver platter during the recoupling, but he didn't think it would get to him so much. "i didn't fake the relationship. if you were scared, you could've come to me, instead of fucking someone else. even if naomi and i hadn't talked that night, we wouldn't be anywhere else right now. not because i wanted her over you, but because you ended things by doing the one thing you knew would hurt me." he doesn't want to hear that she was scared, as if josh hadn't done everything in his power to try to make her feel better. "who do you think told me?" he scoffs, looking at her. "i should've known there was a reason you were so upset to vote him off. if he had stayed, would you have ever told me? would that have been the end of it?" josh should be taking this as an out—because the more questions he asks, the deeper it gets—but all the questions he hadn't let himself mull over in casa are now coming to the surface, and there's no stopping it.

JENNY

“it’s not bullshit,” she groans, throwing her head back in frustration. “i don’t—like, i can’t—“ the words aren’t coming and her hands stop moving around all animatedly to curl into fists on her lap. “i haven’t been in a relationship, like a real relationship since fucking high school. i don’t… like, i don’t—“ she heaves out a sigh. “i don’t know... i don’t have a family like yours. none of ‘this,’” gesturing between them, “or whatever this was comes naturally. i just…” she trails off, shaking her head. she’s not trying to defend herself, necessarily. she was in the wrong—she knows this, but she can at least explain herself, even if her reasons are so unintuitive to him they sound like bullshit and yeah, are maybe mixed in with some half truths. she was scared for sure, but that’s just a side effect of a much simpler explanation that she can’t really acknowledge without feeling small and completely pathetic. it’s that feeling that makes her push people away, the same one that drives her mom to settle over and over again with men who don’t deserve her, but she’s not about to wax poetic about being unloveable to josh. “i didn’t sleep with him to hurt you. like, you’re making it seem like i did this horrible, evil, vindictive thing to punish you or something when it literally wasn’t like that. it was sex. should i have done it? no, probably not. it wasn’t really fair to you, but like…” she meets his eye, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. “we could’ve figured it out if you wanted to. if i knew you would fight for me, i could’ve been better, tried harder. whatever. it doesn’t really matter now.”

she looks away again, rubs her sweaty palms down her thighs as he starts in on the questions. fucking josh and his fucking questions. he knows exactly what to ask to drag her into the hot seat, a metaphorical spotlight just inches from her face. “i don’t know.” it’s easy enough to detach herself and reduce this part to gossip, almost like they could be talking about anyone. “i know romi knew somehow. it hadn’t aired for the bombshells yet so… had to be you who told them. or frankie. it was her, right? she told you?” another quick glance at him, then she’s looking away again. she’s never talked to him so much and looked at him so little, but his eyes burn like they’re seeing right through her. she’d rather look straight ahead at the neon sign that seems slightly crooked, almost imperceptibly lower on the right side so the words ‘crack on’ slant downward. are you allowed to look directly at neon? you have to be right? they wouldn’t have it littered over every inch of the villa if it was a safety hazzard. it’s not like looking at the sun, although if it singed her retinas maybe they’d have to extract her from the rest of this conversation. she stares even harder, trying to pretend she’s somewhere else. “how am i supposed to know, josh? seriously, do you think i’m out here premeditating shit? i’m just trying to figure it out as i go. like, it doesn’t even matter what might’ve happened. max didn’t stay, i don’t know why you want to torture yourself here. are you just like, hoping i’ll say something that makes all this easier? like i was planning on jumping ships until the dumping foiled my big, master plan or something? like, come on. if you’re looking for someone cold and calculated i’ll point you in the right direction.”

JOSHUA

he wants to understand, and at surface level, he does. he knows what jenny means when she says she hasn't been in a real relationship in a long time, because he hasn't; it's one of the excuses he used on naomi, which felt valid at the time. but that doesn't excuse what she's done, nor does her family life being any different. at least he'll now think twice if he ever tries to say something like that again. "then why did you do it?" he asks, trying to keep his voice low, trying to keep his frustration in check. he had promised he won't be a dick, and he's trying not to be. but it doesn't change the problem at hand. "like, yeah, i get that it could've been just sex. it had only been a few days, if you were interested in exploring shit with him, then fine. but you had just told me in bed that i had nothing to worry about with him. then i come to find you slept with him... what? was it an hour later, two hours? were you able to shower me off of you before you fucked him?" his voice is dangerously low, getting worked up thinking about it again. taking a deep breath, josh to look away, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down.

"no, we couldn't have," he shakes his head. "i can't believe i have to say this, but fucking someone else while we're together is kind of a deal breaker for me." he's aware how fucking hypocritical he sounds right now, what he did with mali feeling like a cruel joke in this situation. "it's just... i really fucking liked you, jenny. i know our relationship wasn't perfect, and most of that was on me, but i really did try, because i wanted it to work. i know nobody took us seriously either, but i was serious about you. but you just proved them right, didn't you? and then i proved them right, too." by coming back for naomi. rolling his eyes, he leans back into the couch. he hates everyone here having such little expectations for him, let alone letting them be right in them. in the end, maybe they were only meant to be something fun and casual, a few nights of really great sex, before they let it fizzle out. that's what it would be in the real world. but fuck, if he hadn't wanted more for both of them. eyes flash when she asks if romi was the one to tell him, letting his irritation coil in the pit of his stomach. "max told me," he nearly spits out. "and yeah, frankie gave me the details. thanks for that."

JENNY

“i don’t. know,” she hisses through her teeth. everything feels like it’s boiling to a head, and her hands run through her hair again and again, nervous and restless and ready to burst through her skin with each word out of his mouth. but every time she opens her own, nothing comes out. it all gets strangled on her tongue, choked back by a fresh round of tears that she angrily paws away. “fuck you, josh.” she shoves away from him, dragging herself further down the couch and yanks off her sunglasses to roughly knead her temples. is this really the closure they needed, doors slamming and bridges burned? she gave him the out. why couldn’t he just fucking take it? “what do you need to hear? huh?” her face lifts, red and tear-streaked. “you’re gonna keep poking and fucking poking until i crack, right? is that it?” make her hurt the way he had? real fucking original, but she just digs her heels in deeper. what does it matter now anyway, right? it’s already done. “i slept with him because i wanted to. you want a reason? there it is. i wanted to.” she’s looking him dead in the eye now, mascara and streaks of makeup framing a half-crazed gaze, wild and coming undone. “i need to feel wanted. and sometimes it doesn’t matter who or where or when, i just need it. it’s been so fucking hard in here, i’m taking hits to my self esteem every fucking day, i’ve got a million people in my ear telling me you’re biding your time for her and he wanted me. he wanted me.” her hands ball into fists, eyes flicking all over his face.

her breathing is heavy, but she’s coming detached from the conversation now. it’s all the things she’s wanted to hear just too little too late. weird how it’s that much more believable when they have nothing left to lose, and she’s back to looking at that cursed sign again. as if cracking on isn’t what ruined everything. “i was always gonna fuck it up,” she says quietly, pushing onto her feet. sitting feels too still but standing isn’t right either and after a second she plops right back down, wrapping her arms around herself and bouncing her leg. maybe they’re better off counting their losses—it could’ve happened later down the line when feelings ran even deeper. in the end, it doesn’t feel particularly revelatory when he says it out loud—max told him. of course max told him. “right,” she nods, wiping some of the makeup off her cheeks, none of her usual ring finger gentle tapping, she uses her full hands to drag it off her skin, rough enough to turn the area pink and raw, a bit like she feels now. like an exposed wound or a scab that’s been picked. “well… i guess that’s everything, right?” her voice breaks and she’s standing again, brushing her hands down shaky legs. when she looks to him this time, her eyes stop just shy of his lingering near his mouth before finally bridging those last few inches. “i am sorry, you know. if that’s worth anything. really fucking sorry.”

JOSHUA

"i don't know what i need to hear!" his voice is finally raising, feeling his anger boil over, no longer in control of it. "i know you're saying you're sorry and all this shit, but i... fuck, i don't think you get it! i tried so fucking hard for us to be a team, for me to give you everything despite still trying to get over naomi, and it feels like you stabbed me in the fucking back." with max's dick, no less. josh didn't think this conversation would take this turn, sure that after how well things ended with naomi last night, he could have this conversation with jenny and feel like yes, i've made the right decision. but he's annoyed how it's not that simple; he watches her cry in front of him and still wants to be the one to pull her close and wipe her tears, and make her feel like everything will get better. but why should he be that person? it feels like all he had done while they were together were cater to her feelings, and clearly she didn't care about his. if she had, she wouldn't have done what she did. so it's hard to believe her when she said how much she cared about him. really, josh would prefer her telling him she just liked him because he was good in bed.

he lets his own thoughts about it slowly sink in, while she rubs at her face and tells him how much max had wanted her, as if josh had never made her feel that way. he could've have, for all josh knows at this point. if he hadn't, then everything they had talked about while they were together makes her a liar, but at this point, josh doesn't even know what to believe. all he knows is that there's no winning in this conversation—every time jenny says she's sorry, josh just feels worse. he doesn't want to feel this way at all. this was supposed to be a clean break, so when naomi inevitably asked about it later, he could tell her it was taken care of. so, taking a deep breath, josh takes care of it. "yeah," he says, no longer angry. just defeated. "i'm sorry too." and he is sorry, because in a way josh knows that him and naomi rekindling things only gives her proof that he must not have cared about jenny, whatever narrative she built for herself to make sleeping with max easier. he's sorry that he had let max go without giving him a swift punch in the face, right after dejan. mostly, he's sorry how much this conversation had spiraled out of control. jenny and him are both pursuing other people now. they deserve to get some semblance of closure. "i hope you get what you want with this new guy, really." and he really does mean it, finally looking up to meet her gaze.

JENNY

“i know, i know,” she’s mumbling over and over again, head shaking back and forth. as if she needs the reminder that she’s the one who ruined things. that when she sees josh and naomi back together like nothing ever happened, she played a role in that, however small. “i’m so sorry.” she’s got all the evidence staring her in the face that it’s been naomi the whole time, but looking at him, hearing the emotion in his voice, her narrative loses purchase and crumbles in her lap. wouldn’t it be so much easier if it was never real? she can’t stop the shaky hand that toys with her mouth as her eyes brim over. again. she’s shocked that she even has any tears left—wonders if everyone at home is as sick of it as she is, rolling their eyes saying ‘god, this again? how can she still be crying?’ sadness gets old fast. she can imagine sitting in her mom’s living room watching the bachelor, labeling one of the girls the season’s crybaby—‘town crier at it again!’—taking a sip of chardonnay every time she sheds a tear on screen. it’s boring and whiny and doesn’t make for good tv and it’s fucking her. she doesn’t know why it’s so shocking—maybe because she’d started off so strong, lush with confidence and energy and optimism. she wishes she could pinpoint the exact moment she got so lost. her counselor here told her she’s in a self destruction cycle—that her insecurity found a foothold and will just keep building on itself until she puts healthier practices into place ( also asked if she’s noticed a pattern of that throughout her life to which jenny snorted right in her face. ) she’s supposed to be compiling a list of all the things she likes about herself—had jude help her out a bit last night, but it’s hard to remember any of them now. hard not to worry that her insecurities will fuck her over with jude too.

she shudders a sigh, shaky and a little snotty. “you didn’t do anything wrong, josh. really. you did everything right. this one’s on me.” she doesn’t remember making the conscious decision to stand, only that she’s on her feet and can’t quite figure out what to do with her hands. she wraps her arms tightly around herself and eventually gives in to the urge to poke him with her foot. for old time’s sake. “naomi’s really lucky.” she offers him the most brittle of smiles, not even wanting to know the state of her face. she swipes a hand beneath her eyes just in case, amazed there’s any mascara left. “i’m… i’m happy you’re getting what you wanted. really.” god, this really fucking sucks, but now that it’s time to walk away, she can’t quite bring herself to go. she wipes her eyes with the side of her pinky. “i… i know it’ll never be like it was and like, the trust is completely gone,” she looses a shaky breath. “but… if you ever need anything… sorry, i know that’s stupid. i’m just—“ her lips quirk to one side, just a pause until she can speak again. “it sucks feeling like you have no one to talk to here, and i know you have a lot of people in your corner, but if you ever need, you know… anything.” she half laughs, another tear swept away. “i’m sorry. i know i just keep crying all the time. it’s—i’m not like this. i wish we could’ve met somewhere else. maybe—“ bite your fucking tongue, jennifer. and she does. it doesn’t matter what might’ve been, even if it could’ve been fucking great.

JOSHUA

once josh decides that he's finished with the conversation, some part of him shuts down. she's continuing to rattle off apologies and half-baked attempts for them to reach some sort of understanding, but josh finds it hard to really pay attention to what she's saying. it's hard to take much of this seriously; from her first day in the villa, he had thought he understood jenny pretty well. she was the gorgeous blonde bombshell they had brought in to knock him off his feet, and it's exactly what she had done. she had taken what she wanted and she seemingly felt no remorse, and when they were together josh had really thought that he had been able to peel back the layers of her and see her softer sides, her vulnerabilities. how many times did she cry into his shirt and he felt it in his chest, deep and guttural? watching her cry now, josh doesn't feel nothing—and he probably never will—but it's different. instead he only feels wary, not sure what's been real and what hasn't been. he didn't think jenny was anything like naomi, playing him like pieces in a game, but at this rate it wouldn't surprise him, either. 

but jenny may no longer be his jenny, but josh is still josh, and he doesn't enjoy watching a girl cry. taking a deep breath, he rises to his feet and moves to close the distance between them. "come on," he murmurs before pulling her into a hug. it's not the same as their past hugs, hands in a respectable position, patting her back instead of the rub he usually does. he doesn't even know how to touch her anymore, but it doesn't make him yearn for the way things had been. mostly, it just makes him sad. "it's okay, jen." after enough time passes, he pulls away to manage a small smile down at her, hoping she doesn't notice that even that isn't the same one he used to give her, either. "we're good, okay? i don't want to make things hard here. i accept your apology." if that's what she needs right now, he'll give it to her, even if it's not completely true.

JENNY

they've spent enough time wrapped around each other that her body automatically presses closer even as she keeps her hands to herself, tucked up over her face like a shield. but the relief never comes. as swiftly as her muscles are relaxing they're tensing back up like her body knows to hold back. that he's only touching her because he feels like he has to, not because he wants to. he doesn't pull away too fast like he's restraining himself and he doesn't linger either. his hug is polite and completely unaffected, the kind you'd give an acquaintance at best. she's tempted to swing her arms around him and try for herself, see if he's just doing it wrong or if there's really no comfort there left to have, but she just lets him slip away and curls in on herself instead. it's like the final nail in the coffin, this idea that no only do they not remember how to to talk, they don't know how to touch each other either. she would've thought that'd be impossible but it's evident in the stiff pat of her back, the almost formal step away, the forced smile. it kind of just makes her want to find jude and melt into his arms instead, recover from whatever mockery of a hug that was and shake this hollow feeling. 

 "sorry?" this one's not an apology though. she's distracted now, long-since reached her limit and checking-out for her own sanity, busy plotting out the best place to mount jude and shove josh the rest of the way out of her system. she doesn't need to keep dwelling on him or this or the vaguely humiliating feeling beginning to set in that he's just humoring her until the cameras switch off he can swiftly exit stage right. "so good you can barely look at me, right?" she nods through a tight smile, shrugging as she takes a step back, eyes already seeking elsewhere. "yeah... we're good."

JOSHUA

god, he was trying to be so nice after all of this, giving them the clean break they both clearly want. but it wouldn't be like jenny to try to punctate it with an unnecessary remark, just further reminding him that this is probably for the best. "says the one not even looking at me right now," he snorts, rolling his eyes as he steps away to put more distance between them. "whatever. i probably shouldn't care, but take care of yourself. romi told me all about that jacob guy you're with, how he called you his second choice or whatever. if you like him, fine, just be careful. i may have been your second choice when you decided to fuck your timothee chalamet lookalike, but you deserve a lot better than that." and just as quickly as he had been resigned to a breakup on relatively good terms, her bratty comment made it impossible for him to not stoop to her level a bit, too. he's tempted to add something in there about the fight she had with romi that he had heard about, but he's sure that by saying all that, she knows he must've heard the rest.

JENNY

she does look at him then, head whipping around like she's just been slapped. there it is, a whole topic she'd completely forgotten about in her checklist of grievances to air all because one look in his eyes had her too swept up in her emotions. fucking romi. her eyes roll, an ironic sort of cold amusement curving her lips. "yeah, well romi would say that. she's a fucking bitch." her shoulders shrug, eyes hard on josh's, defenses piled all the way back up. they could've just left it but if he insists on going down swinging, she'll happily rise to the occasion. "god, i actually can't believe you just said that," she laughs a bit, dragging a hand through her hair. "although actually, i guess it's not really that fucking shocking. you told romi about max, right? like, right away, ran to them before we could even talk about it and then, what, kissed them? is that the timeline?" how had it taken this long to bring up that little detail.

JOSHUA

his eyes flash when she disrespects romi, hurt thrown onto his features for a moment before it turns into bitter contempt. so there it is, isn't it? part of him hadn't totally believed the fight between romi and jenny had been so serious—after all, what do they have in common, other than josh and now jude?—but it feels like a line has been crossed that there's no coming back from, worse than her screwing max. "that's rich, coming from you," he snarks, at the bitch comment. "yes, jenny. your twink of a boytoy told me you two were fucking, and i immediately went to romi to make out with her. clearly we've been in love the entire time. it had nothing to do with the fact that her ex messed up my fucking face—which you would've known about, if you cared. what, were you two busy blowing max on the terrace? getting round two in before he went? you should've just left with him, fuck."  it would've made his life far easier.

JENNY

"maybe i am a bitch!" her voice lifts, arms open like she has nothing left to hide. "i never said i wasn't. it was all you guys who called me sweet, i never said that because i'm not! say mean fucking shit sometimes and you know what? so does everyone the fuck else. your sweet, innocent romi? they said that nastiest fucking shit to me and what, that's just fine? it's only bad when i do it?" her eyes are blazing now, fire come to dry up all those tears. "cheating is only bad when i do it? moving on during casa is only bad when i do it? it's fucking bullshit."

JOSHUA

he really did think he was sweet, but looking back on it now, his memories are too entangled with all the drama they're dealing with now. had he really been so stupid, this whole time? josh had thought she actually liked him, but maybe she just wanted to fuck with him and naomi's relationship the whole time. clearly she wouldn't be acting like such a bitch to his closest friend here if she gave a shit about him.  "oh yeah? and what nasty shit did she say to you? because from what i heard, she tried to warn you about your piece of trash new guy, and instead you called her out for being jealous? and said that i would hate her because she was being mean to you?" his tone is incredulous, getting louder by the minute, making it clear he doesn't agree with any of it. "there's a difference between getting railed on the shower hours after i was inside of you, and a five second kiss with a friend, yeah. you know, like you and rhys did in casa, apparently? yeah, i fucking know about that, too. you'd be surprised how much i know about casa, so unless you want to tally up who's more in the wrong, i don't think you want to go there."

JENNY

"she just..." it feels a bit like trying to articulate a dream—the emotions are overwhelming but the details are foggy and she knows it won't sound half as bad when she says it out loud. "ugh," she groans, twisting her hands up in her own hair, "she just went on and fucking on about how i'm no one's first choice. and that might not seem like anything to you, but it was to me. and they knew it was." she wonders if he can even understand why that hurt so much and how much of a role he played in that. "and then she said..." no one in the villa likes her. well, they didn't say it outright, but the implication was obvious—that jude didn't want to be seen with her because she's such a pariah in the villa that she brings him down. "whatever. the point is she was fucking mean. and i was fucking mean. and it was an ugly fucking conversation and i don't know why her side is the only one that fucking matters. she's not nice, josh. she's not. sorry," another defensive shrug. "she never tried to get to know me, then the minute we got these new bombshells she humiliates me in front of them," she's rattling things off on her fingers, "then naomi tells me all this shit about you and i'm feeling like 'okay, i can move on' and then both the guys i'm into go for them, which is fine except she rubs my fucking face in it! like, that's mean." jenny doesn't care what they said, they weren't looking out for her best interest. they just didn't want jude coming back because they were embarrassed about that kiss, so they tried to humiliate jenny into staying away too. she's getting tangled up in the details again, stumbling over her words, but not josh. it's like he's just getting started. "i didn't say you would hate her, i—" but it feels like her arguments are just getting swallowed up while he just keeps pushing and pushing until her back's against the wall. "just call me a slut, josh, and save yourself the fucking words."

JOSHUA

he does feel guilty when jenny says that she's nobody's first choice, despite everything. but the stab of guilt he means turns into anger, annoyed that she's trying to get him to feel sympathy for her after everything. "you could've been my first choice, if you didn't fuck max!" he says, throwing up his hands. "see how this all goes back to him? i don't know what you want from me right now, honestly. but don't call romi a fucking bitch, because she was probably just sticking up for me, since—i'll say it again—you fucked max."  he's getting tired of saying that phrase, but it's also the weapon he's wielding in this conversation, knowing it should be enough to end it. somehow she still feels the need to point her own fingers, which josh doesn't know why. he had been looking to end this, really only bringing up jude as a way to let her know she deserved better than that. shit, he really fumbled the bag with this conversation, already wishing he had ended it when he did.

"don't bring naomi into it," he says sharply. jenny talking shit on romi is bad enough, he can't handle any more. "if you don't like romi, or naomi, then maybe just stay away from them. i doubt either of them are going to be itching to talk to you any time soon, anyway." josh takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. being accused of slut-shaming jenny, evidently, doesn't help.  "i'm not slut-shaming you, jesus." he rolls his eyes. it's like she's looking to get him cancelled. "i'm a slut. everyone here is a slut. nobody is looking down at sex here. where i draw the line is when you're screwing someone after telling me how much you fucking like me, and how i don't have to worry about edward scissorhands, and then you go and immediately spread your legs for him. after you knew how much loyalty was important to me." there's no way anyone inside the villa isn't hearing this by now, josh practically yelling. "i can't—i can't do this any more," he shakes his head, fingers fisting through his hair as he turns his back on her. "i have nothing more to say to you. we're just going around in circles."

JENNY

she flinches both times, her hands clenching and unclenching, teeth grinding together, feathering the muscles in her jaw while her body tenses, primed to snap any second.  "i already fucking apologized for it!" she shrieks, her voice hiking up at the end, chest heaving with frustration. "and you fucking accepted it! like, i don't know what else you want me to say about that, josh! either you accept the apology or you don't but don't keep fucking lording it over my head when it's not even what we're talking about anymore! holy shit." she drags her palms down over her face, stretching her eyes wide then the corners of her mouth down into a deep frown before letting her hands linger near her face protectively, though it does little stop the next blow. she expects to explode or implode or maybe shatter completely but all the tension just leaves her body, like some kind of radical acceptance. or maybe there's just nowhere left for it to go so it all whooshes out of her in a slow, hollow laugh. it's almost poetic, the full circleness of it but also the irony—that somehow naomi's the angel in the end and she's the cold one. 

he still doesn't let up, but his words are just going through her now. or maybe just nestling somewhere in the back of her mind, ready to sneak back up on her when she's finally calmed down—the reminder that he thinks she's a bitch and a slut and she has no friends and no loyalties—but she can't quite process them now. she short circuited somewhere back around 'naomi,' which kind of feels like her cue. "loyalty's important to you?" she snorts, acting the caricature he's turned her into, all flat eyes and cruel smiles. "right. well i'll stay away from them and i'll stay away from you and i'll have a great time getting railed and spreading my legs for my piece of trash new guy, and," she shrugs, "that's it, i guess. that's a wrap. sorry i didn't just leave with max and make your life that much fucking easier."

JOSHUA

"i'm trying to accept it, christ! you're making it so hard when you're constantly trying to point the finger back on me, though. i don't know what else you want me to fucking do!" josh yells back. this is bad—he's not even sure he's yelled this much when arguing with naomi, but rarely does the brunette ever make him feel like he has a leg to stand on in a fight. jenny is stooped down to a little more his level, and it feels like each time max is brought up they get lower, both of them.  "just... just forget it," he huffs, once again tired of this situation they've found themselves in. if he says anything more, josh will surely make his edit worse than it's already gotten if possible. turning to give her one final look, josh opens his mouth to say something.... and then closes it after a few seconds of uncharacteristic silence hangs between them, considering everything they'd just been through. "just... whatever." he can't even try to end it on a positive note or come up with one more zinger at max's offense, instead stomping off outside. so much for promising her he wasn't going to be a dick about this.

JENNY

she sits back down on the couch and fights the tears for all of two seconds before curling up in a ball and crying into a pillow 

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. oh...oh shit. oh, god damn it.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing wc. 6.2k author’s note. first of all, i want to say THANK U!!! to all of u for loving this story sm. bcs i love this story sm. second of all, im running out of young gojo images. third of all, sorry if the tags are weird, smth going on with my tumbler :( fourth of all, i think that's that for now. the mission arc is the only long arc we will have (i think, so far, idk yet), and im planning about 15 chapters in total. but we will see tbh.

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | twny masterlist | < back | next >

CHAPTER 6: the missionTM (2)

you wake up sweating, hot all over. you aren't entirely sure, but there is some unidentified warm mass and a lot of hair tickling your nose and face.

you crack open an eye, a wave of trepidation sweeping through you. your first instinct is to pull and fight. however, upon recognizing the messy, snowy-colored mop, you release your gathered breath.

oh yeah. he decided that last night, and hasn't released you still. your side feels stiff from laying in one position for hours. how has his limbs not grown numb? he doesn't even seem like he's dreaming, knocked the fuck out.

well, can't move him. even if you can wiggle and maneuver yourself and that arm just an inch or two, he will surely awaken, and there's no knowing what strange behavior he'll show if he does. you are not ready to face him yet, you need a minute to get your thoughts in order.

the sheets are tangled, as are his limbs around you. leg over yours, too large of a hand slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to rest on just above your navel – when did that happen?

you take a steadying breath and try not to shudder too hard when he breathes a little on your ear. he murmurs in his sleep, so quiet you can't quite make out, and when his mouth opens just the barest amount, something new bubbles up your spine.

yes, this is hell. it's almost an indecent way of him, even a sick one, given his strength. the irony being that even if you struggled for hours, you would barely be able to move the arm locking you to him. the rest of him isn't making an attempt at crushing you, however.

... and somehow, now that you've calmed yourself, the comfort has won out.

... and yet, just yesterday he had complained, 'could let me use your lap...? a chance...'

really... the nerve of him.

you will kill him for sure once he's conscious. but first, a coffee run, and a moment's reprieve, maybe a some yoga with meditation or a prayer.

(but first, your fingers comb lightly through the soft locks of white, only to ascertain his conditioner isn’t better than yours. damp at the root from perspiration, but still undeniably soft.)

just five more minutes... and then you'll free yourself and escape his embrace, but for now – just five more minutes...

...

...

"mmm?"

the next time you awake, it is to the low, gentle murmuring and the slight movement of his body pressing forward.

you yawn, smack your lips together and rub your eyes – or rather, an eye, since the other one is blocked by gojo's hair. the sleep is still sticking to you, so you barely feel it.

you blink a bit in a daze. sunlight bathes the room, suspiciously bright through the cracks of the curtains.

it's very hot. feels like there's no air in here. his heavy weight isn't helping either.

"no?" you feel him press the side of his cheek more firmly to your neck, voice sleepy and quiet, "dun wanna...?"

wait a minute.

you lean your head back a little so you can squint down at the man half laying on you.

"hey," his skin is ruddy, almost rosy, the blush creeping to the nape of his neck and down, lost underneath the collar of his baggy shirt, "you still sleep-talking, idiot?"

his limbs move a little, almost like he's snuggling closer. an instinct to keep you where you are. his thigh is comfy between your own.

he pauses to let out a huff of breath and pulls back a few inches so he can duck his nose into the hollow of your throat, "mmm… yeah."

huh. as if this isn't creepy or disturbing already, your neck feels incredibly sensitive all of a sudden. and ticklish. a lot ticklish. you desperately suppress any urge to pull and wiggle, and he resumes his little game of breathing at your pulse and trying to lay himself on top of you.

"get off, you're heavy," you hiss at the man like a venomous snake, voice still cracked and rough.

his arm does shift then, pulling you into a tighter grip, but that's the most reaction you get. he's clinging now, christ, who knew gojo satoru of all people was a desperate cuddler? you definitely did not want to know this, no sir!

not really wanting to admit defeat, you poke his cheek, and he should be incredibly thankful you didn't choose to slap him awake instead.

"hey, hey, wake up," your face is too warm to properly communicate any true anger, "gojo."

a single blue eye, unfocused and bleary and cast downward, flickers open and shut. the sound he makes has something deep within the pit of your stomach going into absolute shambles.

“too early,” and no, you definitely will not be shushed by a lanky, handsy, unbearably annoying and nuzzly man-child who won't let you up.

will you have to tear him off by his hair? because by god you will do so. you miss his infinity. why doesn't he have it around you anymore? pause. didn’t you throw a shoe at him yesterday? he didn’t even need to dodge it like a clueless middle schooler faced with a girl’s wrath for the first time.

is it just always off now? he was fine with the mosquitos, but it seems that whenever no immediate threat is in sight (besides your mindless, violent tendencies), he doesn’t bother keeping it up.

your eyes narrow. something’s fishy, and this hypothesis requires thorough examination. this, however, has nothing to do with the odd thrill that shoots up your spine at the idea. no, you are like shoko, and enjoy a good experiment.

but, "oh god. this is disgusting, can't believe i woke up to this."

he burrows his cheek in the dip of your clavicle, lips dangerously close to skin that should be uncontaminated, though it’s likely too late already. you might’ve caught the gojo cooties.

"yuck."

his shoulders move a bit. you suspect he might be laughing a little.

"i need a to be ducked into a sanitizer tank," but still you won't push him or kick.

his hair tickles the curve of your jaw, and his weight isn't all that oppressing, to be honest. maybe you’re exaggerating a bit. your hand brushes back stray white locks so they won't touch your skin, and you push them off of your nose. then, because why not? you comb through his hair again, with the intention of grabbing the scruff and tearing him off like a leach.

in response, gojo lets out another of those sleepy little noises.

"ugh," you whine without heat and scratch his scalp, which was not your goal at the start of this endeavor, but it’s too late to back out now.

he leans into the touch. his eyelid flutters, revealing a sliver of ocean eyes and a hazy expression.

it's just the weird, groggy miasma, you think, the light blurring your vision so you have no hope in deciphering the subtle twitch in that tiny smile of his. no chance to recognize the sudden flare and darkening of his pupils and the twinkle that now sparkles, glints off his eyes.

then:

"well,” the lilt and timbre of his voice is something you certainly don’t like. you feel that offending hand on your stomach twitch, “if this is how it is then good morning to you too.”

you only realize that maybe it was his entire intent to make this as uncomfortable as possible, to provoke a reaction and give you a hard time, only because of that tone – playful, honey sweet with that smug, drowsy smile.

it's absolutely sickening how pleased he is, even if still sleepy. you feel that this image will be burned into your retinas forever, and you’ll be forced to relive this moment each time you close your eyes.

then, in a rush, realization hits you like a tidal wave: gojo has slept with you. hugged you to his chest for hours. and just a few moments ago, he'd been drooling.

you push and shove him in a panic. with force. he stumbles backward and blinks, disorientated. his stupid blue eyes stare and don't quite register what's happening.

"get away from me. get away!"

he lets you, blinking rapidly before throwing his head back and bursting into an all-out, cackle of a laugh.

"so energetic!" his voice cracks a little.

"need a shower. need to disinfect," it’s a quiet mantra you mumble, in such a hurry to scram that you almost fall of the bed in your haste.

he laughs harder. it is contagious, you are finding. it echoes around the empty room.

his cheeks are colored red, eyes scrunching into lines. your stomach turns. the sight unnerves you greatly.

... or maybe your stomach is cramping because your teeth are already gritting.

"i should kick your face in!” you announce, grabbing at the blanket that twined around your ankle like a vine and holding it menacingly, as though you plan on strangling him with it.

gojo stops laughing after a moment, head tilting sideways, "how mean. you’re giving me mixed signals, ya know that? looked pretty cozy and relaxed all curled up to me."

there it is. a sudden pulse of shame and indignation, mixing with annoyance and rage. you feel like an explosion waiting to happen.

"i was held against my will and now i have your spit and sweat all over me!"

"all over you?"

"don't make it weirder than it is!" and now you have your finger pointing, finger jabbing angrily toward his smug mug. you don't even feel the same sympathy toward him anymore, not that you ever did in the first place, but there was a very concerning inkling somewhere in that gooey, mushy bowl in the back of your brain. the darkest corner.

"alright, alright," his smile is that shit-eating kind, but, like, a tad bit sweeter now. his blue eyes flicker a few times with that damn amusement, but his pupils are still large. it must be because the room is still quite dim.

he stretches and raises his arms over his head to crack his back. you do not note his shirt lifting a bit to reveal the downward slope of his narrow hips and lean stomach. that’s none of your business, and you are not interested in the sight.

"you gonna stand around or are you gonna go scrub your skin with bleach already, kami?”

"don't call me that. don't speak to me ever again," your fingers dig into the space where your heart is, ready to claw it out in panic, "oh god, i probably caught something from you. like debilitating dumbass syndrome."

that, somehow, makes him burst back into loud laughter again. he almost falls over, wheezing. he's lucky, too, that you can't kill him. you’ve never seriously tried, only because you know he’d manifest as some deranged curse to haunt you for the rest of your likely miserable and short sorcerer career. retirement rates aren’t good for your line of work, and you’d rather not risk it with gojo satoru.

but christ do you wish to try.

his laughter dies down when he checks his phone for the time.

"oh fuck," he says. you startle out of a particularly sweet daydream in which you bury him in your backyard, only so you could cow and yell at him every day after college.

"what? what is it?"

"it's like 2pm."

"..."

"yeah."

*

there wasn’t really much discussion on what to next after your showers. the atmosphere was tense – for you, at least. gojo seemed unaffected, which was something you expected. despite his oddly unassuming disposition (which he holds up for pretenses, of course, innocent till proven guilty in the court of law), you have uncovered something interesting. his plan. it struck you when you glared at his scattered things when he was scrubbing your sweat off of his skin in the bathroom.

gojo satoru has decided to fully abate his old form of torment and switch to full terror. maybe it’s been obvious for months, but now you’re absolutely certain. he is, as a sort of bon voyage to your last year of college, trying to fuck with you. royally fuck with you, screw with the neurons and synapses, because verbal abuse isn’t enough – he needs to change the chemistry of your brain.

the worst part? it’s working.

you’re very concerned for your fragile mental state. it’s barely glued together by hello kitty plasters, held by trembling hands. shoko can’t heal you if you completely lose it, and you feel that if he continues on this route, you will. you’re already letting him take great liberties, what will happen in a month? two months? will the stockholm syndrome finally take hold? will you lose any semblance of autonomy, be dependent on his attention like too many people already are?

no, no way. you’re way cooler and stronger than them. you just need to survive, and your track record for that is so far spotless. thus, you just need to wane out the year and then say, “goodbye! forever!” and retire somewhere unknown to become a farmer, start a new life under a new name, and hopefully, gojo would have moved on to more important matters and people by then, and he won’t try to find you.

you will miss your friends: shoko, getou, utahime, haibara, nanami, damn, even ijichi and mei. but some things are necessary. you mourn them all for a moment, the things that could have been in this fantasy you have fully submerged yourself into. if you have any pets, you will name all of them after them.

someday, this will all be nothing but a distant memory. you’re not yet sure how you feel about that.

once out of that horrible room with those horrible memories, you make your way down the rickety stairs. the inn is small and smells like damp floorboards and soup, which only reminds you that you’re hungry. after ordering the sweetest things on the menu, the two of you begrudgingly settle on one of the empty tables. thankfully, gojo’s being gracious and allowing you some personal space, so rather than sitting pressed next to you, he sits across. you contemplate going somewhere else to eat.

the commotion from outside catches your attention. curiously, you peek through the window, seeing the happy villagers carrying boxes and jovially exclaiming. odd. for a little nowhere village cowering in fear because of two (?) curses terrorizing the woods a mile north from here, they sure seem to be in high spirits. maybe it’s true what they say about city folk – too cynical.

“huh,” gojo sounds, resting his head in his palm. you can’t be entirely certain, but he seems to be idly watching the people set up and prepare for something – a small festival by the looks of it, with red lanterns and food and stands where children can gamble for toys, “a local holiday?”

you shrug. you don’t want to talk to him. the prospect of opening your mouth and breaking your streak of icy silence would make you feel like a loser, and you don’t need any more negativity today.

two men stumble into the establishment, sweaty and grimy from the scorching heat. they’re conversing loudly, so it’s not even eavesdropping when you hear, “bless those sorcerers!” your head ticks, instantly, and so does gojo’s, “exorcising those curses—“ and that’s as much as you need to know. you stare at gojo, and he stares at you, and the two of you seem to be sharing the same line of thought:

                  what!?

“the curses were exorcised?” you pipe up as the men pass, and your streak isn’t technically broken since you’re not talking to gojo, so you still win.

one man claps you on the back, “aye, the sorcerers arrived this morning!”

“we’re prepping a little celebration in their honor,” the other adds and pauses, appraising your appearances – your crisp summer uniform, gojo’s designer sunglasses, the very real and very suspicious naginata leaning by the windowsill where you can quickly reach in case trouble arrives unexpected, “…you kids got business here?”

“just passing by,” gojo chirps, “we’re travelling. got a thing for remote locations hard to find on a map. sparing a look around your lovely village was simply a whim of ours. quite the picturesque town, if i do say so myself, eh kami?" and he kicks your foot under the table.

“yes,” you chime stupidly, “very picturesque. as stated previously.”

"thanks!" and another clap of a heavy hand on your shoulder before the men continued chatting away, entirely satisfied by gojo's cheesy tourist attitude and your tacked on fake interest in small village life.

the inn keeper brings out your breakfast-lunch and swoons at gojo, which he’s happy about. she seems to remember you, too, and her smile dims, “enjoy your meal.”

she returns to the counter.

you stare at gojo. gojo stares at you. if one listened closely enough, one could hear the tick tick tick of a time bomb.

so not only did you sleep in the same bed, you slept in so late that another pair of sorcerers arrived to do the job for you. it happens, sometimes – the information on who’s dealing with what doesn’t reach kyoto (or tokyo, too, even in tokyo) – and the faculty just throws in whoever’s available. usually, the pair that was assigned first on the documents is already done by the time the others arrive, but in this case. this case. this case, holy shit, yaga-sensei will be pissed.

gojo picks up his fork and knife, maybe to arm himself, “…so—“

“don’t.”

“just—“

“do not speak.”

“’s just funny to me, and i would really enjoy telling someone about it, which is currently a very limited audience consisting only of one, so if you could, ya know, lend me an ear for a hot minute—"

"don't say it."

"maybe i’ll yell it like on a megaphone. what then?“

smug, heartless, shameless bastard. your glare could cut him in half. if it had a tangible quality, he'd already be long since shredded into bloody little gojo pieces and stomped beneath your boot.

he huffs a laugh and rests his cheek in his hand again. it feels like he's squinting at you despite the shades, which only infuriates you further.

you kick him under the table, landing a solid hit on his shin. he yowls.

*

so, what now?

what a fuck up. and to think you assumed things can’t get worse. they always can.  a valuable lesson learned, and next time yaga-sensei assigns you as gojo’s babysitter, you will plead on your hands and knees to not go. if he still insists, you will mysteriously disappear for a bit till gojo satoru himself locates you somewhere in south korea and drags you back by the ear.

so, what now?

it’s almost 5 pm. the walk to the nearest town with a bus still on the clock is about 3 hours, give or take, but since the heat simmers, it would round out to 4. you’d be exhausted by the end of it, and then you might miss the only bus to hitoyoshi, and then miss the train back to tokyo and be stranded. you would crack. start crying. you already feel like crying looking at the bagged goldfish swimming idly on the counter. the man behind the stand notes your expression and amicably says, “the games not set up yet, but if you want, you can buy one.”

“no thanks,” a sigh.

“why not?” gojo asks, patting his pockets for a wallet, “i could buy us one.”

“us?” you raise a pointed brow.

the man glances between you, smile brimming. he holds up a finger, like he’s about to lay some wisdom on you, “a pet is a great purchase for new couples! i learned a lot by keeping a cat with my wife when she was only my girlfriend.”

your mouth dries. no, literally dries, as though every drop of spit leaves in a hurry through the corner of your lips. gojo, on the other hand, is smiling wider, glasses  drooping down his nose a tad bit, and the angle makes his gaze hard to discern. there is that gleam, and it terrifies you. he clasps a hand on your shoulder suddenly, the heat of it immediately burning through the cloth.

"isn't that so kind of you! i'm sure my girl would love something like this. you're so knowledgeable, sensei."

god damn him, the suck up. you twist in his hold but can't shake him off no matter how much you squirm. he tightens his grip in retaliation.

the shop keep is smitten instantly by gojo's clearly insincere but handsome act and nodding along.

"yes, yes," he replies, "i should know, being old and married for years now, that animals make for excellent companions."

"wow, lucky me. come on, kami," and now that hand is looping around your waist, pulling you into his side. you resist the urge to kick him between the legs, "pick the fish you want. maybe a white one, so it would remind you of me."

you say through grit teeth, "i rather would not."

the man laughs. if a pin dropped, you would hear it. the world is suspended, and only the little squeaks and chirps and twitters of the fair and children exist, "ah, got together recently, did ya? we were like that years ago as well. looking at you two takes me back.”

“we did, in fact, just start dating,” gojo confirms, and you try not to balk, “won her over eventually with my endless wit and charm.”

is the charm in the festival with you? you don’t think so. the wit’s buried six feet under, right next to where either one of you will end up by the time the night’s over.

the man displays a particularly expensive fish, “well then, i recommend this one as your first pet. it swims prettily.”

"do you take card?" your tormentor asks.

"ah, no, cash only."

gojo deflates. just a bit, shoulders sagging. his fingers dig into your flesh uncomfortably for the short moment, "how unfortunate. we seem to be out of pocket change..."

oh thank god.

the man snorts a little, and waves it off, "look, i've got to stock up the shelves before the event properly starts. come back a little later with the cash, yeah? it will be ready for your lovely lady," he glances at you, "would that be fine?"

you blanch. if not for your heightened awareness and precarious placement, gojo wouldn't have noticed the slightest tremble of your distress. even through that, he remains impassive and compliant, and yet somehow still smug as fuck.

this is terrible. his presence is overwhelming. this particular brand of evil can be described in no other way but indescribable. you wonder if the gods are watching the scene and feel sorry for you. surely someone is out there trying to save you, otherwise the sheer discomfort of it is not fair.

a light bulb flickers up in your mind when you feel his thumb rub a thoughtful little pattern on the side of your waist. if this approach works so ridiculously well to humiliate you, would reciprocation work to embarrass him? he's definitely not expecting it. he's probably waiting till you grind your jaw to dust by the way you're clenching your teeth so tightly.

there is a newfound surge of energy and purpose, and before he see what's coming, your hand squeezes his. it makes him freeze, and your lips curve just a fraction upward, "it's alright, thank you, though," you turn to look at gojo, "ne, satoru, let's continue walking."

he blinks. once. twice. his throat constricts, and there is a light dusting on his cheeks that didn't occur earlier. this makes your grin even wider, because holy shit, it worked! gojo satoru is unnerved, possibly shaken, a little unbalanced, and surprised.

good, now you'll have power for the rest of this whole ordeal.

you pull your hand back, and he lets you. a final piece of wisdom slips through the stall, "the pleasure is all mine. come back any time if you change your mind!"

once a few feet away, a little more confidence bleeds back into him, and he sighs, "well, that was a bust. he could have slipped us the fish on the low."

"did you honestly just imply that i was your 'better half' and wanted a goldfish with you?" you scoff.

"well, you seemed so passionate about it that i wanted to help."

"what?"

"you were ogling the fishes."

"i was sulking,"

"ha," he slings his arms onto your shoulder.

"get off," and he doesn't. he ignores you, because he does whatever he wants, and currently that is leeching onto you without a care, even though there's plenty room for him to move anywhere in a wide berth.

"so, how about it, kami?"

"how about what."

"want to hang out and pretend to be lovers? it'll be fun."

what a bizarre thing to say. how weird and unsettling, so foreign, so disturbing, the audacity of some people is really a thing to behold. "not on my life. i think i'd rather die, so keep walking, thank you," you give a gentle shove. he is a heavy bastard, but at least he's not hugging you to suffocation this time around.

"but we might get some free shit," he whines, and now he is actually wrapping an arm around you, locking your body to his in some cruel joke. it is. you know it is. a joke, because he enjoys the look of mortification and absolute shame in your eyes, "you called me satoru so sweetly. no going back now."

"i—" no. you can't. there's no benefit to you, save for possibly some free candied fruits or some such, which you don't even want.

you can't win at his game. his momentary lapse was just that – a momentary lapse. everything's been returned to how it was before. your life has just gone into an endless loop where there is no clear winning route.

satoru.

god, don't think about it.

"come onnnnn," he pleads again. his breath puffs down the nape of your neck, sending involuntary goosebumps.

you need a bath.

"will it shut you up?" you groan in despair. the sky is blue, but today, it's the shade of gojo's stupid, stupid eyes. it's inescapable. it's smothering and making you nauseous. a goldfish in a plastic bag would have made for better company.

he ponders for a long, long second before shrugging, "probably not."

of course. what the fuck, “release me.”

"that's no way to talk to your boyfriend."

and that's the straw that broke the camel's back. he's the epitome of infuriating, the person who would haunt your waking thoughts at night till the day of the very hour you take your last breath, and the cherry atop his ice-cream sundae of unpleasantness, the sole reason why, while cursing the gods at the sight of the sun rising and bringing forth the dreaded day that will spell the end of your sanity, your palms would clench and open, itching for his neck.

you really, really, really, really, really don't want to touch him, because everything about him rubs you the wrong way, but—

your hands reach behind him and grab a fistful of his hair, "listen here, and listen close, asshole," you threaten, "in no universe whatsoever will i, in a thousand, ten thousand lifetimes, consider you my lover, romantic or platonic, in a romantic and platonic sense, my confidant, my support, my comfort, or my best friend. our lives and our goals will never intersect, except for work, which i hate enough. do. not. look. down on me."

he snickers, even though his cheeks tint the slightest shade, "there you go, using big, grown-up words and getting all touchy."

if there is any space at all between the two of you, he closes it instantly, squeezing your sides tight and rocking you side-to-side, the world still spins despite this, "look, all joking aside," he huffs. a serious turnabout? unlikely, you doubt he can manage one, "we're stuck in this for the whole evening. if you play nice, i'll give you strawberry cake on the train ride home."

he pauses, a playful and almost genuine glint entering his eyes, "how about it, kami, work for your cake like a proper adult."

"like i want your dumb cake," you kick his ankle.

he gasps, exaggerated and theatrical and definitely a lie, "but i offered to share!"

"fuck you--"

"after i offer you food and a slice of me, this is how you treat your lover."

"holy--!"

"can't believe you, baby," he whines like a scorned, battered housewife, as though anyone would ever put up with his personality and stay loyal.

he doesn't stop squirming, and he doesn't stop humming, and he doesn't stop caging you like some big, stupid, annoying, dumb, hideously unbearable golden retriever who's never, ever had his food on time. the bustle and chatter of the fair fade away, and all that's left is the muffled blood flow in your ears.

and you're certain your brows are fused from the crease between them. he won't leave. not without some concession on your part because he's a miserable, spiteful asshole.

noting your frazzled expression, something eerie overcomes his features. you don't recognize that look.

he calls your name, tentatively. it rings like a bell through your foggy state. the gears churn in your head till the fuse inside goes off. no. he has no right to say your name in any manner, nor speak it so softly, nor call out so quietly. not while this man's got a face and personality so vile it almost rivals his skin-to-skin contact he insists upon.

his mouth opens again, the threat of your name on those lips already forming, and, nope. no fucking thank you. this is as bad as listening to a radio station where the words are scrambled and all that’s heard is white noise.

and you're thinking, there's only so much you can take. the amount is non-zero and yet also infinite in value, but now is certainly past the threshold of how far a man ought to be allowed. you're done, finished, kaput, all those buzz words that express resignation, and there's only one route forward.

if he refuses to leave, and you can't beat him, it only makes logical sense that,

you should join.

you release your death grip on his hair. the dappled sunlight forms the shadows of leaves and branches on the road, illuminating a line down your profile, and his, too, the way you stand angled a bit away but not a foot of distance between you both.

you, slowly, reluctantly, swallow the bile lodged in your throat and put your hands on his shoulders. no doubt you see the quiver on his smirk, which in turn sends a smugness unfurling from your core. the hapless discomfort isn't wholly yours. the awkward silence and stifling heat doesn't linger.

is this a draw? a mutually assured victory. perhaps a peaceful and amicable stand-off that leaves the both of you worse for wear.

"enough," you say, "satoru."

for once, he falls silent. hums, approvingly, and loosens his hold a little, like he’s trusting you not to run away.

"a truce? interesting choice," his lips are so, so close. your cheeks flare in belated realization, and in terror. it's mortifying.

and what the fuck, how the fuck is he so close?

your eyes avert quickly, avoiding his stare, and just about miss the tiny curl in his lips, so, so close. you can count his eyelashes, but you don't want to.

"you're blushing,"

"don't flatter yourself. it's the weather."

"tsundere."

"creep."

"it's kinda adorable, in a pathetic way."

"gross."

"let's hug it out. one hug could end the war, kami, i'll even let you top."

christ, he can't take one normal interaction and not make it weird and off-putting.

"not for all the yen in the country."

he makes a sad noise. god, his eyes are pretty. beautiful, in an objective way. if not for everything else, he could have gotten anywhere by batting his lashes a few times, and he definitely has. it's an unavoidable truth. gojo is striking in the worst way. his hands twitch a bit at your back, and you realize you've been staring like an idiot.

suppose being entangled in a fake relationship with someone that looks like gojo isn't the worst possible thing in the world. if anything, it will make this country crowd impressed how you managed to snatch him (for the simple and foolish reasoning that he's handsome). it's still a terrible idea and an outcome you will lament till the end of the day and maybe afterward, too.

objectively, objectively you are willing to admit he is stupidly, unfairly beautiful. if only his personality wasn't a sewer.

"by legal requirement as my new girlfriend," at least one hand has released you from its iron grip, but only to present itself as an offering, "you must hold my hand."

you do not do anything. not even react.

he makes a grabby motion, "c'mon, i'm getting shy."

"no."

"this is in the spirit of unity."

"how do you even come up with this stuff?"

"are you refusing to take me, your lover's, hand?"

"stop saying that."

"hold. it."

"no."

"i deserve to be held," he states, frowning.

the most annoying part, perhaps, is the fact that you can't bring yourself to do anything against this bizarre behavior. there is no option where it would be tolerable. even holding your pinkie as a compromise might result in him losing his marbles. god, what else will he demand of you? a kiss on the cheek? a kiss, full on lips? a deep and long and filthy one, with plenty of tongue? and he won't leave you be till you take his stupid hand and grip it?

he clears his throat.

gojo satoru may not have a moral compass or sense of logic or order, but he is nothing if not determined and hell-bent and resolute on the things he wants to have. which is, apparently, you, or rather your utter, unending torment in the form of public mockery.

"just hold it," he says, this time a little less insistently, "until we're out of the market. we look suspicious and out of place, standing around like this," as if they're not glaring at you two due to your obnoxiously loud bickering and general displeasure on being in each other’s presence. as if this ruse will even work, as if the people around you don't have eyes or ears or common sense.

you sigh, heavy, burdened and dreading. he, stupid and so very arrogant, considers the job a success as he makes that self-satisfied little sneer. his fingers close in, and you're about to surrender your pride and hopefully nothing else, when—

the sound of your name echoes through the whole festival. maybe even miles further. the two of you spring apart like electrocuted, and maybe you just were, because your heart is all the way in your throat and you feel like you might pass out.

a turn of the head. clambering past the people is utahime, looking disheveled, eyes crazed, breathing shallow. she slams into you full force, which would have probably killed you if your arms had not automatically opened to smooth her landing and envelope her in a big hug, "you!" her finger waggles as she turns to gojo.

"me?" he blinks.

she scowls, and that is answer enough. but her expression melts instantly faced with your surprise, "and you!"

"utahime-senpai?" so maybe your prayers have been answered. someone familiar is here. someone trustworthy and respectable and honest and righteous.

"oh, i'm so glad to see you," she sighs into your shoulder, "i could sense that freak as soon as we arrived, but i didn't think you'd be paired with him. it's so unfortunate."

he's almost offended. just a tad.

she pulls back just slightly so she could lock her hands around your shoulders. once again, you're like a fly tangled in a web. this interaction, however, you don't mind, since you love her immensely, "but now that i've found you, let's enjoy the festival! mei's also here, i think she was checking the yukatas, but none were up to her standard. figures."

your life has resumed. finally. you smile so wide your cheeks ache, and you feel as though you hadn't smiled in months, "i'd love to!"

she nods, decisive, and steps aside a bit, her attention directed fully to gojo who stands, useless and kind of a bore, observing. he looks as though he can't comprehend the fact that you have normal, pleasant friends, because he's incapable of normal interactions.

"look. you," utahime crosses her arms, "stay out of our way and don't even breathe in her direction, got that?"

"what? the hell did i do now?"

"exist."

"always so cruel, utahime, can't we play nice and be friends, eh?" he coos.

she gives him one long, condescending look, eyes lingering over every bit of him with thinly-veiled distaste, "no," is all she says before clasping your hand and tugging.

her hand. and it's in yours, which you were supposed to give to him. and there goes your good mood, and all the hope of surviving today, because now he looks upset. his face and aura conveying annoyance in a way you've seen rarely.

but it splits into a smug grin. so sudden, "alright," he chirps, "where are we going?"

"you are not invited," utahime spits, "get lost,"

"what?"

"i said scram. beat it. beat it!"

"but i came with—"

she turns to you, easily speaking over him, bright and cheerful, "there was this candy store with really great taiyaki, wanna check it out?"

"sure!"

and then you two are gone, leaving gojo behind.

...

you take a glance back, a second of pity entering your brain as you glimpse his tall figure slowly shrinking amidst the people, and then you return your attention back to your friend.

*

"ne, by the way… if you and gojo arrived earlier, why didn't you exorcise the curses?"

"ah. that. yes. that’s gojo’s fault. we got lost because he can’t read a map since he’s stupid. but that’s not important. how many curses were there, anyway?"

"one special grade and a few second grades. not gonna lie, it was pretty tough."

"how come?"

"the special grade ate a cursed object. we managed to extract it, but, i think it was more dumb luck than anything."

"what was the object?"

"sukuna's finger."

oh. shit.

"hey, fireworks! where’s my camera? aha! okay, say cheese!"

"...cheese."

additional author's note. imagine getting dumped at a festival by your enemy and then getting dumped a few months later by a kfc by ur best friend, gojo keeps catching Ls lmaooo

tags (marked couldn’t tag). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @alygator77 , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @bqvz , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy

[crisishauntline]

Today was long. It started off very stupidly with only four hours of sleep due to my inexplicable decision to stay up until 5am playing Civ 6. Then I called out from work so I could sleep a little more before going to Oakland to accompany L to her ultrasound appointment. She’s been increasingly anxious about the pain and what might be causing it, and about hospitals and doctors overall, which is more than valid given her history. But I’ve been able to support her in facing those fears so far, and I trust that we’ll make it to the other side.

Today was a bit scary though. They wouldn’t let me be in the room with her like they did last time when it was just a Pap smear, and the technician also couldn’t tell her anything about her results or diagnosis at the time. They posted the results on her patient portal soon after we left, but the notes were really jargon-y and hard to understand. Since she can’t talk to her doctor about them until her doctor calls her, we called my dad and asked him to translate. It turns out she has a mass a bit larger than a baseball pressing her left ovary (the only one she has left), but they won’t be able to tell what exactly it is without doing a laparoscopy/biopsy. He did convey the good news that it’s not blocking any important blood vessels or twisting, and that it’s really unlikely to be cancer given her age. Hearing that helped her anxiety (and mine) a lot. Still, a baseball-sized tumor or cyst is fucking up her life and she will likely need some kind of surgery to get it removed, so the worries and stress will continue for a while longer.

She did really well breathing though the panic today. I can see the toll it takes on her energy, but I can also tell that I’m helping her stay strong. I checked in with her again before she went to bed to see if there was a post-sundown nosedive, but aside from some teariness she sounded positive.

I was glad to hear her ground herself in two truths:

1) She’s not crazy and does know when something is wrong and unbearable in her own body

2) This process will eventually end with her feeling better.

I told her I was proud to have witnessed her harnessing her bravery and self-advocacy, and affirmed her for unlearning her default response to suffering—to grin and bear it alone and in silence. I have seen her grow so much when it comes to taking her own needs and pain seriously. I love and admire her so much.

Yesterday we played We’re Not Really Strangers and came to the question “In what ways, big or small, have I changed your worldview?” I really struggled to think of a single thing, and was very dissatisfied with my eventual answer. She was clearly disappointed by it too. I felt so embarrassed that I couldn’t even articulate the core thesis of her show, which I’ve seen now at least four times. All I could manage was a barely coherent and extremely vague string of fragments, some merely describing what her job is and some waxing poetic/woo-woo about a general sense of wonder and Interconnectedness. She said it made her feel she must be missing something from her show for me to not have even remembered her thesis, let alone take it into my worldview. She even tried to re-explain it to me—that humans and our observations of the universe through science are not separate from the universe; we are how the universe thinks about learns about itself. That sentence struck me as fascinating and very poetic, but to be honest I still felt confused about what it actually means to her, or should mean to me. I also struggled to remember her saying anything close to that in the show but mostly remember it being straightforward facts with a concluding reflection on how astronomy is for everyone—“all you need is a night sky,” or something to that effect. So maybe that larger point is missing. Or maybe I haven’t been listening right.

I’ve continued racking my brain trying to come up with the “right” answer to the game’s question. One that at least makes her feel seen in some way, even if not in this most important one. Today I tried articulating a different idea: her ability to notice, seek out, love, and find meaning in the “little weirds” of existence, no matter what. When I am depressed I so easily slip into distorted, dissociative negative generalizations about what existence is and what it has to offer. I forget that life can always surprise me. Even when it’s impossible to find or feel joy, there are still countless strange and fascinating little facts, experiences, and works of art to remind you that you don’t actually know everything about life and therefore must re-examine your judgement that life is pointless. Or you may be right about the pointlessness, but wrong to discount the richness of pointless existence. So you may as well stick around to learn and be surprised some more. Some prime illustrations of this trait:

1) The tumblr status she made when we were broken up (“My ex-girlfriend broke my heart so now I’m devoting my life to becoming an eccentric kook").

2) Her readily responding to my long, overthought text about how we could spend time together again by suggesting we make crop circles.

I’m not sure if this answer made her feel seen in the way she wanted. I hoped to offset her disappointment from last night, but I think even if this second answer were perfect on its own, the fact that the first one is still unresolved leaves a melancholy taste in the mouth. Oh well. I still meant it and think it’s a at least a decent answer.

Her answer to the question, for the record, was how I had challenged her to broaden her mindset about religion and spirituality. And hey, I worked hard on that one so I was happy to hear it. On the other hand, I don’t actually feel the need to change her worldview. I told her I like the way she thinks and enjoy when she shares it with me. I just want her to not automatically hate others’ worldviews that include religion/spirituality. But I suppose that is still a change in worldview, if not in belief.

Anyway, it’s late and I’m exhausted. There’s one last thing I want to add though: I made a drawing of her that I’m actually proud of. Admittedly, this is what I did all yesterday instead of my job, which is not ideal. But I really enjoyed making it and surprising myself with a much better-than-expected result!

[toots-senpai]

Hmmm could you do a scenario with Yandere! EJ where his S/O is being really defiant and trying to be more independent and so he ✨puts them in their place?✨ ;)

Stressful Overstimulation

Authors response: idk how to write defiance i think lol.. i think if i did write this wrong give me a couple voice thoughts from jack or the reader but i think i did his right...maybe there is not a lot of yandere here at all though i'm sorry

Author: @toots-senpai

Fandom: creepypasta

Pairing: eyeless jack x reader

Rating: R 18+

Word Count:3.3k

Warnings: tw:abuse, tw:womb fucking, overstimulation, monster/demon fucking, demon cock detail, fingering, blood mention's

MINORS DNI

i don't except follows from ageless blogs, you will be blocked!!

nsfw under the cut

You're a med student. You have absolutely no clue what the demon even saw in you. Jack is a very interesting man and he proves to show it every single day. Starting from the beginning of your relationship, he kidnaps you from your own med school while you were studying after hours and you end up full blown arguing like a married couple about your education. He keeps you in school and now you no longer live in a dorm but with a random demon you just met. I mean to be fair, he was like an addicting toxic poison. Like cigarettes for a stressed person, heroin for the suicidal. He was not good for you in the slightest but he was right about what he first said when you two met.

"You need me just like I need you. I'm gonna show you that you need me!" That was one of the fullest statements he's every made to you since then. Borish replies and cocky or down-right insulting statements made to you from left to right, every single day for the past four months. It's not as if he hates you or anything. Quite the contrary, he loves giving you little gifts here and there, he helps you with anything on the body and has even let you do your first surgery.. unfortunately on an un-willing patient. but as he said ;"that's what anesthesia is for.." .

He's helped you tremendously previously, in more ways than one. Recent nights are just arguing and just the other night, you guys passed the friend basis when he fingered your stress away out of the blue, and then strangely walked away. You were confused but, everything about Jack is unknown to you. It can be the most useful or the most tedious thing at times. Right now, it's not helping anyone. Mid-terms are here and he's quiet as he watches you. You can ask things and he will continue to ignore you while he looks borishly over your paper. You were frustrated by the end of the night, another un-responsive argument brewing as he just snarls and walks around and away from you with every statement, dodging everything you throw at him.

Couple of nights ago was the first time since he kidnapped you that he's touched you harshly. Grabbing you roughly by your chin and telling you quote "shut the fuck up" after another one of those random arguments. You haven't talked since then, continuing to study by yourself and locking yourself away in your bedroom away from Jack. It's one of the biggest presents Jack has given you. The bed much better than your dorm bed and the only thing you have to worry about it being Jack sleeping on it occasionally when you get home from class with your pillows tucked under his nose. Much better than the girls who threw milkshakes and ice cream on your bed for 'fun' and the prank or whatever they fucking said. A beautiful desk and the perfect dim of colored lights on the ceiling, much better than Jack's room from what you've seen. You've seen it from the outside once, looking in demonic shambles during the first time you've ever seen Jack fully pissed off. But you weren't able to look inside because of the sharp object that whizzed past your head that scared you back into your room that night. That was around first meeting him and it seems like he's calmed down a lot since then.

Besides the arguments he slouches and rests his posture around you. It's weird to say the least, but you are also strangely comfortable with him, maybe a bit too comfortable. You wonder how he eats, what he does during the times you're at school but you honestly don't have the time to focus on it. You're finally getting home at around 5. Classes dragging out longer than supposed to do to exams being on the following monday. You're exhausted and the girls in your dorm have recently been egging you on for no reason, purely for once again, the fun in it. You don't mention it as Jack comes to the bottom of the stairs with his silent greeting of his piercing glance. His mask is on and his height never seems to adjust to you. He's ducking his head under the door frame a bit as he walks over to you. Grabbing your bag and your coat and putting them up to hang. There's food on the stove but you can't bother to do anything but lie down on the couch, tired and re-collecting everything the professor and everyone gathered together today. You're silent as you hear Jack shuffle around the house, he turns on the shower and comes back to the kitchen shared living room just to look at the stove before looking at you.

"Ate?"

"No Jack. Not yet.."

The answer baffles him a bit as he shakes his head looking at the stove once more and then at you. From behind him the shower was empty but running steaming hot water, steam exiting the bathroom as you locked your eyes on him fully. He goes to bicker about food but you ask him for the shower instead and he grunts with disapproval but moved out of the way of the doorframe. It didn't take you long to jump at the opportunity. You relished in the hot water as you smelt the food probably being reheated for you. Is this what he did all day? Eat? You got out of the shower and opened the door only to be received with a plate of gorgeously plated food in front of you. Your stomach growls and all you can do is blush and go into your room with the plate, watching as Jack went back into the bathroom and cleaned up after you. He wasn't a clean freak but there were a couple places of the house you would catch him cleaning around.

One of them being the beautiful potted orchid on your windowsill. The flower and your room being free of any dust or mildew was comfortable, the window clean and the one flower growing beautifully. Jack interrupts your sight seeing and opens the door, shoving your dirty clothes into the hamper and taking the hamper out, leaving the door open. You thought about closing it but you weren't in the mood to debate something petty with Jack. This was a good move because he came in and laid next to you slightly watching you eat while he drifted to sleep. He passes out quickly and you're able to eat and get most of your studying done before he wakes back up. Rubbing your legs lovingly while he lays extremely close to you. Holding your body to his chest, cool skin rubbing against the warmth of your skin. He could be loving, horny or anything this moment but the dick he is, already going to correct your mistakes when he looks at your paper. It's not long before he walks out annoyed and going back to sleep in his room when you start asking him questions about you being wrong.

He's no help to you at all like this. Always trying to correct you and honestly getting in the way of your own personal progress. You went to sleep angry that night and woke up and immediately went back to studying. Opening your eyes just to roll over and read your notes over and over again. Not even bothering to step out of the room from Jack's heavenly smelling breakfast. You can already tell he probably went out of his way this morning as an apology but you can't pay attention to him. You can do this yourself, revise your own mistakes and whatever else you needed to fix. Jack was slightly right about some of your mistakes yesterday but all he wants you to do anyways is re-write it over and over again until it's the way he likes, the way he knows is write. You do just well reading it by yourself.

Jack steps in, his breakfast drafting through the room making you hungry. He passed the plate to you and you sighed placing the plate next to you as you sat against the wall that your bed was placed on. Your eyes travel through all of your writing but they don't miss the frown or his clenched fist before he grabs your plate from last night. He looks at you for a second before he walks out, coming back with a fork, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"Eat, please." He says before tapping his fingers on your inner thigh near your stomach. "I can smell how hungry you are and it's pissing me off." He states before poking at your empty stomach. You push his hand away and scowl at him.

"Stop focusing on me then.. I can handle myself you know." He looks at you blankly before walking out, completely. Front door closing with the wind of the stormy day. He wasn't back until nighttime. You felt bad after the silence of the entire day that you had picked up on his cleaning from the morning and even ate his food. When he came home you already had made yourself something and he puts down the bags of takeout he had gotten next to the door and just walks to his room. Trailing water as he trudges his way down the hallway, almost as if he was exhausted. The door clicks shut and you focus your attention back on the food and your notes. By the time you're done eating Jack is going into the bathroom behind you.

You stand and pick up the takeout, putting it away for later consumption. You were originally going to go back to your room, but curiosity will always get the better of you anyways. Jack's door being wide open and blood spilling from underneath some soaked rained and bloody clothes on the floor. Though the blood isn't what intrigued you but instead it was his bed sheets, his bed in general. The beautiful blue blankets that were extremely soft to the touch and his massive bed is on the bed with a beautiful headboard. Claw marks against the paint, a dusty chandelier, paintings of the human body with what seemed like real blood and glasses of preserved organs on the shelf. The real room of a killer, a cannibal, perhaps someone with bad body aches? His bed soft as you sink into it with just your hands. It would be a crime to not take this opportunity to flop on his bed, so you did. Sinking into the soft foam of his bed with your body only half way on it.

This bed, was so much more comfortable than you imagined and it made you tired a bit. His bed was much better than yours and his bed also had a specific smell to it. One that slowly dug itself into your panties and made your pussy throb slightly, making your throat dry and heating your body with perverted embarrassment. You climbed up on his bed all the way and laid down on his pillows, the smell rich along with the smell of a faint cologne. You sat back up and looked to the left at the cologne bottle only to snap your head to the right hearing the door to the bathroom open. 'oh shit..'

You had only a couple of seconds of planning what you were gonna say to him while you tried to get off the bed but all of those thoughts were ripped away when he walked into the room naked. You snapped your head up to look at him and bit your lip, even more embarrassed.

"I'm s-sorry." You mumbled, a bit star struck at Jack's beautiful torso. Your eyes were locked on his eyes but your peripheral drank in Jack's lean abs, his grey demonic skin, the trail that led down elsewhere, the scars from probably victims trying to get away from him. You shifted your knees underneath you, fear and shame burning through your veins.

"For what?" He states more than asking a question. He's watching you closely, keeping his eyes locked on your small frame, you're shifting with some emotion he hasn't seen of you until now. He's trying not to think of the situation sexually but you're making it too easy to see your body when you're shifting 'nervously' like that. The nightgown you wore to bed sagging a bit off your tits, your knees tucked under for the support, the bruise on your neck from earlier this week, your smell penetrating his room, his bed like a toxin, he is having a desperate attempt of trying to contain himself. He wishes he didn't walk in here naked but the clothes he had were soaked in blood on the floor and his clean clothes were in the dryer he honestly thought you were still studying. Fresh harvest was untouched and not even noticed by you, the blood slipping from underneath the soaked clothes going to leak onto his feet before he walks towards you.

He can feel your warmth radiating on his cool body and if the bed wasn't there you could probably see his dick rising just from him watching your uneven breathing, confidence and adrenaline begging him to take you right here. All perched so pretty for him to harass.

"Being in your room-"You say shifting him back to reality.

"It's like you're asking for this..-" He mutters.

"Asking for what?" You counter and he stops looking at you while shifting his glance to lock onto your shifting thighs. He can smell your cunt leaking, you would want this if he went for it but your voice booms above him. "I mean, i'm sorry I just wanted to apologize from earlier. I was rude...." you drag out. A bit concerned for your safety, he replies with a hum as you both sit in each other's presences for a second. The air becoming tense, thick. Jack was desperately trying to hold himself back and you were confused at his silence as you watch him carefully. He kneels down over the bed and lays on your thighs. What you think is innocent is actually Jack smelling your arousal, with every shift of yours, he can tell he's affecting that little voice in your head that's telling you to spread your legs open for him. You love to play fucking dumb with him, he's losing his grip, he really fucking hates you at the moment. You on the other hand were scared and awkwardly aroused by the naked man in front of you sighed as you rubbed his head as he laid in your lap. A purr escaped his throat and vibrated into your folds through your thighs. You do your best to conceal the moan but all you diminish it to was a frustrated whimper that had him shooting up to his full height.

He grabs you by your neck and makes you look up at him, his frame still towering even over his big ass bed as he's pulling you up off of your knees. "Give me... a proper apology Y/n." He says and you both finally break. Bodies heating up and your pupils dilating a bit with lust. He rips off the nightgown and drops you back on the bed, breasts bare and panties containing a wet spot as you blink up at him, silently asking if it's what he wants. He closes the door behind him with his foot as he climbs over you. Small purrs leaving his throat as he looked down at you. You had covered your nipples in what seemed like embarrassment to him but was actually defending yourself from his abs rubbing against his cold skin. "Tell me you'll give me what I want y/n." He mutters down into your ear as he sinfully slowly trails his hand down your breasts to your stomach to slow for your liking.

You haven't even had full blown sex since high school, your body's burning up and you're breathless, softly whining at his slow touches, panties dripping. "Have me all.."

"You know what I want you to say." He says dipping his fingers down to your warm inner thighs.

"Oh please Jack!"

"No."

"Fuck me!"

"Tell me-"

"Jack please, fill me up with your cock, please I want you to fill me up!" You whine as you finally crash your lips onto his, pulling him down by his neck in frustration. He finally makes contact with the outside of the dripping material and you don't expect more than one tongue to wrap around yours, the muscle in your mouth being sucked and licked has you whining of overstimulation from just your tongue. The demon above you pushes his way into your cunt and curls his fingers when he's deep before he starts plunging into your slick. His heavy cock rests on your thigh and he's softly grinding with every rise of your hips. He's pulling you away from his mouth and holding you down by your throat as he focuses all of his attention on the slick gathering on his fingers. You're soaked, thighs shaking and wet with your arousal. You can't do anything but let out shaky breaths from his hold on your neck, more like a cage locked around your throat preventing you from escaping as he thrusts his fingers faster, thumb rubbing against your swollen clit. You unravel quite quickly, a shaking orgasm making your muscles fatigued as he spreads your legs apart. There is nothing that disproves the monster in front of you. His parasite like tongues and his dick, resting against your stomach as he watches you take his wet fingers in your mouth and suck them clean.

It's monstrous just looking at it, his cock is beyond fat, 9 maybe even ten inches of demonic dick, diameter of his cock begging to stretch your pussy completely open with each pulse of his dick. You take your hand and pick up some of his pre that's leaking into your inner thighs and taking it back to his dick, teasingly running your fingers over his tip. Compared to the cold of his body his dick is painfully hot. You suck his fingers into your mouth while you spread the wetness down his dick, not even getting to the base before he almost rips your hand off of his dick so he can center himself at your leaky cunt. You gasp as he stretches into you and start crying when he finally gets you past just his tip. He is too experienced at stretching out pussy it seems, not even bothering to give you time as he thrusts just with the tip. Pushing slowly into you with every calculated thrust, watching your cunt take him in. He looks down at your tear wrecked form and starts to plant tiny kisses at your tears. Waiting for you to stop clamping so hard as he rubs your clit in hopes to loosen you up. When you finally take him til your cunt's full you are almost braindead with the fullness of his cock, not even down fully to the base. He'll laugh at you when your wrapped around his dick nice and it doesn't take him long before he's biting bruises into your neck as he fucks into your sloppy cunt.

"My fucking pussy. All mine to rip open." He'll say while pushing into your cervix while his tongues make work on one of your nipples, full overstimulated underneath him as you try to push at his hips. A poor effort to stop his bruising pace. When he finally gets you to the base he's pushed himself fully into your womb, squirt and cum underneath your ass that helped him push thus far. Blood from bite marks leaking off your tits, your neck, you are just the way he wanted you from the beginning. Drunk off his dick and dumb off of overstimulation, dripping with his cum and submissive to him and only him.

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[hansensgirl]

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

[neonlights92]

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone.  Single.  Solo. 

And that’s just the way he likes it.  That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life.  Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

--

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking. 

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis. 

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices. 

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily.  She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.” 

He racks his brain for her name.  Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose? 

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do?  He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea. 

“Hi…. You.”  He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly. 

She blinks again, this time a little more furious.  Her eyes narrow after a moment. 

“You don’t remember my name, do you?”  She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover. 

“I uh - maybe.  It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole. 

“Shit.  I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever.  Just get out.  Jerk.” 

Jungkook feels bad.  Seriously, he does. 

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.  

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of.  He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces.  He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way.  And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle. 

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.  

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays.  This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.”  She laughs a little, “Hi.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.” 

Y/N.  So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.” 

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate.  I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.  

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.”  Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is.  His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh…  Yeah.  On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place.  But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.  

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.”  Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing.  Oh god.

He’s in love. 

He has to be.

//

“Jungkook.  You’re being ridiculous.”  Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.”  Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst.  It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No.  I’m serious, Namjoon.  C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never.  I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl.  Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon.  I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point.  You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook.  A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.”  Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?”  Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.”  Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.  

But he can’t help it.  He needs to see Soomi again. 

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?”  Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.”  Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants.  Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face. 

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung?  I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again.  I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else.  Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.”  Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious.  He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

//

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N.  She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second.  By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning.  Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares.  He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own. 

Jungkook grunts.  He can’t really blame her. 

Still.  Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone.  When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.”  She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid.  You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop.  Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces.  It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him.  Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers.  He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room.  Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.  

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle.  He leans towards her, conspiratorially. 

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.)  Jungkook knows of Jimin.  He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends.  That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.”  She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously.  He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother.  We grew up together.”

“So what?  You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?”  She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends.  I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.”  Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?”  Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god.  You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her.  Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion.  Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily.  Jungkook tries to read her face. 

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.”  Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that.  Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.  I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.  

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair. 

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t.  I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage.  I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright.  Fine.  I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph.  Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

//

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early.  He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling 

Y/N: y’know..  I knew giving you my number was a bad idea 

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried.  Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook.  So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you.  Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit.  Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement.  Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements?  I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting.  You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then.  Alright hawaiian it is. 

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

//

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch.  The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza.  Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, “You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that.  I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price.  Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear.  Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it. 

Man.  Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever.  And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan.  Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so.  Weird.  Why hasn’t he seen those before?  Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.”  He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright.  I’m kind of used to it to be honest.  Always been more of a... Background kind of person.” 

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter.   Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go.  And I’ve known her… Forever, really.  So it makes sense.  Someone always has to take the back seat.  I don’t mind it.  Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole.  When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N.  Really.”  

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it.  Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it.  Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her.  He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right.  And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!” 

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am.  And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

//

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.”  Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy?  Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon?  Y/N agreed to help me.  It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly?  You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook.  What exactly am I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know  you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine.  But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour.  It has to be.  The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try.  But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right?  I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah.  This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation.  He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.”  He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad.  In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute.  She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?”  Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook.  And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.”  He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides.  If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for.  Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

//

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy has a nightmare, and enderwalk!Ranboo is of the opinion that grass blocks make everything better.

(word count: 1,413)

----------

Tommy jolts out of a nightmare that he doesn’t want to remember, and a few seconds later, finds himself hyperventilating outside on the grass.

It’s not on, is what it is. He hardly asked for this, for these awful dreams and this inability to sleep for more than a few hours at a time at best, for this creeping certainty that Dream is breaking out, is going to come for him, and that it’s only a matter of time before something awful happens. He didn’t ask for any of this, but he has it, and he’s not moving out of his house, because that would feel like a concession, but on nights like these he wakes up and the dirt walls press in around him and he can’t breathe, and it is completely and utterly the worst.

So. Outside. Grass. Hyperventilating.

Calming himself down is old hat, by now. He figured out how to do it a long time ago, around the time when he realized that there wasn’t going to be anyone holding his hand anymore, that he was well and truly on his own, without a friend in the world. Other than—but no, he doesn’t go there. He knows better, now, even though his brain still tries to play tricks on him sometimes, tries to convince him that Dream is the only one who actually has his best interests at heart.

The point is, he knows how to do this. He’s used to it. And frankly, he’s glad that he is, glad that he can do this on his own, because he doesn’t want anyone else around him when he’s like this. Doesn’t want anyone else to see, doesn’t want anyone else to know that this happens, doesn’t want anyone else to be able to point at him and go, look, the great TommyInnit brought low.

So when he regulates his breaths and swipes the tears from his face and unclenches his fingers knuckle by knuckle, he looks up and most definitely does not expect anyone to be crouched in front of him. When he sees that there is, he scrabbles backward and lets out an incredibly manly scream, and he doesn’t think he can be blamed for it, because what the fuck?

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, “holy shit, you can’t just—” And has to stop, because it’s not just any weird crouching person. It’s his fucking—what’s the word for when a very irritating and terrible person marries your best friend? What’s the title for that? Annoyance-in-law?

In any case, it’s Ranboo.

“What,” he says, “the shit are you doing?”

Ranboo makes a sound that is not words at all. In fact, it sounds very similar to an enderman vwoop, which, alright, the guy’s half enderman, that checks out. Except, his eyes are also purple, and he looks rather taller than he normally does, even crouching down, so something is weird here. Something is very, very weird.

“Fuck off,” he says. “Go and, go and raise your shitty child or something. Sing ‘im a lullaby. Go on.”

He makes shooing noises with his hands, like one might do to a dog, or a persistent crow. Ranboo tilts his head very slowly, like a complete fucking weirdo, and then rises in one fluid motion, and goes walking off somewhere. Tommy stares after him, because he hadn’t really expected that to work. But alright, he’ll take it.

“That’s right,” he mutters. “Just fucking, fucking leave, go on.” He stares down at the grass, running a shaking hand through his hair. He is, maybe, not quite as recovered as he’d like. He’s usually not, after the initial panic, usually can’t make himself relax until the sun has crested the horizon and the sky has begun to lighten. He’s ruined for sleep tonight, that’s for sure.

But it’s alright. It’s alright, he’s used to it. He can do it. He can do this. He’s a big fucking man, and he can survive on a few hours of sleep a night, and he can avoid looking at himself in the mirror and remembering another face, eyebags just as dark, hair just as wild, eyes only slightly more desperate. He doesn’t have to remember things. Not if he doesn’t want to. He’s great at not remembering things, him.

Footsteps. He jerks, looks up again, and Ranboo is standing over him, and why is he so fucking tall?

Ranboo makes another vwooping sound. And then a little trill, almost like a bird, if a bird gargled gravel and then turned into an eldritch monstrosity. He crouches again, and then holds out his hands, and there is something in them, something that he is offering him, and—

Tommy squints. It’s a grass block.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” he asks.

Ranboo vwoops.

“Could you just stop being so fucking weird?” he demands. “For five minutes? I don’t think that’s too much to ask, really. God, you’re just. The worst.”

Ranboo shifts a bit closer, still holding out the grass block. Like he wants him to take it.

“I’m not taking your stupid block,” Tommy says, and accepts it.

Ranboo vwoops.

“Why would you even—” he says, burrowing his fingers into the dirt. A bit of it crumbles to the ground. He doesn’t understand how endermen manage to do this, keep these blocks in perfect shape, grass and all. “Why would you even give me this? What are you trying to pull on me, eh? It won’t work. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, pal. You’re up to something. Why are your eyes all purple?”

Ranboo vwoops.

And then—Tommy remembers something. Something he wasn’t particularly trying to remember, and usually, that’s not such a great thing, but it’s not so bad this time. Because this memory is from just a couple of weeks ago, in Snowchester, one of those times that he was trying to hang out with Tubbo, but Ranboo was just there and wouldn’t leave, and Tubbo wouldn’t make him leave, so Tommy spent the entire time being vaguely pissed off. And he was trying not to pay attention to Ranboo, really, he was, except he remembers him saying something about how he gets anxious, and how holding blocks of things and putting them down places helps him. At the time, he made a point of not acknowledging him, because Tommy’s not an idiot. He knew what he was trying to do, and he didn’t appreciate it.

But—

He stares at the block in his hands. And then back at Ranboo.

He wants to be angry, at the idea, at the presumption, because who the fuck does Ranboo think he is, trying to patronize him like this? But Ranboo keeps up his soft warbles, and he finds his eyes filling with tears instead.

“Are you,” he says, and his voice is not choked, it’s not, “are you trying to help me?”

Ranboo vwoops. Chirps. And then reaches out, slowly enough that Tommy doesn’t feel the urge to flinch, and runs gentle clawed fingers through his hair.

“Oh,” Tommy says. And doesn’t lean into the touch. He doesn’t. But if, hypothetically, he does, that’s between him and Prime on high. Or at least, it would be, if all his muscles didn’t go lax a few seconds later, and if he didn’t accidentally on purpose tip forward against Ranboo’s chest.

The dirt slips through his fingers. But that’s alright, because one of Ranboo’s arms wraps around him, and the other keeps carding through his hair, like Wilbur used to do when they were younger and things were better and they were two halves of a whole rather than puzzle pieces that got bent out of shape. The way his head is, he can feel vibrations running though Ranboo’s chest, like the purr of a cat, and it’s going to lull him to sleep if he’s not careful.

He can’t let that happen. He has more dignity than that.

Except he’s very tired. And Ranboo is clearly—sleepwalking, or something. Not all there in the head at the moment. So maybe he won’t remember this in the morning, if Tommy makes sure to wake up first. And that would be alright.

“You’re still terrible,” he mumbles, but the words are slurred, and Ranboo’s arms are very warm and comforting, and he’s drifting. He can feel it.

So he lets himself. Ranboo’s warbles follow him into sleep, and he dreams of stars.

[glassartpeasants]

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears. 

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’  on my clothes.  Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

 After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.” You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit. 

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them. 

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you.  He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now. 

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room. 

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes. 

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain. 

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you! 

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as  memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

[gliphyartfan]

@yandere-linked-universe @stars-for-thought @linked-heroes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

@imprisioned-in-the-hole I loved your prompt and couldn't resist! Hope I did it justice!

Wind has a strong presence in this one, that wasn't planned by the way.

Enjoy!

'I'll be fiine guys.'

She totally should have saw this coming.

'This is Wars' era, wandering the market won't that bad.'

Yep— these past few days had been too damn calm for the all of them,

'I'll be gone for an hour! Two hours tops! Promise!'

Of course something like this was going to go and happen.

'This. fucking. sucks!' She grunted, slowly slide down the rope she made out of the sheets in the room she was trapped in.

This is what happens when you jinx yourself.

'Everything will be fine!' Oh suuure, the first hour was delightful.

Saw some items,

Chatted with some folks,

Even got to pet a few dogs!

But the second hour-

'His Grace wishes to discuss some things with you.'

'Sorry, you got the wrong person. Plus I don't feel comfortable with-'

'That wasn't a request.'

'...-!!'

She should have know there would have been someone behind her.

It's always when it's out of your mind that it happens.

And now she was trying to escape her own wedding. And the crazy Duke that wanted to marry her.

She wasn't a hero damnit!

'I'm gonna get lectured so badly after this!' She grunted as she reached the end of the rope, her feet dangling in the air for a moment as she tried to figure out what to do next.

'Damn you laws of physics and gravity!' She whispered to herself.

Physics and gravity decided to take her insult personally as the rope loosened its hold on the railing, causing her to fall into the bushes two feet below her.

'Urk-branch! Branch!' She hissed in pain, reaching underneath and removing the branch poking at her back.

As she rubbed the area, brushing the crumpled sheet from her head, she checked her hand to make sure she wasn't bleeding.

Before she could plan her next move, she stilled as she heard the heavy thuds and clanks of armour approach nearby.

The movement came closer, she used her place in the bushes to keep hidden. Slowly parting the leaves next to her with one hand, she used what visibility she had to discover that yes, it was a pair of guards and the conversation that flowed through the air confirmed they weren't Hyrule guards.

Drat.

'Is the Duke really gonna marry that girl?'

'Seems to be the case. He's been very pleased with himself too. Looks like he's trying to get the wedding done by tonight.'

Double drat.

'I don't blame him, you've seen that girl? Bet he's eager for the wedding night.'

Okay. NO.

'Haha! A beauty like that for a wife would be quite the status boost.'

The guards walked past the bush and it's hidden occupant.

Had they looked back, they would have seen a displeased glare directed their way.

(y/n) huffed and looked around, trying to remember where the exit was.

With another glance around, she picked up her dress and slowly made her way out of the bushes, pausing momentarily before taking off the heels she was forced to wear

'I can't run and climb in this dress.' Trying to think about what to do next, she looked down at her clothes.

'Hmm...'

--

'WHERE IS SHE.'

'Link please-'

'Don't tell me to calm down Zelda!'

Wind bit his lip as Warriors marched up to the princess' face and growled.

'Impa is having her men search the castle and surrounding areas, we will find her.' Zelda tried to reassure him, taking a step back when he glared.

'It's been a WEEK and you have nothing to show for it!' He ran a head through his hair, taking a deep breath to calm down.

'You know I've been busy with-'

'With the Grand Duke of the farther kingdom who is here as a token of peace and unity between kingdoms.' Warriors recited irritably. 'Yes, very understandably important when someone went missing under the watch of YOUR men.'

'She was last seen in the market, we have blocked the gates and are inspecting every individual leaving the city.' Zelda gave Warriors a look.

'And might I remind you that they are also your men?'

'Apparently not anymore with how you let them slacked off!'

'Excuse me-'

Wind sighed as they started arguing again.

They were getting nowhere.

'This is going nowhere.' Wind turned and saw Hyrule coming up next to him, watching the arguing duo.

'Any luck with the others?' He asked quietly, not surprised when Hyrule shook his head.

'Twilight is using Wolfie to catch any scents but the storm has made that difficult. Time is with Legend and Wild speaking to the merchants and Four is with Sky speaking with the guards.' Hyrule replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Wind felt the same way.

None of them were able to sleep well since she went missing. The only reason they slept at all was because they needed to be rested enough in the event a fight comes their way.

But the lack of her presence was deeply felt.

'Any luck here?' Hyrule asked hollowly, already knowing the answer but still asking.

Wind simply gestured to the still arguing duo.

'Is she even still in town?' He couldn't help but ask, not wanting to think of the possibility that she was far away, but it was necessary.

'She has to be,' Hyrule reassured,smiling weakly. 'The town went on lockdown almost immediately.'

Wind returned Hyrule's smile with a weak one of his own.

They turned back to the duo, feeling more tired as they listened to the princess justify her duties.

'I am already dealing with the Grand Duke and I can't give anymore of my attention to this than I already have.' Warriors just gave her a look.

'I wouldn't be bothering so much if you allowed me access to his guest quarters.' It was Zelda's turn to glare at him.

'You know I cannot do that, he is a guest and has nothing to do with her disappearance.' Only Wind and Hyrule noticed the way Warriors hand twitched, as if desiring to reach for his sword.

Not that they could blame him.

'I am not accusing him Princess,' he said through gritted teeth. 'I am merely requesting-'

'That I allow you access to his quarters.' The displeased expression on the princess' face only matched the captain's.

'Annnd they're arguing again.' Wind muttered, watching them fall back into another verbal brawl.

'The only place we haven't looked is the guest wing.' Hyrule whispered, wringing his hands.

'You think we should sneak in?' Hyrule looked at the arguing pair and nodded.

'Yeah...it's better than assuming nothing is there.'

'Alright...Wars!' The angered captain looked at them, a scowl on his face.

'Rulie thinks he has a lead at the market so I'm heading out with him.' Wind kept a casual look on his face, staring Warriors in the eyes.

Warriors was quiet for a brief moment before he grunted and turned back to arguing his case with the princess.

But he was less tense than he was a moment before.

He understood what they were going to do.

'He'll keep her distracted.' Wind murmured, tugging Hyrule out of the room.

'And Impa?' Wind sighed and rubbed his shoulder.

'Still searching the market place I bet, we gotta be quick.'

And with that, they both headed to the guest wing of the castle.

---

The guest wing wasn't too far away, probably for the convenience of whatever foreign guests came to visit.

But it was walled off and the Grand Duke's personal guard was patrolling the area, forcing the duo to sneak their way in.

'I really hope we find something.' Hyrule whispers, the two stilling as a guard passed by their hiding place.

'Best place to look is the most obvious place.' Wind reassured. 'And the most obvious place is a area that's being guarded by enemy guards.'

Hyrule didn't correct him about the guards.

If she was here, they were enemies.

'Let's look through the rooms! Top or bottom floor?' Hyrule hummed.

'We're good at escaping from higher levels, and there's only two floors, let's start low and move up.'

They worked together, both alerting the other when a guard was close.

Soon they snuck passed the majority and reached the first set of rooms.

Then the second set.

Then the third.

They moved up to the second floor and quietly searched through each room.

It was in the Grand Duke's room that they found incriminating evidence on his desk.

'I can't read this language,' Wind whispered harshly as he glared at the papers in front of him. ' but I know (y/n)'s name anywhere!'

'Take it, we can sure it to the princess.' Hyrule whispered back, keeping watch at the door. He tensed when he saw a couple of guards round the corner. 'We need to go!'

'This is the last room and we haven't found her!'

'We found evidence and that's a better than what we had before, now move!'

It took some time to shuffle out the window and climb down, but they were successfully able to make their escape from the guest wing without notice.

'A lead, that's good.' Wind gasped, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

'But still no (y/n)' Hyrule bite his thumb nervously. 'I hope she's okay...'

'We can't lose hope!' Wind grunted, stretching his back and sighing.

'Let's go, we need to show these papers to the others before we give it to the princess-'

The sailor went rigid, eyes snapping forward, widening.

'What's wrong Wind?' Hyrule asked worriedly, hand on the younger teen's shoulder.

The teen bit his lip to keep his expression from crumbling and his breath was shaky,

'(y/n)...?' Hyrule's own eyes widened and his head snapped to look when Wind was staring.

There, in a torn dirty white dress, no shoes, and messy hair, was their beloved goddess looking around, visibly distressed.

'(y/n)..?' Wind raised his voice, hope as visible in his tone as it was in his eyes.

Hyrule's heart felt such relief as their beautiful goddess' head snapped in their direction.

The smile she gave them was simply magnificent as she immediately ran toward them.

The moment she was close, she wrapped her arms around the both of them and began to cry, relief filling her.

'You have no idea how happy I am to see you two!' She hugged them closer.

'WE'RE happy to see you!' Wind sighed happily, resting his head in her shoulder, both him and Hyrule hugging her as tightly as she was hugging them.

Just having her in their arms was a blessing they treasured so much.

'Where have you been? How did you escape?' She sighed and shook her head.

'I'd rather tell it one time.' She looked around.

'Please tell me the others are near by?' She whispered, absolutely exhausted and didn't want to deal with any more drama.

'Well...no. They are looking for you in town. We snuck into the guest wing to look for you.' Hyrule answered apologetically, heart clenching when she sniffled.

Wind frowned for a moment before he gasped in excitement.

'I'll rally them up!' Hyrule and (y/n) looked at him in confusion as he reached into his pouch.

'Wild has the slate! And if he has the slate-' he pulls out what he was searching for.

'Then we can reach him with this!' (y/n) tilted her head.

'A...stone?' Wind grinned at them, the pirate's charm dangling from his fingers.

'A COMMUNICATION stone!' (y/n) gasped in delight and gave Wind another hug.

'Call him! Call him!' Wind laughed and activated the stone.

'Um, I've been meaning to ask...' Hyrule quietly said to (y/n) who looked at him innocently. '...About your..outfit...'

Wind ignored them for a brief moment as Wild's tired voice came from the pirate's charm.

'What is it sailor?'

'Guess who me and Hyrule found!' Wind grinned as he heard gasps.

'You found her?! Is she safe?!'

'They found her?!'

'She's okay! We're by the-'

'HE WANTS TO MARRY YOU?!'

Wind turned his head so fast, he winced at the pop he felt, the loud yells coming from his charm filling the air.

'WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?!!' (y/n) winced as she realized the panic she just caused

'Uh-'

He couldn't help it, Wind laughed, soft and just a little hysterical.

Of course an insect had to pop up when they let their guard down.

---

'Where is she.'

'Sir, we have our men searching for her this very moment.'

'I want her found by TONIGHT, the wedding will go as planned.'

'Of course sir!' The Grand Duke scowled as his guard walked off.

He is so close to raising his status.just another day and he would have been on top of the social world. He sneered, like a child, storming down the halls of the guest wing.

'Should have simply left with her when I had the chance.' He ran a gloved hand down his face.

To think he had one of the heroes of legend in his grasp only for her to have slipped through his fingers.

He'll have to make sure to teach her a lesson.

'Sir!' He sighed irritably, turning to see another one of his guard approaching him.

'What is it? Did you find her?' The guard looked nervous.

'Sir, Princess Zelda is requesting your presence in the throne room at once.' The Grand Duke tensed and stared at the guard.

'Are you sure?' The guardsman nodded, stepping back when the Duke growled.

'Of all the times...' He looked back at the guardsman. 'Continue looking for the girl.'

After the guardsman nodded, he decided to get it over with and headed to the throne rooms.

--

--

'Grand Duke, thank you for coming at such a short notice.'

'Your Highness.' The Grand Duke bowed to her, as he rose he noticed the nine gentlemen standing to either side of her.

The heroes of legend.

The Grand Dukes greed brought to mind the rise in his status at what might be a possible meeting with the legendary nine.

He was to arrogant to realize the cold looks he was receiving from them.

She smiled, nodding in greeting. 'I apologize for disturbing your day Grand Duke, I understand how frustrating it can be, but I heard of a strange rumor recently and I had hoped you would clarify it for me?'

'Please rest assured Princess, I will do all that I can to assist you.' He said, smiling openly, the perfect gentleman.

'Splendid. Now,' She dropped the smile. 'Did you conspire to abduct the heroes' companion and force her to wed you?'

The Grand Duke froze, paling as the question registered in his head.

'Wha-'

'Ah. Before I continue, allow me to properly introduce the gentleman before me-'

'There is no need your Highness,' calmly interrupted Time, coldly gazing down at the nervous Nobleman. 'He is as aware of our identities as we are aware of his.'

'I-'

'And you seem to be very aware of the identity of our most dearest companion.' Legend hissed from his place next to Time, glaring daggers at the unsettled man.

The Grand Duke's expression twisted into fear, anger, and panic.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he cleared his throat. 'I'm sure I don't know what you're speaking of.' He calmly answered.

'Perhaps a misunde-'

' A misunderstanding? I'm sure.' Warriors scoffed, looking at Zelda with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed "Lets not fool ourselves here, we all know what this is about.' She stared sternly at him. 'You abducted the young woman known as (y/n) and were conspiring to wed her for...status?'

'She isn't very happy about being kidnapped.' Wild said casually, as if he was not wishing he could jam a bomb down the Grand Duke's throat and detonate it.

It seemed the arrogant man could barely handle being talked down in such a way. His clenched fists trembled in anger.

'I will not allow such accusations to be made against my person!' He looked at Zelda, face flushed in anger.

'If you believe that our kingdoms will be allied after this, I assure you that-'

'If your kingdom is full of noblemen like you, than Hyrule would benefit by NOT allying with you.' Warriors interjected, ignoring Zelda's stern look towards him, looking down his nose at him.

'You have no proof!' Warriors sighed and nodded.

'I suppose I don't.' He was silent until the Duke looked smug before he matched his expression with one of his own, pointing behind the Duke.

'But she's proof enough.'

'Oh, so I'm demoted to proof now, am I?'

The Duke went rigid, his mouth snapping shut on the words just spoken as he slowly turned his head-.

An dispassionate look directed right at him.

'Apologies my Angel.' Warriors smiled softly at her. 'No insult meant.'

'Hmm.' She raised an eyebrow, a brief glance at Warriors before looking at the Grand Duke.

'(y/n) I ask for complete honesty.' Zelda commands. 'Was the Grand Duke the man behind your abduction with intention to force you to wed him?' (y/n) nodded.

'Yes your Highness.' Zelda closed her eyes and sighed.

'Very well, I will arrange for his departure tonight.' The Grand Duke's face a unique combination of red and enraged yet also paling.

'T-This will not stand! When my king hears of this-.'

'We have already sent your king the information of your crimes.' The princess proclaimed to the unsteady nobleman.

'Y-you-'

'You are no longer welcomed within the borders of Hyrule Kingdom and are henceforth outlawed from ever returning. Impa shall escort you to the guest wing to retrieve your belongings.'

Zelda then turned and strode away, but not before sending an apologetic glance at Warriors.

He simply returned her look with a blank one.

(y/n) walked passed the royal knights that now surrounded Grand Duke and made her way to the group.

'I'm so glad you guys found me.' She said with relief in her voice.

'You ended up saving yourself dear.' Time chuckled, reaching up and cupping her cheek. 'And we were panicking like we lost our minds.'

'I was panicking when Wind and Hyrule popped up.' She admitted. 'Trust me, I was so happy and relieved to be found by you guys.'

'We'll always find you (y/n)!' Wind chirped, wrapping his arms around her waist, causing her to giggle.

'Well I guess it has it's uses.' She clapped her hands.

'I'm hungry and demand all the cuddles! I hated this week!' Wild was already pulling out his slate and looking through his inventory.

'I'll make a meal that'll taste so good, you'll forget this week ever happened!' (y/n) grinned in delight.

'That's what I want to hear!'

The Chain surround her as they guided her out of the throne room, the angry cries of the Grand Duke not worth notice.

Yet two members of the group lingered behind.

And they were eyeing the fuming nobleman with calculating eyes.

'We could have been a bit more...hands on with his punishment... ya know that don't you old man...?' Wind commented, his treasured wind waker in one hand.

'As enjoyable as it would be, I don't want to spend a moment longer away from Her.' Wind sighed but nodded in agreement , crossing his arms, tapping his wind waker against his chin.

'So the storm will kill him?' Time nodded, inspecting his Ocarina casually.

'I have more than enough magic to conjure one strong enough.'

'You've already had Wild damage parts of the ship correct?' Wind nodded. 'Than once I summon the storm, make sure the winds finish the job.'

Wind hummed. 'Kay.'

They both looked at the shrinking form of the dead man walking.

'Ugh, I hate bugs.' Wind huffed, a disgusted look on his face.

Time stared at the Duke until he could not see him no more.

'Hm..So do I...'

That night, the group of nine celebrated the return of their most beloved member, lavishing her with their affection and as she requested, all the cuddles she asked for.

(That night, reports were received by two kingdoms that notes a vicious storm appeared as the Grand Duke's ship sailed beyond the Hyrulian sea borders. Destroying the ship beyond recognition. There were no survivors.)

[twinklelilstarkey]

Relieved - Matthew Tkachuk

Words: 1.7k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Matthew has to go back to work just days after you give birth to his son and he absolutely hates it.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Anxiety (maybe, separation anxiety). Kinda rude Matty. Mentions of soreness and lack of sleep (from birth).

It has been 2 days since you were dismissed from the hospital. Two days since you have officially become a mother. And two days since you haven’t slept a full night without waking up at least 4 times during it.

Your body is still very sore, but medicine helps. Yet it’s not like you move a lot around the house.

Matthew, your boyfriend and dad of your kid, does not let you get up most times the baby cries. He always says that he will check and then if you’re needed, he’ll bring the baby to you. All of this because he knows that you’re tired and really doesn’t want you to tire yourself out further or go through any pain from how sore you are, over something that he can do.

Bad thing work calls quick. You’ll be on maternity leave for at least one more month, but Matt? Yeah, no, his team supposedly already needs him back.

And he’s not happy about it.

“Baby, I’ll be fine.” You tell him in a low whisper. “You don’t have to worry that much.”

He clenches his jaw and looks out of the window, clearly annoyed. He’s not wearing a shirt and is holding the newborn baby close to his chest as he sleeps peacefully.

Matt looks down at his son, staring at his small chubby face with adoration, as it is kind of smooshed against his warm skin, which makes his lips slightly parted, and he continues to contemplate calling his coach and just announce his absence last minute.

“He’ll probably still be asleep when you come back.” You tell him, gaining his attention again. “We’ll both be fine.”

“And if something happens?” He asks, also in a whisper, “I won’t be able to pick up the phone and come home.”

“Your mom is just a few blocks away at the hotel, remember?” You ask softly, “I promise that if something happens she’ll be the first person I call.”

He thinks about it for a second and looks down at the baby again.

“She’ll probably get here in less than 2 minutes too.” You add to lighten the mood.

A grin appears over his lips at the sound of your words and he gives his head a slight shake. You smile and he leans away from the wall beside the bedroom window.

Matthew sits down beside you on the side of the bed and you move a bit to sit closer to him. You two look down at the sleeping baby, admiring him as if he’s just the most peaceful thing in the world and didn’t wail his little lungs out just about half an hour ago.

You lean your cheek against Matthew’s naked shoulder and he lays his head against yours, letting the two of you sit in the peaceful silence as he rethinks his options.

“I’ll go.” He finally whispers, “But promise me you’ll call my mom right away. And that you’ll always have your phone with you.”

“I promise.” You say with a slight grin.

You lift your head off his shoulder really slowly, so he can lift his first, and you move a bit on the bed to move in even closer to him. You give a quick kiss on the lips before giving him two more on the cheek and offer him a smile.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” You tell him in a whisper.

(...)

Throughout the warmups and game, Matthew’s mind is going a mile a second. 

Sure, he’s a professional athlete, he’s supposed to be able to put everything in the back of his mind and only focus on the game and nothing else. But it doesn’t really work that way. 

From the time he stepped foot outside of the apartment and inside the arena, he feels like his heart is continuously skipping beats and accelerating for no reason.

And the fact that everyone that would see him walking to or around the locker room would congratulate him for the second time for being a first-time dad, is just making matters worse. 

How is he supposed to be focused on something when everyone just keeps on reminding him who he has at home?

Warm-ups were awful, he just wanted to do one more lap, go take his gear off, and go home. It’s going to take him hours to leave that place and knowing that is just worsening this whole situation.

You, on the other hand, are more than calm. To be completely honest, you’re sitting in bed half-asleep for most of the time. As well as the baby, who is sleeping on his little crib beside your bed, peacefully, as the game plays in a soft mumble on your bedroom’s TV. 

You’ve also now come to realize that the voices of the casters over the sound of blades on the ice are surprisingly relaxing when left at a certain volume. To you, at least, a mother who hasn’t slept more than 3 hours for the past few days.

While you were taking your very peaceful nap, Matthew was still a nervous wreck. He’s made sure that one of his trainers has his phone just in case something happens. Something that, of course, they never do but today is the big exception.

And surprisingly, he scored in the second period. 

Matthew honestly felt like he was on autopilot the whole game, so it even came as a shock to him that he did it. Which some people did notice since he had a more confused look on his face than anything while everyone around him celebrated. 

And right as the game went to intermission, he thought he was being able to put home aside for a second. But that was only until the god damn intermission interview.

“Congratulations on the new addition to the family , by the way. How’s everything going back home?”

Damn you, whoever decided to make that question. He did answer with a smile and a soft tone, seeming to everyone like he’s an under-control-over-his-emotions dad and not at all freaking the fuck out.

You? Still fast asleep. Just like the baby.

By the time the third period reached its half, Matthew was already seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. 

He’s almost home.

And you? Well, this time you’re not asleep anymore. You’re changing a diaper and then comforting your very small baby against your upper chest as you walk around the house.

It still amazes you how such a small being can scream so loud.

You used the opportunity of being up on your feet and with the baby with you to go actually eat something. Which was kind of hard to do with only one hand, but not impossible.

You texted back Chantal, Matt’s mom, just to let her know that you are okay and that you were even able to take a nap, which as an answer you got all types of celebration emojis.

Everything was going pretty okay and honestly, that nap worked wonders with you. You felt exhausted when Matthew left, and now you feel as strong as ever. Still sore, but strong.

After eating and drinking tones of water, you walked back to the bedroom to watch the end of the game. You had to eventually feed the baby as well but that went fairly easy.

You had to give yourself a pat on the back after this whole thing, everything went so well that it seemed like you’re truly getting the hang of it. For now, at least.

The game ended, the Flames won, and Matthew was ready to go home. 

That is until he’s told that he has press to do. He swears he almost hit someone with his stick or even helmet. Like, come on, people!

And this time he did not have the smile nor a soft tone, he looked pissed, which some people found funny. 

At least some questions were quick and easy to answer, but there still were the quite annoying ones he’s grown accustomed to.

He was out of his chair as soon as the words ‘the questions are do-’ left someone's mouth. Rude? Probably, but today is not the day to throw that in his face.

The shower was probably the quickest one he’s ever taken and he thinks he didn’t even dry himself off completely when he started getting dressed. 

Speeding out of the parking lot, home he went.

He doesn’t even think he parked his car correctly, but he was out of the car and inside the house in a matter of seconds.

You heard him from the bedroom let his bag fall by the lobby of the house and his quick footsteps over the wooden floor of the hallway. 

A few seconds later, Matthew appears in the bedroom’s doorway and his eyes are staring down at you right away.

“Hi!” You say with a smile.

“Did he sleep this whole time?” He asks, a slight shock on his face.

“No,” You say with a smile, “But he might go to sleep again in a few.”

You look down at the small baby and you hear Matthew making his way to the bed. He ignores the fact that he’s still wearing his very uncomfortable suit and sits next to you, leaning his back against the headboard while eyeing his son staring at the ceiling while what looks like chewing on his tongue.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask him as he stares intensely.

A shy smile grows on his face and you smile back as you see that as a big ol’ silent yes. 

You lean away from the bed’s headboard and turn a bit to Matthew to get a better angle. He slowly and safely takes his baby from your arms, who automatically leans on whatever warmth is next to him - that being Matt’s chest.

Matt doesn’t feel stressed, anxious, mad, or even tired anymore. He just feels relieved that he’s back home.

You look at two of them and your heart completely melts at the image you swear you can look at for the rest of your life. 

What is there not to love about this?

Baby fever is still going strong, so I had to write this, don’t hate me.