#But if this place isn't making money (and it clearly isn't) and has only a skeleton crew left and there's a nasty economic turn

[chronurgy]

I don't necessarily think that tumblr is going to go down in the next month or anything, but the layoffs are just more evidence of this site's long slow march to shutdown. I don't think it will be sudden (though the possibility that the site goes offline and the few people left lack the ability to get it back up exists) but I do think it's coming.

Obviously this place sucks, they're keeping me in the basement, etc etc. But also there's no other social media I've really been able to make work for me the way I've made tumblr work. I don't really know where I would go next (though I'd like to go somewhere, I think, since I do genuinely enjoy being weird on the internet with you all). Reddit is falling apart and not really comparable so that's a no, bluesky maybe? Except that's more of a Twitter clone and I've never particularly been interested in that. On the other hand, beggars can't be choosers so maybe I've just gotta suck it up. On a third hand (don't ask where I got it), fandom is very much about network effects so where I go is probably dependent on where everyone else goes and I don't think people know that yet and probably can't know that until the final shoe drops.

Discord clearly isn't a proper replacement, but I can give that out to find out where people are going. I have a dreamwidth with one post lol, that's another place I can be found if you want to find me. I dunno. I guess I need to start looking at other options.

[sugoroo]

GOOD COP, BAD COP!

ʚɞ summary: you get arrested and are determined not to reveal a single piece of information about your associates. that is, until the two officers interrogating you start employing... unique tactics to get you to talk.

warnings: fem!reader x choso kamo & toji fushiguro, police officer!au, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise kink, voyeurism, leg humping, power play, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.0k

it was a simple job — or atleast, it was supposed to be.

it began with the same simple plan as any other low stakes bank heist.

get in, get the money, get out.

but unfortunately, this time, someone in your little group decided to snitch - alerting the authorities of the exact location and time of the job before it even began.

so while you were in the middle of stuffing wad after wad of cash into a duffle bag, the last thing you were expecting was for a bunch of police officers to come barging into the bank, guns raised and badges being waved.

well shit.

silently cursing whichever person from your group that informed them, you made a break for it, darting towards the back entrance with the duffle bag clumsily slung across your shoulder.

but you didn't make it far.

the rest of your group managed to escape the bank in time, piling into the awaiting getaway car, but of course, you had to get stopped by a large hand wrapping around your wrist. you desperately tried to tug it free, but their grip was firm; almost frighteningly so.

"shit. guys, wait for—!" you attempted to yell, but the sound of the engine revving as the car dashed away interrupted the sentence, almost as if it was mocking you.

"looks like your little friends left you behind, doll." a low voice you assume belongs to the hand around your wrist rumbles from behind you, the amusement in his tone clearly at your expense.

"fuck you." you spit out, still stubbornly trying to tug your arm from his iron grip even though it's abundantly clear that it's a fruitless endeavour.

"ah ah," the voice chides, yanking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket with his other hand and effortlessly clicking them in place over your wrist, then doing the same with the other, despite your relentless struggling. "an attitude like that won't get you anywhere now."

with your movements now severely restricted by the harsh metal of the cuffs, you have no choice but to comply as the police officer manhandles you, roughly spinning you around until you come face to face with him.

unsurprisingly, the man's cocky expression fits his voice. his lips, which have a noticeable scar running down the side, are pulled up into a smug smirk as he looks down at you, and some messy strands of black hair are falling into his eyes.

"got nothin' else to say?" he snorts, his smirk only widening when he notices the way your features contort into a scowl — clearly fighting the urge to snap back at him again. "yeah, that's what i thought."

it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to list off every single curse word you know as the officer practically drags you through the bank, carelessly shoving you into the back of his squad car.

so much for a simple job.

so that's how you manage to find yourself slumped against an uncomfortable plastic chair in an interrogation room at the local police station, handcuffed to a desk.

it feels like it's been hours since the arrest, but there's no way of telling how much time has actually passed in this frustratingly empty room since there isn't even a clock to decorate the plain white walls.

when you'd first been left in here, you'd been angry.

angry at whichever member of your group decided to snitch on the operation, angry at your accomplices for leaving you there in the bank (although you probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed) and angry at the irritatingly smug officer who arrested you.

but eventually, that anger started to slowly but surely fade away —instead replaced by an overwhelmingly painful sense of boredom as you sat here with nothing to do.

you resorted to counting the tiles on the ceiling above you in a last ditch attempt at keeping yourself atleast somewhat amused. what number were you up to again? oh, right. eighty two... eighty three—

"hey, hey! s-sorry i'm so late." a voice hurriedly announces as the person it belongs to clumsily stumbles into the room, rambling about something to do with a coffee machine malfunction as he slides into the seat opposite yours.

slowly casting your eyes down from the ceiling to take in the police officer now sat in front of you, you're relieved to realize that it's not the same one from earlier. no - the difference between them is almost comical.

this one has dark tresses of hair pulled up into two messy pigtails, a small tattoo inked across the bridge of his nose, and his pale hands are shaking on the table where they rest. he seems nervous — almost as if he's the one about to be interrogated and not you.

"u-uh, yeah, as i was saying..." the man continues after a few moments of squirming under your gaze, pushing a mug across the table. "i thought i'd get you some coffee to help you feel more at ease. but the settings on that pesky machine are so complicated! i-i'm new here, by the way."

"i gathered." you murmur with a small, bemused smile pulling at your lips in spite of the situation you find yourself in. you then glance down at the mug, raising an eyebrow — it's not like you can pick it up and bring it to your mouth with your hands cuffed to the desk.

"o-oh, shit. i didn't think of that," the officer curses under his breath, grasping the mug in two trembling hands and thrusting it towards you. the movement jostles the liquid slightly, causing some of it to drip onto the table. "here."

you lean forward to reach the outstretched mug, taking a small sip of the warm liquid and resisting the urge to wince at the overwhelmingly bitter taste; this guy really wasn't joking about not being able to use he coffee machine properly.

"thanks." you push out with a somewhat strained smile, not wanting to appear ungrateful for the kind gesture. he nods quickly, seemingly pleased by your manners, placing the mug back down on the desk and pulling some files from his bag.

"so..." he begins, fanning the various folders across the desk and squinting down at them, as if trying to make sense of what's in front of him. "oh, wait! i forgot to introduce myself. i'm officer kamo — but you can call me choso, i-if you want, that is."

"right. well, it's nice to meet you, choso." you respond carefully, silently observing the way the apples of his cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink at the sound of his name leaving your lips. interesting.

"y-you too, um..." choso stammers awkwardly, glancing down and reading your name aloud from one of the files. "so, it says here you were the only suspect apprehended from the group who attempted to rob a local bank earlier today. is that correct?"

"it is." you mutter, pushing at the bed of one of your nails as some of the anger from earlier surfaces again. why did it have to be you who got caught? you should be at home rolling around in a heap of cash right about now, not sitting in a sterile interrogation room answering questions.

"i see," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck in a clear sign of discomfort as he takes note of the sudden defensiveness in your demeanour. "well, um, i was just wondering— i mean, i have to ask you... is there any information you can give us regarding your accomplices?"

your head snaps up at this, a flicker of uncertainty alighting in your chest. obviously, you were anticipating this question - but hearing it said out loud is an entirely different feeling.

the small part of you that still burns with anger wants to spill everything, get your fellow group members roped into the same predicament as you as payback for them abandoning you at the bank. but the other, more rational part of you, knows that nothing good can come of snitching on them. it would only serve to get you in even more trouble; just not with the law.

"no. i'm sorry, but i don't have anything to tell you." you lie through your teeth, toying with the edge of the metal handcuffs where they're digging into your wrist.

"a-are you sure about that?" choso prompts, seeming slightly unconvinced. he's trying to catch your eye, tilting his head towards you. "names, addresses, vehicle numberplates... anything?"

you subtly clench your jaw, shaking your head from side to side. as strong as the urge is to supply him with the information he wants, deep down you know it would only make things worse for you in the long run.

choso huffs out a small breath of air, fidgeting in his seat as he tries to remember his interrogation training. he may be new to this — but he's not oblivious. he can tell you're not being truthful, and although he understands the reasons behind that, he needs this intel if he wants to hand over a satisfactory report to his boss at the end of the day.

"if you're worried about the consequences of confessing, we can always put you into witness protection." he tries, his voice soft and earnest. it's clear he's not putting on an act, he does mean what he says. but that does nothing to change your mind.

"i don't have anything to tell you." you repeat without hesitation, your blank expression betraying nothing of your inner turmoil. you have to keep silently reminding yourself — it's not worth the risk to snitch.

"alright." choso sighs in response, wringing his hands atop the table as he seemingly tries to think of another approach to get you to talk. he has a feeling none of the other methods from his basic training are going to work with you. "um... how about i offer you something in return for your cooperation?"

"like what?" you mutter cautiously, fully intending on rejecting whatever it is he has to suggest.

"well, let's see," he hums thoughtfully, glancing back down at the files before returning his gaze to you. "how about a shorter sentence? i think we can do that."

this makes you pause — if only for a moment. a shorter sentence does sound tempting, but you can't let the idea weaken your resolve. after all, once you got out, there would be hell to pay for snitching. "less jail time isn't going to change the fact that i don't have anything to tell you."

choso's shoulders visibly sag with disappointment at your continued refusal to give up any information; he really thought that suggestion would have swayed you. "o-okay. so how about something else then?"

now that catches your curiosity.

because what else could he possibly offer you aside from a reduced sentence? that was usually the absolute best bargaining chip police officers were allowed to utilize in interrogations — you'd seen enough tv shows to know that.

he perks up when he notices the subtle signs of increased interest in your demeanour, leaning forward in his seat with clear eagerness. "okay! you're curious, that's good. s-so... what i'm suggesting is... um..."

you raise an eyebrow at his sudden hesitation, noting the way his eyes dart away from yours and his already pinkened cheeks flush further. "what you're suggesting is...?" you prompt.

"that... um... i—" choso tries again, anxiously digging his nails into his palm. he can't believe he's actually going to say something like this out loud, but he needs to get this information if he wants to make good progress at his new job. "i s-service you."

what?

you have to hold back a choked sound somewhere between a snort and a gasp at his words, your eyebrows raising so high they almost disappear above your hairline.

hearing this timid-looking, blushing rookie police officer say something so... suggestive was definitely not the way you expected this interrogation to go.

it was like the start of some cheap porno.

"are you serious?" is all you can manage to mutter, leaning forward in your seat slightly to get a better look at his expression, searching for any signs that he's just playing with you; maybe trying to get you to lower your guard so that you're more likely to spill intel.

"...yes," comes choso's meek reply, his voice so soft and quiet it's hardly audible, despite the lack of any other sounds in the room. he looks like he's about to die of embarrassment, his flush spreading down his neck and disappearing below the neckline of his uniform.

"i don't see how that's supposed to get me to supply you with information that i don't have." you huff bluntly, keeping up the act as best you can; but you can't deny there's a small part of you that's curious as to what he would actually do if you were to agree to the proposition.

he finally meets your gaze again at this, the look in his eyes telling you point-blank that he knows you're holding back the truth from him. and he knows that you know he knows.

it's a stalemate.

"h-how about..." he mumbles after a long stretch of silence, rolling a dark strand of his hair between his fingers nervously. "how about i just try something? you don't have to agree to anything yet. i-i just want to try."

again, choso manages to capture your curiosity.

he's now basically offering to please you for nothing in return — although he's obviously hoping he'll be able to get some information out of you eventually, maybe during or after this 'service'.

you wish you could say you weren't tempted by his offer. but as a criminal, most of the people you associate with are disgusting lowlifes who you wouldn't even dream of letting in your bed.

needless to say, it's been a long while since another person brought you pleasure.

"so if, hypothetically, i was to say yes, i wouldn't have to actually agree to anything yet?" you repeat cautiously, your demeanour still guarded. you can't afford to let him get the upper hand here, no matter what happens.

"y-yes," choso nods in response, seeming slightly pleased by the fact you haven't outright rejected his suggestion or threatened to report him to one of his superiors. "hypothetically." he adds, for good measure.

another few moments of silence pass where you mentally weigh up your options. you come to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt to go along with his little proposition for now, as long as you make sure you keep your guard up throughout. right?

"okay." you hum, leaning back in your chair and observing the police officer before you. he seems to be trying to hold back his excitement at having won you over, but then you can see the exact moment it dawns on him what it is he's actually signed himself up for.

choso swallows thickly, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he stands up from his chair, legs visibly trembling in his dark uniform trousers as he awkwardly shuffles closer to your side of the desk.

you open your mouth to speak, but whatever you were about to say instantly leaves your mind when he sinks to his knees before you, effortlessly moving your chair to the side so that he's positioned directly between your legs.

"i know you said that you're new and all," you mutter with slight amusement as you watch him look up at you with those wide eyes from where he's knelt on the floor. "but i'm pretty sure most police officers don't do this for suspects."

"i-i know that," he huffs sheepishly in response, the tips of his ears reddening to match the shade of his face. "but i couldn't think of any other ways to get you to talk."

"who said i'm going to talk?" you murmur, enjoying the way his bottom lip juts out into a little involuntary pout in response to your words. "i didn't actually agree to say anything, remember?"

choso doesn't reply this time, seeming to have come to terms with the fact that he can't convince you with his words alone; this situation clearly requires him to use his actions.

the problem is, he's never actually performed said actions on a woman before. sure, he's watched his fair share of porn — but he knows that doesn't compare to the real thing.

he's just going to have to wing it.

he brings a shaky hand up to one of your legs, slowly trailing his fingers up the skin there. it's soft to the touch; much softer than he expected. he had this stereotypical notion imbedded in his head that a criminal's skin would be rough and hardened - but not yours, clearly.

choso can feel your eyes on him the entire time his digits travel up the length of your leg, can tell that you're curious about exactly what he's going to do as his so-called service to you.

he couldn't tell you even if you asked — he's just going to make it up as he goes along and hope he does atleast something right that might get you to spill some information while you're lost in the throes of pleasure.

eventually, his fingers reach the hem of your skirt, and he pauses for a moment to look up at you, as if asking for silent permission. you nod with a small jerk of your head, so he steels himself before continuing.

he lifts up the material of your skirt slightly, taking a quick peek underneath to see what he was to work with. and oh, he almost forgets that he's supposed to be the one holding the power in this situation when he catches a glimpse of your covered cunt.

your panties aren't anything special — since you obviously weren't expecting to end up in this position today. but choso couldn't care less, his closed mouth filling up with salvia as he stares at the small wet patch forming on the front of the fabric.

you can't help but huff out a small laugh, the sound halfway between bemusement and slight embarrassment as the police officer before you just kneels and stares between your legs, the silence in the room so thick you could hear a pin drop.

"trying to make me uncomfortable by staring isn't going to make me tell you anything, you know." you mutter with eyes narrowed in suspicion, causing his head to dart up in surprise.

"w-what? oh... um, sorry. i didn't mean to stare." he rasps hurriedly, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze. he knows you're right; he's not going to get anywhere by just kneeling here completely motionless like a statue.

he needs to get to work.

choso starts by brushing a gentle, barely-there kiss against your inner thigh, his lips soft as they press against your skin. it feels a little too intimate for what is supposed to be an interrogation tactic, but right now, he can't bring himself to care.

you feel a small shiver ripple down your spine as he leaves a trail of sweet kisses up to the apex of your thighs, his head disappearing underneath your skirt with just the tips of his dark pigtails peeking out.

this entire situation is so overwhelmingly surreal — just hours ago you were being arrested, and now you're in an interrogation room with a pretty rookie police officer inches away from making contact your clothed core.

what a strange turn of events.

your sink your teeth into your lower lip once you feel his breath fan across your panties, attempting to hide any sounds that threaten to escape. you have to make sure not to let on how much you're enjoying this - have to make sure you don't lower your guard and accidentally let any information spill.

choso presses a chaste kiss to your covered mound, and it's all you can do to hold back a little gasp at the action. he's just so sickeningly gentle with you; like he's handling his lover and not a criminal under arrest for robbing a bank.

a soft rumble, almost a groan, comes from under your skirt, the sound vibrating against your skin as it leaves his lips. you can't see his face, but if you could, you'd see how drunk he is on you already — just from the miniscule taste of you he's gotten through your panties.

"h-hah," he breathes quietly, mostly to himself, flicking his tongue out gently against the now-dampened fabric to get a better taste. "i never thought a criminal would taste so sweet."

fuck.

those simple words shoot straight down to your cunt, causing a small gush of arousal to trickle out into your underwear. you're sure he can feel it against his tongue, and you wince. it's going to be more difficult than anticipated to keep your composure if he's gonna keep saying things like that.

choso gasps slightly, the sound quickly morphing into a satisfied hum when your syrupy slick seeps through the fabric and onto his awaiting tongue. despite never having done this before, he's sure no one else could possibly hold a candle to how delicious you taste.

he's in trouble.

at this rate, he's going to be the one falling apart first instead of you; he can already feel himself growing hard in his slacks, pushing against the restricting material.

gently pulling your soiled panties to the side, he swipes his tongue through your glistening folds, gathering more of your juices on his tastebuds. he's not sure what else to do to please you, all he knows is that he wants more and more of that sweet sap.

choso is so lost in 'interrogating' you with his mouth, and you're so lost in trying not to forget about the consequences of snitching and just tell him everything you know, that neither of you notice when the door creaks open.

"well, well, well... i assign you to your first solo interrogation—" an irritatingly familiar voice grunts out, the sound of the door clicking shut sealing him in the room with you. "and where do i find you? with your tongue on the suspect's cunt, kamo."

it's him. the way-too-smug officer with the scar on his lip who arrested you back at the bank, who fastened the handcuffs so tight the harsh metal dug into the skin of your wrists. who simply laughed mockingly at your struggles to break free. him.

choso breaks free from between your legs so fast he probably gets whiplash, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he peeks out from under your skirt. he resembles a deer frozen in headlights.

"oho, don't go stoppin' on my account." the other officer chuckles deeply, sauntering closer and grasping one of choso's messy pigtails. he uses the grip to push him back under your skirt, forcibly pressing his face against your needy flesh.

choso whines, a pathetic, drawn out sound, feeling conflicted. he's unsure if he's supposed to stop or continue; unsure if his boss's words are meant as sarcasm or not. is this some sort of test from his superior? he doesn't want to risk losing his job, not when he worked so hard to get here.

"c-captain fushiguro... i'm sorry. but i-i don't understand." he mumbles shakily, his meek voice vibrating directly against your core.

"tch. thought i told you before to j's call me toji, didn't i?" the smug officer — toji, apparently— huffs in irritation, practically ignoring your presence entirely as he shoves choso's face right into your pulsing heat. "now get back to fuckin' work. that's an order, rookie."

unable to resist the authoritative tone of his voice, choso's tongue peeks back out from between his lips and swipes through your sopping folds again, his mind quickly going pleasantly blank a second time from your sweet saccharine taste.

toji's eyes then meet yours for the first time since he stepped into the interrogation room, seemingly seeing effortlessly past your careful blank expression. he smirks, in the same annoyingly smug way as he had when he arrested you.

he knows that while his subordinate may be trying his best, the small amount of stimulation from the inexperienced man isn't anywhere near enough to properly please you.

and if they want their stubborn little suspect to break, you need to be more than properly pleased.

"y'er not gonna get her to reveal any damn information like that, kid." toji grunts in a mix of amusement and annoyance, tugging choso back by his pigtail and causing him to whimper pathetically. "d'ya even know where her clit is?"

"c-clit?" he repeats timidly, glancing between your pretty pussy and his boss's unimpressed face, as if unsure which to give his full attention.

"yes, clit. jesus, what are they teachin' you youngsters these days?" toji mutters disapprovingly, snaking his free hand underneath your skirt to point directly at your puffy little bud without much trouble. "should be right... there."

you can't stop the sharp gasp that escapes your lips when he pushes down on your sensitive clit like a button, snapping your head to the side to send a sharp glare in his direction.

"aww, look at that," he coos mockingly, removing his finger as quickly as he had placed it there and returning your scowl with his trademark smug grin. "little lady still has 'er attitude, i see."

"fuck you." you hiss out, not appreciating where this is going. the sweet rookie officer servicing you was one thing, but the infuriating one who arrested you joining in? now that's an entirely different situation.

"ah ah, doll," toji hums, waving the finger he just had pressed against your clit in front of your thoroughly irritated face. "'m not here for that, unfortunately. just thought i'd give kamo here a little... helping hand, 's all."

"well i don't want your helping hand." you scoff in response, but despite your desperate struggling against the handcuffs that still have you chained to the desk, you can't do anything to slap his hand away when it returns between your legs.

he ignores your protesting movements completely, angling his face down to glance at choso, who is watching his superior's pudgy finger rubbing teasingly slow circles on your clit with rapt attention, seemingly tuning out the bickering between the two of you.

"y'see now, rookie?

choso nods a little too enthusiastically, and the moment toji removes his finger, his tongue is back on your cunt. but this time, it's circling messily around your little bud, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated.

a small moan escapes your lips unwarranted, and you instantly snap your eyes shut in embarrassment — it's becoming increasingly harder to keep your priorities straight with these two extremely attractive police officers attempting to wreck your resolve.

"yeahhh, she likes that," toji leers mockingly, rubbing his fat thumb against the edge of your thigh just to work you up even further. "dontcha, pretty?"

"shut... up." you push out through clenched teeth, fighting not to lose yourself in the sensations they're providing you with. you have to stay strong. you won't become a snitch.

he only snorts in response, pulling his thumb back and giving you a brief moment of relief before swiftly slapping a hand against your folds, the obscene wet squelching sound echoing throughout the room. "don't tell me what to do, girl."

"t-toji," choso whines, pulling his tongue from your clit and glancing down at your twitching flesh from the slap, which he starts peppering with gentle kisses in an attempt to soften the blow. "that was mean."

"oh, that was mean, was it?" he scoffs, rolling his eyes and giving the other man's pigtail a sharp tug as punishment for his words. "what would've been mean is if i fired your scrawny ass the second i got in here for fraternizing with a suspect. but i didn't, did i?"

"n-no... you didn't." choso murmurs meekly in response, his eyes wide and pleading at the prospect of losing his job. he quickly attaches his mouth back to where toji showed him your clit is, suckling gently in an attempt to please both you and his stern boss.

"now thaaat's more like it," toji croons lowly, his voice rich and gruff as he pats the top of choso's hair like he's a well-trained dog. "good boy."

a quiet mewl spills from his busy mouth in response to the praise, his hips weakly bucking against your leg as he tries desperately not to let himself fall apart without getting the information they need from you first.

toji notices, because of course he does, and he wraps a hand around your chin and forces you to look down at the pathetic display below you. "look at him, pretty. y'got him humping your leg like a damn bitch in heat. pussy must be sweet as candy."

"i-it is— shit, it is." comes choso's slurred mumble, popping his mouth from your clit with an lewd pop! before delving his tongue back between your sweetened folds. he may be inexperienced, but he's a quick learner.

"'s that right?" he chuckles, tilting his head to the side. he's speaking to his subordinate, but his eyes never leave yours. it makes you shudder involuntarily, his smirk stretching wider when he takes note of your reactions to him. "lemme get a lil' taste for myself then, kid."

choso obediently moves to the side to make room for toji, but when he doesn't join him on his knees, he looks up with an adorably puzzled expression across his features.

his boss moves his hand from the other man's pigtail down to grasp his chin, roughly pulling him up into a bruising kiss before he can even think of uttering a single protest.

choso whimpers helplessly into the kiss, not bothering to fight back at all as toji sucks lewdly on his tongue, stealing your sweetened juices straight from his subordinate's mouth.

he smacks his scarred lips once he pulls back, humming in satisfaction as his eyes return to you. "rookie's right; that's one ripe cunt y'got there. too bad it's wasted on a damn criminal."

his words make a mixture of arousal and annoyance flare up in the pit of your stomach, another small trickle of wetness gushing out of your core to pool on the plastic chair beneath you as you glare up at him.

"you're deluded if you think i'm telling you anything when you talk to me like that." you spit out, the look on your face one of pure disdain, despite your situation.

"oh, dollface," toji chuckles deeply, ignoring the squirming choso beside him and leaning down so his face is level with yours. "you're not gonna tell us just anythin'. you're gonna tell us everything."

before you can scoff right in his face, choso has been shoved back between your legs by his hair yet again, the feeling of his sweet, warm mouth sucking on your clit making your eyes almost cross in your head.

taking your distracted state as an opportunity to rile you up even further, toji shoves a pudgy thumb between your lips, pressing it right to the back of your throat so you can't even think of talking back anymore.

your resolve is hanging by a very, very thin thread.

despite how much you despise toji, you instinctively start to suckle on his thick digit, too blissed out from choso's sloppy ministrations to bother with how shameless you must look right now.

"mhmm, that's a good girl," he coos mockingly, swirling his thumb around inside your mouth. as composed as he seems, the feeling of your warm, soft little lips around his digit is making him extremely hard in his slacks. "knew y'had some obedience in ya somewhere."

choso mewls again when he feels your spongy walls fluttering around his tongue when he slides it inside your needy hole, assuming that must mean you're close to the edge; close to spilling the information they need.

instinctively, he speeds up his movements, fucking you on his tongue in such a lewd yet somehow gentle way as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from squirming on the chair.

but suddenly, just when you can feel the coil of an impending orgasm building up in the depths of your stomach, all the stimulation is gone.

toji's thumb leaves your mouth with a wet pop!, and choso gets yanked away from your core with his mouth open and drooling like a dog.

"what the fuck?" you pant out breathlessly, your eyes half-lidded as you glance between them quizzically. choso looks just as confused as you, wriggling against toji's grip on his hair in a fruitless attempt to get back to your sweet pussy.

"what? y'thought we were g'nna let ya cum that easily?" toji chuckles richly, a wide grin stretching across his scarred lips as he easily restrains a rabid choso with one strong hand. "nah, girl. y'gotta tell us what we wanna know first."

shit.

you should've known this would happen. to begin with, you were sure you could manage to keep yourself together if it was just choso servicing you. but now, with your body writhing and desperate for release and it was just toji standing in your way to stop you from getting it?

you were surely about to break.

"what's the matter?" toji croons, his voice dripping with mock concern as he thumbs at your lower lip with his free hand. "lost y'er attitude, pretty?"

you could just stay quiet. refuse to talk — get sent to a jailcell with your panties soiled and your cunt still throbbing with need.

or, you could tell them what they wanted to know. spill the beans on your shitty team members who had abandoned you and were probably rolling around in heaps of cash right now at your hideout without a care in the world. and in return, get your first proper orgasm in a long, long time.

you already know which option you're going to choose.

your voice quiet, you mutter the numberplate of the getaway car your group had used to escape the bank. it's all they need to find your associates; a little tracking using the police system and they can easily decipher the exact location of the vehicle.

toji grins, reaching up to give your head a condescending little pat as a reward while he releases his grip on choso with the other hand, causing his subordinate to dive face first back into your needy pussy.

a shameless moan escapes from deep in your throat, your hips weakly grinding up into choso's face as he feasts on you like it's the last meal of his life. you can feel him smiling happily against you, clearly pleased his method of interrogation worked out in the end, even if he did need his boss's help.

you end up hurling into an overwhelming orgasm when toji spits down onto your cunt, the salvia being swiftly lapped up by choso's eager tongue without a moments hesitation.

your entire body convulses against the plastic chair, the handcuffs digging into your wrists as you writhe and squirm, shameless mewls and cries escaping your lips as you attempt to come down from your high.

you can't even remember the last time you came that hard.

"aww, y'didn't even make 'er squirt, kamo," toji huffs in overexaggerated disappointment, causing the other man's swollen lips to form into a confused little pout. "dontcha think she deserves a proper reward for givin' us the information we were after?"

"squirt? how do i make her do that?"

"tch. damn clueless rookie," he huffs, shoving choso away from between your legs and sinking to his own knees before you. "let me show ya."

suddenly, the consequences of snitching don't seem so important anymore.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[pineconepie]

Hello! i was wondering if you could do serial killer/slasher yandere parent? Dont know if thats too dark tho 😅

Here it is!! I've gotten a few requests like this, and since a lot of people also want to see more willing readers, I added a little of that to the mix!

TW: Implied/attempted murder, loss of child, implied assault/creeps toward reader (not the yandad), parental yandere, light forced infantilization, violence, reader implied to kind of has issues of their own

You know it wasn't a good idea to walk home alone, especially in this hour of the night, and double-especially when there had already been six murders around the same general area you live in, all clearly by the same person.

But, your phone had died, you couldn't get an Uber, and there wasn't really anybody you could call to come pick you up, even if your phone was working properly.

So, you decide that walking home will have to work tonight.

That probably wasn't the best choice you've ever made.

When you're halfway to your house, you hear a slight rustling around behind you. You spin around, hoping to catch whatever (or whoever) was following you in the act of making the sound. There's nothing there.

Shaking your head, you continue to walk down the street, subconsciously walking faster.

It must be that murder case that's been hanging over everyone's heads lately that's getting you nervous like this, right?

Wrong.

When you start speed-walking, the same noise as before starts up again, but it sounds closer than last time. You don't have much time before someone tries tackling you.

In the corner of your eye, you see a gun pulled out from under their trench coat. Quickly reaching out for the murderer's arm, you grab it, and try to stop them from aiming at you.

You shove them away and run in the only direction you can without getting tackled; the alleyway.

Seeing there's no time to hide, and all the hiding spots are obvious anyway, you succumb to a panic attack and crouch down onto the ground with your head in your knees.

You take out what money you have and chuck it in his direction. "Please, just take my money and leave me alone! That's all I have! If you want my phone too, just take it!"

The man almost cackles. "I don't need any money," he states matter-of-factly. You can hear the grin in his voice. He walks slowly towards you as if to intimidate you more, though it does little to affect your mindset more than it already has. He's still holding the gun. "Don't take it personally. It's nothing against you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

At this point, you've fully come to terms with your demise, which is clear to the other party.

You look up at him with puffy eyes from sobbing, and tears and snot running down your face. Most of his face is covered, but you can see his eyes.

And much to your surprise, you see them widen.

A few seconds go by, and now you're afraid to break eye contact. You watch as the man before you put his gun back in its holster inside of his trench coat and curse under his breath while looking away.

He clears his throat after a few more dramatic seconds go by. "Go home, kid." You stand up on shaky legs. "Grab your stuff first, then get outta here. I won't chase ya."

Hesitant, you do so anyway, because who would refuse such an offer?

Grabbing your money, you stuff it in your pockets and wipe your face. As soon as you're ready to go, you dash past the stranger, not wanting to spend another minute around the killer.

...

After that incident, you feel as if you're being watched.

Well, obviously you'd think so; you were just almost murdered.

But, when you're going to anywhere, you can feel eyes staring at you wherever you go.

A car with tinted windows follows each time. It isn't unique by any means, just a black Mitsubishi.

But still, it's there. Every time you leave your house, the same vehicle parks near you until you return to your home. Sometimes you try going on wild goose chases to catch the bastard following you off guard, but when you make your way back, it'll be parked somewhere near your driveway.

For almost two months this becomes a cycle, and it especially starts becoming concerning whenever you get sick, or have a bad day, there's always a basket of goodies on your porch steps the next day.

You don't eat them, and instead just throw them away, but it's clear none of them have been tampered with. The most disturbing part about it all is they have your favorites—your favorite animals now into plushies, your favorite snacks and candies, and other such things.

Is this his way of just messing with you until he inevitably comes to finish the job?

One night, when you're walking home from work, you notice the same vehicle tailing you from your workplace to your house. You walk with speed and reach your porch step, where the driver can see you enter your house, and they pull out, as if reassured you're safe.

Maybe they're trying to make sure you aren't hurt in any way?

Another night, one late, you stay out longer than you should, and much like any other time, you're followed once again.

Unlike normal though, there are three men whistling at you, taunting you. You ignore them as best as you can, walking faster and keeping your head down in hopes you won't seem interesting. Your wishes are not fulfilled.

Your arm is tugged harshly backward, pulling you onto the sidewalk with brute force.

The three guys look at you hungrily. "Where are you going this late at night?" the obvious leader speaks up, a greasy, slimy grin on his face, only worsening when he sees how fearful you've become.

"I...I'm going home."

One of them tries grabbing you, and against your better judgment, you take off in an attempt to escape, though you aren't fast enough to avoid your jacket being grabbed.

In your panic, you somehow end up wriggling yourself away and onto the ground. You try to get up, but one of them holds their foot on your back, pushing you back onto the asphalt.

But, oh-so-conveniently, you can hear a vehicle door open and slam shut, and then the pounding of boots against concrete.

The foot on your back lets up, because the guy goes tumbling backwards onto his back.

Now free, you sit yourself up quickly, rubbing the back of your head, which had hit the sidewalk. You blink the blurriness away, to see the man—the same one who nearly killed you and has been following you—hovering over the main creep.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?!" said creep yells. He tries standing up, but the killer stomps on his ankle.

A crunch resounds through the air, accompanied by a sharp scream. The other two guys stand frozen, watching in horror.

"Get your little buddy and get outta here," he warns the other two, finally backing away. He has a gun pointed at them threateningly, as to tell them not to try anything else.

They quickly help their leader up and hobble away in fear.

You want to yell at this man, to demand answers or run, but you can't. "Thank you, sir..." you whisper.

Now you can get a good look at him. He looks to be somewhere in his forties, maybe even fifties, and has graying brown hair, along with gray eyes.

There's a scar along his cheekbone that adds a rugged charm to him. He smells like expensive cologne and coffee beans. If he didn't try killing you not too long ago, you might've really put your trust into him, he seems like just a grumpy dad.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounds oddly soft, as if genuinely concerned for your health. He reaches toward you, and you close your eyes, readying yourself to be hurt, but he only examines a bruise forming on your forehead. "Thought you learnt your lesson last time about stayin' out late at night."

"I don't think it'd matter either way. You know where I live, I've seen your car," you mutter. You don't look him in the eyes, hoping to avoid seeing any possible rage held within them. He doesn't say anything after that, so you continue. "Why are you doing this?"

A rough hand grabs yours, lifting you to your feet. "Do what? Save ya from gettin' jumped?"

"No! That's part of it, sure, but the gifts, and protecting me, and—and...you were just gonna kill me all those months ago!"

He sighs. "Yeah, 'were'. Not 'are'. I decided I ain't gonna anymore."

"But why?" you repeat, glaring daggers at the older man.

"I usually go after bad people. I mistook you for someone else, and then when you looked up at me like you did," he says while shifting his stance to a more firm position, "'all scared and hopeless and pathetic and—" he pauses suddenly, shaking his head to recollect himself. "Look, I saw my kid in you."

"You have a kid?"

"Had. Had a kid."

You almost want to apologize for the loss of his kid, when you remember the fact he's literally a serial killer. "And that's why you decided to stalk me for the past two months and give me baskets full of stuff?"

"We both know for a fact you hardly take care of yourself well enough. You're clumsy as shit, always irresponsible, you eat terribly..."

"I'm not being scolded how I live my life by a serial killer!" you interject. "Who even are you, anyway?"

"Dante," he answers.

"And I figure you already know everything about me?" It's less of a question and more of a statement at this point.

He chuckles. "If I didn't, would you still introduce yourself to me?" When he gets no answer from you, he smiles lopsidedly. "Get in the car, I'll drive ya home."

You narrow your eyes at him. "So you can kidnap me, or something?"

Dante puts a hand on your shoulder, his expression becoming cold again. "If I wanted to do that, I could have already done it plenty of times before, kiddo. I'm a lot of things; a liar ain't one of them."

"Fine, okay. I'll let you drive me home." You roll your eyes when you hear him laugh victoriously under his breath and follow him into his car. "How do you have the time all day to stalk me like this?" you ask aloud, climbing into the passenger's seat. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You call it stalking, I call it watchin' over you like a father should his child. So far, we've seen just how helpful it is having me keep an eye on you," Dante replies. He pauses. "And I'm retired, but I used to be a private investigator."

"Oh joy. My own personal PI." You buckle your seat belt. You're still in disbelief. Someone actually gives enough of a damn about your safety, and it's your local neighborhood serial killer? "You said you only kill bad people." He hums in confirmation. "Does that mean 'petty thief' bad? Or, like, actual bad people?"

"The latter, kid. Not 'cause it makes me feel like a good person, just makes me feel like less of a bad person."

"So you can admit you aren't a good person?" you quip sarcastically, arms folded.

"Course not. But I don't think there really are any inherently good people in the world," he says.

"What about me, then? Why protect me if you think there's nobody who's actually 'good'?"

Dante glances at you. "I don't expect you to be a saint. In my eyes, you're amazing, perfect even. And sure, you got flaws—a lot of 'em—but so does your old man."

You cringe at the statement. "You mentioned me reminding you of your kid. What happened?" you pry further. "All I know is they died, right?" You rub the bruise on your forehead.

"They were out with some friends one night. And a few hours later I'm gettin' phone calls about how my baby's in critical condition. I get there, but there wasn't anything I could've done to save 'em. All I could do was sit beside them 'til..." He trails off. "They died holding my hand. But," he adds, looking at you sternly, "that shit ain't happenin' to you. That's why I'm keeping you safe."

After he stops at a red light, you stare up at him, deep in thought. "Is that why you kill...?"

"Because someone killed my kid?"

"Yeah, exactly."

Dante nods his head after a moment of hesitation. "It started with that, yeah. I killed the bastards that put them in that hospital bed. But that wasn't enough. I guess with monsters like that, I get a little trigger-happy."

It's quiet for a while.

"...how do you know I won't come forward about this information?" you question once your home is in sight. "Or try leaving, for that matter?"

Dante laughs. "You wouldn't get far without me knowing."

That shuts you up quick. Your house pulls up soon afterwards.

"Well, uh, thanks for driving me home," you mumble, opening the car door.

"No problem. Oh, wait—" he takes your wrist gently to keep you from getting out yet. He digs in the compartment below your armrest. Eventually he finds a pen and pad. He writes something down, ripping it off and handing it to you. "—call me whenever you need it. Even if ya just need help studying, or whatever." Dante shrugs nonchalantly.

"Or I'll just knock on the window of the car outside my place?" You weakly smile. Despite the oddity of the situation, this whole scenario is strangely hilarious.

At least, it feels that way because you might've hit your head a little too hard.

...

Those people who were harassing you went missing. You know for a fact it was Dante, and while you don't wish for their deaths, it still leaves a sour taste in your mouth when you see them on the news, with their parents crying about how sweet and kind they were.

You don't even know how to feel about Dante anymore. Maybe he is a good person, who really is doing the world a favor, but it's just not worth the risk to associate with him.

Except he isn't going to leave you alone.

Still though, you decide that ignoring him until he just leaves you alone.

Which proves difficult because sometimes he comes around and knocks on your door every so often, to drop off food, and just check in on you and how you're doing.

Some days you wonder what might happen if you answer, or send a text. He did give you his phone number after all.

You fight the curious urge, until one day, when tiredly trudging home after a particularly awful day.

For some reason, you look around the streets for a black car following you, but find nothing of the sort.

You decide to go against your better judgment and decide to call Dante. You don't know why you're doing this, every instinct in your body is telling you to not do it.

The phone rings a few times, until an annoyed voice picks up. "What? I'm busy," he snaps.

"Oh, uh, sorry," you stutter. "I shouldn't have called, that was stupid of me—"

"Wait, no, I didn't—" Silence hangs in the air. "Sorry," Dante says softer this time. "Didn't know it was you at first. Is everything alright?"

Your fingers tap against the wood of the table nervously, trying to make up some sort of excuse to cover for the real reason you're calling him.

"Nothing, just... didn't have a good day." You feel so pathetic right now, too caught up in your own emotions to hear the muffled cries in the background on Dante's side of the call. "But that doesn't concern you, does it? Why am I saying this?"

"It's alright, kiddie. Whatever happened to make you upset is important to me." Dante is definitely smiling right now. "Well, listen. I was busy right now, but it can wait, so how's about I swing by wherever you are and you and I can spend some time together? Get somethin' to eat, maybe? Your choice."

You find it hard to decline him. "...okay. I'm not home right now though. Can I just call an Uber and meet you somewhere?" you suggest.

He snorts. "My driving so bad that you'd rather waste money than spend thirty minutes in the same vehicle as me?"

"No, it's not that. I just feel like I'll be intruding since you're busy, or something."

"Don't be silly. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there soon. Alright? Don't get into any suspicious vans or anything like that while I'm not there." He ends the call with that.

The next ten minutes or so you stand around awkwardly, watching as pedestrians pass by. Eventually though, Dante arrives, driving up beside you. He gestures for you to open the passenger door, which you oblige.

You climb inside, buckle your seatbelt, and turn toward Dante. "So...where are we going?"

He stares back at you for a brief second. "Depends. Where would you like to go?"

After some hesitation, you give your favorite restaurant, which he nods in acknowledgement to and begins to drive.

"Why was your day bad?" he asks. "Did something happen? Someone hurt you?" At the red light, he turns to give you a quick glance-over, searching for any bruises or cuts, most likely. You're not injured, though the concerned look on his face stays.

"No, I just haven't slept much lately," you mutter.

"Have you eaten today?" You look away from Dante as an answer, making him curse under his breath. "The biggest hazard to you is yourself, it seems." He shakes his head disapprovingly. "I'm glad you finally called me, by the way. Why'd you decide to do it now?"

You hesitate. "I was feeling lonely, I guess."

"Really? Is that all?" The light flicks to green again, and Dante continues to drive.

"...I didn't see you stalking me today. Normally I see your car following me everywhere."

His breath hitches. "And...that worried you?" Dante looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

You don't reply.

Soon the conversation dies out, and neither of you bother to start another one up.

He focuses on driving, while you distract yourself with counting the amount of trees along the sidewalk on the way to the destination.

When you two pull up in the parking lot, you expect there to be tension, but surprisingly enough, the silence between you two feels comfortable, safe almost. It's a nice change from the usual uneasiness.

Dante gets out first, and you follow. The bell of the restaurant dings when you both enter.

"How many?" the hostess asks politely.

"Two. Thank you," Dante says with a charming smile. To you, it's an obvious fake persona, but she buys it hook, line, and sinker. You roll your eyes discreetly as she leads you two to the booth. You sit on opposite ends, taking your menus from her before she heads off to take care of other customers.

You think about it, then settle for the cheapest thing on the menu, trying to avoid taking advantage of Dante's kindness.

He notices anyway. "I know I don't dress fancy, or anything, but I've got the cash, kiddo. If you want to order the whole menu, you could, and I'd still be able to afford it tenfold. Nothin' is too expensive for you."

"I..." Your face burns out of embarrassment. You flip through the menu once more. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." Dante scans through his own menu, although half-heartedly, considering his focus is still mostly on you.

Once your orders are made, you both try making small-talk, which proves ineffective. Then your orders arrive, and that too, becomes awkward when he insists on helping you cut up your meal into smaller pieces.

You make a show out of being mad, though truthfully it isn't bothersome as you try letting on it is.

After dinner (which he pays for completely) he looks like he's contemplating on something in the car. "Would you like to come to my place, kiddo?"

"Like, your house?" you clarify.

Dante nods. "It's only fair. I know where you live, I figure it'd be polite showing you the same courtesy."

"Sure, but it depends if I'll leave alive," you joke, but part of you is still concerned about that.

"With the way you take care of yourself, I think staying with me might actually help increase your lifespan a little bit."

A few moments pass by, the two of you basking in the company of one another. It's...nice.

The drive to Dante's home is around thirty minutes long, and barely in the city, surprisingly enough. His house isn't anything super impressive, but it doesn't look bad either.

A very average, middle-class home. It's comforting to see Dante likes simple things, makes it easier to think of him as a normal person than the murderer you know he is.

He steps outside of the car and opens your door for you. You give him a questioning glance, but decide to ignore it for now, unbuckling and heading over to the porch with Dante trailing behind you.

"This is it," he states, pulling his keys out to unlock the door, beckoning you to go in before him.

The interior of his home isn't anything special either, which you enjoy seeing. It makes Dante seem more human. On top of that, it feels safe here, even if this is the last place it should feel this way. It does have a slightly annoying (and worrying) scent of bleach permeating throughout the house.

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Can I ask something? It might be a little weird or triggering, so..."

"You can ask me anything. Doesn't bother me," Dante says.

"Okay... are you so interested in me because I simply look like or act like your kid? I'm worried you expect me to act like them or something similar..."

Dante sighs heavily, sitting down on his couch, and motioning for you to join him. Hesitantly, you do so, staying silent while you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"I know you're not them. Sure, you remind me a bit of them, but you're your own person, too. It's fine if you don't want to pretend you're anyone but yourself, y'know? That ain't what I'm looking for, and forcing someone to do that wouldn't make anyone happy." He mulls over his words for a moment. "I guess I just want to be a dad again. I felt useless after my kid died, so you gave me that opportunity again."

You look at the ground awkwardly. "Why couldn't you just adopt a kid?"

"A lot of money," Dante answers. "Not to mention not working anymore and not being married anymore makes adoption agencies wary. Plus, you looked like you needed protecting, so I wanted to do so. Now, my turn. Why'd you invite me out? Wanted to spend some time with your old man?" Dante laughs lightly, but his eyes show clear hopefulness.

"If you insist on acting like my father," you pause, taking in a breath, "then yes. I suppose that means I wanted to spend time with you. Is that okay?"

Dante looks almost ready to cry. His hands twitch at his sides. "'course it is," he mutters softly, barely containing himself from getting overly emotional.

You scoot closer to Dante, hesitating for only a few moments before wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you for inviting me into your home."

He reciprocates quickly, holding onto you like a lifeline, face buried in your hair. "I missed this so much..." His voice is choked-up as he holds you tighter to him. "My baby," Dante whispers.

You don't know why you're letting this happen, but you don't want to dwell on that. His embrace is more comforting than it should be, especially considering what he is. But if he wants to play pretend, to imagine he has a child again, you may as well let him.

Even if that means ignoring the faint noises from the basement, and pretending it's just someone next-door.

"I love you so much," he mutters. He almost sounds hysterical, even if his tone is quiet, almost a whisper. "Never leave me. I can't take that, kid. I can't."

You pretend to be asleep, just so you won't have to answer that. He sighs and only holds you tighter.

[iqxatlantic]

heyyyy love your fics <333

can you do sugar daddy Kaiser who's always been rude and rough with reader but one day when he realises he's falling in love with them he's really gentle, asking how they feel and praising them? if possible can you do fluff along with nsfw???

ahh hii anon!! thank uu i appreciate ur words <33 anywayss i love the plot ohh gosh ygs r so creative omg

"And all I wanna do is stay with HER"

ft. michael kaiser . sugar daddy! kaiser . ooc! kaiser lol... . ness is in the story omg! . is ness ooc! too... . yes ness is ooc asw . character development.? . eventual smut . sex gulp... . piv ! . afab! reader . mistreated! reader ... . fluff asw . unreliable narrator

wc: 1.0k

"she's annoying." kaiser grumbled, taking a sip of wine. ness looked at him, "[name] cares about you that's why." the magician tried to lighten the mood. clearly, it didn't work.

"she just wants fucking money." he retorted. ness frowned, "can't you look at it in a positive way.? at least she's trying. take a look at all the others you've had."

that sentence had kaiser reflecting for a bit. "huh. i suppose you have a point for once, ness." the prodigy felt himself get a little flushed. "you're treating her so rough, how often does she even ask for money.?" ness continued. "don't be so harsh man! she's trying..."

the emperor tsked. "if she's so 'perfect' you take her then." he grumbled. jeez this guy is really helpless man... ness looked at kaiser disgusted for the first time.

"keep acting like that and she's bound to become who you think she really is." ness thought as he picked himself up and left kaiser to his thoughts.

later within the night, kaiser found himself scrolling through your photos after sending you some money (oh need that.) it hit him you were gorgeous. pretty face with a kind heart.. he was going to go insane.

the more he scrolled the more he admired your beauty. you radiated an aura that he just couldn't place his finger on. perfection was a word too vague to describe it.

shaking his head, he set his phone down. hands on his head, he was wondering. what the literal hell was he doing.? all he's ever done was treat you like shit because he had such horrendous experiences with others.

i mean, you were like the others. you were just there for the money... and attention i guess. but there was something more to it. he was just to blind to see it. (tf r ur glasses for mihya bro.)

it was late — hella late. 2:32 A.M.? there's no way you'd come over right? so what the heck were you doing at his door in a matter of moments?

kaiser opened his door, surprised. "you — you actually came?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief. "i'm right here aren't i, dumbass.. plus you called." you shrugged.

the satin on the bed somewhat wrinkled as the both of you sat down. "um, so why'd you want me to come ove-" you were quickly interrupted by an apology. "[name], liebling. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for my behaviour, how i treated you. scheiße, i'm so fuckin' sorry."

he held your visibly smaller and softer hands. his hands feeling quite the opposite. you were kinda a dumbass, "wha — michael huh...?" you shook your head giggling, "what are you apologizing for?"

his gorgeous blue eyes stared into yours. "don't act coy with me, [name]. you don't need to forgive me. i'll do whatever for your forgiveness. please. do you want more money? gifts.? flowers..? wha.. god. what do you want?!" kaiser asked desperately.

you looked at him with a deadpan expression. god, has this man ever been treated alright.? "mihya, i don't really want anything. yea i mean i love money i mean — who doesn't love money. but i'm not here solely because of money." you sighed.

"yes, you have money is definitely a positive trait but, you have more to it. money isn't the only thing that makes you lovable." you continued to ramble. his hands released yours. you were caught in his embrace.

"mihya.?" you whispered. kaiser knew how scary it was to love someone. the amount of devotion you must give. the time and effort. one wrong move? it could all crumble.

his embrace got tighter, you were tensing a little bit up. was he gonna beat you like what the heck is goin' on?! he knew you were always running away from love, 'cause your daddy never gave you enough :((

hey, same for him as well, no? "meine liebe." kaiser breathed, "let's try again together. i'm done with the 'you deserve better' bullshit. i have the choice to be better and i'm taking it."

he loosened his embrace on you, hands on your shoulders. you met his gaze. all it could scream was blue of desperation. not going to even lie, most dedication you've seen in your whole life.

you were still skeptical — hell, i can't blame you! you've been mistreated all the time by partners, getting taken advantage of... what change is this rich and attractive man going to do? he has the money, the women ugh... thinking about it made your head hurt.

"what do you say, liebling. let me show you.?" he leaned in, mumbling into your ear. hah! as if you'd believe what he said and give him a chance.

kaiser would be lying if he said he didn't regret making up with you earlier. he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. hell! every bit of fiber within him missed you! his lips on yours, oh gosh. he's going crazy. :c

a little while after what was supposed to be a sweet make out, he found himself aligning his tip to your slit. you had glossy eyes as you stared back up at him. he had you pinned onto the bed...

"are you sure?" he asked stroking your stomach, his hands then tracing your curves. "fuu-uck. you're perfect." he mumbled. you nodded in response.

as he buried his length into your warmth he swore he got sent to heaven. "sh-shit.. scheißescheißescheiße...! please you're made for me..." he continued, his lips once more pressed onto yours.

nah, at this point his cock was stretching your opening... it hurt. kaiser broke off the kiss as he groaned, "you take me so damn well.. i'm sorry for being so horrid to you."

you were practically crying, was it cause the sex was good? cause of kaiser? you didn't know! "m-hya.." you sobbed out so sweetly. it was kaiser's last straw.

your walls were sucking his member in man..! how could he not..? your noises could kill him oh gosh! one last thrust and his length was kissing your womb :c "i'm sorry meine liebe, i-" the emperor didn't even get to finish his sentence as he finished in you <3

he pulled out just to push his fingers back in. admiring your form and expression. maaaan, kaiser couldn't ask for a better girl >< dawn came, so did kaiser, 'cept he n you came multiple times :3 kaiser could make it better. all he needed was just one more day with ya.

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags !! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: hey guys.. hey anon.. guess who's finally back heh... my writers block actually fried me so bad its diabolical man.. yes i lost motivation half way along w the plot tbf i had this in my drafts for 2 weeks or smth... i'm so sorry if this wasn't what y'all wanted ill cook for the future ones ;-; not proofread btw good GAWDDDD if kaiser was my sugar daddy man.. money and hes hot YES PLSS (no im nawt shallow but tuition fees are booty bro yall cant blame me.) yes this is all yap ALL MY NOTES ARE YAP OK </3 but um.. yay ilygs a lot mwa mwa <3

[iri-desky]

Doof: "You see Perry The Platypus, about a few weeks ago I entered The Tumblr Sexyman Showdown. It's a contest for only the sexiest of men-- now now, Perry the Platypus, before you roll your eyes at me, it's not the conventional kind of sexy, no, no! It's the pathetic, the silly, the unconventional! Only for the acquired tastes. Like me~!! So I joined in, and you wouldn't believe it! I plowed through the competition! Bracket after bracket, I dominated the votes. That is, until the final round... when I was put up against Stanley Pines of someplace called 'Gravity Falls'-- for some reason, even though he claimed to come from a place called Gravity Falls and I come from the Tri-State Area, the competition listed me to come from someplace called 'Phineas and Ferb', and I have no idea where that is or who those people are--I was kicked to the curb! He won by a landslide! Well, not literally though, that's a metaphor--that's how Bill Cipher won against Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians, and I KNOW that place doesn't exist--b-but anyway, Stanley won and I only got second. And it doesn't make any sense! Sure, Stanley is similar to what the true Sexyman is, but he's not the greatest! For one thing, he's not that pathetic--jeez, if anyone is the most pathetic here, it's me! He's not that tragic-backstory-able, or anything, he--and worse yet, he's HOT! I mean, he's not that much of an acquired taste! Sure, he's older, but that's it!! Clearly, the people are biased! Which is why I made...THIS!"

Doof: "BEHOLD! THE UNHANDSOME-INATOR!!!!"

Doof: "With this, I can make anyone ugly--so ugly that their ugliness is JUUUST too ugly to be a Tumblr Sexyman! But too handsome to be truly ugly...and I can also tweak it to make myself just a little more handsome, hehe! With this, I will make the ENTIRE TRI-STATE AREA Sexyman ugly, and shoot myself so I will be the most acquired-taste-handsome out of all of them, winning the love of all of the TRI-STATE AREA, AND ENACTING MY REVENGE AGAINST THE TUMBLR SEXYMAN CONTEST!!!"

Doof: "--Or wait, come to think of it, this isn't really revenge, I mean, the contest's over and it won't come back until next year so this scheme prooobably should've been postponed until then... not to mention this inator isn't exactly that tweaked, it's a rushed job and has some...ahaha...side effects...unless I CRANK UP THE RANGE OF THE INATOR!"

Doof: "Yes, Perry The Platypus, I will become the most tumblr-sexyman handsome by proxy in all of the tri-state area AND GRAVITY FALLS, OREGON!!!"

| Meanwhile In Gravity Falls |

*Stan, reading the paper, suddenly looks up.*

Stan: "Something just happened."

*beat*

Stan: "...Eh. Who cares. Worse has happened in this town. It's probably the heebie jeebies from that German guy from a couple days ago, eugh."

Stan: "Worth it for the prize money, though. I'm still the sexiest man on all of Tumblr! Ahaha!"

*beat*

Stan, still grinning: "...whatever that is."

*A beat. Then the door to the Mystery Shack slams open. It's Ford.*

Ford: "Stanley! I'm back!"

Stanley: "Hey, sixer. Back from another one of your little adventures?"

Ford: "I suppose you could call it that! Ever been to the tri-state area? There are hundreds of anomalies there! Did you know that all the platypuses are teal there?"

Stanley: "Yeah, yeah...well, make sure to tell me later. I'm reading the paper."

Ford: "Well, don't get too absorbed. We're going to Italy tomorrow, remember? We're visiting the Vatican! Lots of great things to explore there! We might even see the pope!"

[shanastoryteller]

i'm going to move on from supernatural posting, i swear to god, but first i'm going to talk about ep 9x07 bad boys

the episode itself is fine and good (i mean it's another example of dean having a support network while sam can't have anyone and dean keeping secrets while when sam does it it's the worst betrayal ever but that's not what this is about and sometimes i think about what this show did two earnest, loving traumatized characters by turning them into the most tragic versions of themselves and - ok, this really isn't what this post is about)

but fandom interpretation of this episode actually drives me up a wall because it does a disservice to literally every character

one, john did not leave them without enough money for food. dean gambled it and lost it. there's nothing in canon to say that john was taking longer than expected, that they were running out of money, none of that. dean gambled food money and lost it and then tried to steal to make up for it. he was 16 when this happened and it was a bad decision but i don't think he should be at all vilified for this. he made a dumb mistake and then tried to fix it with another dumb mistake. john was right to be mad and sam was also right to tell him that he shouldn't beat himself up about it. just like with shtriga - yeah, dean was climbing the walls stuck in that hotel room. but you know who else was stuck in that hotel room? sam. and he didn't get a break to go play at the arcade. again, i'm not blaming dean here, he shouldn't have been stuck taking care of his brother that young and he was a kid and john leaving his his children behind while hunting a child eater, whether he was using them for bait or not, is crazy. but dean stealing food wasn't about john's neglect and all the sacrifices dean had to make for sam. it was about him trying to fix his fuck up

two, and this is the one that really gets me, dean didn't go back with john because he had to take care of sam

listen. listen to me. i am speaking from experience when i say this

parentified siblings are still, first and foremost, siblings. especially with only 4 years between them. the show shameless i think did an absolutely excellent job with this and is why i love the first few seasons of it so much. fiona is without a doubt parentified, she is raising those kids, but she's also clearly their sister not their mother

i know later seasons dean and fandom like to make it seem like dean literally raised sam and john was just a background figure but like. that's not realistic, and frankly doesn't even make sense

the reason dean leaves sonny and goes with john isn't because he feels like he has to keep him sam safe. it's isn't because he feels like he has to raise him. it's because he loves him

you are reducing dean to the most pathetic woe is me archetype with this interpretation and ridding him of all his rich loyalty and care and love to saddle him instead with comparatively flat duty. dean is more than sam's caretaker. he's his brother

there's also no reason for dean to feel this way. he just massively fucked up in taking care of sam - that's why he's with sonny in the first place. john has alternate people to take care of sam when he can't do it himself, as he has just proven, and while i don't think we should turn a couple teenage mistakes into making dean incapable, dean absolutely would - and did! he carries every fuck up regarding sam with him! so right now he's really, really low when it comes to his own estimation to take care of sam and leaving sonny because of that doesn't make any sense

but he looks at his brother and is reminded how much he missed him and loves him and realizes staying means he loses his brother. the good and the bad. so he goes, because he loves sam more than anything else

this is also why sam leaving for stanford cuts him so deep. that's why this moment is a parallel to that rather than being unrelated. stanford isn't about sam leaving dean even though he has a duty to care of him, because he doesn't. dean's 22 and at this point is always hunting with their father so there's no reason for sam to believe his presence is necessary for either john or dean's safety

no, dean's mad because he chose his love for his brother over a normal life and sam didn't

(sam didn't want to choose at all but this isn't about him)

anyway. dean fucks up sometimes and john sucks but not quite in the ways fandom thinks and dean loves his brother past reason or sense

[cutieeva]

God Of The Chisel

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 Female Reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Detail Sex. Rape.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

❛ 見る人 目の ❜

Sculpture. Molding soul into a form, where art meets emotions. That's the definition for (Y/N), the reason of her learning it, the motivation of her creating such art because she can release her emotions through it yet what happens if she has to create the most beautiful sculpture in the entire world, a sculpture who fell for his own sculpturor.

"So, (Y/N) senpai what sculpture are you going to do this time ?" Itadori Yūji asked clearly excited for his senior's new otherworldly addition to arrive.

"I have no idea this time". She answered, a deep sigh slip her lips as her (E/C) eyes continue to stare at the thin poster of competition.

"Why though ? You are a genius in our major or should I say in Cutieeva university". Kugisaki Nobara replied, chewing the thin end of her paintbrush. "Right Megu-chan ?" The said boy, Fushiguro Megumi nod senselessly busy creating his own carving.

"Look, the competition has clearly said the participators has to sculpture the most beautiful creation the world has yet to seen out of their perspective imaginations and the winner would only be who's sculpture is most well loved by the audience not even judges or critics !!" (Y/N) explained re-reading the poster. "If my art didn't seem beautiful enough to normal eyes than it will be pure humiliation ! Not only for me but for other participators too ! Because it indirectly suggest that us all elite students of art isn't yet good enough to be approved by daily to daily audience only capable to approve to the mediocre judges who stuck by rules and that we are worthlessly wasting money". She expressed her further worries.

"Oh ! I didn't knew it was that deep". Yuji glib laughed.

"Shut up !" Nobora nudged the boy seeing (Y/N) dug fingers on her scale as if she desire to rip hair from the roots.

"(Y/N)-san do not worry. Art is a way to release your emotions not for others to ridicule". Getō Suguru smiled, walking into the art studio earning all four student's attention. "No pressure should be felt or else the art won't be as nearly beautiful as it could be if you do it like you did in the past".

"But Suguru sensei I can't stand the humiliation of losing in front of others so bluntly". Shamefully she down her head.

"Then mold it". (Y/N) tilted her head.

"What do you mean ?" Geto smiled wider.

"Mold your frustration, anger, disappointed, fear on the clay. Use your vivid imagination of horrors and your version of beauty on the sculpture. Use this gift of sculpting to release your emotions so you can at least create something because without creating how can you refine it in the first place ?" The art teacher thoroughly described his most talented student who nod feeling a bit light yet uncertain.

"Also those monkeys are called monkeys for a reason if they don't understand your brilliant art". He added causing Yuji to chuckle.

"They are humans as you, sensei". Megumi mutter loud enough for each to hear.

"Also Fushiguro-San not forget I will be there to inspect your sculpture".

"I know".

"I am reminding it. Just in case". Geto merely smiled at the black head boy glaring at him making other three laugh.

"Ha ! Thank you Suguru sensei and megumi-Chan ! I will do my best". She raised her closed fist in the air.

"Thank us too !" Yuji yelled.

"Thank you Yuji-chan and nobara-chan too". She added giggling at their childish antics finding a new spirit to work with even though in the back of her mind she wonder what will be the result of her emotions molding the clay will be.

In a quiet, isolated white room (Y/N)'s fingers wrapped around the cool, damp clay, she felt an surge of creative energy coursing through her veins. With unwavering focus, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the depths of her imagination. In the darkness, a vision began to take shape— the most breathtakingly beautiful form her mind could conjure. With each gentle touch, the clay yielded to her will, as if alive and responding to her every thought. Her hands moved deftly, sculpting the body, hands, arms, and every delicate detail, just as she envisioned. Time stood still as she became one with the creative process, lost in the pool of her imagination.

Hours passed, or perhaps only moments – (Y/N) was oblivious to the world around her. Her entire being was consumed by the artistic expression unfolding beneath her fingers. Finally, she opened her eyes, and her gaze fell upon the emerging masterpiece. Almost half of the body had taken form, and she gasped in wonder, grasping the clay as if to ensure it was real. A soft smile spread across her face as she realized that whatever she was creating was going to be breathtakingly beautiful – a true reflection of the vision that had possessed her. The clay seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if infused with the essence of her imagination. (Y/N)'s heart swelled with excitement, knowing that she was crafting something extraordinary, a testament to the transformative power of art.

As the day succumbed to the allure of twilight, (Y/N) remained entranced, her fingers moving with a life of their own. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow upon her workspace, but she didn't notice. The stars began to twinkle like diamonds in the night sky, and the moon rose high, bathing the world in a soft, ethereal light. Yet, she continued to create, oblivious to the passage of time. Hours melted away, and the night deepened, however (Y/N)'s focus never wavered. Her body seemed to forget its needs – hunger, fatigue, and thirst became distant memories. Her sole purpose was to bring forth the masterpiece unfolding before her. The clay appeared to respond to her every touch, as if a divine force had taken residence within her.

With each delicate stroke, the sculpture evolved, gaining refinement and nuance. (Y/N)'s hands moved with a precision that bordered on reverence, as if she were channeling the essence of the divine. The air around her seemed to vibrate with creative energy, and the clay itself appeared to pulse with an otherworldly life. In this state of flow, (Y/N) became one with her art, transcending mortality. Her soul merged with the sculpture, infusing it with a spark of the divine. The boundaries between creator and creation blurred, and she became the deity, shaping the clay with an omnipotent touch. Time lost all meaning as she worked tirelessly, sleepless and unrelenting, driven by an insatiable passion to bring forth perfection.

As the next day dawned, her fingers moved with a newfound sense of purpose, her fingers deftly shaping the final details of her masterpiece. The sculpture stood before her, a magnificent form born from her unwavering dedication. Yet, one crucial element remained— the face, the window to the soul, where expression and emotion would breathe life into her creation. Thus, she was about to move to add details when the sun's warm, golden light danced across her art, her (E/C) eyes gaze locked onto her creation, and she felt the weight of reality settle upon her. The world around her snapped into focus, and she beheld her masterpiece in awe.

Transfixed, she reached out a trembling hand to touch the sculpture, as if to ensure it was truly real. However her body finally acknowledged its limits, her legs buckled, and she sank to the ground, exhausted. A soft cry escaped her lips as she left a voice message "Nobara... food... water..." she whispered, voice barely audible.

Despite her physical collapse, an overwhelming sense of joy and pride swelled within her chest, threatening to burst forth. Tears of happiness pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gazed upon her creation, now radiant in the warm sunlight. The sculpture seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if infused with the essence of her being. (Y/N)'s heart overflowed with a sense of accomplishment, knowing she had poured her very soul into this masterpiece that is yet to be finished.

Moments later Nobara approached Y/N with a gentle smile, carrying a tray laden with food and water, the aroma of nourishment wafted through the air, enticing Y/N's senses. Nobara's eyes sparkled with warmth as she helped Y/N sit up, cradling her head as she offered a refreshing sip of water.

Meanwhile, Yuji's excitement burst forth like a pent-up torrent, his words tumbling out in an effusive stream: "Wow, (Y/N) senpai this is... this is... incredible! The detail, the emotion, the sheer beauty of it! It's like nothing I've ever seen before!" His gaze darted between his senior and the sculpture, his eyes aglow with wonder.

Geto, beaming with pride, nodded his head in approval, his smile stretching from ear to ear. "(Y/N)-san, my student, you have truly outdone yourself. I've never seen such imagination, such skill, such... life breathed into a creation. You've surpassed even my expectations!"

Megumi, usually a silent observer, stood transfixed, his dark blue eyes fixed upon the sculpture as if mesmerized. His gaze seemed to hold a deep reverence, as if the artwork had awakened a part of him long dormant. For once, his quiet nature was not a result of reserve, but rather, utter captivation.

(Y/N) sipped the water and nibbled on the food, her strength slowly returning, she smiled weakly, basking in the praise and admiration of her friends and teacher. The warmth of their words enveloped her, filling her with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

"I know. This year's grand prize will also be rewarded to our university, won by none other than you, (Y/N) !" Geto's eyes shone with warm and paternal pride. His smile radiated deep satisfaction like his heart had been poured into the sculpture. Unspoken awe. Golden pride.

(Y/N) blush from all the showers of compliment yet she remained a little doubtful as the expression of the face is yet to be crafted dwelling whether the window of the model's will ruin her almost masterpiece.

"Hopefully I can create his expression. I still do not know how or what to shape his expression, hair". Nobora chuckle, sitting near her.

"Do not worry ! We all believe in you. Do your best !" She raised her fist in the air, trying to cheer her friend which she succeed because (Y/N)'s tension dissolved, chewing the food.

"But ! Do not forget to take food because forget award you can't even move your hands if this is how it goes on". Megumi calmly advised.

"Right ! (Y/N) senpai ! Please rest your body". Yuji cheerfully agreed, still captivated by the art with his eyes.

"Thank you. I will". And she did heed to their advise taking full three hours break while laying on her bed with jumble of confusion, thoughts tangled in a web of uncertainty inside her mind. She stared blankly at the clay, her fingers poised in mid-air, as if waiting for the familiar spark of inspiration to strike.

However it didn't come.

For the first time, her natural gift seemed to be faltering. She felt like a novice again, fumbling in the dark, unsure of how to mold his expression. The ease with which she usually shaped clay into breathtaking works of art had deserted her. Her eyes, once closed in confident intuition, now snapped open in frustration. Reaching for a sketchbook, (Y/N) began to scribble down ideas, trying to coax her elusive creativity back to the surface. The pencil scratched across the paper, a staccato rhythm that echoed her racing thoughts. She was forced to confront the possibility that her imagination, once a boundless ocean, might have limits after all.

This unfamiliar struggle was like reminiscing her beginning stage again, rediscovering the basics of her craft. The discomfort was palpable, like trying to relearn a forgotten language. Fingers moved hesitantly, as if seeking permission to create, her mind clouded by self-doubt. The sketchbook became a lifeline, a tangible connection to her artistic voice, which seemed to be whispering in a language she could no longer understand.

"I think I should sleep". Trying for hours with no avails she shut her notebook harshly, closing her eyes to drift into the land of dream in hopes of re-freshing her mind and back to her usual gifted self.

(Y/N) unusually found herself standing in a familiar sun-drenched studio, surrounded by half-finished sculptures and scattered tools. Her late mother stood before a work-in-progress, chisel in hand and for odd reasons she approached, curiosity etched on her face, and asked "Mother, what are you doing?"

"I am creating a sculpture, sweet one. I'm bringing this clay to life." A smile curve upon her frown look

(Y/N)'s gaze wandered to a nearby model, posed with elegance, yet lacking an upper torso. "Mother, why is she like that?" she asked, her voice tinged with innocence.

"Oh, my child, I couldn't complete her". Her mother burst into laughter

"Then will it always be like this?" Her younger self tilted her head.

Her mother's expression turned gentle, "No, my dear. Creating art means being patient. When I feel stuck, I pause, enjoy life, and give time for creativity to return to me. It's like a river, flowing and ebbing. I must learn to wait for the tide to come back."

And suddenly the image turn distant and faded into burl letting (Y/N) open her eyes with tears gliding her sides and reality welcome her, a world without her mother.

The memory of her mother's words lingering like a whispered secret with other bitter memories of her coffin flood too spreading a bittersweet taste on her lips. "Mother you never left me. Did you ?" Smiling to her herself she understood the truth : patience was the key. She needed to wait, to let her imagination recharge, and trust that the muse would return to her when the time was right rather than forcing the art to flow.

From the moment on she let go the weight that had been pressing upon her by abandoning the almost-finished sculpture, leaving it to stand silently, a testament to her temporary surrender.

With a newfound sense of freedom, she wandered into the garden, her fingers trailing across the soft petals of blooming flowers. The gentle rustle of leaves and sweet songs of birds enveloped her, calming her mind. Next, she found herself lounging on her bed, surrounded by pillows, lost in the world of games on her console. The vibrant colors and soothing music transported her to a realm where worries didn't exist.

As the day wore on, (Y/N) continued to indulge in the joy of doing nothing. She lazily flipped through the pages of a book, savoring the feel of the paper between her fingers. The words blurred together, but she didn't care – she was too busy basking in the serenity of the moment. Time lost all meaning as she drifted from one leisurely activity to the next. The competition, the sculpture, and her doubts all faded into the background, replaced by a sense of tranquility and release.

Until the creativity flowed back to her motivating her emotions to meet her clay giving birth to the sculpture's expression she always think is the true definition. With renewed inspiration, (Y/N) approached her sculpture, her hands moving with deliberate purpose. She carefully crafted the expression, etching a window to the soul onto the cold, clay body. The eyes, once blank, now sparkled with a deep, inner light, as if the very essence of life had been breathed into them.

The subtle curve of his lips, the gentle tilt of the head, all conspired to reveal the depths of the subject's being. The clay, once mere material, had transformed into a vessel for the human experience and the sculptor stepped back, her gaze swept across the masterpiece, drinking in the nuances of her creation. The world, with all its complexities and emotions, seemed to emanate from this single, silent form.

With a final, gentle touch, she completed the sculpture, infusing it with a sense of vulnerability and strength. The cold body now pulsed with a quiet, inner radiance, as if the very soul of the subject had been laid bare for all to see. In this moment, (Y/N) knew she had created something extraordinary—a window to the human experience, crafted with precision, passion, and patience. The world would soon behold her masterpiece and she was ready to be crowned as the winner of all, surrounded by claps of people.

"But what the name of this model will be ?" Deep in thought she grab her notebook looking at her male utter beautiful sculpture posed in the very same pose she choose before a name pop in her mind and she bestow the name sought to capture the harmony of opposing forces that her sculpture embodied. "Gojo" represented the balance of the five elements or more like five attributes of the human body such as head, body, arm, torse while "Satoru" symbolized the enlightenment and comprehend of his unworldly creation.

"Good". Smiling, she name her creation, granted him an identity, a sense of self that transcended the mere clay and stone even creating a inexplicable connection to herself with the art. "Is this how mother felt granting her pieces names ?" A chuckle escape her lips remembering how the old woman usually call her pieces her children along her own breathing child, (Y/N).

The competition host's voice boomed, "Welcome to the Grand People's Award Choice! Today, you will decide which sculpture reigns supreme!" The crowd murmured in excitement as they began their journey through the exhibition hall.

Sculptures of varying shapes, sizes, and materials dotted the landscape, each one unique and breathtaking in its own right. The host deliberately omitted the artists' names, allowing the art to speak for itself. Amidst the sea of onlookers, the creators themselves blended in, anonymous and eager.

(Y/N) fidgeted, her mind racing with doubts despite her teacher's encouraging words and her friends' reassurances and the crowd flowed around her, something remarkable happened. People would pause, glance at her sculpture, the Gojo Sataru, and then stop dead in their tracks. They couldn't help but be drawn back to the majestic male form, as if an otherworldly deity had been captured in clay.

Whispers spread like wildfire: "This one...this one is something special." Strangers would nod in agreement, their eyes locked on the sculpture's serene face. Even those who attempted to move on to other pieces found themselves inexplicably returning, transfixed by the beauty before them.

As the hours ticked by, a sense of certainty settled over the crowd. It was as if the winner had already been chosen, not by the judges, but by the people themselves. (Y/N)'s anxiety began to dissipate, replaced by a cautious optimism. She crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that the next hours would fly by, bringing the voting to a close and confirming what the crowd had already decided in their hearts.

The countdown clock struck its final moment, and the host's face ignited with a triumphant smile. "The moment of truth has arrived!" he declared, his voice electric with excitement. "The votes are in, and the winner of this Supreme competition will be revealed!"

(Y/N) held her breath, her heart racing like a wild stallion. Her friends offered reassuring pats on the shoulder, but she was too entranced by the host's dramatic pause to notice.

The room hung in suspended animation, the only sound the soft hum of bated breath. And then, a sly smile crept onto the host's lips, like a whispered secret. He parted his lips, and (Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat.

"(L/N) (Y/N) from Cutieeva University... Congratulations! You are the champion!" he announced, his voice thundering through the hall like a victorious fanfare.

Pandemonium erupted as (Y/N) stood frozen, her eyes wide with wonder. Her friends screamed with joy, hugging her tightly as tears of elation streamed down her face. The host approached her, a congratulatory envelope in hand, and (Y/N) felt like she was soaring on the wings of triumph, her dream finally within grasp. She still can't believe out of all the brilliant universities around the globe did her sculpture won, granting her the award. (Y/N) felt like she was living in a dream, where time blurred and moments merged into a kaleidoscope of emotions. One instant, she was standing frozen, her heart racing with excitement; the next, she was beside the host, basking in the glory of her triumph.

The award felt heavy in her hands, a tangible symbol of her achievement. Thunderous applause enveloped her, a deafening roar that threatened to consume her. She opened her mouth to speak the speech, but her words were lost in the chaos, barely audible even to herself.

Before she knew it, she was swept away by a tide of well-wishers —friends, classmates, teachers, and even her principal — all beaming with pride, cheering her as the pride of their school. The celebration was a whirlwind, a colorful blur of laughter, tears, and congratulations.

And then, suddenly, she found herself alone, sitting on her bed, surrounded by the quiet of the night. The moon cast an ethereal glow, illuminating her room with an otherworldly light. She breathed in deeply, the stillness a balm to her frazzled nerves and she gazed out the window, a slow smile spread across her face. It had happened. She had won. The realization dawned on her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Mother ! I have achieved what I wanted". She said gazing fondly at the frame of her mother, settling the golden award beside it. Everything is perfect and will be. Right ? Because little did she know, this moment of triumph was only the beginning of a dark and twisted journey.

From that moment on, (Y/N)'s sculpture became a global sensation, drawing thousands of tourists to the university gallery. At first, she was ecstatic, basking in the glory of her creation's viral fame. She had won awards before, yet never had her work resonated with so many people worldwide. With pride, she showcased her masterpiece to art enthusiasts, critics, and curious onlookers. She reveled in their admiration, laughing and joking about being a "deity" who had created such a stunning work. However as time passed, a creeping sense of unease began to shadow her joy.

The whispers started innocently enough of

"How handsome he is!"

"I wish he was real!"

"Oh god, why couldn't I meet such a man?"

"Why the god didn't create such wonderful man ?"

"Hopefully he come to life".

"If I could then I would sacrifice my everything to see this man alive".

"Ah ! Why can't he come alive".

Hoever soon, the comments took on a life of their own, echoing in her mind like a mantra. She began to feel like she was losing control, as if her own creation had taken on a persona of its own. The praise, once music to her ears, now felt like a dark omen. She started to wonder if she had unleashed something sinister into the world. The constant attention, the endless scrutiny, and the obsessive admiration began to suffocate her. The deity joke wasn't funny anymore. It felt like a haunting prophecy.

A desolate realm of darkness she could see along the suffocating void that crushed her beneath its oppressive weight. The air was heavy with the stench of malevolent presence, and she sense of eyes upon her, boring into her very soul. In mist of that a voce came, first the voice was a distant whisper, a faint rustling of dry leaves that seemed to carry on the wind however it grew louder, more urgent, until turning a maddening chant that echoed through her mind. A single, raspy voice, repeating a phrase that seemed to draw closer with each iteration, its words indistinguishable but its sinister intent clear.

The voice was a cold breeze on the back of her neck. (Y/N) tried to flee, but her legs were leaden, her body trapped in a living nightmare. And then, the voice whispered a single, chilling phrase, its tone a masterful blend of malice and seduction "Gojo Sataru."

The name exploded in her mind like a firework of terror, shattering the fragile remnants of her sanity. (Y/N) jolted awake, her eyes wide with horror, her lips frozen in a silent scream. Sweat dripped from her brow like blood from a wound, her heart racing with a fear that threatened to consume her whole. For a moment, she lay there, paralyzed with terror, the darkness of her dream still clinging to her like a shroud. Then, she sat up with a gasp, her eyes scanning the room frantically, as if searching for an escape from the terror that still lingered in her mind, waiting to pounce.

"What is going on ?" (Y/N) ask feeling alike an mad woman slowly descending into madness. In fear she didn't closed her eyes for moment, staring blankly at the ceiling or sometimes sketching a new art mindlessly to distract her disturbed mind.

In no time sun made it's presence known, offering bit of warmth to all and each even to (Y/N) who felt comfort to the golden rays before her ringtone took her attention. Answering the phone she greeted. "Good morning, Geto sensei".

"Good morning, (Y/N)-San, but could you please come to the university gallery ?" Hearing this a frown knitted her brows and she check her wrist watch. 5:00 am.

"So early if I may ask ?"

"Actually". He paused as if unsure what to speak "Please it's urgent". Understanding the hastily tone she agreed, doing a brief wash and clothes change she went to the location asked and oh dear, (Y/N) wasn't expecting the overwhelming amount of crowd standing outside her art gallery. Spotting her teacher she stood nearby.

"Sir, what's going on ?" Her (E/C) eyes dart from the crowd to her teacher.

"Well". Sheepishly the teacher tilted his head. "They came to see your sculpture". Earning a loud grasp from her.

"T-They ? You mean all ?" She stutter.

"All". Geto smiled nervously as if he finding his own words strange.

"So early in the morning and so many ?" Geto nod again.

"What in the world..." (Y/N) tailed off unable to comprehend the situation of what's going on, yes, she admits herself this particular art is special, a living masterpiece basically yet the amount of spotlight seems unnecessary, uncomfortable and— her thoughts went back to the nightmare she woke up— and strange.

"So, (Y/N) please guide the people. I have no choice but to let them in, you know". His smile strained and the girl knew there was not much say she has so she nod wordlessly standing in front of the glass door, a wall between the people and her. The glass door slid open with a soft whoosh, unleashing a torrent of humanity into the gallery. Hundreds of people poured in, their faces alight with excitement, smiles, and eagerness. The air was electric with anticipation, a palpable sense of wonder that was almost tangible.

(Y/N) stood at the forefront, a forced smile plastered on her face as she greeted the throngs of visitors. She waved her hand graciously, guiding them towards her sculpture, the centerpiece of the exhibition. Her eyes darted back and forth, her mind racing with a growing sense of unease and she stood before her creation, a strange, unsettling feeling washed over her. She couldn't bring herself to look at her own creation, her gaze skittering away like a frightened animal. The sculpture, once her pride and joy, now seemed to loom over her, its presence oppressive and menacing.

(Y/N)'s smile faltered, her lips trembling ever so slightly. She felt like a puppeteer whose strings had been cut, her control over the situation slipping away. The crowd's excitement and admiration only added to her growing sense of discomfort, their eagerness to behold her creation now feeling like a suffocating weight. With a Herculean effort, (Y/N) raised her eyes, her gaze finally meeting the sculpture's serene, enigmatic face. Rather of pride, she felt a shiver run down her spine, as if she was staring into the abyss itself despite his face turned to the other side.

"Miss (L/N), with what thought you created this masterpiece ?" A young woman asked within the mist of people.

"Masterpiece ?" (Y/N) mutter under her breath tasting a bitterness. "Well, it came naturally". She replied smiling and staring at the woman's eyes.

"Amazing !" One of them compliment.

"Then Miss (L/N), had you thought the model will be this viral ?" A young man this time asked.

"Never". She answered holding her tremble.

"Then, what motivate you to create such man ? Is he a real man or a part of your imagination ?" Another asked who's face (Y/N) unable to see.

"As the rules of competition. All of the participators had to bring their imagination out into the clay so did I". Calm her voice and confident her (E/C) eyes.

"So Miss (L/N) how long did it take to make you ?"

"Miss (L/N) were you always inspired to make someone of it ?"

"Miss (L/N) are you aware of the name we call you ? The deity ?"

"Miss (L/N), any hint of inspiration in process of making him ?"

One after another the questions jumped from one man to another to another that (Y/N) lips didn't had the time to even open eventually the cacophony of voices and laughter merging into a distant, muffled din. The room began to spin, and she felt herself becoming detached, as if floating above the chaos. The excitement and admiration of the crowd now seemed like a distant hum, a buzzing in her ears that threatened to consume her. With a sense of morbid curiosity, (Y/N) dared to glance at her sculpture, the root of all the chaos. Her heart raced and from the tail of her eyes locking onto its serene, enigmatic face.

And then, she saw it. Or thought she saw it. His eyes, once mere clay and stone, seemed to flicker with life. They moved, ever so slightly, as if connecting with hers. The room froze, time standing still as (Y/N)'s heart sank like a stone.

She felt a chill run down her spine, her mind reeling in horror. It was impossible, yet she swore she saw it. The eyes, once lifeless, now seemed to hold a spark of consciousness, a glimmer of awareness that was not of this world.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat, her voice trapped in a silent scream. She stumbled backward, her eyes fixed on the sculpture, her mind racing with the implications. The crowd's din returned, but she didn't hear it. She was lost in the abyss of her own terror, staring into the eyes of her creation, which now seemed to stare back.

"Miss (L/N) ?"

"Miss (L/N) ?"

"(Y/N) senpai ?" Snap ! (Y/N) looked at the familiar call of her best friend Yuji running towards her, holding her hand worried. "Are you alright ?" His voice ringed yet her care is about the sculpture, about the man !

Slowly she turn her head, finger point to his face only to blink twice and find the lifeless eyes as it belonged unlike the glimpse of terror she saw.

Confusion.

Betrayed.

Madness.

Alone.

Did no one saw that ? Did even she saw that ? But it's liveless right ? It's a mold of clay, a non-living thing yet why ? How ? What is going on ? (Y/N) mind spin threatening to burst any moment.

"Yuji, I-I am not okay". Her words stutter and she lean on his strength.

"Understood". Yuji sprang into action, bellowing at the crowd to part and make way unlike (Y/N) who couldn't process the commotion, her mind reeling like a maelstrom. She felt her grip on reality begin to slip, her thoughts spiraling into a vortex of doubt and terror. Was she truly seeing things, or was her own sanity unraveling? The world around her became a blur, as if she was trapped in a never-ending nightmare. Yuji's voice grew distant, a fading echo as (Y/N)'s consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse.

"High blood pressure, high stress level and sleep deprivation". Ieiri Shōko said, with a sigh looking at the chat. "It's a dangerous combination, (Y/N)-san that's why rest your body". Before glaring at her teacher Geto. "And you ! who even gave you the permission to be a teacher huh ? If you can't act like one ?" Her raspy voice and judgmental eyes send daggers in his way.

"I am sorry, (Y/N)-San, I didn't know I was creating pressure for you". Guilty written over his face as he ease his frown.

Megumi commented "Well, you as a teacher should know yourself". Right away avert his gaze to not meet his glare.

"It's alright. My fault. I should have voiced out my problem but I really think I need rest". Indeed (Y/N) felt the need to relax after seeing the movement never will she ever recover the horror her heart felt.

Nothingness. No hint of light, nothing at all. A silent void of nullity only suddenly, two glints of light materialized, like sapphires bursting forth from the shadows. The brightest blue she had ever seen, piercing and vivid, locked onto her. Eyes, hidden until now, stared directly into her soul. A whisper, a murmur, a voice she couldn't decipher, grew in intensity, swelling to a deafening crescendo. The words remained elusive, but the urgency was unmistakable. She strained to comprehend, her heart racing, until the sound shattered the darkness, jolting her awake with a silent scream, as if her own soul was being torn from her throat, leaving her gasping in terror, her breaths coming in ragged, desperate gulps, like a dying thing clawing its way back from the abyss.

"What was that ? I never saw those eyes—" She pause recalling the vivid eyes. "I didn't or did I ?" Oddly enough her mind went to her own sculpture. "His eyes, his lifeless eyes". Repeating the thought in her mind, She threw off the covers and got out of bed, her bare feet making barely a sound on the cold floor.

"It can't be". She hoped. "It shouldn't be, it must not be". Like a protection mantra she chanted it sprinting to the exhibition where her once masterpiece to nightmare stand on and she somehow unlock the door and run to stand in front of her model, Gojo Sataru in the darkness she was begin to spiral and to her denial the moon cast an eerie glow through the window, illuminating the sculpture's face. (Y/N) felt a shiver run down her spine as her (E/C) eyes bore into its eyes and saw nothing. No color, no sparkle, just emptiness like it should be. "Ha ! I knew it. It was another my imagination working too much". With a scoff she breath properly ignoring her intitution of feeling not being alone in this room so she walk away quietly yet quickly escaping from the burning empty eyes of the sculptures.

The night wore on, a sleepless vigil, as her fingers held the pencil scratched across the paper, trying to capture the haunting blue eyes that lingered in her mind. The memory of their piercing gaze refused to fade, fueling her creativity as she sketched into the wee hours. Just as the first light of dawn crept in, her friend arrived, bearing the missed class lessons and a gentle smile.

"Here, I am giving you all you need". Nobara pat her head, able to point out dark circles in her friend's eyes.

"Thank you a lot". Gratitude mingled with exhaustion and her hands accepted the offering, placing it in the wooden desk where her eyes caught the shining golden award she forget to keep somewhere else due to the chaos happening.

"By the way (Y/N) I also wanted you to know today your sculpture would be the model for beginner students to learn how to create the perfect body, arms and you know basics". Her hands move with the notion earning a smile over (Y/N)'s lips.

"Understood". She didn't, she didn't understood the meaning behind seeing the same art so many times anymore. Why can't people move on, go, see some other new, fresh and normal art unlike her strange, hauntingly beautiful one. That's when the curiosity to see the art awaken, for unknown reason she desperately wants to see or perhaps it was the promise of safety in numbers she asked to go along with her.

(Y/N) strolled hand in hand with Nobara towards the exhibition, the warm light danced across her skin, a comforting sensation she savored. "Let's go in". Reached the glass door Nobara said touch the doorhandle and about to open breaking the space between them when her (E/C) eyes dare peek through her lashes to the glass exterior and her her serenity, sanity shattered because for a fleeting instant, the hands of the stone seemed to twitch, fingers trembling, arms stiffening, like a macabre puppet springing to life. The horror of her nightmare resurfaced, threatening to consume her. Madness lurked, its dark tendrils creeping closer.

Averting her gaze, she felt her grip on reality falter once again. With shaking hands and a voice barely above a whisper, she stammered "I am sorry...I suddenly feel sick. I need to rest".

Without awaiting Nobara's response, she turned and fled, leaving the girl worried and tense, her eyes wide with concern as she called out however (Y/N) was already gone, vanished into the crowd, pursued by the demons of her own mind.

"This is happening again. It moved right in front of my eyes, in front of Nabora and others too !" Claps her palm to her mouth she tightly close her eyes, sitting on her bed and without a second thought opened the wooden drawer taking few pills of sleeping pills and drank in rapid speed.

"I need a dreamless sleep, I need a dreamless sleep". Repeating she lay on the cold fabric of bed and close her eyes.

Darkness enveloped her sight, a suffocating shroud that obscured all else And then, like specters emerging from the void, a pair of pale hands materialized before her. They glowed with an ethereal light, as if the darkness itself had taken on a life of its own. The hands, unmistakably male, reached out with an unsettling gentleness, his fingers tracing the contours of her body. (Y/N) felt a shiver run down her spine as the hands caressed her, his touch leaving her skin crawling with unease. She tried to recoil yet the palm tightly held her waist in it's root however she tried to move again that's when a low, velvety voice unfolded like a dark flower, its laughter echoing through the shadows like a predator's taunt along the blue eyes snapped open, blazing with an otherworldly intensity. Those cerulean orbs incinerated her defenses, laying bare her soul like a ravaged landscape despite clothes attached to her body.

"How cute you are trying to run away ?" His sinister voice carried like wind coming from behind to front or from nothing to assume.

Slowly his hands caress her visible neck, lacing with curiosity and desire. Tracing the curve of her side to the front from her chin to pausing at the collarbone unleashing a chill that seeped into her bones. Disgust and fear entwined, a toxic embrace that left her paralyzed, her heart a wild animal racing against her ribs and almost as if he could smell the fear those gleaming eyes smile into crescent moon and frosty fingers unbutton her night shirt one by one swelling tears in her eyes.

"No. Please. No. Please". She preyed to each and every god she knew the existence of, hoping to be saved by the creation she created by her own hands. Spared by the humiliation she might face by the monster and—Snap ! Her eyes jolt open to a world that is too bright, too loud. The screeching alarm pierced her eardrums, a forgotten relic of a previous night's routine. As she struggled to sit up, the harsh light overhead stabbed at her eyes, making her squint and shield her face with a groggy hand.

Tear drops silently land on her lap, soaking the fabric with her sorrows she experienced and unconsciously her hand went to her chest making her breath hitched because the two first buttons of her shirt is separated leaving her to wonder the line between her reality and nightmare erasing. "What is happening ? Why is this happening ?" Fingers dug inside her hair to the roots, only helpless questions is jumbled on her mind with unanswered and those question will remain more unanswered when increasingly she unmistakenly gets glimpse of the model and her blood run cold witnessing the torso seemed to twist, ever so slightly, like a snake slithering through grass and that very same night she is laying on her bed, inside her nothing of dream joined by the pair of hands, alive eyes, cold hard torse crawling above her warmth of skin exporling her body as if she belonged to him, violently the privacy (Y/N) wants to keep and when she teetered on the brink of death. The alarm clock screamed, shattering the spell, saving her at the same time lingering the terror.

The next time she didn't gave the chance her eyes could to see her sculpture anywhere from her phone, to her poster, she even avoiding going out frighten by the fact to see him coming alive however fate speaks otherwise accidentally letting her eyes meet the flicker of the monster named Gojo Sataru and finally along his legs twitched, its entire body began to stir, like a creature awakening from a centuries-long slumber. (Y/N) watched in pure horror, her mind reeling, as the once-inanimate object now moved with a sinister purpose. Feeling her own life force ebbing away, as if the sculpture's newfound vitality was draining her very existence and known echoed in her mind "This is the end. I'm staring death in the face."

Desperate to escape the terror from going to sleep, (Y/N) tried to distract herself. Fingers grabbed her sketchbook, but her pencils trembled in her hand, unable to capture the beauty of art amidst such evil however eyes moved to watched entertainment shows only to feel the laughter and music seemed hollow, a cruel mockery of her fear. Even old videos of her parents, once a source of comfort, now seemed distant, unable to shield her from the encroaching darkness waiting to pounch.

No matter what she did, her eyelids grew heavy, threatening to surrender to sleep despite the knowledge that if she succumbed to sleep, the sculpture would claim her. So she fought, hard and limit past her strength. She'd rather die awake, than let the darkness consume her.

Despite her valiant efforts, (Y/N)'s eyelids finally betrayed her, succumbing to the relentless pull of exhaustion and the last thing she saw was her mother smiling face holding her younger self's hand in the video.

This time when she faced the void of nothingness, she has complex layers of emotions piling one after another. Fear of what might bound to happen, confusion of why or how's this situation is even occurring to her so many times, regret of creating a monster she mistakenly did and little calm of at least knowing what's about to come in front yet she wasn't ready to face the tide like all ship captains are no matter how much they nagivate above the ocean, they fear bear fear and the darkness coalesced, swirling around itself like a vortex of ink, deepening into an abyssal void. It churned and eddied, alike creating a pathway for the entity that lurked beyond the shadows. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation, as the darkness parted like a curtain, revealing a glimpse of what lay beyond. Slowly, the entity began to take form, its presence unfolding, no longer just fragments of limbs or eyes, but its entire self, a being of unutterable horror, emerged from the shadows. The darkness swirled around it, a mad dance of tendrils, as if worshiping the monstrosity that now stood before (Y/N).

Gojo Saturu, her sculpture moving in flesh and form of an living human. A vision of devastating beauty that the viewers oh so desired. His lips in a perpetual smirk while his sapphire eyes look straight into his creator's soul.

"Hello, my creator". He mockingly greet, voice smooth flowing to (Y/N)'s ears. "Nice to meet ya". He giggle at the end as his own comment was funny. "I was oh so waiting to meet. Took so long". His long legs march forward to (Y/N) who is frozen, breathing hard to have her creation talk to her.

His face lean forward inching almost few inches apart to where her (E/C) could see his unblemished and smooth skin like she curved out of her fingers, well she bestowed him everything but flaw, a mistake on her part and a power to his. Deliberately his slender pale finger tips touch her cheek—her imperfect skin. She fully embraced to shiver by his coldness yet it was oddly warm causing her eyes wide filling questions in them.

He wordlessly smiled further, cupping her entire face on his both palm like one would to their deity. Thumps ever so slightly stroke her skin. "You must be dying to know the truth ? How I created ? Breath to live ?" His eyes flicker to hers. She choose to not say.

"Well, it's cause you, all because of you and those humans. Their hopes, admiration, wishes and your believe of me springing to live manifest into a unseen force, a force of blending your believes turning and fueling my life from mere stones. The moment you believed my eyes moved, my eyes spring into live, you believed my hands twitch it gave me life and slowly little by little you were all along bringing me life. My creator, my love. My eve of life". Stretching his lips ear to ear he close their distance, enveloping her lips.

Astonishing her and letting her limbs finally protest against the unwanted touch yet his hands larger, faster, stronger that held her both wrist in one palm, focusing solely on devouring her lips and wrapping tongue above one another, swirling like the taste of saliva and sucking breath out of her leaving her utterly surrender and vulnerable. (Y/N) suffocated by the soul draining kiss she kicked his any part only for him to remain unyielding and finally when he deem to be satisfied he seprated their lips with a glistening string of saliva linked and heavy breathing followed.

"Is this how it feels to need air ?" A husky laugh bubble out of his throat. "Then it's addicting". The sly smile stayed as he branded her skin with tender kisses, tracing a path of desire. The soft curve of her cheek, the tantalizing corner of her lips, the delicate slope of her chin, the whisper-soft lids of her eyes, and the gentle expanse of her forehead like marking her his.

"Stop. Stop all of this madness. Why are you doing this ? If you want to kill me then kill me already why torture me ?" Desperate her breath brush aganist his skin, fearful written on her eyes.

"Aww, there is a misunderstanding between us love, a grave one". He dramatically chuckle. "Why would I want to kill my own creator when you are the reason I even form an shape ? And torture ? Is this torture when I am soaking you in love. This is my passion for you. My burning desire for you". Yearning his brightest shade of eyes hold and rather of feeling moved all she felt was forced.

"But I do not want". Tears prickly down her eyes, watering her vision. "I really do not want this". She threw her head back, moving as her physical self can.

"It's okay. You do love me because if you don't then you wouldn't have created me so love me. Like you are suppose to. Bear the consequences of your actions, darling". Shushing her lips with his finger, he gently kiss the vulnerable curve of her neck and descend in downwards ignoring all of her pleads, protest and fight. Eventually his lips brush against her collarbone and ever so gently he suck the skin purple and red moving to the valley of her chest.

His free hand cup the breast through her dress ignited an fire and blood rush to his pants. Tearing her shirt scattering her buttons he came to face with her lovely bra, the only shield protecting against being bare yet he with ease snatch that away. Laying her upper body to feast by those eyes.

"Hmm" A groan slip past his lips from merely stare at those breast and the outline of her body with the way her blush expression, tears streaming, hands tied by his palm, hair spread beneath her was a divine sight than himself. Oh how he recall watching her from his stone form and yearn to touch those skin which he is now relishing.

Shamelessly his large palm cup her breast earning a sweet whimper and dive to taste if it's sweet as her lips and he was beyond ecstatic, twisting the bud as he please and sucking whole even biting with his canines enjoying the melody of her sobbing and her warmth skin. Before jumping to the another untouched one claiming his like it belonged and butterflies kisses on the entire breasts.

To lacing his tongue on her center of skin, tailing down and stopping at her stomach pecking each imperfect and perfect spots covering her whole. How couldn't he ? If he was served with a human like her, (Y/N) who is in his eyes the prettiest girl to even laid eyes on.

While she is on other end of hell, despising the kisses like an lava drops, burning with a fiery hatred that left her scarred. Every touch was a toxic assault, poisoning her senses and corroding her soul. His lips were venomous serpents, injecting deadly venom into her veins with each caress. His hands are acid, dripping with malice as they crawled across her skin. She couldn't and didn't felt a loving sense from him let alone love he was confessing about. Nightmare his life is.

And he knew about. Knew perfectly of her hatred, pain and still choose to love her because she does love him. She just doesn't know herself or he will make her. That's why he is mastering the very skill to pleasure her in ways a woman could be by ripping her only thread of cloth wrapped around her hip and fully nude her.

Viewing her lay bare, all nude couldn't conceal the heart crafting on Gojo's eyes and the madness smile heating his pale skin. Swiftly he dug his head in between of her legs, inside the clit his cum will enter. Well, for later because now his mouth was engulfed inside, tongue forcefully rip inside to taste the creamy fluids his love made of making her grasp and thrash around more harder than she could.

Even squirming underneath him only to prove fruitless while he continue to taste her juices, eating as if it's a delicacy itself, swallowing down and circling his tongue inside her tight walls, loving every bit of it however his patience comes to end making him pull out his flesh with dripping saliva and ran his fingers past his hair.

"P-Please. Please spare me. Please..." Her voices somewhere blended with her sobbed sorrows and her grasp when he impatiently without preparation unbuckle his restrictions, pulling out his shaft and pierce straight inside her walls.

Arching her back and cry out a scream she felt utter hopeless and pain coursing through her limbs. "It hurts ! I-it hurts". Dragging her air she wail. "It hurts please Gojo. It hurts". pricked at his name Gojo shush her more, whispering sweet nothings like an lover not a rapist he is and claim her lips once more. Even stealing her right to speak.

Heartlessly he slam his throbbing shaft again and again, groaning within the kiss and savouring the feeling. "Ah ! Is this what feels to have sex ? Because if it is then I would do it again and again". Tilting his head, Gojo separated his lips and eventually his hips came to stuttering as he cum inside without a care of world unlike (Y/N) who's heart rattled under her ribcage.

"No ! No ! No ! No ! No ! You monster ! What did you do ?" In disbelief she kicked her tireless legs and dug her nails on his soft skin. Anger filling her mind. "I can be pregnant !" She cried out.

"Really ?" Honestly he asked, laughing. "Then I should do it properly". With that the horrors repeated with his hips penetrate her clit deeper.

Her lips parted echoing her scream along her eyes snap open. Her body jolt up from her bed and gasping for air as if she'd been underwater for too long. Her chest heaved, and her eyes frantically scanned the familiar surroundings of her room. Her clothes clung to her damp skin, a testament to the terror she had endured. "Wai—I am wearing my clothes. Does that mean ?" As reality set in, a wave of relief washed over her—it was just a nightmare, a twisted episode of her own madness, nothing more. Smiling to herself she craved the comfort of her friends so with a sense of urgency, she rushed to their room, catching a glimpse of them at the exhibition hall. She burst in, smiling wider and navigated through the crowd. Her eyes locked onto Nabora, and she grasped her best friend's hand like a lifeline.

"Good morning (Y/N)". Cheerfully she greeted.

"Good morning to you too". She breathed. "I had a nightmare". Her voice confessed. "Believe me or not the worst one".

"What do you mean". Concern fill the girl's face and (Y/N)'s lips about to elaborate when a pair of hands— disgustingly familiar and unsettling— wrapped around her shoulders from behind. A low, husky voice whispered in her ear.

"A nightmare huh ?" Gojo's words dripped with an unsettling intimacy, his tone implying secrets shared and terrors unspoken washing cold bucket of water over her head.

How ?

What ?

Impossible ?

"Right ! Gojo senpai, help your girlfriend ! She is in need of your help". Nobara spoke in an familiar tone to which he replied "of course".

"B-Boyfriend ?" Her words stutter.

"Oh ! Sorry not boyfriend. Fiancé !" She facepalmed herself laughing. Alone. Not with (Y/N) who's questions and terrors trapped in the vice of his embrace.

Leaning closely Gojo tucked her shirt a little making her aware of the intimacy marks she was blind to miss and whispered the bitter truth. "I have become the god of the chisel".

FIN

[yearsbecomingcool]

Boys of Summer | Jason Hochberg

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | jason hochberg x f!reader

synopsis | the last thing you expected when you signed up to be a counselor at camp pineway was to end up wrapped in just a towel staring in horror at the empty spot where you had placed your clothes right before your shower. luckily for you jason was ready to come to your aid…sort of…

warnings | 18+, drug usage, underage drinking/drug usage, bullying, sexual dialogue, bullying, loser x loser, cringe behavior, sexual content, making out, fingering, edging, jason and reader are hr's worst nightmare.

word count | 7.6k

a/n | i know hell of a summer isn't out till april but i'm already obsessed with jason and had to write a loser x loser scenario for him. i hate how long it took me to write this but hopefully it was worth it. @blueberrypancakesworld has some great jason fics y'all should check out as well!!! big thank you to my bestie @joeloverture for reading through this and helping me out/being super supportive while i worked on it. if y'all read for joel miller or just want some good fics pls go check out her stuff, she's my favorite person on the whole site.

taglist | @mvnqvinn @snazzynacho @imyprice @circuslxcysplace

A summer spent with spoiled rich kids who only got a job because their parents forced them sounds like your worst nightmare, and yet here you are living it. You’d grown up going to Camp Pineway, with mostly shitty memories of asshole kids and counselors who felt they weren’t paid enough to stop some bullies. You wanted to make a difference, you wanted to give those kids someone who would stand up for them, so you decided you’d come back and be a counselor for the summer. It was your summer break from college and you truly had nothing better to do in your shitty little town so it seemed like your best bet at having a social life. 

When you’d arrived you knew you were fucked. A cherry red convertible with Chris Tian in the front seat was nothing but trouble, you’d heard from your younger sibling about how much of a dickhead he and his friends were and it seemed like they’d be your fellow counselors. You felt weirdly ashamed when you hopped out of your beat up old junker, one of the back handles had fallen off last winter and you never had enough money to fix it. You prayed silently that no one would notice how shitty your car was. Something about being around people like this made you feel like you were a self conscious high schooler again. 

You felt relieved when you’d walked into the mess hall to be greeted by Jason Hochberg, he was two years older than you and had gone to school with you. He had been nerdy and awkward and somehow after all these years he still was. You bit your lip at the sight of him in his dorky outfit, his too long shorts and nerdy vest made you want to kiss him hard and stuff him in a locker all at the same time. You had always had a particular type, you could never verbalize it properly so you’d always told your friends your type was guys that would pop a boner if you shoved them too hard in the hallway. You’d softly cyber stalked his Instagram from time to time, mostly nature shots and movie reviews that got maybe 10 likes on a good day. The only photos he really had up of himself were in photo dumps from his years at Camp Pineway, he’d been a counselor there since he was eighteen and had been going for his whole childhood. He was clearly holding onto this place but you found it sort of endearing. You eyed the small bracelet stack on his arm, a couple of his favorites he’d received from campers over the years. You thought it was sweet that he held onto them. 

You’d seen him at camp when you were a kid and that sort of kickstarted your little crush. He’d gotten bullied just like you but despite that he’d always stuck up for you whenever he’d see it happening. He didn’t mind taking a few blows or insults if it kept you out of harm's way. There was one incident you’d remembered for years.

 It was your third year at camp and you were ten years old, Jason was twelve. You’d been cornered by a couple older girls, laughing at you, insulting your looks and your outfit. You had no idea what you did to provoke them, in reality you hadn’t done shit besides look like what they considered to be an easy target. They’d been harassing you for the entire week, making you scared to separate from your cabin mates. You’d been good about staying in a group but when you broke off to go to the bathroom you’d been cornered. They poked and prodded at you, making you feel smaller than you were. Tears brimmed your eyes, threatening to spill when Jason came in to save the day.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” He yelled, stomping over to the girls. He wasn’t very intimidating, he hadn’t hit his growth spurt and was standing at about 5 feet on a good day. He was dressed in cargo shorts and a Zelda t-shirt, if you looked up ‘nerd’ in the dictionary a picture of him would come up. You felt grateful to see him, no one had ever stuck up for you before.

“Fuck off, Jason,” one of the girls, Jessica, said aggressively. She turns to glare at him. She was a bit taller than him which didn’t help make him look anymore intimidating.

“She’s just a kid, she’s not bothering anyone. Go pick on someone else, Jess.” He stood there with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in anger. 

“Who? You, you’re an even easier target than pipsqueak over here,” Jess laughs. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Pick on me instead. Leave her alone.” 

“Fine, we will.” Jess and the other girls turn around, closing in on Jason. 

You look at him and mouth a quick ‘thank you’ before running off to find your cabin mates. 

He’d saved your ass a couple more times that summer and towards the end of camp you’d used your arts and crafts time to make him a bracelet as a thank you. A perler bead bracelet made out of the camp's colors, white and green. You’d added a little tree shaped bead and a white heart as well. You gifted it to him shyly on the last day as everyone waited for their parents to arrive to pick them up. You shyly approached him, your little hands trembling as you tapped him on the shoulder. He stood alone, lost in his own thoughts.

“Jason?” You tapped him on the shoulder softly.

He turned around and smiled when he saw you, “Hey! 

You push the bracelet towards him, “I uh…I made this for you…as a thank you for protecting me this summer.” 

He smiles softly at you, taking the bracelet and slipping it onto his wrist where a few others sit. “Thank you, this is so nice. I’m glad I could help, you didn’t deserve to be bullied like that.”

Your ride pulls up, honking the horn. “Thank you for everything, Jason. I’ll see you next summer!” You hug him quickly before running off to your moms car.

Jason gives his spiel to everyone about expectations for the summer and for the weekend, you notice a few of the others on their phones and try to not roll your eyes. Once his speech is over he makes everyone turn their phones into a basket, you’re last in line and decide you’ll take your opportunity to speak to him. His face lights up when he sees you, “I thought I recognized your name. How’ve you been?” His toothy grin makes you melt. 

You stand shyly with your hands behind your back, “I’ve been good…how about you? I mean you’re head counselor so clearly you’ve been doing pretty good.” You mentally facepalm at your own awkwardness. 

“I’ve been good, yeah…lots of responsibility now. That’s just part of getting older I guess.” 

You chew nervously at the dead skin on your lower lip, “You still looking out for the kids like me?” 

“Always,” He smiles, “I still have that bracelet you made me y’know.” He holds up his wrist for you to see and you grab him, pulling it closer to get a good look at it.

“No shit…it’s sweet that you still have it.”

“How could I ever get rid of it? It’s a good reminder to look out for other people. You were really the first person to show me that kind of appreciation so it’s special to me,” he explains, his cheeks turning pink. He always blushed so easily. 

“Hopefully you get more appreciation now, you really saved my ass that summer…and the next. Goddamn did camp suck without you there. I never really got that same courage you did to stand up for myself…” 

He reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “I only ended up with that courage after standing up for you, y’know. Who picked on you after Jessica left? She aged out of it when I did.” 

“Some rich girl in my grade, you know how things go. When one Jessica leaves another one takes her place,” you joke. 

He chuckles, moving his hand off your shoulder to push his hair back. “That’s always how it goes huh…”

Before you can respond Miley pokes her head back into the mess hall, “Why does she still have her phone? Don’t play favorites already!” Her whiny voice makes your eyes go wide in annoyance. You power down your phone and place it in the small basket Jason is holding. She scoffs and heads back out with the other counselors.

“Wow…there’s our Jessica I guess…” 

“Looks like it…why don’t you get changed? I think everyone wants to swim,” Jason suggests.

“A swim sounds perfect right now, god. I’ll see you out there.” You give him a soft smile before heading to your car to grab your bags.

You lug them to the cabin you’ve been assigned to share with Demi and Miley, as soon as you open the door they go silent and look you up and down. “So someone’s the teacher's pet already…” Miley scoffs. 

“Um…sorry if I made a bad impression already. We just knew each other as kids so we were catching up a bit, and got distracted. I’m not getting any special privileges if that's what you’re worried about.” You try to explain yourself but feel like you’re sinking into quicksand with every word that leaves your mouth. It feels like your childhood all over again. 

“It’s not a big deal, just…interesting. Were you two like…science partners or something?” The way she says it sounds so condescending it makes you want to scream.

“Oh no, he’s older than me. We just went to camp together here.” You haul your suitcase onto the bed and start to unpack your clothes into the small dresser at the end of your bed. You lay out a black bikini top and a black boyshort style pair of bottoms. The two girls eye your choice of swimwear judgingly but keep their mouths shut about it…for now.

 You all get changed into your swimsuits, Demi and Miley opting for straight bikinis over your slightly more modest attire, before heading out to the lake with everyone else. Jason had specifically told everyone no drinking or drugs but naturally no one cared enough to follow his orders. There’s a big cooler of assorted drinks sitting on the dock. Jason is seething with rage, sitting on his towel, nervously messing with the bracelets on his wrist. He’s dressed in a pair of dark green swim trunks and a Camp Pineway t-shirt. You drop your towel next to his, a pair of square shaped oversized sunglasses sitting atop your head. “Are you not going in?” You ask, sitting down next to him. You nab his sunscreen off his towel and start to apply it where you’re able to reach. 

“Not yet. I told them to not bring alcohol and here they are with an entire cooler, are you fucking kidding me?” He rants. You eye the cooler of beer and liquor they brought with them, the pineapple White Claw calls out to you like the green goblin mask but you fight the urge to pop it open. 

“They’re kids, they’re gonna be assholes. What’s more interesting to me is exactly how they got all that, none of ‘em are 21,” you say as you lather the sunscreen onto your arms and legs. 

“They’re rich, probably paid a sibling or stranger for it…who knows…” 

You hand the bottle of sunscreen to him, “Can you get my back? I can’t reach it.”

He stares down at the sunscreen bottle, reluctantly taking it from your hands. A shiver runs down your spine as he starts to apply the cold cream, rubbing it into your skin. A few of the other counselors look over, one of them wolf whistling, “Nice, Jason. Getting some action already huh?” It’s mocking and makes your cheeks start to heat up with embarrassment, Jason’s face turning bright red.

“You could only be so lucky, Bobby!” You call back. 

“My first time touching a woman was a long time ago, I think this is Jason’s first,” Bobby teases.

Jason seethes, his touch becoming a bit rougher. You turn your head back to face him, “Don’t let it get to you, they’re just assholes. Their opinions don’t mean shit.”

“If this is what I have to hear all summer I might become Jason Voorhees,” he grumbles.

“Would I be your final girl?” You tease.

“Well if I had to die by someone’s hand here I guess I’d prefer it to be yours.”

You bite your lip and smile, “He never really dies y’know, you’d come back.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “I’d just look grosser everytime.”

“But at least you’d get to go to space and fight Freddy Krueger, that doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “You’re very familiar with Friday the 13th huh?”

“That franchise is a guilty pleasure of mine, I can’t help it.”

“It’s cool that you know so much about it, I bet you’d kill at horror trivia.”

You smile shyly, “You have no idea.”

You get up and go over to the cooler, grabbing the White Claw you had wanted earlier. “Will you kill me if I have one drink?” You turn back to Jason with a pout.

“Is my final girl breaking her pure streak already?” He teases.

You lean down to whisper in his ear, feeling a bit bold. “As long as my virginity is still intact that’s what really matters, right?” 

His face goes bright red and his body goes tense, he gulps. You want to kiss him so bad. He simply nods, “R-Right…”

You smirk and pop open the can, taking a seat next to him. His eyes flicker down to your exposed skin, it’s a view he’s looking forward to admiring for the rest of the summer. When he looks away you press the can to his exposed forearm and laughs when he jumps back. “Sorry…you’re kind of fun to mess with.” You had never really aged out of teasing and annoyance as a form of flirting, you’d spent years flicking people’s ears and throwing things at them to get their attention, it had mostly worked out for you. 

“So I’ve been told…” He mutters.

You finish your drink and stand to go into the water, “You coming or what, Voorhees?”

His cheeks turn pink at the nickname, “In a minute, promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You run off the dock and jump in with a smile. You shriek at the coldness of the water and smile as the other counselors laugh along with you. You start to swim around and get yourself used to the temperature of the water. You mostly keep to yourself as the other counselors play around, it’s definitely a weird feeling to be older than the rest of them. You’re enjoying yourself as you see Jason approaching the end of the dock. You swim over to him, resting your arms on the dock as you prop yourself up.

“Coming in?”

“Maybe…is it cold?” He asks. He takes a seat at the end of the dock, dipping his feet into the water. He hisses at the cold. “How are you swimming this?”

“My body got used to it, c’mon join me. I’m lonely…” You pout playfully. 

“You don’t want to mingle with them?” He motions to the other counselors. 

“I’m scared they’re gonna ask if I have sigma rizz.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know but I heard my sibling say it the other day and felt so very old.”

“I’ll come in and save you, hold on,” He groans. He slowly lowers himself into the water, the t-shirt still on. He grits his teeth at the cold as he sinks in.

The two of you stay near the docks, observing the other counselors. Bobby sits comfortably on an inflatable with a joint perched between his fingers, taking a drag every now and then. Jason shakes his head in anger, “They brought weed too? Are you fucking kidding me?” For a minute part of you wonders if you’ve somehow snuck into a purgatory designed to torture Jason for eternity. 

You do your best to calm him, “There’s what like…ten of them? It’ll be gone before the weekend is even over, it’ll be fine. This first night is supposed to be for everyone to hang out and get to know each other right? Just let them all…chill and maybe they won’t be so rude the rest of the summer.”

“If I don’t enforce it now they won’t respect me for the rest of the summer. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years,” Jason replies, sounding annoyed.

“I’m shocked you’re against smoking, I mean you kind of give off stoner vibes…at least your Instagram did.” As soon as you say it you realize you slipped up.

“You’ve seen my Instagram?”

You feel your face heat up, “I-It came up on my explore page after I applied here. You know how Instagram and Facebook are, I could say the word ‘cookie’ and get like a million Crumbl ads after. I-I saw you and got curious…I remembered you from camp and High School. It wasn’t like I was stalking your page or anything.” The word vomit does nothing to help your case, you’ve been caught red handed. 

“You looked through all my posts though? Didn’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t make it weird! I was curious…I do it with everyone from my past if their stuff comes up, hell I go through my own account sometimes!”

“I think you’re the one making it weird.”

“Be nice or I’ll get the teenagers to bully you again,” you threaten. 

He rolls his eyes and splashes you with a laugh. You gasp and recoil, you wipe the water from your face and splash him back. It devolves quite quickly into a childish splash fight, the both of you laughing hard. “Truce! Truce!” He yells, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Fineeeeee.” 

The other counselors look at the two of you in slight annoyance, it’s so clear to everyone that you’re already his favorite and it pisses them off.

“Is that like…appropriate for him to be so close to them like that?” Miley nudges Demi.

“I don’t know but it’s annoying, they’re gonna get special treatment the whole summer for sucking up to that loser. What kind of guy still works as a counselor when he’s like 30?” 

“He’s only like 24, don’t be dramatic,” Shannon says.

“Are you defending him?” Miley asks in disgust.

“The only thing I’m defending him against is the elderly allegations,” Shannon jokes.

Miley rolls her eyes and turns back to Demi, “We should teach them a lesson. Let them know what everyone else thinks of suck ups like them.”

“Yeah? What are you thinking?” Demi asks, leaning her head down for Miley to whisper to her. 

The two girls look over at you and Jason and nod.

“Hey, put that out! The rules very clearly said no drugs or alcohol, what the hell were you thinking bringing weed to a summer camp?” Jason yells at Bobby.

Bobby rolls his eyes, “You want me to put it out? Where? On the inflatable?” He scoffs.

“J-Just get rid of it and whatever other contraband you got, okay! We don’t need some kid getting into your stash and greening out!”

You bite back a smile as Jason rants. “Just make sure it’s gone before the kids show up. I’m sure you can manage that right, Bobby?”

Jason looks back at you like you’ve betrayed him, “What the hell are you doing? I’m in charge.”

“Jason, just trust me on this one, okay? They’ll get rid of it before the kids get here, I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, “If it’s not I’ll have your ass for it.”

You smirk at the accidental innuendo, “It’ll be gone,” you turn to look back at Bobby as he takes another hit, “Right, Bobby?”

He salutes you, “Yes ma’am!”

You turn back to face Jason, giggling slightly. “See, it’ll be gone. Promise.”

As the sun starts to go down everyone heads back to their cabins to grab some clothes to change into, before heading to the showers. You’re one of the last to make it to the showers and you leave your clothes in a pile on the bench to change into after. You step into a stall and pull off your swimsuit, hanging it over the door to dry as you turn on the water. Your face scrunches up in annoyance as the cold water hits your skin. You step as far away from the water as you can while still staying in the stall until the water heats up. Once it heats up you take your time scrubbing yourself down, massassing your shampoo into your scalp. You turn off the water and wrap your towel around yourself, stepping out of the stall. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you look down at the bench, your clothes are gone. You look around the locker room, it’s empty except for you. You open the lockers, searching each and every locker for your clothes. You go back to your stall to see if your swimsuit is there but it’s missing as well. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” You mutter. Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, you can’t believe it. You’re a grown ass adult getting bullied by teenagers…

While you were in the shower Miley and Demi put their plan into motion, they’d waited for the rest of the girls to leave and stole your swimsuit from the top of your stall door, yanking it down while you were distracted. They’d swiped up your clothes and ran off with them as well, right back to your cabin. They had been oh so kind as to leave your towel untouched however. Once they stashed your clothes Demi had gone off to Jason's cabin. 

He opened the door while towel drying his hair, “Oh, Demi. What’s up?”

She explains that you’re having some issues with something in the showers and need his help.

His pale cheeks turn pink as she explains, “What does she need help with?”

“She didn’t say, but she said she really needed you to come help her so…”

“Uh, okay. I-I’ll be up there in a few.” He shuts the door and throws his towel down, quickly brushing his hair and slipping his crocs on. 

You’re pacing in the locker room, chewing nervously at your thumbnail when there’s a knock on the door. “Uh, hey. Demi said you needed some help, is everything alright?” 

You walk towards the door, groaning with your head in your hands. “My clothes…” you sigh, “my clothes are fucking gone. I-I think Demi took ‘em.” 

His eyes go wide, “Can I come in?”

“I mean…I’m in just a towel so…”

He pinches the bridge of his nose trying to think, “Fuck, okay. Um, I’ll go grab your clothes. Stay here.”

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere…” You mumble as you hear his footsteps getting quieter. 

Jason runs off to the nurses office, it takes him a few minutes to figure out what key on his key ring fits but he gets it eventually. He grabs a camp t-shirt and black shorts they keep as extras just in case and heads back to the locker room. His mind is racing the whole jog back, he’s never had to deal with something like this before. Bullying and pranks between campers was normal, he was used to handling it, but between counselors? He felt pretty out of his depth. He stops his hand when he reaches for the door handle that leads to the locker room, he makes a fist and knocks instead. “I uh…I got you some clothes. There wasn’t any underwear I could get but-”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You reach a hand out and take the clothes from him, dropping your towel and slipping the clothes on. The shorts hang low on your hips and the t-shirt hangs slightly off your shoulder. You pick your towel back up to dry your hair and open the door for Jason. “You can come in now.”

He cautiously steps into the locker room, he’s chewing nervously at his lower lip. “So you think Demi took your clothes?” 

You nod, placing your hands on your hips. “Her and Miley have been acting really weird since we met. Miley already accused you of playing favorites with me…in the cabin she called me ‘teacher’s pet.’ Do you think she got Demi in on some plan to prank me?” 

“It’s definitely possible,” he nervously plays with the bracelets on his wrist. “It just seems a little extreme considering all you’ve done is get on their nerves.”

“Girls are more cutthroat than you’d think, trust me,” you say bluntly.

Jason nods, “Why don’t I walk you back to your cabin and I’ll make sure you get your clothes back, okay?”

“Thanks, Voorhees,” you use his nickname again. You slip on your slides, grateful that they had at least left those for you.

He shakes his head as he holds the door open for you, “Are you gonna call me that all summer?”

You beam up at him, clasping your hands behind your back, “Maybe.”

“Well I guess it’s not the worst thing I’ve been called…” He clicks on his flash light and the two of you start the walk to the cabins.

“Did you get hazed when you started as a counselor?” You ask as you walk next to him.

“Yeah, kind of. It’s different for guys I guess, not as calculated. The worst I got was a wedgie every now and then,” he grimaces at the memory, “I didn’t have my clothes stolen or anything like that.”

You giggle and nod, “Guess I really pissed them off then.”

“Or they’re just really mean.”

You chuckle, “That is definitely a possibility.” 

As you walk Jason can’t help but admire you. He loves how the shirt hangs off your shoulder, it falls nicely over the slope of your breasts, your nipples visible through the thin fabric. You use one hand to keep the shorts held up, they hang dangerously low on your hips and your lack of underwear does nothing to help you feel secure. You smell nice, slightly like lavender. 

“What’s kept you coming back to camp every year?”

Your question is one Jason has gotten countless times, it’s one that opens up a bottomless pit in his stomach. “I just like it here. I love being in nature and being able to mentor the kids…Pineway just feels like a second home to me.” He’s also terrified of having to move on and grow up but he’d never say that out loud. 

“Y’know I think you’d make a good park ranger. I could see you at one of the national parks, maybe doing classes for the kids, helping run day camps. It's perfect for you.”

He looks down and blushes, “You think so?”

You move a little closer to him, your arms brushing against one another. “Yeah, it’d be a good fit for you. You should really think about it.”

“Maybe I will…thank you.”

You reach the cabin, stepping carefully onto the porch. You can hear Demi and Miley talking inside. You slowly open the door, Jason following you inside. You stay close to him, a bit cautious of the two girls now. They turn to look at the two of you and Miley can’t help but laugh, “Cute clothes.”

You open your mouth to retort but Jason places a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head.

“This isn’t funny, I could report you two for harassment and stealing. Where’d you put her clothes?” Jason asks, putting on a serious tone. He stands there angrily, glaring at the girls.

“Why would we have her clothes?” Demi snarks.

“I’m not kidding Demi, this is wildly inappropriate. Hazing, bullying, harassment, whatever you want to call this shit won’t be tolerated.” Jason's hands curl into fists.

The two girls look at each other and burst into laughter, “S-Sorry, it’s so hard to take you seriously when your hands are so…y’know!” Miley laughs through tears.

Jason scowls, “Hey! I’m not fucking around! Give her back her goddamn clothes.” His anger is slightly more intimidating this time. 

Miley groans and pulls your clothes out from under her bed. She tosses them to you and you frantically check to make sure all of it is there. “There. Happy now? Take a fucking joke.”

Your brows furrow, “Where the hell is my underwear?”

The two girls erupt into laughter once again, there’s tears streaming down their cheeks as they hold their stomachs in laughter. You and Jason stand there uncomfortably until they calm down. “I’d check the flag pole if I was you,” sneers Demi.

Your face falls and it feels like your stomach has dropped out of your body, you can’t pick your eyes up from the floor. You can feel your breathing begin to grow ragged as you realize what they’ve done. Your whole body feels warm with embarrassment. You’ve been humiliated plenty of times in your life but this takes the cake for the worst. You drop your clothes and run out of the cabin.

Jason points at the girls, “You’re both in a lot of fucking trouble when I get back.” He runs outside after you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest as you begin to cry. He rubs your back and whispers softly to try and calm you down. “It’s gonna be okay, you won’t have to spend another second alone with them for the rest of the summer and they’re on probation for the rest of the summer, okay? Seriously, one more incident and they’re out. I’m calling the camp director in the morning.” As he holds you he looks over at the nearby flag pole that sits in the middle of the cabins. Where the flag once was now waves a smaller white piece of cloth. He immediately knows what it is. He’s quite possibly the angriest he’s ever been in his life, but for your sake he calms himself. “I’m gonna get your underwear down. I’ll be right back.” He runs over to the flagpole, hoisting your underwear down as quickly as possible so no one will see. He stuffs your underwear into his pocket and puts the flag back up.

“Come on, you’re going to my cabin. I’ll go get your stuff in a bit,” Jason wraps his arm around you and starts to lead you to his cabin. One of the perks of being head counselor is that he doesn’t have to share with everyone else. He leads you to the small cabin and you get comfortable on one of the bunks, curling into yourself and crying softly. He sits on the bed, rubbing your back comfortingly. “They’re just a bunch of assholes, you don’t deserve this. They went way too far.” 

“I didn’t even do anything,” You whine. You feel like a kid again, you want to quit and go home but you know you can’t. 

“I know. It’s stupid, they’re stupid. I’ve got you, okay? I’ll switch your cabin assignment, get you away from them. But at least for tonight you’re with me. I’m gonna go get your stuff.” He pats your back and stands, heading for the door. 

On the short walk to your cabin he tries to calm himself, he knows better than to blow up at Miley and Demi but goddammit would he love to. He slips in the door, making his way to your bunk, gathering your things quickly. “What are you doing with her shit?” Miley asks, sitting up on her bunk.

“Taking it to my cabin. You two can’t be trusted near her.”

“I thought male and female counselors weren’t allowed to-”

Jason cuts Demi off, “This is an exception. It’s just for tonight. You’ll room with someone else starting tomorrow, probably Shannon.” He tries to keep the conversation short, if he gets a chance to blow up he will.

“You just wanna get in her pants…” Miley mumbles.

“Shut the fuck up. I could call your parents and tell them what you’ve done, I promise you no amount of money will stop me from making sure you’re both punished for what you did. Grow the fuck up. You both go to college this fall right?”

They nod.

“Then act like it. You do this shit in college and you don’t just get suspended. You get kicked out. I’m sure mommy and daddy will offer a generous donation to save your ass but it can only happen so many times before they decide to stop paying up. I don’t want another problem from either one of you this whole summer, got it?” Jason has never had to yell at anyone like this the entire time he’s worked at the camp, he’s seething. If he could find replacements for the two on such short notice he’d have them packing by midnight.

The two girls nod shamefully, “G-Got it…”

“Good.” He gathers the rest of your things and carries them back to his cabin. You help him bring them inside and open up your suitcase to change. You don’t want to put on the clothes you’d originally picked out, they feel tainted now. You decide on an old band t-shirt and some old flannel pajama shorts you’d bought years ago. 

“Can you uh…turn around? I really don’t want to walk all the way back to the showers to change.” You ask shyly, holding up your clothes.

Jason turns around quickly, even going as far as covering his eyes, “Just let me know when you’re decent.”

You strip off the clothes he’d given you earlier and trade them for your own. “You can turn around now.”

He turns back around with his eyes still covered and you roll your eyes. You stroll up to him and pull his hands off his eyes, “You’re such a dork.” He smiles down at you, for a second he feels like he’s in one of those cheesy rom coms he secretly watches. 

“It doesn’t sound so mean when you say it,” he chuckles. 

“Good. It should sound like a compliment, I like dorks. You’re so yourself without being ashamed of it, I like it.” For a moment you both stare at one another, admiring the features of your faces up close. You notice his beauty marks that litter his cheeks, you admire the gaps in his teeth. He’s so beautiful as he is. 

He moves his hands to your waist experimentally. His touches, as innocent as they are, make your body feel as if it’s been set ablaze. You want him bad. 

“You were my hero again today, maybe instead of a park ranger you could consider superhero as your career,” you joke. He runs his thumb up and down your side, smiling softly.

“Maybe you should stop getting yourself into trouble and I won’t have to come save you.”

“Isn’t that what a final girl is supposed to do?” You tease, referencing your earlier conversation.

“I suppose. But, I still haven’t seen you trip over nothing while running. You broke the rules a little earlier by having that drink y’know.” His grip on your waist tightens, he pulls you a bit closer to him. 

“Are you gonna punish me for it, Mr. Voorhees?” You internally cringe at yourself and pray to the universe that he will somehow find that sexy.

“Maybe I will.” 

He leans in and kisses you softly, pulling your body flush against his as he does. What starts off innocent pretty quickly picks up steam. It’s been a long time since you’ve so much as even kissed someone, you’re pretty pent up. Your hands find their way into his hair as you pull him closer to you, you want him as close as humanly possible. When his hand starts to slide up your shirt you know you want to be even closer. He squeezes your breast and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He laughs when you pull away from the kiss to whine pathetically. You didn’t know he had this in him. You tug at his hair and smirk when he whimpers. You can see what this is turning into, tit for tat. He makes you whine, you make him whimper. You do whatever you can to elicit a sweet sound from one another. Eventually you’re able to shove him down onto the couch. He sits with his head against the back of the couch, his legs spread. You bite your lip and move to stand between his legs. He leans forward and lifts your shirt, starting to kiss your stomach and hips.

“Y’know, I might’ve lied about some of my final girl qualifications,” you laugh, looking down at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’m not a virgin…”

He scoffs, “Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

You roll your eyes and playfully whack the top of his head, “Don’t be a dick.”

He pulls you into his lap and pulls off your shirt, starting to kiss your neck. He turns you around in his lap so that your back is against his chest. He spreads your legs apart and starts to tease you over your shorts. You melt into his touch, whining and moaning softly. You’re practically putty in his hands. You can feel him pressed against your back, he’s painfully hard. You wanna touch him but you’re too caught up in what he’s doing to you.  “We shouldn’t be doing this, think about how much trouble I’d get in if anyone found out,” Jason mutters as he shoves his hand down your panties. He starts to massage your clit and you’re practically melting.

“N-No one’ll find out…promise…please just…” You can barely form a sentence, this is the last thing you would’ve expected from him. You had imagined a messy makeout session, a few minutes of grinding before he loses control and comes in his pants. 

“Please what? What do you need?” He sounds completely calm and collected, it’s like he’s maintaining his composure just to fuck with you. 

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You know what I need! Goddammit, just-”

He cuts you off by tugging down your shorts and underwear, your cunt exposed to the cool air of the cabin. He hooks his ankles around yours, keeping your legs spread for him. He looks down at your cunt and smiles, resting his head on your shoulder. He runs his finger up your slit, spreading your lips in the process. You whine, your hips bucking up. “Is this what you want?” He raises his fingers to your mouth, tapping your bottom lip for you to open up. You slowly open your mouth and he slides his fingers in. He doesn’t even tell you what to do, you start to suck on his fingers. He pulls them away once he’s satisfied and moves his hand back down to your cunt. He spreads you open against, watching your head tilt back as he sinks two fingers into your depth. He smirks when he hears your soft whimpers. He starts to slowly pump his fingers inside of you, “If you keep making these pretty little noises I might have to keep you in here with me all summer.”

“Please…fuck…just have me look pretty and play with me, better than the actual job,” you mumble, turning to look at him. You lean down to capture his lips in a bruising kiss, enjoying the way your noses knock against one another. You’ve been admiring his nose all day, fighting the urge to run a finger down the slope. You wonder how it would feel against your clit, his tongue buried deep inside of you. 

“It’d be nice to have a pretty little stress toy like you in my cabin to come back to after a long day, these motherfuckers are gonna give me greys before I turn 30.” You get a look on your face like you’re about to make a snide comment and Jason shuts it down by massaging your clit. A moan spills out of your lips instead. 

“You figured out how to handle me that quick?”

He rolls his eyes and starts to kiss your neck, he takes his time finding all the spots that make you whine extra loud. He nibbles here and there but knows better than to leave marks, at least in such visible places. He picks up the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He loves how you whimper his name, pleading for more, pleading for his cock. “I didn’t pack condoms, but maybe if you’re good you can have my tongue later.”

You move your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck. “And if I’m bad?”

“Then you can try to get yourself off on my thigh while you jack me off.”

“Oh fuck me…” you mumble, your head rolling back. 

He moves his mouth to your breasts, starting to bite and suck at the sensitive flesh of your nipples. “Already told you I can’t do that yet. Gotta be patient, gotta be good, ‘kay?”

You jut out your bottom lip, pouting, and nod. “‘Kay…”

He nips at your nipple and you yelp, “Good.” He leans down and spits on your clit, massaging it into your clit with his thumb. He speeds up his motions, trying harder and harder to get you what you want. “You wanna make a mess for me, don’t you? If you get it on the couch you’re licking it up. Better pray none of it even hits the floor…” This morning you could’ve never imagined he had it in him to speak to you like this, his coy attitude was just a red herring for what was to come. He’s working his fingers inside of you, curling them just right to hit the spot. Your eyes screw shut as you mumble pathetically, “Oh fuck Jason…g-god…fuck please make me come, please…wanna make a mess for you…”

Just as he’s about to take you over the edge there’s a knock at the door. You both freeze and he slaps a hand over your mouth. Never in his life has he been so grateful for the window coverings in the cabin. 

“Hey! Jason, is she in there? I heard what happened, I just want to make sure y’all are gonna eat.” It’s Chris. God you want to kill him right now. 

Jason smirks, “I’ll be out in a minute. Just making sure she’s okay.”

“Well…uh, see you in the mess hall then!” You hear his footsteps quiet down.

You and Jason look at each other and erupt into giggles. “You wanna play a game with me, final girl?”

“Are you impersonating Jigsaw now too? I think you’re getting your franchises mixed up.”

He rolls his eyes, “God you’re more of a nerd than me. You should feel lucky you weren’t wearing that underwear when they hoisted them up the flagpole.”

You slap his chest, “Hey! Asshole! I’m not like that bitch Cindy in Sleepaway Camp III, you wouldn’t let them do that to me.”

He laughs, kissing you again, “Nerd.”

“You can’t call me a nerd when your fingers are inside me.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and flicks your clit, causing you to yelp. “Is that better nerd?”

You roll your eyes and he brings his fingers to your lips, “Go on, clean me up.” You suck your slick off his fingers. He pulls them out of your mouth once he’s satisfied and wipes your saliva on your cheek. You narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“You’re not gonna finish me off? I was so close…” You pout.

“That’s the game. Sit through dinner without being a whiny little brat and I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll make sure you come as many times as you want tonight, just behave during dinner. Think you can do that?” He explains.

You groan, “Fineeeee. But you owe me a lot of orgasms, and I mean a lot. It’s fucked up to leave a girl hanging like that.”

“I’m blue balling myself too.” He grabs your hand and presses it against his shorts, you can feel just how hard he is through his shorts. “We both have to behave during dinner, it’s an even playing field.”

You smirk, “Deal. How do you plan to hide that though?”

“I’ll think of awful things until it goes away.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Does that really work.”

“Sometimes.”

You squeeze him through his shorts before standing to get redressed, “You better pray it does tonight because I’ll be across the table thinking about how your nose would feel against my clit after dinner.”

“You’re HR’s worst nightmare…” He mumbles, watching as you redress.

“You’re the one who kissed me, I don’t wanna hear it. I’ll keep my mouth shut as long as you do the same,” you say as you pull your shirt over your head,

“Deal.” He gets up from the couch and readjusts himself through his shorts. 

You both share a mirror, trying to fix your hair and doing everything possible to make it less obvious that you two were just going at it. Once you’re satisfied you head for the door. As soon as you step out of the door he slaps your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. “Prick!”

“You love it.” 

[ariazcherrycoke]

Dating The Radio Demon HCS

Disclaimer: Yes, I know he is canonically asexual. These are just headcanons! Will contain NSFW,

MDNI!!

❤️ || - He won't ever admit it, but absolutely loves it when you play with his hair. It makes him a little less insecure about his deer features, since you clearly like them.

🖤 || - He is NOT afraid to tease you, or rile you up purposefully throughout the day. He's a very perceptive man, he knows exactly what you like. Yet of course he won't deny you later at night, what kind of gentleman would he be to deny his darling of their needs?

🤍 || - Switch. You can not tell me he wouldn't do either. Of course he prefers top, and would top for the first time. But after you've been dating for a few years, he'll trust you enough to take the lead. Of course whenever that happens he could easily regain it, but.. well, he'll never EVER admit it, but he loves when you top. At first he was skeptical, but it felt amazing. He's a sucker for attention, so feeling you hopelessly touch him all over, and how he can practically taste the affection in your fingers. Oh, he loves that.

❤ || - Cooks. You could be the best chef in all of Hell, but he'll still insist on cooking. It was simply how his Mama raised him, besides.. He prefers food when he knows exactly what goes in there. He trusts you, of course. It just.. he needs to know. It's just something about his twisted mind, but you accept it. There's a lot of things with him you understand you'll never be able to wrap your head around.

🖤 || - He definitely does aftercare. He needs to make sure his darling is alright after all, it's how he shows his love. If he topped he will pick you up and wash you, yet tease you if you're sore. He can't help it, he IS still a sadistic power-hungry sinner after all. But if you topped, he would prefer you to help him wash but is fine with cuddling. He definitely doesn't like staying dirty, but if you just cuddle him he won't mind. Your touch is more then enough, and he would never admit it but his body gets very clingy after sex. He isn't used to doing it after all, but he still tries to not seem too clingy.

🤍 || - He has money, no doubt. Only the fanciest restaurants for dates, those and speakeasies. Specifically the ones without Mimzy, he'd prefer her not pining for his attention while out with his darling. Wherever you want to go, he'll go. Want to go to the newest place in Pentagram City? He's already got a reservation. Want that beautiful new dress you eyed the other day? Check your drawer.

❤ || - Loves to absolutely adore you, no matter where. Your attention for his pampering? Now that sounds like the most enticing deal he's heard all day.

🖤 || - Would he cheat? No. Moving on. Seriously though, it already surprised him how you managed to catch his attention, he's not an easy sinner to woe. His heart unfortunately is all yours to use how you please, something that both worries and excites him. If something were to ever happen to you, he still wouldn't be able to ever love again.

🤍 || - Isn't the biggest fan of PDA. Holding holding, kissing your hand, and perhaps little face pecks is all. In private, his body is yours to use. Yet in public, he won't let you go too far. He still has a reputation to uphold, after all.

❤ || - Hah, no one can resist The Radio Demon, not even you. Obviously. Yet he's glad you did, you showed him someone can care for him down here. He acts like he doesn't want it, doesn't need to be looked after. But maybe one day he'll put aside his pride and thank you. Thank you for looking over him from fully losing his sanity. Thank you..

for caring.

Even when he didn't ask you to.

[aishangotome]

"Ah, No Need for Money" - Azel (His POV)

Card and story provided by @shatcey!

Azel: Enis, please tell the High Priest...

Azel: ...that God seems to be infatuated with a foreign girl.

-

Some time had passed since I began using Rhodolite's foreign girl as a shield against women –

Due to official duties, there was a day when I absolutely had to leave the solitary desert castle and stay at the royal palace.

(...Damn it. This is why I don't want to stay in the castle for long.)

(That damned geezer keeps sending me woman after woman whenever he gets the chance...)

The place I quickly head to, so as not to get entangled any further, was the room prepared for foreign guests.

(At this rate, the woman is probably being targeted too.)

(I've assigned her a guard as a precaution and had given those around her strict warnings.)

(She shouldn't be drugged with aphrodisiacs like before... but I should still go check on her.)

(Not that I'm worried or anything, but I couldn't leave her alone in the temple.)

(Since I brought her to the castle for my own convenience, I'll have to compensate her if anything happens.)

(...That's right. It's just that simple.)

Making excuses to no one in particular, I reach the designated room.

When I knock on the door, hurried footsteps and a loud clatter overlap from inside.

(What is it?)

Azel: I'm coming in.

I open the door before I hear permission.

Emma: Th-this is a misunderstanding!

The first words I hear and the scene before my eyes are something even a miracle diviner couldn't predict.

(I gave them strict warnings, though...)

In the moonlight, the woman, who had fallen to the floor, is dressed in harem attire.

The area of exposed skin is greater than usual, and even more concerning is the design of the clothes.

The color and material clearly imitate the attire of a God, and it's tailored in such a way that 10 out of 10 people would recognize her as God's woman.

(Is this the geezer's doing? Or the maid's meddling?)

Emma: I didn't expect anyone to come to my room at this hour...

Azel: Ah, so you do know that's harem attire.

Emma: ...The head maid brought it to me as an apology for the aphrodisiac incident before.

Emma: It seems the harem has many outfits prepared so that Prince Azel can receive women at any time...

Emma: She gave it to me out of goodwill, saying it would suit me.

Azel: Goodwill? You mean malice.

(It's transparent that they want me to lay my hands on her no matter what.)

Exasperated, I still extend my hand to the woman.

I understood from the situation that she had tripped when I knocked on the door.

Emma: ...Thank you.

The woman seemed to understand my intention and obediently took my hand to stand up.

(No injuries... good.)

Emma: The maids only gave me the outfit, they didn't force me to wear it.

Azel: Then why did you put it on?

Emma: ...Well, that...

Emma: I-Isn't it cute?

Azel: Huh?

The woman's face turns a distinct red.

Emma: This outfit... it's so Tanzanite-like and cute, I thought.

Emma: And see, it matches with yours, Prince Azel.

Emma: I just wanted to try it on once since I wouldn't be showing it to anyone.

Emma: I didn't expect you to come right after I put it on...

Her voice trails off, and in the end, she even puts some distance between us.

(...What is this strange feeling?)

For no reason, I withdraw the hand I had started to extend.

Azel: You have a peculiar hobby, wanting to try on harem clothes.

Emma: I thought you'd say that, so I was going to wear it in secret...

Emma: ...By the way, what brings you here so late at night, Prince Azel?

(...)

Azel: Actually, the High Priest sent another woman to me...

Azel: I felt my life was in danger, so I came to take refuge with you.

(It's not a lie.)

(...Although I've already shaken off the woman and there's no need to take refuge.)

Emma: I see...

Fortunately, the woman didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

Emma: ...Wait a minute. You're not planning to stay here all night, are you?

Azel: That's my intention.

Emma: I didn't hear that!?

Azel: I just said it.

(This is the quickest way to ensure your safety from those crazies.)

Emma: Then I'll go change.

Azel: You can stay in that outfit if you want to.

Emma: ...It's not exactly calming, is it?

Azel: You said yourself it was "cute."

Emma: It's more embarrassing than cute in front of you, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don't worry about it. I don't feel anything even if you wear harem clothes.

Emma: Even so, I do mind...!

I instinctively grab the hand of the woman who tries to escape to another room.

(Ah...)

Emma: ...Prince Azel?

Azel: No...

(Why did I stop her?)

(...It's not like I thought she looked good in it or anything, or that I wanted to see more...)

(It's not like that...)

Unable to back down now, after hesitating, I sit down on the nearby bed.

Emma: ! ?

As I pull the woman onto my lap so she can't escape, an indescribable silence swallows everything.

(What am I doing?)

(...How am I going to explain what I intend to do from here?)

Emma: Um...

Azel: You're interested enough in the harem to wear that outfit in secret, right?

Emma: Eh?

Azel: Then let me give you a bit of trivia.

Though I know it's forceful, I take an apple from a nearby fruit basket and place it in the woman's hand.

Emma: ...What's this?

Azel: Aren't you hungry? You can eat it, you know.

Emma: There's definitely something behind this, isn't there?

Azel: I'm a benevolent God.

Emma: A benevolent God wouldn't force someone onto his lap like this...

Azel: Just eat it.

When I urge her, wanting to silence her, the woman obediently takes a bite of the apple.

Emma: Mmm... It's delicious.

(Why is she needlessly exuding sex appeal just by eating? Is it because of the outfit?)

Whether intentional or unconscious, the woman puts her arms around my neck for support.

Though I brought this upon myself, I felt dizzy.

Emma: But what does biting into an apple have to do with trivia?

(That's right, I almost forgot the main topic.)

Azel: ...There are a few unspoken rules in the harem.

Azel: What do you think it means to eat fruit in front of the master?

Emma: .......

Emma: "Aren't you hungry?"

(...Damn it, she's too cute.)

(No, that's not it, that's not it.)

Azel: "Won't you eat me?"

Emma: Huh!?

Azel: If the master bites back into the apple... I'm sure you understand what happens next?

Emma: I don't understand, I don't want to understand!

I put my arm around the clearly flustered woman's waist and bring my face close to the apple.

Azel: The act of eating fruit openly in front of someone requires self-confidence.

Azel: If you're confident you can captivate me, try it. If you can...

My lips touch the apple – the woman, red-faced, watches in a daze without stopping me.

(...Stop me.)

Emma: Eek...!

Instead of biting the apple, I pinch her cheek.

Emma: Wh-What are you doing!?

Azel: Learn from this and don't carelessly wear harem clothes.

Azel: It's a good thing it was a benevolent God who found you. If another man had seen you, he might have misunderstood.

(...Did I manage to gloss over it?)

(I glossed over it, I must have glossed over it.)

Emma: ...No one but you, Prince Azel, would come to my room this late at night.

Azel: That's good to know.

(...)

(................)

(...................This is awkward.)

(Even though I didn't eat the apple, why is it strangely sweet...? Damn it.)

.

.

.

FIN

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[jmdbjk]

Jungkook telling it like it is...

He did tell Spotify that he'd use the blanket they gave him. Just not the way they probably thought he would: Jungkook's glossy black marble floor shows his bare feet prints on it and he used his Spotify blanket to clean the floor. He says he'll have to always wear socks or slippers. I can see him leaving a pile of toe socks at the door just for him to put on when he's in that room...

He says he briefly and unseriously considered quitting the business to be a full time cook. (JK, you can't do that, you have to make enough money to pay for the utilities and property taxes on your new fortress...) But that's his introvert kicking in, the routine, the comfort zone, the way his job holds his interest enough to make him want to keep doing it. But he is aware and he knows this about himself and knows he has to return to his "spot" as he called it.

He seems to accept the fact his place of residence is going to be known by the fans just like many other aspects of his life such as details of his military service. He seems to take it in stride but he also sets boundaries by asking fans to not come to his house and do not send packages, not only to his house but to his army base. He explains why, that he cannot accept them and that packages containing food are restricted. He clearly instructs to send letters to the company.

How do people know where he lives? Here's the answer, or at least part of it:

We all know if you spend time on Youtube the algorithm will feed you videos and channels similar to what you've watched. If you are restrained enough to limit your viewing to only BangtanTV I applaud you. But if you watch anything else, youtube will serve you similar. We all know that through the anecdotes of Armys talking about being flooded with edited, slo-mo shipping videos.

Personally, I like watching youtube channels that show walking tours of Seoul. The city captured my attention and I've learned so much about it. But because of this interest I have in Seoul and Korea, more "walking tour" and Korean travel type channels are suggested to me. Some are better than others. Some are actually run by K-Army. I am very interested in K-Armys' perspective about life in Seoul so I watch. We get to see the birthday cafe events and such that I'm probably never going to experience.

Inevitably one of these channels is going to walk by the members' homes... because they are Army and can. Streets are public. And this is how other people find out where the members live. The videos show that none of the homes are accessible. They are all behind walls and gates. None of the videos show hoards of fans congregated in front of the homes. The only place you ever see that is in front of the Hybe building.

Yes, it is controversial knowing these things but it is also one of those things that is almost unavoidable. What do I do with the information I gain by watching? Nothing. I satisfy my curiosity and move on.

Jungkook knows we are curious. He knows with his position in life there are things he cannot control and he's aware of it. It's pointless for him to pretend he isn't aware of this. That's why he sets boundaries. And he's very kind about it when he does set boundaries.

Are there bad actors out there who will take advantage of the knowledge? Of course. But that's on them. Are there people who will post every detail they learn? Of course. That's how the information spreads to other social media platforms.

Anyway... the Weverse translations are sort of skimming over what he says. There's a little bit of nuance being left out sometimes.

The Weverse English subs say "We'd sing it every day while taking showers." But Jungkook more accurately said: "We always sing together while taking a shower." (begins at 1:00:00)

The Weverse English subs say "Recently, with Jimin, now during our clean up time I finished up in the kitchen and came back up we talked a lot about music and we'd always be humming (he hums) and I'd go far away and sing songs (he gestures away from him). I'll try to practice more when I have time." But more accurately he said: "So these days I'm with Jimin and now when its personal maintenance time I go upstairs after finishing kitchen work. We talk a lot about singing and we're humming along to each other all the time (he hums) like that and we go far away and sing and stuff (he gestures away from him). I'll practice more in my spare time." (begins at 36:48)

The Weverse English subs say "I've been doing well with Jimin in my military life. I've been well." More accurately he said: "I'm/we are working hard and doing well in military life together with Jiminie-hyung. I'm doing well." (at 8:18)

He showed us his entertainment room, he clearly states he can't show us the upstairs but he does not give a reason why but as he talks he explains he has not "organized" his house. Maybe he won't show it because he doesn't want to or maybe he won't show it because in his opinion, its a mess right now. Regardless, its his choice what he wants to show us and we are privileged when he does so. I'd bet that at some point, we'll see his kitchen because he's Jungkook.

He talked about his job as a cook in the Army. He said he prepares many Korean dishes and they are either boiled or braised. He mentions that they cannot grill food. He says its not easy making large amounts of food. He says he does his best to make them tasty. I've noticed on the timeline the accounts that post military menus that on most days, meals include stews and soups so he is definitely learning how to cook a wide variety of dishes.

He sang about 30 songs including several off Golden. He sounded really good singing Standing Next to You, in fact, his off the cuff live singing of all the songs from his album was pretty exquisite even if he didn't sing most of the songs to the end.

He spoke with a slight reverence regarding only singing BTS songs with the rest of the members. It gave me the impression he knows it will be a special moment for them as well as us.

He picked at his lip, bit his cuticles, touched his lips, scratched his head under his beanie and yawned many times before finally telling us good night. Until we see you again soon, Kookie! Be safe and keep practicing with Jimin!

[omerobertenjoyer]

joost klein dating & marriage headcanons ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

notes: sfw; the dating part is (accidentally) gender neutral, the marriage part mentions reader as a "wife" but it's not that detailed tbh; inbox open for ideas :)

dating:

• i believe you'll meet him through mutual friends, most likely at a function

• you'll just KNOW that he likes you right away, as he tries to get your insta he really reeks of desperation

• he really tries to impress you as you get to know each other, always taking you out, texting you every free second he has

⇨ ultimately it just smoothly turns into a relationship, you haven't discussed it, but you clearly are dating and everyone knows it loll

• he's very affectionate and touchy

• he's mesmerized by everything you do and say

• takes lots of pics of you, he's literally your own little photographer! also lots of unexpected "in the moment" pics that he takes of you when you don't see hehehe

• always interested in what you're working on

• lots of inside jokes!!!

• he just wants to see you smile :)

• he's a workaholic, but for you he'll REALLY try to not overwork himself so he'll have more emotional resources and time to spend on you

• if you live in the same city, expect to see him at your doorstep nearly every single day

⇨ if you don't live in the same city as him, he will definitely facetime or send you lots of messages everyday and will try to visit you as much as he can, maybe even a few times a month if he's not touring or especially busy!

⇨ if you don't live in the same country as him, once again, expect lots of calls and messages everyday!! he definitely won't be able to visit that often, especially if your country is far away or there's no direct flight, but when he has free time you better believe he's gonna stay here with you for like a whole month or smth

⇨ in some cases he may also just send you money so you'll come to him bc he just misses you that much :(

• he will really want to show you Fryslân!! and he will be really excited to see your home city/country

• in general, if you haven't seen some place, he will be really happy to show it to you or explore it with you!!

• writes down stuff that you like in his notes app in case he accidentally forgets

• he isn't really argumentative, he always tries to remain calm and to de-escalate any situation, it'll never turn into a screaming match with him

• he'll try his best to make your life better, always <3

marriage / domestic:

• any distance between you is insufferable for him, even if you live in the same apartment building, so naturally he will beg you to move in with him!

• you'll probably move in before you get married

• honestly i don't think he will wait that long for you to get married, 3 years MAX, but it depends on what you want

• he will definitely want to marry you since day 1, but will be too shy to discuss it straight away lol he's really the type to only start talking about it when it's brought up in a conversation

• i don't think he's the type to have a really big celebration, he will probably prefer a courthouse wedding, maybe celebrate with friends and family a bit and then travel around the world with you!!

⇨ but once again, it all depends on you, if you want a big pompous wedding then he's gonna organize it for you, as long as he can see that smile on your face!!!

• after he marries you, you better believe that every conversation that he initiates starts with "my wife"

• as he has mentioned before, he's not good at cooking, but he won't force you or expect you to do it; in fact, he will try to improve so he can make you the things that you like; and he also really loves to take you out to eat!!!

• he's also not very good at cleaning and fixing stuff around the house, but he'll try his best, he will watch youtube tutorials and follow them step by step!

• now his recommended page is just "how to clean up greasy kitchen cabinets", "how to fix a leaking toilet" and "25 chicken recipes"😭

• lots of cuddles and kisses 24/7, if he could he would just lie in bed with you the whole day

• eternally grateful for everything you give him

⇨ you found this cute t-shirt in a thrift store? he will bring it with him on every trip. random button you found on the road? it's with him everywhere everyday like a talisman. lip balm? suddenly his lips are always moisturized.

• ughhh why is he just such a sweet and soft boy

• literally him:

[umgeorge]

Press con questions that weren't shown:

Q: (Jenna Fryer – Associated Press) George, were you guys blindsided by this or have any idea that it was coming or under consideration, that a change in Race Director was coming? GR: No, no idea whatsoever. So, yeah, as I said, it was a bit of a bit of surprise.

Q: (Luke Smith – The Athletic) George, has there been any response from the FIA or the FIA president to what the GPDA put out? GR: No. Not at the moment, which I'm a little bit surprised about, to be fair. But maybe there'll be something to come. Who knows?

Q: (Ben Hunt – Autosport) It's obviously very disappointing to learn from you that there's no transparency at all from the FIA. Was there any response about where the money's going from for all these fines and all that sort of stuff? Because that's another key element which we would quite like to know as well. GR: No, I think ultimately for us, when we were hearing from the FIA a couple of years ago, when it came to the Presidential elections, they were talking about transparency, talking about where the money is going to be reinvested into grassroots racing, which we're all in favour for. And of course, when it comes to some of these large fines, there's a number of drivers on the grid who can comfortably afford these fines. There's maybe some rookies on the grid that if they're handed a $1 million fine, you know, they can't afford this. But if we know where that's being sort of reinvested and if it's going into grassroots or into some training programs, then we get it. As I said, I think we just want the transparency and understanding of what was promised from the beginning.

Q: (Kevin Scheuren – Motorsport-total.com) A question to George as well on that topic. Isn't it a bad sign that you need to open up a social media account to make your voices heard as a collective? Because it sometimes seems, looking from the outside, that the individual, if the individual has an opinion on stuff, he faces repercussions. Now you have to work as a collective. Are you more or less a pawn in this game? Do you drivers feel sometimes more or less as a pawn in this game, not taken serious? GR: I think we've probably learned from the past that whenever we have spoken up, let's say internally, it hasn't gone anywhere. And as I said, as drivers, we only want the best for the sport. We want to improve it, especially on safety grounds, but whenever it comes to, you know, decisions in the race, we only want to help. And it's been a couple of years now that not much has changed when we have sort of given some views forward. And I guess we all wanted to show that we are collectively united. And maybe that will show how seriously we feel as a whole on the subject.

Q: (Andrew Benson – BBC Sport) George, it's been seven years since the GPDA had put out a public statement of this kind about something they were concerned about. What level of confidence do the drivers have in the leadership of the FIA at the moment? GR: I mean, I'm not too sure to be honest. We recognise everybody's working as hard as they can to do the best job possible. There is obviously a huge amount of change within the FIA quite regularly, so it's clearly not the most stable of places. And maybe that's why it's been a bit challenging to get some of the changes that we've wanted implemented. Of course, everyone has their own side to their own story. But as I said, I think if we feel that we're being listened to and some of the changes that we are experiencing, requesting, are implemented, because ultimately we're only doing it for the benefit of the sport, then maybe our confidence will increase. But yeah, I think there's a number of drivers who feel probably a bit fed up with the whole situation. And it only seems to be going in, to a degree, the wrong direction.

Q: (Jordan Bianchi – The Athletic) For all three drivers: you returned to Vegas this year. A year ago, there was a lot of hype and excitement about this race. I'm curious, now that you come back here for a second time, what's the atmosphere like that you guys have kind of experienced so far? Kevin, let's start with you.

GR: Yeah, I mean, it definitely feels strange, this Grand Prix, just living in the night. And like Kevin says, the atmosphere builds up during the course of the weekend. So, yeah, let's see how it goes.

Q: (Anna Cordera – Momentum Racing) George, I'd like to ask you, you've been racing with Lewis for almost three years. What do you think is going to be different now you being the veteran of the team racing with Kimi, regarding the development of the car? GR: Yeah, I mean, ultimately, for most F1 teams, you have near on 1,000 people who are working towards building these two cars, yet you only have two drivers driving it. So, I think, let's say, in Lewis, in my case, it was never that Lewis had a stronger voice. The team listened to us both equally because both of our opinions were extremely important. And the same going into next year. You know, Kimi's new. He's fresh. And I'm sure he's going to have a lot of great ideas to bring to the table. So, you know, I am the more experienced of the two, but we will both get equal voices the same way, and we will both equally contribute towards the development the same way as it was with Lewis and I.

Q: (Ian Parkes – New York Times) Sorry, another question to you, George. George, is it that difficult to try and get a sit-down face-to-face meeting with the President of the FIA to discuss all these issues, that you have to go down the route that you did with that message? GR: It's definitely not difficult to get a sit down, but I think getting things to change or getting promises upheld seems slightly more challenging. So, it's maybe the FIA or the president didn't recognise how seriously we all felt. So I think that's why over the course of 20 races this year and also even last year we spoke about a number of topics, all of the drivers, we all feel pretty similar. We all know what we want from the sport and the direction it's been heading and we probably feel that we want to do a small U-turn on a number of topics and just want to work together with the FIA on this. And that's just what we've felt has not been happening at all, at least directly from the President.

[evilminji]

You think the Chimpanzee from Dark LOVES Amity shops?

Like? Think about it...

How many places do you know, near where YOU LIVE, aren't gonna Be Weird About taking a sentient chimpanzee's legal tender. Selling him goods and services. Without, you know, doing the whole "is this a wild animal or a sentient Chimpanzee Detective person" Every Single Fucking Time, dispite him very CLEARLY wearing a suit.

Not treat him like a side show to be ogled at. Baby talked down too.

Treated as Less Then.

How many shops? Because yeah, he can buy things online. Ship them to drop points. Yes, he has a paying job. Legal rights he fought very, VERY hard for. And yeah, those rights are tenuous. Only as real as the willingness of those humans willing to enforce them. But? Money isn't worth much, with no where to spend it.

He's a grown fucking Chimpanzee for God's sake! It's frustrating and embarrassing having to ask his colleagues, to buy his groceries and other such goods, FOR him.

Then? He finds a preportedly "Meta Friendly" shop in the town he's currently working a case in? That reviews say is VERY good.

He'll be the judge of that.

After all, they all say that. Until a chimpanzee walks into their shop.

Only? Beyond the cashier's confused blinking? Nothing. They make what they CLEARLY think is a "discreet" call, the owner pops their head out from the back, look at him briefly, then merely nods. Says something into the phone that seems to clear everything up.

Not once his he bothered, as he peruses the shelves.

He even finds some tea he'd been having trouble locating and a lovely local bread that looks promising. Bobo? Has a new favorite grocery store. To hell that he must take the zeta tubes to get there. Worth it.

And that's BEFORE he learns, through a bit of artful small talk. That there is both a FULL TOWN like this AND a full network of shops/services he can locate through an app.

When they say Everyone Welcome, they truely do mean it.

He's brought swamp thing, shown up covered in blood, swung by with a literal angel for bandages and some water too make holy. Not so much as a blink. Seen Constantine staring blankly at the vodkas, like they offer salvation. The stockers step gently around. Morningstar? Not sure what he was BUYING, but Bobo watched him pay in a solid gold brick and leave with the basket.

He reported that one.

Still. It's? The most... normal, he's ever felt.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @hypewinter @hypewinter @dcxdpdabbles

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader (now with aventurine!)

summary: Days after the dinner with Sunday, Aventurine decides to check in on you for his own reasons. wc: 1k part 3 (nsfw) / part 4 / part 5

---

"Hey! How's it going, doll?"

"—Venny!"

Aventurine strode over, swinging a watch chain idly in his hands. Whatever hung from its ends was far too small to be a conventional pocketwatch from the way he twisted it between his fingers, but the circular case was still rather ornately decorated. Of course, it only made sense that a man like Aventurine would be dripping in gold, useful items or otherwise.

"Has Feather-head been sending you all over the place again?" Aventurine asked. "Come on, I can get being a busybody here and there, but you really overdo it sometimes."

You laugh, shrinking into yourself a little. "Oh, a job's a job..." you digress. He raises his brows, accepting your statement but not entirely convinced. The way he props his arm up on the nearby table almost makes it seem like he's hovering over you a little. ...But there's something friendly in his eyes, so you pay it no mind.

"Say, I wouldn't mind taking you out for a drink or two one of these days. If there's a single person in Penacony who needs it, it'd be you. Aeons know I've got money to spend."

You chuckle, eyes still timidly askance. "Don't trouble yourself with me, Venny. I'm sure you've got much better things to do." "I'm being' square with you, babe, believe me!" He laughs. "I wanna hear all about what that boss of yours is putting you through. You can vent to a friend, can't you, doll?" Perhaps the fact that your face drops gives a little too much away. Now you're looking away to hide the blush on your face, mortified with yourself. "He's not as bad as you'd think," you stammer through your teeth. "Honestly, he probably thinks I work too much." It's not as if it technically isn't true. Sunday's flippancy over dinner all those days ago made that much clear. "Then he's got no right to balk about you taking the day off, now does he?" You sigh, rolling your eyes. "You know what, sure," you smile. "Let me get everything put back in my office, and I'll meet you somewhere." Aventurine clicks his teeth, shooting finger guns at you before the two of you part ways.

... ... ... ...

When you usually open the door to your office, you tend to close it behind you in a very deliberate way, keeping your back pressed up against the door. It's not as if you enjoy the little cage (that's often what it feels like, with the columns of gold that run up the walls across the floor to meet in the center), but it serves its purpose. It keeps your papers in, and it keeps the world out.

Usually. "Mister Sunday?" You've never seen Sunday move as fast as he does when he stands up from opening the drawers in your desk. It's almost uncanny watching his face as he's caught off his guard for the slightest moment, almost staring in wonder at you standing there. "[Y/N]," he marvels. "What a surprise." You should be asking what he's doing there, and furthermore why he needed to be going through your desk to do it... But Sunday was your boss. All of the papers in there were going to be sent to him anyways, and that's all you have in the desk—papers, stamps, official stationery. You'd heard of some that would fill their desk drawers with more personal items, but that had never been your style. "I was just looking for you, sir," you lie, hanging up your bag on the coat rack by the door. "I was going the ask for the rest of the day off." Sunday lights up. Clearly he'd gotten through to you the other night, he reasons. You had always been oh so very shy about your affections towards him, he was sure of it—So how else would you ask for more time with him than to ask it like this? "Of course, dear," Sunday smiles. "You've worked so hard this past week, you only deserve some time to yourself. You can have the rest of the week off if you'd like that as well." Surprised, your eyes widen at the offer. "That's quite generous of you, Mr. Sunday. I don't think that's necessary." "Please, dear, anything for you. Would you like me to escort you home? So you can spend the rest of your week at ease, that is." Your eye contact with him breaks, and you can't shake the notion that you're breaking some unspoken, un-agreed-upon contract when you say: "Actually, I'm meeting with a friend, so there's no need." If you were willing to entertain such an insane notion, you would say you notice Sunday's eye twitch. He had never been the kind of man to have unusual tremors or ticks, his hands always guided smoothly along their path. His face still keeps that smile of his, however. The same as he smiles at anyone else, only... colder, somehow. "My mistake," Sunday replies, his face strained. "I'm sure you mustn't keep this... company of yours waiting any longer. You should be on your way as soon as possible." You almost reassure him that Aventurine wouldn't be bothered at all, but you hold your tongue. Sunday walks around your desk to approach you, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'll take my leave as well, then. ...Though, before you go, [Y/N], I have one request." "Yes, sir?" His face grows even more unusually cold. "Cancel all of my meetings for the rest of the day," he states plainly, almost like he's admonishing you. "We'll reschedule them the moment you clock in tomorrow." "Of course, sir." "Thank you, dear. I apologize for the hassle. It seems I have something important to attend to today," he adds, seemingly more for his own sake than your own. "We'll see each other shortly." "Of course, Mr. Sunday. See you tomorrow." Sunday closes the door behind him, leaving you alone to finish sorting your papers before your meeting with Aventurine. --- a/n: hope you guys don't mind the artistic liberties with aven's dialogue lol!!! also, I don't have any intention of making this aven x y/n x sunday, but if there's enough demand i could probably incorporate that lol feedback always appreciated!!! tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d

[wwinterwitch]

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away. 

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do? 

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive. 

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.