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[lokissweater]

beetlejuice!

{beetlejuice!satoru gojo x f!reader}

— ��� may you never forget me ” ♪ ༘⋆

summary: living as a psychic medium was like a ticket straight to nothing in your life, you always accidentally creeping people out and scaring them when you talked about it, and you just feeling empty— like something was missing and vacant in your life with no explanation as to why. but upon stumbling through an attic inside a house of a recently deceased couple, you meet him— beetlejuice, a silly and wacky man who was damned to live in the attic for eternity due to him breaking the rules, you never having met a spirit so forward and flirtatious in your life as you quickly bonded. but when beetlejuice presents the idea of you being able to break his contract and finally set him free, you hesitate at the one condition… marrying him.

warnings: MDNI afab!reader, DIABOLICAL angst my god, angst w/ comfort though YIPPEEE, mentions of death, mentions of murder, reader is a psychic medium, fluuufff, SMUUUTTT, p in v sex, DOM AFF SATORU MEOOWWW, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, oral, blowie, mentions of ghosts and spirits and things, loosely inspired by the 80s movie, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 19.8k

authors note: YEEEEEOOOOWWWW GET READY YALL….. SHES FREAKY… SHES ANGSTY… AND SHES THE MOMEEEENNTTTT omg i absolutely LOOOVEDDD writing this one so much and i hope you guys find it interesting or i’m gonna CRYYYY HEHEHEH no i’m jk but as always, i love you SO SO SO much and thank you for all of your love and support !! MWAAAHHH <333

you’ve always had a knack for the paranormal.

and from the newspaper clippings you saw and the meddlesome whisperings of your fellow neighbors, newlyweds adam and barbara maitland died on their way home from a day out in the town— swerving in their vehicle while crossing over a bridge and crashing through the side of it, evidently sending themselves tumbling down to the river below and drowning.

it was the biggest tragedy your tiny town had ever been hit with, the maitland’s having renovated their house on the hill from scratch and had recently just finished it when the accident happened, the both of them in the midst of planning their honeymoon to get away from winter river for a little while, happy and in love and looking forward to a quiet serene life together.

it was a shame, really, and it only took two weeks for rumors to spread about how there were always weird moving shadows from the windows of their two story home, or slight flashings of neon blue or white seeping through the cracks of their front door— all of which pissed the realtors off seeing as the rumors prevented the house from being sold again, prospected buyers coming in with high hopes only to be scared off once they so even explored the town, a store clerk or a fellow neighbor quick to tell them of the gossip and to stay away, ultimately causing the house to collect dust and cobwebs until realtors decided they wouldn’t bother much with it anymore.

and the rumors always peaked your interest, as your entire life you’ve always had a passion for the supernatural seeing as your late parents were psychic mediums for the otherworldly, a beautiful ominous gift that was relayed to you from the moment you were able to correctly comprehend sentences, your mind and soul more welcoming to spirits of the unknown compared to regular folk who flat out refused.

and why? you didn’t know. they were just mystic entities that perhaps couldn’t find their way to the other side like they were intended, and if the rumors were true, the maitland’s were in the same predicament, and you felt like they just needed time and space without the pestering of realtors or dumb kids knocking on the windows to see if a ghost would pop out— deserving of a proper chance to figure it out.

except your boyfriend wouldn’t understand that either.

“babe c’mon!” he pleaded with you, a distressed look on his face. “i thought you liked creepy ghost shit?”

you scoffed. “yes rin but not to fucking break in and steal their things! what the hell’s the matter with you?!”

rin groaned and rubbed his eyes, his friends obviously annoyed and bothered by your defiance and it only made you feel awkward, sitting there on your desk chair in your college dorm and guiltily picking at your black nail polish.

“y/n we literally cannot go if you don’t go.” he pushed. “we need your ghost brain to tell us if they’re around so we can scram if they decide to kill us.”

you snorted, already aggravated by rin’s lack of respect and wholeheartedly believing dumb stereotypes.

“you’re committing a crime—”

“the house is abandoned! no one gives a shit!” he threw his arms up. “babe c’mon i’m serious it’s getting late and we’re losing time.”

why wasn’t he listening?

“what are you looking for anyways?” you mumbled.

“money.” he replied, grabbing his black bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “that’s literally it i won’t take anything else.”

“do you swear?” you peered up at him. “don’t take jewelry or any of their things just money and we get out.”

“yeah we won’t! right guys?”

rin looked over both of his shoulders to ensure that his friends agreed, them muttering and sighing as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek and feeling embarrassed for some reason, slowly standing and crossing your arms.

you never liked his friends.

“and leave me out of it okay?” you spoke. “we could get kicked out of college for this i don’t know how you’re not worried…”

he swung a heavy arm around your shoulders and nudged you on, you stumbling a bit as he basically had a lock around your neck on your way outside.

“they’re not gonna care y/n.” he dismissed, unlocking the car and his friends piling in the back while you settled in the passenger seat. “nobody will. it’s abandoned.”

the entire way there you were aggravated and guilty, rin and his friends babbling on about the valuable things they’d hope to find and the kind of ghosts they thought would appear, not a single person in the car an actual believer of those paranormal rumors as they poked fun and teased, your forehead against the glass of the window and miserable as rin drove up the steep hill— the night chilly and so dark that you could barely make out the shape of the house until you were just about to pull up to the driveway.

rin turned off his headlights and tuned down the radio to avoid drawing attention, steering wheel shifting a little to the right so the car could gradually round over and stop next to the front steps of the porch— rin shutting off the ignition once he parked and stuffing his keys into his pocket.

and you could immediately feel a presence even from outside the house, your arms stiff and tingly as you all quietly got out of the car and made your way to the stairs, dry dirt crinkling beneath your shoes as you tried to swallow back your nerves knowing that at any moment you could all be fucking arrested.

“are you sensing ghosts?” rin whispered, a sly teasing grin on his face as the floorboards of the porch creaked with your movements, his hand reaching and jiggling the doorknob.

“yeah.”

his eyes snapped over to you. “…really? yeah right.”

“no i’m serious.” you whispered back. “what did you bring me for if you’re not even gonna believe when i tell you—”

“okay! okay i’m sorry.” he apologized, though it didn’t seem genuine as he patted your back. “i believe you trust me.”

“wait— she said there’s ghosts?” one of his friends piped up. “how do you know?”

you went to answer but rin beat you to it.

“she’s a psychic… i guess.” he unzipped his bag and pulled out a mini tool kit, a mix of screwdrivers and bobby pins inside. “she can sense them.”

“oh my god…” another one mumbled, all of his friends eerie now. “rin— i thought you said those rumors were bullshit.”

your eyes narrowed. “you said that?”

“no!— i mean, technically yes but—” he took two bobby pins from the kit and put the rest of the box away, hunching down to lock pick the knob. “you guys really think any of that is real? it’s just the neighbors man they’re bored—”

“people here don’t just make up rumors like that rin.” you cut him off. “the majority of winter river is elderly and in retirement why the fuck would they be making up—”

“because they’re old and bored—”

the lock released a prominent click and rin tested the doorknob again, this time it turning all the way and opening as he pushed it wide, you all proceeding cautiously and it somehow being colder inside than it was outside as the group shined their flashlights around every corner and space, not bothering to tell your boyfriend that the presence you felt earlier was ten times stronger now, for rin never really believed you or just thought you were being funny whenever you mentioned things like that to him.

you had known rin since the start of college, him always the rebel dickish type as he didn’t follow directions or liked whenever people tried to tell him what to do, and how you ended up crossing paths with him and it sticking was something that was a mystery to you.

rin was everything you wanted at first.

and though he was a bit selfish, you foolishly looked past the fact and let him meddle his way into your already monotonous life, it being hard for you to make friends in the first place because of your psychic abilities— always feeling like something was missing and… vacant for years growing up without any explanation as to exactly why, figuring it was just the side effects of your parents’ passing.

but it still didn’t help when you’d accidentally partake in scaring off and weirding people out when you mentioned that you just saw their deceased relative wander by, rin being one of the first to actually stay because he didn’t believe you, choosing to turn a blind eye to something you treasured about yourself the most, stuck and left to wonder if there was ever someone who did.

but turning a blind eye to just your psychic ability became him turning a blind eye to everything about you, and you felt like he never really listened to what you had to say or cared, often switching the topic back to himself or giving you a series of ‘mhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ to get you to move on.

you didn’t feel seen anymore, but you loved him still for some reason.

“where do we even look?” one of his friends whispered, the lot of you traveling as a group through the entry room and down the hall to the kitchen.

“wherever you think a money bank would be.” rin mumbled, leading you all and going round to the living room, his flashlight shining over dusty furniture and spiderwebs. “i think it’d be better if we split up. half of us can take upstairs and the others can look through the kitchen, y/n and i are gonna dig through here for a bit—”

“what?” you spoke, his friends nodding and walking off to their designated areas. “rin no i told you i’m not—”

“oh my god babe— would it really hurt you to just peek in some freaking drawers? let me know if something looks like it has money in it alright?”

he stepped over to the middle and crouched by the coffee table, opening and closing several compartments. “be useful please.”

you scoffed. “you’re the one who dragged me here and i told you i wasn’t getting involved.”

“you’re not.” he mumbled, standing back up and going over to a big brown dresser on the side. “just look at shit and don’t touch anything. tell me if you see money.”

you rubbed your cheek in exhausted frustration, thinking it’d be better to just mindlessly look around to appease him as you caught and stared at the photographs over by the fireplace— a wedding portrait of whom you assumed to be adam and barbara maitland propped up amongst others of family and friends, your fingers raising to gently wipe away the dirt and grime from the glass to get a clearer look of them.

you felt awful that their lives were taken from them just when they had built such a loving foundation for it, and you felt even more awful that rin and his stupid friends were invading their space and stealing in the way that they were with no sense of respect.

a sudden loud thud from upstairs made you and rin stop in your tracks, the both of you unmoving as you tried to listen.

“i’m gonna—” you gnawed at your bottom lip. “i’m gonna check upstairs—”

“no absolutely not.” rin shook his head. “it’s probably just my friends it’s fine.”

“if it’s the maitland’s your friends aren’t gonna know what to do besides shit themselves—”

“okay yeah sure.” he laughed, opening and closing different drawers from top to bottom. “it’s the house babe it’s old and worn out. maybe the— wood or whatever is acting up.”

you pursed your lips, arms crossing and apprehensive as you stood next to him, knowing with everything in you that the maitland’s were definitely still present.

“can we please just go rin...” you asked softly. “please we’ll— we’ll find a different building that’s actually abandoned and doesn’t have the maitland’s still here—”

he scoffed. “y/n this one is abandoned.“

“but it’s only been three months!” you exclaimed. “i don’t wanna do this to them—”

“—oh sweet! there’s a rolex in here—”

“no!” you snatched the watch from his upheld hand and backed away towards the fireplace. “you swore to me just money these are their things—”

“y/n they’re dead! who fucking cares? all of their shit’s gonna be donated might as well pawn it.”

“yeah for your own benefit right?” you mumbled, pushing past him and walking down the hall. “i’m going home.”

he looked at you baffled. “are you serious? over a dumb watch?”

“rin you’ve gone back on everything you promised and you’re not taking me seriously—”

“did i take the watch? no i didn’t so stop—”

“i’m not talking about just the watch!”

“you know what?! fine!” rin shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys, chucking them at you and hitting against your chest as you scrambled to catch them. “go wait in the car.”

you threw them back and they hit his upper arm, his eyes narrowing at you in return as he then bent down to grab them from the floor.

“i’m not waiting in the damn car i’m walking home.”

“you’re walking?” he shook his head. “back to your dorm? that’s gonna take you like an hour y/n.”

you shrugged.

“fine go i don’t give a shit.” rin muttered and rolled his eyes. “you always do this man—”

you didn’t bother to stick around for anything else he had to say as you trudged on down the hall and back to the main entryway, tears brimming your eyes at the lack of care he had for you and scolding yourself for the thousandth time for staying with him, trying to understand why he was like this with you when all you’ve ever done was be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t fucking deserve it.

it was hard for you to tell if he even loved you anymore, and you always psyched yourself out that he did whenever he’d barely just accomplish doing the bare minimum.

upon arriving at the front door, you placed the rolex gently on a lonesome night stand by the coat hanger, your hand reaching and turning the knob to step outside until another loud thud shook through the walls, and louder this time as you pulled back and craned your head to look up the stairs.

muffled voices seeped from the top as they gasped and whispered to each other to shush, you recognizing some to be rin’s friends with irritation and worry simmering in your brain, wondering if they were messing with the maitland’s things and stealing what they weren’t supposed to steal, as they were just as uncaring and selfish as rin was throughout the time that you’ve gotten to know them.

and with that in mind, you let go of the doorknob and quietly walked up the stairs, every creak and groan from the wooden slabs underneath your feet making you wince as you went further and further until you reached the top, you sighing as you saw that the maitland’s room door was wide fucking open and with snickering inside.

but with each step that you took to get closer… the more prominent the goosebumps on your arms became and the heavier the feeling in your gut grew, a strange apparent flickering light from your right blinding your vision for a moment as you stopped and turned to look.

your eyes slightly widened, a neon lime green foggy light practically oozing from the attic staircase as it streamed over half of your frame, luring you in with your body mindlessly and curiously walking towards it and up the rugged squeaky stairs, fingers quickly reaching up to swing the attic door open and halting in alarm once you did, the green aluminous light from earlier completely encasing you entirely now as you stepped forward inside the attic.

the door swung and slammed itself shut suddenly, you jumping and spinning around with hurried hands coming up to pull and tug at the knob, breathing irregular upon realizing that it wouldn’t fucking budge and was somehow jammed with no explanation as to exactly how—

“boyfriend troubles?”

“oh my god!” you screamed, hand flying over your heart as your eyes snapped to the source, a tall lanky man standing there with a little grin and vibrant pale blue eyes that only utterly confused you, his vertically stripped black and white suit peculiar and unique as your frantic eyes darted over his figure.

you knew for a fact that the strange man before you wasn’t adam maitland, for the way he looked now didn’t match the pictures you saw in the newspapers at all, you swallowing thickly and slowly backing up against the attic door with your heart dropping straight down to your ass.

who the fuck was he? was he— was he a spirit? because if not there’s a random man literally just basking and relaxing inside the—

“relax! relax jeez you look like you’re about to vomit sweets.”

sweets?

“are you dead?!” you blurted, hand scrambling behind you for the doorknob. “are you— are you alive how are you—”

he laughed loudly and wiggled his little index finger— scrunching it up and down to elicit a ‘yes’ and finding your skittishness a little funny.

“yup! so dead very dead.”

“o— oh… okay...” you spoke softly, tense shoulders gradually relaxing as you gave him a small timid smile, relieved that he wasn’t a freaking squatter and doing god knows what up in the attic.

“you seem happier to see a dead man rather than a live one...” he looked at you amusedly. “you like ghosts? scary stuff? haunted houses? handsome me?—”

you nearly choked on your spit at his last comment, an awkward smile wobbling across your face as you played with your fingers.

“i— i um..” you looked around, your eyes catching a book titled ‘handbook for the recently deceased’ sitting neatly on a dusty table by the door. “you could say that.. but—”

you hesitated, the man’s head tilting to the side as he waited for you to continue.

“but what pretty?”

you blushed furiously, never having met a spirit so forward before.

“sorry but— how did you end up here?” you stood on your tippy toes to peer over his shoulders and around the attic. “and where are the maitlands?”

“oh, those lousy goodie two shoed meanies?” he mumbled, pouting and bitter as he crossed his arms. “beats me..”

you laughed a little, guard slowly coming down as he didn’t seem or feel like a bad person to you, and you thought that perhaps he was in the same boat as the maitlands and was just trying to find his way to the other side.

“why are they meanies?” you smiled, and he reciprocated, arms falling to his sides.

“well— i’m kind of being held in the attic against my will by the— holy shit wait!”

he threw his hands out in front of him and took quick stride full steps towards you, a wild excited expression on his face and you stiffening up again, backing up against the door.

“you can help me!”

“help… you..?” you squeaked.

he vigorously nodded. “yeah! the butthead caseworkers down in the netherworld banned me from leaving the attic… but you can give me a little leg room in my contract sweets!”

netherworld— caseworkers— banned—

“huh?!” you exclaimed, brows furrowed and utterly confused at everything he was fucking saying.

you’ve only ever seen spirits from afar or casually talked to them about something fleeting before they went on their marry way, but never in your life have you met such a complex soul that was so animate and asking you for a favor straight off the bat… as spirits usually just— knew what they were doing and eventually figured out how to get to the great beyond.

so the subject of caseworkers and the netherworld and whatever the fuck else he was rambling on about was something you were not familiar with.

“i did something they didn’t like.” he gave you a boyish half smile. “so they did some ritual thing and now i can’t leave the attic.”

you frowned. “why would they do that? what did you do?”

he waved you off and swung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you forward with him towards a huge 3D model in the center of the room that you barely just noticed— intricate and detailed and colorful as your brain put two and two together and figured out that it was a model of the entire city of winter river.

“don’t worry about it! but i overheard juno telling her assistants not to say my name three times or else i’ll be let out to roam around the house—”

juno? who’s juno?

“—and that’s why i really need you sweets because i’m dying in this fucking attic… way more than i already am.”

you blinked at him. “i’ve never— i’ve seen spirits all my life and i’ve never had any of them tell me about caseworkers? and juno? who’s juno?”

“the rule is that the land of the living isn’t supposed to know.” he pursed his lips and dropped his arm from your shoulders, picking up the book that you had spotted earlier and passing it to you. “says it in the handbook.”

you timidly took it from him and flittered through the pages, old and crinkly and a little worn out as the gist of the pages you saw was a guide for those beginning their post-livelihood and the steps they needed to do so— from waiting rooms in the netherworld to being assigned a caseworker to help you out to the great beyond and so forth, your eyes falling on a particular page and catching specific line.

‘live people ignore the strange and unusual.’

they do. wrongfully they do.

and since people had been ignoring you out of fear your whole life… did that mean you were strange and unusual too?

“what?” the unknown man spoke, softly as his blue gaze switched between your solemn expression and the book, shifting his position to stand right next to you and see what you were looking at.

“oh sorry!” you laughed it off, closing the book and placing it down. “nothing i was just—”

“‘live people ignore the strange and unusual?’” he repeated. “what about it?”

you shook your head and sent him a small smile. “nothing! i was just looking—”

“just because you can see spirits doesn’t mean you’re strange or unusual.”

you stilled, eyes big as you watched the way he froze up over what he said, sheepishly relaxing after a moment and lifting an arm to pat over your head.

“sorry pretty. i can read and manipulate minds and i poked in yours...” he looked at you apologetically. “it’s another reason why they threw me in this shit hole.”

he dropped his hand then, a sincere glint in his eyes. “but i mean it.”

“i don’t know…” you mumbled, looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt. “i’ve never really had friends because of it… and i feel like that book kind of confirmed what i’ve been thinking.”

you quickly picked your head up. “oh but— it’s okay! i’m okay i’m used to it spirits are nicer anyways and i’ve always been alone so—”

“that’s not true.” he mumbled.

your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

he funnily froze up again. “what do i mean what?”

“what’s not true?”

“oh! that— that spirits are nicer!” he quickly sputtered. “they’re assholes. all of them. every single one. including me!”

you giggled at his franticness and a smile spread across his face at that, endearing as he watched you slowly cheer up.

“people’s ignorance doesn’t define who you are sweets.” he spoke gently. “so don’t give them that right. you look perfectly fine to me!”

your eyes softened, wondering what the hell this man did that made the caseworkers down in the netherworld ritual him into a contract, as you were convinced it wasn’t even that bad at all and just straight up unfair, him being one of the kindest and silliest souls you’ve probably ever had the privilege to come across.

“i’ll help you.”

his eyes snapped to yours. “huh?”

“i’ll help you!” you spoke sweetly. “i’ll say your name three times so you can leave the attic.”

“wha— really?!” he exclaimed excitedly, hands animatedly flying everywhere as they went from digging into his white locks to all over his suit and then thrown out to grip over your shoulders, shaking you as you giggled again. “holy shit will you actually?!”

“yeah! why not?” you grinned. “i don’t think it’s right that you’re stuck up here all alone.”

“angel! angel! you’re an angel!” he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and stuffed your face into his chest, squishing you so fucking tight and honestly holding you way longer than he should’ve, but you not minding one tiny bit as you hugged him back and smoothed a comforting friendly hand over his broad shoulders.

“what’s your name then?” you muffled against his suit. “so i can—”

“ahhh fuck.” he muttered. “i forgot about one thing.”

you pulled back a little. “hm?”

“i can’t tell you my name.”

“what?” you looked at him confusedly. “what do you mean? why not?”

“it’s part of the stupid contract sweets...” he sighed heavily. “but i can give you clues! ooo!— like charades! ready?”

“oh! o—okay!” you nodded, him finally letting you go and stepping back.

“don’t freak out.” he grinned in a silly way. “i’m about to make things show up.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “make things show up?”

he waved his hand and a life sized fucking black bug appeared out of nowhere, landing on one of the old wooden rocking chairs in the corner of the room as it wiggled its little legs and peered around, you screaming and flying behind the strange blue eyed man while he laughed loudly and looked over his shoulders for you.

“it’s okay! just a figment of your imagination is all.” he cheesed. “but guess now!”

“guess what?!” you shrieked.

“what that is!” he pointed to the bug.

you peeked an eye out from his side, the bug still gross and horrifying as it wiggled it’s antennas.

“a bug!”

“what kind?”

“a beetle!”

“yes!” he nodded vigorously. “okay that’s the first part!”

“your name starts with beetle?!—”

he waved his hand again and the bug disappeared, a carton of orange juice replacing it instead and floating in mid air, a shiny glass cup next to it as you amazedly watched it pour its bright orange contents into the cup without spilling a single drop.

“…orange juice?” you spoke softly, timidly coming around from behind him. “your names beetle orange juice?”

“not quite!” he made a drinking motion with his hand.

“beetle drinking orange juice?”

he laughed. “no! you’re adding too many words pretty take some out.”

“beetle drinking juice?”

“nope.”

“beetle drinking orange?”

“colder.”

“beetlejuice?—”

“yes!” he threw his hands out, eyes wild and excited. “yes that! and you’ve already said it once now just two more times—”

“beetlejuice.”

“uh huh uh huh—”

“beetle— mmph!”

a pair of hands clasped over your mouth from behind you and pulled you back, you letting out a muffled scream as you thrashed and quickly pried their fingers away, you spinning around and fully expecting to see rin behind you with a shit eating grin and laughing in your face for scaring you.

except it wasn’t rin.

it was the maitlands.

“don’t say his name honey.” barbara spoke first. “trust me… don’t.”

“i mean— are we sure about this sweetheart?” adam looked at his wife. “maybe he isn’t all that bad… hell we don’t even know for sure—”

barbara shook her head. “adam, did you not hear a word juno said? he was about to take advantage of that poor girl!”

take advantage?

you heard a scoff behind you and you turned around, a disgruntled and pissed off look on beetlejuice’s face as he crossed his arms.

“jeez i know you don’t like me but that’s low.” he mumbled. “i wouldn’t do something like that.”

your head turned back to barbara. “you know who juno is?”

she nodded. “juno’s our caseworker… we got assigned to her in the netherworld after we died.”

“took us three months waiting in the waiting room until she finally got to us.” adam added, chuckling in humorous disbelief. “but all she really did was nag at us and warn us about him.”

adam pointed behind you and you turned around again, beetlejuice bitterly looking to the side with his lips pursed.

oh god.

had he been feeding you nonsense this entire time?

“warn about what.” you mumbled, and beetlejuice snapped his head in your direction with anxious eyes.

“juno calls him a bio-exorcist.” barbara informed you. “he tried to illegally cross over to the land of the living and bring himself back to life.”

your eyes bulged open. “back to life? how?”

“you switch souls with someone else through a ritual.” adam piped in. “juno says he attempted to trick and switch souls with somebody that was alive so he could terminate all who were living… and they didn’t even know about it.”

“that’s not true!” beetlejuice countered, utterly exasperated. “the old hag made that up!”

he quickly walked towards you, taking your hands in his and looking at you pleadingly.

“please sweets you’ve gotta believe me i never wanted to kill anybody—”

you ripped your hands away and glared. “so this entire time you’ve been lying, playing some hopeless victim so you can poke into my head and find out shit about me to use to your advantage?—”

“no! no i— i haven’t been lying about anything it’s juno!”

“juno.” you repeated coldly. “and what’s she lying about exactly.”

“about killing the living!” he threw his hands out in emphasis. “she literally pulled that out of her ass when her and her minions banned me—”

“and what about tricking that person to switch souls with you so you can come back?”

he faltered, words completely failing him and guilty eyes looking into yours so deeply that it nearly made you feel bad for yelling at him.

“that’s… that’s true.”

you let out a breath of disbelief and barbara put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently and comfortingly as she looked at you with caring eyes.

“we don’t know what to believe either honey.” she began. “it’s a lot of he said she said… but it’s better to be safe. he tried to get us to say his name three times too in exchange for his help.”

you quirked a brow. “help? what do you guys need help with?”

“your buddies downstairs.” adam sighed. “they’re stealing our things and just messing up the house… but we’ve been watching you and we know you’ve been trying to get them out and so have we… horrendously though.”

“oh my god—” you slapped a hand over your gaping mouth. “i totally forgot about them! i’m so so sorry oh my god i can’t even begin to explain to you how embarrassing this is i’ve been telling them to stop—”

barbara laughed and waved you off. “it’s alright! we know sweetheart. but we’re not frightening enough to scare them off whatsoever… so that’s what we were trying to get his help for.”

“and i still can y’know…” he muttered. “even though you hate me.”

“i don’t hate you juno does.” she crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “adam and i are lost we don’t know what’s going on and we can’t even read that thing for the recently deceased.”

“we’re just trying to get them out of the house son…” adam finished off.

and in that moment you felt like you were the one responsible for this. that if you had bitched about it harder, even screamed at rin to get him to stop or damn near called the fucking cops on them so that this wouldn’t be happening right now… the maitlands wouldn’t have to suffer and struggle like this every waking day to protect their home and what rightfully still belonged to them even after death.

because the maitland’s roaming around and producing shadows and figures and scaring the realtors and prospected buyers off wasn’t just for shits and giggles… but to try and keep what was once theirs and feel a sense of normalcy for the life they once had.

that was their great beyond. their home.

“i’ll get them to leave.” you smiled at barbara and adam. “i don’t care if i literally have to start fist fighting with his friends this is so unfair—”

“wait! are— are you sure sweets?” beetlejuice interjected worriedly. “your boyfriend’s kind of nuts and i can’t help you once you leave the attic—”

“i’m sure.” you mumbled, still bitter and annoyed at him. “can’t be anymore nuts than you basically trying to kill someone so you can prance around alive again—”

“i already apologized to the entire netherworld nation for that!” he argued. “but if you ask me, if it’s so bad then they shouldn’t have put the fucking instructions in the guidebook.”

“juno says guidebook reveals to you what you want most.” adam spoke. “because barb and i didn’t see a single page that had to do with that… mostly just tips on how to scare the living.”

beetlejuice closed his eyes exhaustedly and shook his head. “doesn’t matter. i’m not trying to trick anyone right now i just want to get out of this damn attic—”

he looked to you again. “—please say my name three times pretty i’ve poked in your boyfriends head and he’s looney i don’t want you to—”

“i’ll see you guys in a sec!” you walked over to the door and left a sputtering frustrated beetlejuice behind. “if nothing works i’ll literally just take my boyfriends keys and drive the car down the hill, he freaks over that thing—”

your voice trailed off as you walked down the creaky stairs of the attic and down the hall of the second floor, the maitlands main bedroom coming into view as you tried to get a script together in your head as to what exactly you were gonna tell rin… but your footsteps quickening at the sound of loud yelling and laughing coming from inside the bedroom, sounds of glass shattering and moving furniture making you panic as you practically stumbled in from the doorway.

and your heart stopped, rin standing there with a crow bar in his hands that he got from who the fuck knows where, smashing multiple vases and porcelain jewelry cases and stuffing his pockets full of anything that looked shiny and valuable in his eyes, the mattress and blankets thrown over to the side and the mainland’s things just completely ransacked as you took it all in.

“rin!”

he jumped and spun around, brows pinching upon seeing you standing there.

“what are you doing here? i thought you left?”

“what the fuck?!” you gestured to the broken shards on the floor and strewn about articles of clothing. “what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“calm down babe it’s fine.” he turned and smashed another small jewelry case, you scoffing in response. “it’s all useless shit that’s gonna dust over—”

“get out.”

he snorted. “uh huh—”

“i’m serious rin get out.” you spat. “all of you.”

“yeah like i’d listen to you.” he spoke harshly, eyes narrowed and sharp as he turned again. “go wait in the fucking car or go home—”

“i’m calling the cops.”

“what?!”

a series of protests and worrisome comments erupted in the air from the group, all thrown directly at a fuming rin as he chucked his crow bar to the side— it clattering on the wooden floor as he hastily trudged over to you and gripped your upper arm, yanking you with him and out of the room into the hallway by the stairs.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing huh?” he spoke lowly and in your face. “embarrassing me in front of my friends like that?”

you shoved him off. “get out and find another building or i’m calling the cops rin.”

“yeah and if you do that i’m telling them you’re a shitty psychic medium so they can throw you in the shrink.”

your jaw dropped.

rin was being meaner than usual.

“why are you like this.” you mumbled. “i don’t even know why i’m still with you you’re an asshole and you’re pathetic—”

he got in your face again and grabbed your jaw, pressing you up against the railing of the staircase and damn near throwing you over as the edge of it dug into your lower back, your fingers gripping his arm and struggling to pull him away from you while his friends quietly gasped and silently watched in shock.

“pathetic? me?” he laughed humorously. “you’re the one who doesn’t have anything or anyone besides me and yet you still treat me like this you ungrateful bitch—”

“rin okay that’s enough dude let her go—”

“you wanna shut up? or do you wanna trade spots with her?” his fiery crazed eyes switched over to his friend, him only cowering under rin’s intense stare and shaking his head no, diverting his gaze and you still squirming and tugging for your freedom.

“get— off me—”

“or what?” he pushed you further back and your breath hitched, your feet off the ground now at this point as one of your hands shot out to grip the railing for support. “you gonna call your ghost friends for help? go ahead i wanna see you do it you lying—”

“beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice!”

a thunderous roar broke out into the air, actual lightning and black smokey fog spreading over the ceiling and around you as rin instantly let you go and looked around, all of his friends in a pure state of fear and alarm as they lost sight of each other amongst the suffocating mist— including you as you frantically tried to look for a clear path out, unable to decide if you regretted what you had just done.

“never seen a man with such a power trip!” a booming voice echoed through the house that you quickly recognized to be beetlejuice’s, the walls vibrating with each word. “seems to me like it’s all bark and no bite!”

“what did you do y/n?!” you heard rin’s distant yelling from somewhere you couldn’t pinpoint, the air cold and prickling at your skin. “who did you call?!”

“a god!” beetlejuice excitedly answered. “achilles preferably! wait actually he’s a demigod not a—”

“who the fuck is achilles?!”

the air cleared in the center suddenly and revealed a petrified rin, wide eyed and angry as he whipped his head around to try and figure out what was going on.

“you don’t know who achilles is?” half of beetlejuice popped out of nowhere from above the fog and his friends screamed at the mere size of him, for he wasn’t the normal looking man you saw before but a borderline monster— huge and crazed as he looked down at rin in particular with a scary grin.

but his eyes were still a fascinating sparkling blue, oddly familiar in a way as you watched the scene before you through the black air, beetlejuice continuing.

“read a book your stupid is showing.”

he lunged while simultaneously popping his eyeballs out of their sockets with his tongue out, cartoonish and terrifying as his friends yelled for help and scrambled to try and leave, struggling though the smothering mist as you placed a hand over your mouth in shock.

beetlejuice sucked his eyeballs back in and blinked to adjust. “what? you guys scared too? shouldn’t have been so mean to my little sweets over there then!”

they all looked to you and you froze, rin’s gaze narrowing.

“his little sweets?” he clenched his jaw. “the hells he talking about?”

beetlejuice didn’t know why rin was so dumb for even attempting at getting near you again after everything he did and said— his footsteps quick and stompy towards you until he straight up smacked into an invisible wall and doubled back with a hand over his nose, your brows pinching in confusion.

you timidly reached a hand out, expecting your fingers to touch an invisible barrier except there wasn’t one at all as they fell through completely over nothing, your arm slowly retracting back to your chest.

you looked up at beetlejuice’s huge figure, and he gave you a bright cute smile that made your cheeks heat up.

“this is bullshit!” rin roared, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand and pointing at you after. “you’re a goddamn nutcase y/n! what kind of show are you putting on huh?!”

“me?!” you shot back. “maybe you should stop being a dick for once in your life and listen when i tell you things you idiot.”

“yup!” beetlejuice quipped. “doll if you’re still with him after all of this i’m gonna have to start haunting you in your dreams.”

your gaze switched to beetlejuice and you laughed, a little glint to his eye as he watched you shake your pretty head.

“i was gonna dump him the minute i got him out of the house—”

“what?!” rin barked. “dump me? for what?!”

you scoffed. “are you serious? what do you mean for what?”

“fuck— babe okay i’m sorry alright? i’m sorry i’m just a little overwhelmed right now—”

“you’re a sack of shit.” beetlejuice spat. “and call her babe again and i’ll start the engine of your car and ram it through a tree.”

you snickered and rin swiveled around to face him.

“why don’t you stay out of this freak and leave my girlfriend alone—”

“sweets i’ll make him go away if you marry me.”

you choked, flustered and stiff as you looked at him, bewildered out of your mind.

“huh?!”

“pretty pleeaaseee.” he dragged. “you saying my name got me out of the attic but not the house itself… but if you marry me i’m a free man!”

“how does that—” you let out a shocked breath. “how does that even make sense—”

“marry me.”

“but i!—”

“marry me that’s my condition.”

“hold on!—”

rin dove at you with the full intention to grab you and pull you away, but eyes widening in terror as an invisible force practically grabbed his ankle and sweeped him back and away from you, dragging his body across the wooden floor and over to beetlejuice, his friends having enough of all of this and making a run for it down the stairs.

“oh! i almost forgot about you guys!”

beetlejuice nudged his head and they were sent flying back just like rin, all of them screaming and pleading for mercy as their bodies dragged across the floor and returned to him.

“which of you should i gobble up right now… i’m feeling the one on the far right! he’s trembling like a little leaf—”

“please no!” he cried. “i’ll— i’ll do anything! i’ll leave i’ll never—”

“—and i’ll save rin for the very end… best for last right?!”

they all wailed and clawed at the foggy air, your body unmoving as you tried to figure out if beetlejuice was actually being serious.

“please man!—”

“i’m sorry i’m so sorry!—”

“don’t apologize to me you doofuses.” another invisible force grabbed them all by the ankles and pulled them up, dangling them upside down. “apologize to her. then maybe i’ll spare you… how’s that sound?!”

“y/n! please! i’m sorry—”

“we’re sorry dear god!—”

“y/n!—”

“put— put them down!” you wavered. “that’s enough it’s okay! jesus..”

“awww already?!” beetlejuice pouted. “but i haven’t even started swinging them around yet… like a little ferris wheel! heh.”

you slapped a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh once rin and his friends started wailing in fear again, you shaking your head and smiling at him.

“it’s okay! next time! just let them go i’m sure they’ll run—”

“y/n, it seems like you understand me… you’re the only one that hasn’t bitten my head off in the entire three years that i’ve been dead!”

you laughed again. “i’m glad! now put them down please—“

“so be my wife then.”

“beetlejuice!”

“what?!” he whined. “you don’t wanna be my lawful wedded wife?”

“no!— well— just—”

“is it because i’m dead?”

“put them down and i’ll consider it!”

“yes ma’am!”

the invisible force dropped them and they slammed against the hardwood floors, each and every single one of them fumbling to get their things that flew out of their pockets while upside down and scurrying away, hurried footsteps stomping down the staircase as they tripped over their feet to get to and out the front door, you observing in amusement and slight guilt, leaning over the edge of the staircase to watch them go.

and the second that they did, the stuffy black fog lifted and felt immensely lighter, it dispersing into the air above you as it thinned out to a mere silly mist, cold and wet to the touch and similar to the air you’d feel after a long days worth of rainfall and cloudy weather, slow strides coming up from behind you as you saw beetlejuice’s shiny raven leather dress shoes out of the corner of your eye, you standing upright and turning to him.

he smiled warmly at you.

“thank you.” you grinned, bashful as he reached and fixed up your hair— hands smoothing over your head and down before his fingers lightly grazed and played with the ends of your strands.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “thank you for getting me out of the attic sweets!”

you kindly nodded.

“sweetheart, are you alright?”

you looked back and saw the maitlands, barbara walking up with outstretched arms and pulling you in for a hug.

“that boy was insane!” she pulled back and held you out at an arms length by the shoulders. “we tried so hard to intervene while he was yelling at you but we’re useless… they couldn’t see us.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay! really you didn’t need to i wouldn’t ever wanna put you guys in that position.”

“honey— he almost pushed you off the railing…” adam spoke softly. “if you hadn’t called for beetlejuice lord knows what he would’ve done… he was so aggressive and we were worried…”

your heart warmed, never in your life having been so cared for and looked after— funnily enough that you were receiving that sacred feeling from beings that were dead rather than living and it reminding you a little bit of the way your parents were with you when you were young, when they were still alive.

“we’re sorry for being so hard on you kid…” barbara sighed, gaze shifting to beetlejuice. “mistakes happen. i’m sure your passing was something you weren’t expecting like us.”

“oh! no it’s okay don’t.” he smiled brightly. “i almost killed a man i understand.”

“but we understand too.” adam added, and you felt like he was also referring to something you had no clue about as he had a particular look in his eyes, something that was only amongst them three. “i would’ve considered the same.”

beetlejuice swung an arm around your shoulders and looked down at you.

“so are you my little wife?”

“okay—” barbara laughed. “not that you know this—”

“adam! barbara!”

a sudden shriek boomed through the house and beetlejuice instantly pulled you behind him, waving his hand and an invisible force sending you further away until your back gently bumped against the wall, panic rising in your chest as the same black fog from earlier returned and swirled around you, blocking your vision.

was he… was he hiding you? what for?

“juno!” beetlejuice greeted, laughing awkwardly. “heyy long time no see!”

oh.

“zip it bozo.”

from the cracks and openings that you could see through the whirling wind, a proper old lady in professional office attire stood there with her arms crossed, a pissed off look on her face as she tapped her heel against the floor and played with the pearls around her neck.

“what did i tell you two about letting him free?” she scolded. “he’s a loose cannon! he’s not to be trusted!”

“i know i know we’re sorry… we just really needed to get those kids out! and they’re gone! and beetlejuice seems alright!” barbara looked to her husband, a desperate flicker in her gaze. “right adam?”

“yes! uh uh!” adam stepped forward and sighed softly. “please juno… he’s just a kid. he’s learned and what he did was three years ago—”

“what he did could’ve cost me my job and set my entire office up in flames.” juno lectured, pointing her wrinkly finger at beetlejuice next. “you broke a million undead laws and have hundreds of violation codes on your record. your punishment was to stay in the attic for eternity.”

eternity?

oh god no.

“but now i’m gonna have to send you to live inside mr. maitland’s winter river model and you better stay there!”

“what?!” beetlejuice scoffed. “juno please there’s gotta be a way i can lift those violations?”

“i’m afraid there isn’t.” she seethed.

“pretty please?”

“no.”

“with a cherry on top?”

“absolutely not.”

“not even probation?—”

“not even probation! you’re gone!”

your eyes blew open as you watched juno extend an arm out and move it to the side, a bright white blinding light encasing her entire figure and you quickly pushed a hand through the black fog and grabbed the back of beetlejuice’s suit, everything around you scarily blurring out and disappearing and you squeezed your eyes shut, arms reaching out to wrap around his upper torso as you buried your face in his back.

you didn’t want him to go… not at all. and the thought of him stuck inside a model forever like that all alone terrified you.

you understood why he was punished in the first place, but why couldn’t juno just see that he was good? that all he was trying to do was come back to life and live? something many other souls would also kill for?

hadn’t he been punished enough already? he stood stuck in that attic for three god damn years straight with no means of escape whatsoever, and now he was shamefully being sent to live inside a styrofoam cardboard model that was far worse than that stupid attic, for now he couldn’t be seen by anyone even if he truly wanted to be.

had that not been enough? enough of a sign to reconsider his contract?

why couldn’t he just be given a second fucking chance—

“pretty?”

you opened your eyes, forehead quickly detaching from his back and looking up, his piercing blue eyes staring down at you worriedly from behind as he shifted his body a little in your hold to face you.

“what are you doing here i thought—” his surprised gaze shifted over to the way you were clutching onto him, and he relaxed, smiling a little.

“you grabbed me baby?”

“i—” you let him go and stepped back, your cheeks a vibrant pinky shade. “y—yeah…”

he turned around fully.

“why?”

“because—” you bit your bottom lip, peering cutely up at him.

“because i thought we were getting married…”

beetlejuice’s expression dropped and he stared at you wide eyed, his face reddening at your words.

“i don’t— i don’t understand—”

“what?” you giggled. “i thought you proposed to me earlier?”

“i did! yes i did!” he rapidly nodded. “but— but are you actually serious?”

you nodded. “mhm! i am!”

“you can say no sweets honestly it’s okay…”beetlejuice spoke softly with pinched brows. “i’ll cry myself to sleep and shrivel up but i can handle it don’t worry about me—”

you laughed and nudged his shoulder with yours. “i wanna marry you… i wanna set you free.”

you walked over to a little bench, the feeling of you stepping on rubber and glue a little weird under your feet as you sat down and smiled, gently patting the spot next to you.

“i’m not letting you stay here forever by yourself, not when you’ve been doing that already for years.” you murmured, him taking a seat next to you with a yearn-full but apprehensive face.

“you deserve to do the things you want to do and see the things you want to see…” you looked at him so sincerely and loving that he felt his undead heart throb. “… and if i can help you in anyway to get you there i don’t care what it is. i can’t think of anyone more deserving of freedom than you.”

“you’re so pure…” he softly took your hand, yours warm and pumping in comparison to his cold and stiff one. “you always have been.”

he stared at your hand still, his index finger delicately tracing over the faint markings of your working veins underneath your skin, trying to remember what they looked like on him when he was alive, and if they ever looked as precious as yours did.

beetlejuice raised your hand and kissed it, eliciting a fuzzy blush to your cheeks.

“i think we’re meant to be.”

you faltered slightly, for you felt a rush of deja vu hit you like a stifling wave.

“have we met?” you teasingly asked. “before you died?”

he laughed and shook his head.

you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, beetlejuice still tracing the lines and indentations of your hand before you spoke up again.

“i have a question.”

his content eyes switched to yours before they looked back down. “yes sweets?”

“is your name really beetlejuice?”

he weirdly stopped, and you quirked a brow.

“it’s…” he swallowed. “it’s not.”

“oh what the?” you paused, a little puzzled. “where did it come from?”

“juno.” he snickered. “the old hag said it fit how bizarre and stupid i was, so she put it in my contract.”

“oh my fucking god.” you mumbled. “why the hell would she do that? that’s cruel… you’ve already paid the price for what you did the least she could do is address you by your given name.”

beetlejuice laughed cutely, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

“that woman doesn’t care baby… so don’t sweat it.” he lifted a hand and ruffled your hair. “and if you ask me, she needs to retire immediately. like— yesterday. all she does is fucking nag at me and the rest of her damn clients.”

you giggled.

“so what’s your name then?”

“not important! now i say we figure out a way to get out of this rinky dink model—”

your eyes narrowed.

“why won’t you tell me your name?”

“—or maybe we should just stay and make ourselves at home!—”

“you won’t tell your soon to be wife your name?—”

“—oh! oh! i can manifest a little jacuzzi in the middle of the cemetery that’s neat—”

you slapped a hand over his mouth and he stopped, your pleading little eyes making him guiltily melt against your hold.

“your name.” you urged softly, lowering your hand and revealing a little frown that he had on his lips. “please.”

“i—” he blinked, utterly remorseful. “i can’t… i can’t tell you my name.”

your brows pinched. “why not? is part of your contract?”

“no— well yes.” he sighed deeply through his nose, and you wondered why he looked so… strained.

“it’s not their contract, but my contract… with you.”

you froze.

“with—” you struggled. “i don’t—”

he rubbed his tired sunken eyes.

“it’s okay sweets but that’s all you need to know—”

“no.” you replied firmly. “what i need to know is your name.”

he dropped his arms and shook his head desperately. “y/n please i put that contract on you to protect you if— if i tell you my name you’ll be hurt and i don’t want that—”

“what do you mean?” you bitterly scooched away from him on the bench and he stubbornly moved closer, eliminating the distance you had created.

“i lied when you asked me if we had met.”

your heart dropped.

“because we have… and i— i wanted you to forget me so i took away your memories and if i tell you my name—”

he swallowed hard.

“… it’ll break the contract. and you’ll remember me again.”

you stared at him, his regretful tortured gaze so anguishing that it was almost unbearable to watch him endure it, wanting to mend it instead, something that already felt so right and easy to you and in no way shape or form unfamiliar.

slowly, you reached up and cupped his cold cheeks in your hands, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

“but i want to remember you…” you murmured. “…please let me.”

his pupils worriedly shook as they darted all around your striking features, his name practically hanging off the edge of his tongue but his throat physically unable to get the words out, for his dead heart was pulling and fighting with his vocal chords to prevent him from doing so, everything within him wanting to save you from memories he had to live with even after death.

but the other part of him was filled with such intense longing for you that it effortlessly slipped between the cracks of his defensive wall of not telling you his name…the relentless feeling going straight to his heart and mind and strangling the fuck out of it to get a formidable yes instead.

he wanted the life he once had. more than anything.

“satoru.”

something snapped in your brain and you flinched back, memories flooding through your mind faster than the speed of light as you recollected each and every moment in your existence, for the sentiment of vacancy and like a specific thing was just missing in your life was finally put back in its rightful place— for the thing that was missing in particular was him.

satoru gojo.

there were images of meeting him when you were both itty bitty in middle school under a magnolia tree, him sporadic and silly and making you laugh so hard on the third day of school that strawberry milk blew out of your nose and all over his clothes, satoru not having a care in the world as he cackled along with you and thought the way you made liquid come out of your nose was cool.

and there were images of the both of you becoming the best of friends— never one without the other as you pulled pranks on your teachers and ended up in detention together almost everyday, your parents utterly done with you as you never seemed to get it through your head how to behave, the both of you brushing off your scoldings and lectures because you had each other to endure all of it with.

and you saw how much he cared about you.

how he would physically fight and yell and reprimand anyone who called you a freak, anyone who spread rumors about you and your psychic medium abilities as he constantly reminded you everyday that your gift was sacred… a treasure while he wiped your tear stained cheeks and cheered you up after another day of your classmates poking fun at you, him saying that your skills were the coolest and how much he wished he was just like you, how much you both were meant to be as he loved ghost stories and scary stuff.

you saw how you fell in love too.

and it didn’t take long either, as your stolen glances and teasing turned into much more as soon as you grew and went to high school together, the both of you making it official literally your freshman year despite the apprehensions from your parents on both sides because of how young you were.

but it never proved to be an issue, you and satoru not once stumbling over a hiccup since the two of you had built such a strong foundation of genuine friendship and care before you blessedly fell in love, satoru throughout your years together absolutely smitten over you as he always passed you silly notes during class that had a gazillion hearts scribbled all across with your name in the middle, telling you all of the time just how much he loved and cherished you to the point where you had to funnily push him away from you to get him to stop smothering you, you always giving in anyways due to the fact that you were just as smitten, physically unable to go a day without him, and him still physically unable to not iterate how you were meant to be.

satoru understood you, satoru listened to you, and satoru believed you whenever you would speak on your psychic gift and how you had spoken casually to a spirit just the other day, him always interested and unbelievably amazed at everything you had to say as he bombarded you with fifty questions and begged you to teach him how to see spirits too.

he was respectful and supportive of you through it all.

especially when your parents died.

satoru wouldn’t leave your side. he refused to as you tried to piece together what the fuck had just happened, their accident so sudden and weird that it never made sense to you and still didn’t to this day.

and you grieved of course, cried and weeped and clung to satoru like a moth to a flame, feeling alone and without your biggest support system— without your loving peculiar parents that gave you your priceless gift in the first place, him accepting your tears with open arms as he encouraged you to let it all out and was worried for you when it seemed like you had moved on rather quickly from it.

but it was simply because your parents weren’t afraid of the afterlife. it was because your parents had talked so much about it and taught you everything that they knew, that you were convinced their souls peacefully made it through to the great beyond straight away and together, for you never saw their spirits roaming around aimlessly after and feeling eternally grateful for that, your whole life being about acknowledging and embracing the mysteries of life after death.

the knowledge of knowing they were at peace was enough to get you by for a little while.

satoru continued to check in on you about it though... even when it was the end of your junior year and nearing a year since their passing, his parents kindly taking you in after the ordeal and making satoru sleep on the floor and you taking over his bed since they didn’t have an extra room, satoru doing it without even needing to be told and you thanking all of them any chance you got for their amicable kindness and tried to pay them back, satoru checking in on you every night with a series of timid ‘are you okay’s’ and ‘are you happy’s’ before going to bed, your arm dangling off the edge so you could intertwine your fingers while you slept.

you were never alone like you thought you were. ever.

because of satoru.

and he made it obvious that he wanted to marry you too, that he wanted to have you for the rest of his life and didn’t give a single shit if you were both only 18 and barely starting college, him deeming it pointless for the both of you to pretend like the hope of marriage wasn’t there just for the sake of shutting up his parents, as every time he brought it up you stammered and blushed and fidgeted and he only giggled at you, telling you it would happen soon, to be ready, and to sit pretty and patient until the right time came.

except it never did.

because satoru gojo died a year later following that on halloween, precisely on his way over to your dorm when he was snatched by an unknown man and murdered in the middle of the night, you stuck wondering what had happened to him and why he wasn’t answering the phone when he was hours late to come get you, your chest on fire and aching as the feeling in your gut was weirdly excruciating, a part of you completely torn away and lost and you had no idea why until the very next morning.

and he had to watch you mourn. properly this time and not at all like the way you did for your parents, as this time it was fucking worse, painfully and all alone and for no way for him to get to you and comfort you— to tell you it was okay to cry and that he loved you, to tell you to be happy, to be hopeful for the future and hopeful to the thought of spending the rest of your lives together and being meant to be.

but instead he had to watch you wail and scream in your pillow every night with no saving, clutching his clothes and things and picture frames, you making yourself sick as the grief was too much to bare— everything that your parents had said to you and taught you about the afterlife meaning absolutely jack shit as the workings of supposed fate took away the only thing that ever made you happy.

satoru’s dream was to live with you. and it was taken away from him so brutally that he went absolutely nuts in the netherworld.

because yes he violated every single fucking undead law in the book and jumped over restricted gates and strange passage ways and doors, shoved through emotionless security guards, ignored juno’s warnings, and yes he tricked a living human being so he could exchange souls with him—

all for the sole purpose of getting back to you.

it was always for you.

and now, him sitting next to you with an anxious waiting expression, your body and mind now feeling the effects of not having seen him for three entire years and the way your conscious mind grieved for him and his return, his skin sickishly pale and cold but still so handsome nonetheless… absolutely broke you.

it broke you as you let out a strangled hiccup and covered your mouth tightly with both hands, eyes squeezing painfully shut as you reeled over and wailed with a broken heart, for you were mourning the loss of him all over again.

“baby no please—” he quickly caught you and brought you to his chest, his breathing erratic and with the biggest lump in his throat. “see? i didn’t want you to remember i— i wanted you to forget—

you continued to bawl and borderline scream out in agony, his words meaning absolutely nothing at this moment as your mind wouldn’t quit flashing painful memories through your mind, memories that were once entirely missing as they suffocated you with displays of satoru in his grave over and over and over again.

“i can’t—” he frantically looked around for something, anything that would make you feel better before looking back down. “look at me—”

“why did you leave?!” you wailed, pushing him away as the sight of you drowning in your tears ripped him to shreds. “why did you abandon me toru?! why did you—”

“i’m sor—” his voice gave out and he placed a hand over his heart, tears slipping from his eyes. “i’m sorry i’m so sorry i— i never wanted to leave—”

he reached out and tugged you in again, your body slumping against his as he struggled over his sobs.

“i didn’t want to die i tried so hard not to die—”

his words only made you cry harder as he gripped you tighter and shut his mouth, his frame trembling against yours and his tears trickling down and wetting your hair.

“you left me! you were supposed to come— hic— to come get me! you were supposed to marry me!—”

you were babbling mindlessly at this point, your shattered heart taking over the words that were tumbling out of your mouth as you gripped and clawed at his suit, trying to bury yourself in his skin and stay there where you belonged.

he was too cold. and you couldn’t hear a heart beat.

satoru could only cry and bawl with you as he gently rocked you side to side, knowing that there was nothing he could do to make you feel better, and nothing he could do to come back to life.

no matter how much he wanted it.

no matter how much you wanted it.

this is what fate had decided for the two of you.

“i tried so hard.” he mumbled. “i never stopped trying to get to you that’s why juno hates me so much because i’ve violated fucking everything.”

he pressed his lips to your forehead and laid his cheek on it after.

“i got sent to the attic and i couldn’t look after you anymore and i didn’t even get the chance to let you see me either—”

besides the fact that he took your memories, that explained why you never saw his spirit after he died, and you quickly pulled back again and narrowed your bloodshot eyes at him.

“why did you take my memories i never— hic!— i never asked you to i never wanted—”

“because i didn’t want you to grieve over me pretty…” he gently wiped your cheeks while you cried. “you were hurting so much and it was torture watching you suffer like that.”

you sniffled and wiped your eyes with the base of your palm.

“i wanted to see you happy…” satoru finished off.

“was i?”

he dropped his hands and frowned.

“were you?”

“no!” you muttered. “my entire life i’ve felt like something was missing and i didn’t know why… like this— this block in my brain that i couldn’t figure out and it was always just empty and like something was supposed to be there.”

you tucked your hair behind your ear and solemnly looked down, a pulsing headache racking through you from how much you were crying.

“i had to live with the fact that i was alone and that i never had anyone… and i had accepted that too… only this entire time i did have someone. you.”

and oddly enough, through everything that happened��� all of the memories that you now remembered and the devastating death of your late boyfriend, you finally felt a little bit less strange and unusual.

because you always thought that something was wrong with you for feeling the way that you did, for craving something— someone that never existed, for wanting to fill the void that you now know satoru once happily sat in, all of these things now officially clicking into place and bringing you the weirdest sense of peace you had probably ever felt.

“i wish you never made me forget.” you mumbled. “you’re worth remembering toru…. even if it hurts me.”

he guiltily nodded and sniffed. “m’sorry… i thought you were better off forgetting.”

a part of him still does, because the small glimpses he caught of you no longer crying and just simply living after he took your memories away, was enough to bring him a tiny sense of relief just before he got banished to the attic, hopeful that you would live a long and happy life even if it was painfully without him.

but the minute he sensed you coming up to the house earlier that night with him thinking he was going absolutely insane and if it was truly you, was also enough to send all of that out the fucking window and falling back into a pit of despair and longing for you when he finally saw you again— for the first time in three years, looking just as pretty as he remembered and a little more grown up.

you slowly shook your head side to side, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck and him immediately responding, snaking them around your waist and pulling your warm beating body flush against his chest.

“do you still love me?” he murmured. “even though i’m dead?”

you slightly snorted, softly kissing his cheek.

“i’ll always love you toru. wherever you are.”

“i’ll always love you.”

he pulled back and gently smiled, eyes flickering to your soft lips as he juggled in his mind if it was okay to kiss you, every fiber of his undead being begging for it after missing and wishing it for so long, left with only recollections of your kisses to suffice through the years that he spent without you and wondering if he still had the right to— since even though you were once his, and he shamelessly still considered you his, he didn’t know if you were on the same page.

but you were.

it would be stupid not to be.

you leaned your pretty little face closer to his, timid doe eyed gaze looking at him so fondly that it brought back that same familiar feeling he felt with you those years ago, his hands coming up and settling themselves on your warm lively cheeks, holding you like fragile porcelain.

but were his dead lips still worthy of yours? even after everything he’d done?

“toru.”

he hummed.

“do you remember our first kiss?”

“uh huh.” he breathed out softly. “it was in my room.”

“i think—” your nose brushed with his. “i think we should have our second first kiss.”

he bit his bottom lip and smiled.

“you think so?”

“i do.”

he hummed again, his thumb gently grazing over your plushy lips.

“i think it should look a little more like the first time.”

he tilted his head to the side a tiny bit and a delicate gust of wind brushed through your hair, your surroundings now completely and miraculously morphed into his room with the both of you sitting on his bed— just like how you remembered it and basically had grown up in as you slowly took in your surroundings.

“how the fuck—”

he laughed a little, lifting one hand and keeping the other still on your cheek, his index finger lightly tapping the center of your forehead.

“mind manipulation pretty.” he grinned. “cool huh? i poked in your head again.”

“yeah!” you giggled. “very cool.”

“you know what else would be cool?”

“what?”

“if you gave me a little kiss.”

you tilted your head to the side and leaned in again, your breath fanning across his face and your lips so close but not quite that it was fucking excruciating.

“you want a kiss toru?”

“uh huh.”

“how bad— mmph!—”

satoru didn’t even let you finish that sentence as he stuffed his tongue in your mouth greedily, wet and messy kisses smacking through the room as he cradled your jaw, cold lips delving all over yours and him giddy over the sensation of your warm mouth in comparison to his, your hands clutching his blazer and making out so sensually as you made up for the time that was stolen from you.

and the only thing the two of you felt in each others arms then was serenity— one pumping, working heart and the other stiff, unmoving and cold, still equally beating for one another even through the restrictions of death, for satoru’s heart continued to move and love you regardless of how lifeless it may have appeared.

he suddenly pulled away, breathless.

“sweets?”

“yeah?”

“where in the actual fuck did you meet rin?”

you laughed, pulling back a bit to look at him with a regretful look. “knowing what i know now, i’m sick to my stomach toru.”

“did you meet him after i died?”

you nodded. “he was in one of my literature classes… and since back then i only remembered living my life— alone, i guess he was the first person that didn’t make me feel that way. at the start.”

“lame.” he mumbled. “you cheated on me sweets.”

“no!” you laughed again, giving him a little pout. “he was awful. horrendous. and i only stayed because i didn’t wanna be alone again… even though i shouldn’t have.”

you leaned and gave him a soft tiny lingering peck.

“did you love him?” he murmured against your lips, and you shook your head.

“remembering you again made me realize what being in love with someone was supposed to feel like.” you reached and brushed through the front stands of his white hair mindlessly. “and it was no where near what i felt for rin. i didn’t feel anything for him actually.”

he pursed his lips to the side, eyes squinting in thought and distaste.

“hmmm…”

you giggled. “what toru?”

he hated that you got associated with a guy like that, and hated even more that rin was kissing and hugging and touching you whenever the fuck he wanted when you were his first.

“i’m gonna haunt him for the rest of his life.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and nudged him. “honestly? do it. he sucks.”

“and you know what else sweets?”

you quirked a little brow. “what?”

“i’m gonna make you forget!”

“toru!” you giggled. “no more taking memor—“

satoru leaned his face closer to yours and you froze up, wide eyed as a little mischevious glint in his vibrant blue gaze made you fidget.

he slowly grinned and tilted his head, lips coming closer to the side of your ear and tantalizingly hovering, arms snaking around your torso and pulling you up against him.

“did you let him touch you pretty?”

“t—touch?—”

“mhm.” he gripped you a little tighter. “did you?”

“um.” you squirmed a bit, your body turning hot in the matter of seconds. “what— what do you mean—”

“did you let him fuck you.”

your breath hitched and your cheeks went pink, hands timidly resting flat on his chest and feeling a little… guilty.

“maybe—” you paused, shaky breaths blowing through your nose. “maybe once—”

satoru shot up to stand and hauled you with him, a squeal slipping past your lips as he hiked you up and brought your legs around his waist, walking across the room in quick strides and plopping you down roughly on his desk, kicking away his chair and it slamming against the wall as it rolled back.

“toru?—”

“why can’t i make you forget… hm?” he grazed his lips from your jaw and up the side of your cheek, feather like as he squeezed and kneaded at your thighs, your heart fucking hammering against your chest.

“why would you wanna remember being with someone else other than me baby…”

“i— i don’t but you erased my memories—”

he pulled back and tutted, head shaking and fingers drumming against your thighs. “doesn’t matter! should’ve avoided them like the plague silly.”

you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him gently in.

“i would’ve if i remembered.”

“remember this remember that—” he smiled brightly and brought his face close to yours once more.

“y’know what?” he cutely pecked your lips. “i’m gonna help you remember something!”

your brows pinched momentarily in curiosity. “what?”

“that i’m the only man that ever gets to fuck you.”

satoru smashed his lips against yours and pulled you in tight, the bulge in his dress pants abundantly obvious as he grinded and rutted his aching cock on your clothed pussy, you gasping in his mouth at the feeling as you tried to keep up with his feverish fast kisses.

he slipped his icy hands underneath your top and you jumped at the change in temperature, satoru ravishing you up and obsessed with the heat your body produced and radiated, leaving him toasty for once and bringing a faux sense of life to him.

“did you forget that too?” he murmured against your lips, hands ever so slowly creeping up and sliding under your bra to grope your plump tits. “how i feel?”

“nuh uh.” you breathed out. “i didn’t—”

“tell me what you remember then sweets…”

he slid his hands back down and hiked your skirt up, you lifting your hips a little to help him bring it up as high as he possibly could, your pretty little panties tight and suffocating your pussy as his fingers came down to play with your swollen needy clit.

“i remember—” your mouth hung open, words lodging in your throat.

“hm?” he shoved his hand in your panties and your eyes fluttered closed, him placing open wet mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, your mind unable to grasp the amount of pleasure he was getting out with simply just his fingers, pleasure you missed so fucking badly as he slipped his digits up and down your folds.

“your dick—” satoru pushed two fingers inside of you and you whined. “i remember the way you felt.”

“yeah?” he pulled back from your chest and grinned, fingers squelching as they pumped in and out. “and how did i feel?”

“big.” you choked out, legs spreading wider as you gripped the edge of his desk, his frenzied lust filled eyes drinking in the way you unraveled and crumbled before him.

something he was positive rin didn’t even come fucking close to.

“aww.” he cooed, digits speeding up as you squealed and tried to close your legs, him prying them open again. “bet you missed the way i filled you full huh? stretched you out so good?”

you rapidly nodded, eyebrows contorted in ecstasy as your thighs shook.

“anything else you missed baby?”

arousal trickled down your folds at this point, making an absolute mess out of his fingers.

“your hands— heave— on my neck when you’d fuck me—”

a shiver ran down his spine at your words, his cock so fucking hard and aching as it begged him to let it spring free and bury itself in your hole.

“my god…” he whispered. “i bet your slutty little self wants me to fuck you right now right? stuff you up and make you cum on my dick like i used to?”

with each word your hole was clenching and screaming for his cock, your hands quickly shooting out to pull and unbuckle at his belt, him laughing as he continued to finger your pussy while loosening up the collar of his tie.

“you’re so needy.”

you pouted, embarrassed as you pulled your hands away and brattily tugged at his wrist to take his fingers out.

“i take it back—”

“no!” he quickly yanked his belt off and flung it, his fingers unzipping his pants and taking out his solid dick. “hell no please i need to be inside you—“

he lined his cock up and without warning pushed, your hands flying to grip his shoulders for support and crying out at the mere size of him, his dick icy in between your gummy walls that somehow added a whole new wave of pleasure for you.

“hard toru.” you whined. “please i can’t— i—”

“i know baby i know.” he gripped your hips and snapped his hips up, your moans fueling him as he plunged in your hole and took no time in fucking you in just the way he knew you liked it, proud of the fact that your pussy still took every single inch of him like he’d trained you— almost like she recognized whose dick was actually for you and not some other fucking morons.

“you’re not screwing anybody else anymore, you hear me sweets?” he tapped your cheek to get you to look at him, you completely dazed and fucked out as you tried to hold eye contact with him amidst his drilling cock. “should’ve only been me… living or dead i don’t care.”

you nodded dumbly, you leaning and kissing him sloppily and desperately that you muffled his next words, refusing to detach from his mouth.

“did you— mmph— let him cum inside?”

you didn’t answer, not because you were afraid to, but because his dick was silencing you as you hiccuped and spasmed with every slam of his hips, satoru a horny goner and pinning everything all on you even when it was literally his fault he erased your memories in the first place, fuming over the thought of you tainted by another man that he wanted to perform a full fucking cleanse.

he rammed inside of you faster against the desk as you separated from his lips and clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“don’t tell me you let him cum inside you little slut—”

“i didn’t!” you heaved. “i didn’t i didn’t—”

“good baby!” he cheered, a complete contrast to his menacing tone from seconds before. “so you do love me.”

“i do! i love you i love you i love yo—”

his unbeating heart soared.

“you love me?”

“uh— hic!— uh huh—“

“even when i’m dead?”

you nodded vigorously, feeling your orgasm starting to bubble up in your tummy as you choked and squirmed.

“perfect my sweet little thing…” he cooed once more, him literally lightheaded over the way you clenched around his cock. “make a mess all over me baby i’ve been dreaming of your cute cunt for three fucking years—”

you wrapped your arms around him by the neck again and moaned, burying your face in his neck as he placed two palms on your bent knees and spread your plushy thighs further apart, jack hammering you and so mean about it as you shook violently against him and came, heaves and sobs of pleasure racking through your body as he threw his head back and groaned.

“you want me to cum inside you?” he asked. “fill you up just like i used to?”

“yes! please please—”

“oh fucking well.”

he pulled out of you and your eyes bulged open, his dick shiny and covered in your juices as he grabbed your upper arm and yanked you down on your knees.

“you’re gonna suck me off and swallow what i give you for letting rin’s filthy hands on you.”

satoru tapped his dick against your cheek to get you to open up, you listening and opening your mouth as he shoved his cock inside and placed a hand on the back of your head, fucking your mouth as you choked and gagged on his length and loving every second of it.

“goooddd baby.” he whispered, your slobbering so nasty as he watched drool dribble down your chin. “so good…”

you gulped him down and lathered your tongue around while he used you, his balls swollen and twitching and him needing to dump his cum in your mouth for you to swallow.

“remember when we used to do this every night?” he smiled wickedly. “when i’d make you swallow me up?”

you hummed around him and tried to nod, eager for his release and wanting to show him that you in fact did remember— wanting it just as bad as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him harder.

“h— oh my god—” he fisted your hair and shivered, letting you take over and milk him for all his worth. “i’m gonna— jesus baby slow— slow down slow down— hah!”

satoru’s release shot to the back of your throat and you choked, blinking back tears as you gradually slowed your pace and continued to deliciously suck him through his orgasm and gulp down his cum, him with a death grip on the edge of his desk as he heaved and swallowed, hips jittery and twitching away from you— tip now overly sensitive.

you licked up the last of his cum and stood back up, shimming your skirt back down and satoru shakily stuffing his softened dick back in his pants and zipping it, eyes softening once you reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his over your waist and squeezing you gently.

“so you’re telling me.” you began. “that you haven’t had sex in three years and you fucked me like that?”

he snickered and smoothed a hand over your back. “it’s my instinct sweets! and also because i’m sure rin did a horrendous freaking job—”

you laughed and rolled your eyes, kissing his cheek before looking at him fully.

“i’m serious you know.”

he raised a brow. “about what?”

“about marrying you. even more so now.”

and just when he was about to pick you up and spin you around and jump up and down, he stilled— face sickishly paling more than it already was.

because satoru was keeping something else from you… a condition between the living and the dead and one he overlooked entirely because he was selfishly desperate for you and just wanted you with him again, like the way he had you when he was alive.

“what toru?”

“huh?” his eyes snapped to yours, and he quickly shook his head. “oh nothing nothing!”

his mind was frantically pushing it to the back, ignoring it and wanting to go through with the one thing he’d practically been dreaming of his entire living and dead life— marriage with you.

this was fine. this was okay.

right?

“white or black.”

you tilted your head. “what?”

“you’ll see… but choose!” he grinned. “white or black?”

a slow giddy smile grew on your face.

“black.”

satoru waved his hand and you stilled, the clothes on your skin changing and morphing into something completely anew, your eyes landing on his black and white button up suit now and head quickly dropping down to yourself— gasping once it registered in your flabbergasted brain.

you were wearing a black wedding gown, beautiful and classy as you picked up and felt the soft silk material between your fingertips, your tule sheer veil intricate as you looked behind you then— it long and stretching for what seemed like miles across the floor with gorgeous embroidery at the base of it.

it was heavenly.

your gaze snapped back to his, and he smiled fondly, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers.

“three times.” he murmured, and you picked up on what he was referring to, tightening your grip on his hand and nodding.

“beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice.”

and the room spun around you, so astronomically fast that you almost doubled over in stifling nausea as the wind whipped through your hair and veil, expecting to land in the attic and finally outside that damn model when in reality, you were in a church cathedral as soon as your surroundings had stopped spinning… and one that looked exactly like the one in winter river.

“are we…” you looked around. “are we still in the model?”

he shook his head. “nope! i was focusing my mind here when you were saying my name… we’re in winter river baby.”

you smiled, the atmosphere around you soft and serene as the dimly lit candles around you quietly flickered, a random lilac colored hue across the cathedral and one you assumed was placed by satoru himself as he took your hands in his, almost in a haste too, but choosing to brush the observation aside.

this was wrong… and satoru knew it.

but he pushed it to the back of his head again.

“we are gathered here today—”

“shit!”

you jumped and whipped your head to the side, breathing out and shoulders relaxing once you saw it was just your church’s pastor that you’d known since birth— a strange far off look in his eye that you deemed to be something that satoru did, for there was no way he was up at the crack of fucking dawn right now to do a wedding.

“sorry!” you laughed. “is he… is he okay?”

“oh yeah he’s fine! he’s actually still sleeping.” he let go of one of your hands and patted the pastors head. “i’m manipulating his head for a little bit. just until you’re my wife.”

his wife.

you nodded, cheeks so warm as you tried to refrain from jumping over how excited you were at the thought of finally fulfilling the vows you had placed on each other when you were young— them now nurturing into something real.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the love of satoru gojo and y/n y/m in holy matrimony.”

he shouldn’t do this to you.

“today, they declare their intention to build a life together, sharing their joys and their challenges, and supporting one another in pursuit of their dreams.”

he can’t— he can’t build a life with you… can he?

he pushed his worries back again and gripped your hands tighter.

“do you, satoru gojo, take y/n y/m to be your lawfully wedded wife? do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, through sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

this is wrong.

but he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

“i do.”

“and do you, y/n y/m, take satoru gojo to be your lawfully wedded husband? do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, through sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

for as long as you both shall live.

satoru can’t live.

“i d—”

“stop.”

you froze.

“what?” you asked worriedly. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m no better than the man i was when i first died.”

the look in his eyes was… odd, and it only further confused you.

“i don’t—”

“i can’t let you marry me baby.”

your heart dropped.

“what?”

“i told you that if you married me it would break my contract and i would be a free man and that’s true…” he began. “but there’s something else that i didn’t tell you... i— i kept it from you.”

oh fuck.

“what are you talking about toru.” your voice was low and heedful, almost like a warning to him, and he wanted to slam his head against the wall for being so fucking reckless again.

“if you—” he breathed in and shook his head, letting go of your hands and letting his fall tight at his sides, balling up. “if you marry me, you’re freeing me…”

he gnawed at his lip.

“but i’m killing you.”

your blood ran cold and drained from your face, words entirely at a loss and useless as your brain tried to process what the fuck he just told you.

kill you?

“marrying me is like exchanging your soul with the dead.” satoru slowly shook his head. “you’ll die sweets… i can’t— i can’t do that to you.”

satoru was desperate to for you, so much so that he was willing to hide such a detrimental part of the marriage clause until the time came, choosing to play freaking stupid and tune it out in the hopes that in the end, he would be brave enough to go through with it just to keep you and not ever have to say goodbye again.

but it was wrong. so incredibly immoral and wrong and he felt like a monster for even trying to do it, for letting it go as far as it did and have you standing there in front of him in your pretty gown and veil— just like how he’d imagined it when his blood was pumping and his heart was beating, and just like how he’d imagined it even now, shriveled up dead veins and all.

this is what fate had chosen for the two of you.

and though it took forever for satoru to accept it… you and him were simply not meant to be.

for you were meant to live, and satoru was meant to die.

“you disgraceful bafoon! you insolent crook!”

the big doors of the cathedral kicked open and juno walked through, adam and barbara maitland running behind her and trying to pull her back, the both of them spouting reasonings and explanations.

“this is her choice juno!—”

“she wants to let her do it!—”

“the kid’s just in love!—”

“button it or i’m sending you back to the house!” juno grumbled at them, turning back around and pointing menacingly at satoru once she reached you both, her brittle old lady perfume wafting in your nostrils.

“juno!” satoru greeted with faux cheerfulness, eyes wide and alarmed. “good to see you hah! you look livelier than the last time i saw y—”

“what the hell do you think you’re doing boy?” she spat, eyes switching to you next. “and you! young lady— this man is a spirit!”

“i—i know—”

“juno they know each other.” barbara spoke up gently. “they grew up together when he was alive.”

“yes they were in a relationship this isn’t him trying to trick her into anything—”

“no but it is.” satoru exhaustedly whined, cutting adam off as he ran his hands through his snowy hair. “she didn’t know about the clause… i just told her now.”

silence.

“you didn’t tell her about the clause?!—”

“are you out of your mind you cockroach?!—”

“you’re doing what you did before!—”

“i know!” satoru exclaimed over the yells of scolding and belittlement. “i know i know that’s why i told her just now… i’m not letting her do it i— i couldn’t.”

he turned to you.

“baby i want you. i need you and that’s why i didn’t say anything like a fucking dingbat because i’m tired of living forever without you... it sucks.”

you felt tears prickle at your eyes.

“but this isn’t fair to you at all. you deserve to live man… i can’t— i won’t drag you down with me.”

“toru—”

“the living and the dead were never meant to coexist.” juno interjected, her gaze looking at satoru sincerely for once that it was a strange sight for him.

she placed a hand on her chest. “i’m sorry that your love was separated by death, truly. i sympathize with you. i can’t think of anything more cruel.”

you both solemnly nodded.

“but the living and the dead were never meant to coexist.” she repeated. “so even though you two move on from this and go back to being what you are, satoru will stay like this and you will not. you will grow.”

juno addressed you directly and you listened with a heavy heart— the use of satoru’s actual given name now from her instead of ‘beetlejuice’ adding a layer of somber seriousness.

“and let’s just say this clause didn’t exist and you get to marry her and she stays alive… satoru will still stay and you will grow. do you both understand what i’m trying to say?”

you quickly wiped the corner of your eyes, satoru peeking over at you sadly.

“i won’t tell you what i think the right choice is young lady.” she continued. “the dead aren’t even supposed to associate with the living like this… but weigh the consequences of either path and see which one you want to walk in.”

she stepped a bit closer, holding eye contact with you.

“but let me make one thing clear— the power of the living is greater than the dead. if you choose to marry him, you will break his contract forever and free him of his violations. but if you do, you will die and be one of us.”

either path is difficult.

to sacrifice his freedom, or to sacrifice your life?

but you knew that a life without satoru was nothing and bleak…. you had lived it for three years.

were you willing to return to that? just to keep your heart beating? and say goodbye to satoru for good?

you didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t have him in it. you didn’t want to live in a world where you remembered satoru for longer than you’d known him, and the thought only made you absolutely sick to your stomach as you envisioned the rest of your life without the person who knew you best.

it was almost easy… you didn’t have to weigh the consequences at all.

your path was satoru.

“we’re getting married.”

“what?!” satoru frantically shook his head. “no sweets no we’re not.”

“yes we are.” you pushed. “this isn’t for you to decide it’s my choice and i choose you—”

“and i’m not letting you.” he countered. “you’re choosing wrong so unbelievably wrong—”

“but i’m not though!” you argued. “literally explain to me right now how me stuck in a world that doesn’t have you in it is better than—”

“y/n you need to live.” he cut you off. “i died, not you it’s not supposed to be you alright? i can’t let you do this.”

tears slipped from your eyes and you wiped them right away.

“do you not— sniff— do you not want me do you want me to go away what—”

“no…” he stepped forward and cupped your cheeks. “that’s the last thing i want and you know that…”

“then why won’t you marry me?” you hiccuped. “why won’t you let me stay with you?”

“baby— life is so unbelievably precious.” he moved strands of your hair away from your face. “do you have any idea what i would give to have it again? to feel my body actually working for a change instead of it just being nothing?”

you continued to cry, your hands clutching his wrists.

“i don’t want you to take that away from yourself because of me… i want you breathing. i want your little heart pumping and your cheeks warm, i want you to move on.”

“i— hic!— i don’t want to move on from you—”

“you have to sweets.” he quickly wiped his eyes before cupping your cheeks again. “we’re not meant to be baby and i hate so much that we aren’t… and i’m sorry.”

“toru stop it—”

“please live for me okay? for the both of us. and don’t forget me either please don’t forget me—”

“why are you—” you harshly wiped your eyes. “why are you talking like that what are you doing—”

“i don’t think i should be around you anymore baby.”

“huh?!” your eyes narrowed. “are you serious?”

“satoru—”

juno raised a hand, stopping barbara from interjecting.

“it won’t be good for either of us if i stick around...” he sniffled. “i need to stay away from you because if i don’t, i might try to trick you again into giving up your soul and i can’t have that.”

“my soul?” you spat. “take it i don’t want it without you i told you already—”

“please try to understand.” he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. “please.”

“no—”

“i’ll see you soon okay?” satoru let go of your face. “graduate please. have kids and get married and stuff… travel.”

you were supposed to do all of that with him.

“satoru no listen to me!—”

“i love you.”

“stop!—”

satoru’s grief was monumental, but his love for you was greater, choosing to let you go for the sake of your life.

he looked to juno and she sighed through her nose, somehow knowing exactly what he was silently asking for, stepping forward and lifting a hand.

“satoru please i wanna stay with you!—”

juno sharply moved her hand to the side and you were pulled to a blinding white abyss, dream like and fuzzy as you felt all muscles in your body relax, your mind completely blank and free of the heartbreak and loss and sorrow for a little, floating through a cloud of soft serenity as it brought you in and tried to clear the pain in your heart.

you weren’t aware of where you were or what juno had done, but your thoughts were distant and muffled as you let it engulf you entirely in its welcoming arms, you sleepy and drowsy until the blinding white abyss slowly shrunk down to a pure black, quiet void, the nerves in your body twitching little by little until you were finally consciously aware of your limbs and mind, but you too tired still to open your eyes.

you cruelly dreamed of satoru still. of him alive.

and you weren’t sure how long you had been in this weird pit of tranquility, or how long you were asleep for until you were jerked awake and ripped from it entirely.

“hey— y/n?”

you shot awake, sitting up and whipping your head around.

you were back in your dorm.

“are you okay? why are you sleeping on the floor?”

you looked up, your roommate standing there with a weirded out expression.

“and what are you wearing?”

your gaze shifted downward, and the minute you saw your black wedding dress and veil folded neatly next to you, memories of what had happened hours prior came achingly flooding in as you scrambled to stand up on your feet, scaring your roommate and leaving her to grumble in her head about how she wished the system didn’t put her to room with the campus ghost girl.

“sorry! i have to go thank you though for waking me u—”

your voice trailed off down the hall, you running through and ignoring the weirded out looks from other students as you sprinted out of the building and down the street, engulfing the skirt of your gown up in your arms so you wouldn’t accidentally trip over it and eat shit on the ground, the goal of getting back to the maitland’s house the only thing on your mind as you ran.

your lungs burned by the time you got to the bottom of the hill, and you thanked anyone that was willing to listen for allowing winter river to exist as the smallest town you had ever known, sparing you from running a full fledged marathon just to get to the house as you heaved and tried to catch your breath, a little sweaty and hot as you began the hike up the hill.

you hoped he was there.. in the attic.

you hoped to god that he was.

reaching the top, you continued to trudge across the dirt driveway and up the porch steps, your foot lifting and just about to make contact with the old wooden platform until an invisible force grabbed your ankle and pulled you back, literally dragging you away from the house and down the hill over the grass as you screamed and thrashed for it to let you go.

satoru.

and you tried again, hiking up the hill with your bundled up wedding skirt in your arms, reaching the top faster than last time and choosing to run up the porch steps instead to see if you could outrun his ghostly abilities.

except you couldn’t, because the invisible force caught you by the ankle again just as your fingers grazed the doorknob, yanking you away and down the hill until it left you screaming and huffing in frustration at the bottom.

you continued to do that for the rest of the fucking day, and everyday for that matter, for an entire week straight.

walking up the hill, reaching the top, getting reeled back, running up the hill and getting sent back down again, sprinting for it only to get dragged away once more as the repeated cycle you had set for yourself happened over and over, until by your last attempt you couldn’t even walk up the hill anymore, satoru having put a huge invisible wall around the house that was impossible to get through.

you were angry. angry and bitter that he was doing this.

was it so bad to just want to spend the rest of your undying life with him? is that not what he wanted this entire time? why was he so adamant on damning you to live a life of suffering and— and loneliness? a life without him?

you didn’t know what to do. your psychic abilities were only for sensing the dead and being able to see them— nothing to do with calling forth spirits or summoning them at any given place and time, so there was no way for you to call satoru no matter how much you wanted to or tried.

and you cried. you cried and you sobbed just like how you did when he first died, except somehow worse knowing that there was a chance to be together with him forever and him not wanting it… not wanting you.

but you waited anyways, hoping that he would come around and change his mind, that he would bring down that stupid invisible wall and let you inside the house and back to him, counting down the days and hours and minutes until it became clearer to you that satoru wasn’t going to change his mind.

and by the third week, you had almost entirely given up.

you felt nothing. absolutely nothing as you slugged through your classes or your day to day errands, not giving a shit about anything that you had to do in this world for you had always loved the other world more— the world of spirits and the netherworld and the great beyond, the world that had satoru in it, as you appreciated and admired that one more ever since you were a kid with your parents… more than the one you were currently in— as this one was filled with ignorance and criticism.

you felt helpless… and maybe satoru was right.

if he was willing to give up an opportunity to keep you forever, then maybe that’s just the way it goes… maybe you should just accept it, and you choosing to think of the latter instead of begging and kneeling at nothing for satoru to come back and get you and marry you— was helping the bitterness in your heart grow and get you by, it at least stopping you from crying in the middle of your lectures or the grocery store and weirding people out anyways.

maybe you should accept the fact that you and him were not meant to be.

after an entire month, you had given up.

and satoru’s grave was the closest you knew you’d get to him, permanently divided by dirt and soil and grass… six feet under and totally out of your reach, his tombstone engraved and pretty and one you couldn’t believe you had forgotten about as it sat here alone for years right under your nose— you visiting it now for the millionth time as you placed your book bag down and sat criss crossed on the grass, mindlessly tugging and breaking off pieces of it as you sat there.

you sighed deeply and hugged your knees up to your chest, the day surprisingly a sunny one as chirping birds flittered past you through the wind, tiny little white butterflies occasionally stopping by to sit on your arm or satoru’s tombstone as you sat there in thought… not really sure what to think, but comforted by the fact that the engravings on his stone reminded you that he was once very much alive and real.

there was an odd wavering in your heart, and you had a feeling that this was going to be the last time you were visiting his grave, for you figured it was time to finally do what he wanted you to do— move on and forget him.

“don’t move on.”

you stiffened.

that voice… was your mind hallucinating now? jesus chri—

“don’t move on from me please… and— and don’t forget me. i take it all back.”

you heard footsteps draw nearer across the grass and you turned your head, eyes widening and unbelieving as you saw satoru standing there with a pleading anxious expression, him still dressed in his black and white suit that he had on for the wedding.

was it actually him?

“how are you…” you trailed off, your mind having difficulty processing how he was there. “how are you outside the house? i thought the contract—”

“juno gave me a hall pass…” he explained softly. “it expires at the end of the day.”

you hummed, itching to jump up and wrap your arms around him and cling to him, but stopping yourself from doing so as you still didn’t know why he was here, and you were quite frankly still bitter and hurt from him sending you away.

you slightly turned your body. “why are you here?”

“because i can’t stay away from you.”

your heart skipped a beat as he crouched down to your level, your eyes greedily running across every feature of his face and committing it to memory, as you now had him directly in front of you again instead of having to rely on recollections of him to try and mend your aching heart.

and satoru was doing the same.

“i started to sense you distancing from me and… and i had this feeling that you were starting to listen and move on and forget me and it made me fucking ill. which is crazy because i’m dead… but i was literally ill sweets.”

you let a tiny soft smile play at your lips.

“i can’t take it.” he spoke again, shaking his head. “i can’t take the thought of you forgetting me. not now, not ever, and i don’t know why i was stupid enough to try and convince myself that i could watch you do something like that even if its the right thing.”

“you sent me away.”

“i did baby…” he reached over and gently caressed your cheek. “and i regret that so fucking much. i’m sorry.”

“toru i need you to understand that you can’t make choices like that for me.”

“i know.” he mumbled and dropped his hand, eyes casting down. “i’m stupid.”

“but i also need you to understand, that i have no interest in living in a world that doesn’t have you in it… it’s not worth it now that you’re gone.”

you tilted your head to try and catch his gaze, continuing once his blue eyes flickered back to yours.

“i would die for you, and i would die without you. i look for you in everything that i do and you expecting me to just forget you is cruel.”

“no i don’t want you to forget me anym—”

“what’s life to you?” you asked him suddenly. “what does it feel to you? and mean?”

he stared at you with pinched brows, his face endearing but sad all at the same time.

“warm.” he murmured. “beautiful and… pure. it’s peaceful and it means you.”

your heart fluttered and you smiled, and satoru fell in love with you all over again— something you conquered when he was alive, and something you conquered again in death.

“that’s what life is toru.” you cupped his cheek. “to me it’s not— this.”

you gestured around you. “it’s not my body or my heart, it’s not the sun and it’s not breathing. it’s you. i feel life through you and i always have… because life doesn’t literally mean where i am now and neither does it mean the netherworld baby… it means you and me.”

satoru didn’t even realize he was crying until you wiped his cheeks, your words serving an entirely new perspective to him about the living and the dead and he felt peace.

because yes satoru was dead… but he was still living. living because he had you as the embodiment of it, and living because his soul still permitted him to see you again and be with you, to look at you with his own undead eyes and feel warmth like he did before.

but not literal warmth from your body or pumping blood or a beating heart.

but warmth from your soul. from who you are.

that’s what life was to him… and what life was to you.

satoru wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you to his chest, one hand on the back of your head as he cradled you and cried, finally now no longer mourning his past life like he’d been doing for the past three years, and no longer wishing for it back either or thinking that physically living in this world was the better option for you just because it meant you were breathing.

where he was, was just fine. and wherever you chose to go would be fine too.

but you chose to go with him, something that had been set since the moment you met under the magnolia tree back in middle school— living or dead, paris or italy, your choice would always and forever be him.

satoru proposed to you right then and there at his gravesite, flying to one knee as soon as you both stood back up and him manifesting the biggest diamond rock you had ever seen in your life, laughing and crying together as he slipped it over your ring finger, for your marriage meant the binding of the living and the dead, and the binding of you and him— a new beginning.

but this time your wedding wasn’t at the cathedral, but under the pretty magnolia tree where you had met, now accompanied by the maitlands as barbara cried, and juno as she herself officiated the wedding, you thinking— hoping that she grew a soft spot for satoru, and that behind her stern resting face, she was glad satoru was finally a free man and granted a second chance.

giving your soul up was nothing to you, and it didn’t hurt at all either… you feeling lighter in exchange actually… happy, with satoru standing in front of you and with a massive fucking grin on his face, shiny and bright as he practically jumped in his spot in excitement over you finally being his wife and that he got to keep you— and right this time… no lies or tricks or hidden secrets, but genuine authentic sacrifice instead, for it was the purest form of love.

because this is what fate had decided for the two of you.

it had decided that satoru gojo was meant to die… but it had also decided to bring you back to him as well— to the house of the maitlands, to the attic he was banished to, and back together again in each others cold arms where you belonged, defying the laws of the living and the dead and proving that life doesn’t end even after your hearts stopped beating.

fate had decided that you were both meant to be. that was always a fact.

and fate had decided that you and satoru gojo were meant to live, with unbeating hearts and icy cold skin, but souls still warm for each other nonetheless.

because through sickness and in health… death could not do you both apart.

you and satoru.

together for eternity.

a lovely and incredibly beautiful fanart of this fic can be found here by @courtneedsleep !! <33

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @saelov3 @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @stilettoheelz @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever @yoonights @skendos @babylambdietcoke @yunstarz @dinomdubs @kalulakunundrum @s777athv @sugoroo @wastednightsonyou @miri222 @jayawaya @dazailover4ever @courtneedsleep @kcch-ns @halovianembrace @tsukuhoe @kayamor @lupicalbestwolf @therealkurapikakurta @amarahi123 @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic

[esmrecovery]

Why it is Important to Get Rid of Your Old Junk Vehicle?

Disposing of an old junk vehicle not only occupies valuable space on your property, but it’s also visually unappealing. Free Scrap Car Collection in Southampton allows you to free up the space in your garage. If your junk vehicle occupies your backyard space, you can free up the area and use it for different activities, such as installing a trampoline or a swing set or expanding your garden. and more information visit our blog: https://scrapmycar-portsmouth.blogspot.com/2023/07/why-it-is-important-to-get-rid-of-your.html

[jealousmartini]

⋆.˚ how I like to manifest ! .𖥔˚

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

To be honest, my kind of manifesting is like a lazy type because of how silly and laid back it is. It's good for loa babes like me who just wanna have fun manifesting, but don't wanna do too much.

But because of how complicated manifestation was made in the past years, you guys might see my manifesting as creative.

It just depends on how you, a master manifester, personally like to manifest compared to how I do things.

I like to call this process :

𐙚 shop, purchase, spawn ⋆.˚

Some of you read that and might be thinking "why is it shopping themed-" Silence. hear me out.

– what does it mean to "shop" and how to do it?

To shop means to browse, to look for, and to figure out what you want.

Like you would do before you go to a shop or even while you are in a shop, you would see something you like and wonder to yourself, "oo I really want this " or "Wouldn't it be so nice if I had this" or "Omg I have got to have that" something amongst those lines. This is the first half of my shopping process.

The second half is to look for whatever tickles my fancy and add it to my basket. But how do I do this, and where do I look for my desires? Literally anywhere. But my favourite shopping area is definitely pinterest (just like any other manifester), so let's use her as an example: To shop on pinterest would be to scroll or search for whatever my desire is. To place in a basket would be to sort it into a board.

– what do you mean "purchase", how to do it?

To purchase means to buy something; usually using digital or physical money. Or, in my case, to finalise the fact that it is mine/decide it's mine, by using affirmations!

Affirmations is my currency. When I give some affirmations, I lose some affirmations in order to "buy" my desire.

What I mean by this is that it's like a trade offer with myself. In order to buy my desires, I must trade in some limiting beliefs I have about the desire with new ones that support the fact the desire is now mine. Do you get it?

I traded my old beliefs for new beliefs for my desire in return!

– what does it mean to "spawn", how to do it?

To spawn means to appear very quickly or from nowhere in seconds. For me though, this would just be a simple word for "instant delivery" or "instant reality shift".

Now this is all spawning is. It is me shifting my reality to one where everything is the same but my desired affirmations have materialised instantly. To spawn a desire is to instantly shift to a reality where my affirmations about having my desire has materialised.

I love to spawn my desires instead of going through the process of having to collect it from somewhere (which IS still the manifestation of my affirmations but I'm just too lazy dude☠️😭)

𐙚 the world is a supermarket, and everything is free ! .𖥔˚

This is where my silly imagination gets creative, yall. I'm about to put you guys on some "shops" where you can "purchase" your specific desires from. Here are some obvious ones:

— what you can "buy" on pinterest !

Clothes, Shoes, Accessories, Wigs

Face claims, Body claims

Houses, Apartments/Penthouses

Food claims

Vehicle claims

Aesthetic claims

— what you can "buy" on tiktok ! (And youtube)

Song/Audio claims

voice claims/Accent claims

Face claims, body claims, personality claims

Fame claim

Aesthetic claims

Closet claims

Significant other claims (platonic or romantic)

Relationship trope claims

Room claims (bedroom,bathroom living rooms etc)

— what you can "buy" on Google maps

Houses, Apartments/Penthouses

Islands (😭)

Environment claims

Vacation spots

— what you can buy with your phone camera

I really love using my phone camera to shop for new desires guys because you can take a picture of ANYTHING.

You want to live in a specific neighbourhood? Take a picture of it and purchase is. Want the cutest clothe set you just saw in the window of a store? Take a picture and purchase it.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Anyway thats all I have to say for now.

CIAO!!😙💋

Tags I'm tryna put some cool loa babes on. Tell me what you guys think : @esotericc-angel @etherealkissed88 @edwadio @livingmydreamlife5555 @theshifterbear @nondualiber @ponchigg @ningsols @themanifestingbrat @4ellieluv @dollfaceirene @babygothprincess @revrealities

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #31

August 23-30 2024

The Department of Transportation announced $521 million to help increase the number of electric vehicle charging ports. They money will go to projects in 29 different states, DC, and 8 tribal governments. It'll help build over 9,200 EV charging ports. Since Biden took office publicly available EV chargers has doubled, there are now over 192,000 public EV chargers in the nation with about 1,000 new ones being added every week.

The Department of The Interior announced the first ever lease for off-shore wind power in Oregon. When fully developed the two sites in Southern Oregon will generate 3.1 gigawatts of clean, renewable energy, enough to power a million homes. Under the Biden-Harris administration first of their kind off-shore wind power projects have been approved and started in the Pacific and Gulf of Mexico coasts. In total 13 gigawatts of clean energy from offshore wind projects, enough to power nearly 5 million homes, has been approved.

Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland finalized the protection of 28 million acres of public lands across Alaska.  In the last days of the Trump Administration protections for these lands were lifted. The Trump Interior Department did not consult with the Alaska natives who depend on these protected lands before lifting the protections. Deb Haaland the first Native American to serve as Secretary of the Interior declared "Tribal consultation must be treated as a requirement – not an option"

The Department of Health and Human Services announced $558 Million for improving maternal health. This is part of the Biden-Harris Administration's effort to address the maternal health crisis, which has been lead by Vice-President Harris. $440 million of the money will help expand a program of home visiting services for maternal, infant, and early childhood. $118 million, through the CDC, will go to 46 states, and six territories, over 5 years to help build the public health infrastructure to better identify and prevent pregnancy-related deaths.

It was announced that Maine will join the IRS' Direct File program for tax year 2025. Maine joins Oregon, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New Mexico, Connecticut, North Carolina, and Wisconsin along with the original 12 states. The Direct File program, made possible by President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, allows tax payers to file, for free, simple returns with the IRS. The 140,000 tax payers who used the pilot program in 2024 saved a collective $5.6 million in filing costs. Maine's Revenue Services plans to work with the ISR to allow tax payers to file their state taxes by just transferring the info from the ISR direct file.

[theereina]

The "Itch"

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), oral (female receiving), fingering, spitting, slight an*l, double penetration/stimulation, spanking, Soft Dom!Terry

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels. This is my first time focusing on sub-dom, so please be nice.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

Nadia had gone to bed earlier than usual. She had taken her first Pilates class today and foolishly went to the gym after. Every part of her body ached as a reminder of her session. She loved it, nevertheless. Her fiancé, Terry, had gifted her a 3 month membership at the local Pilates studio. She had shown interest after trying it at home using YouTube videos and equipment from Amazon. Terry had gone out and bought all her equipment and outfits way before her first class was even scheduled. This is why she loved him. His ability to breathe life into her hobbies and invest in her selflessly.

Nadia was lying on her belly with her arm under the pillow. Her hair was braided back into two puffy braids. She had sweated her hair out and was NOT in the mood to even touch it after the gym.

Nadia heard the faint sound of Terry's truck pulling onto the gravel driveway. She tossed in her sleep, facing the window in their upstairs master bedroom. His headlights flashed across the room as he drove closer to the house. She heard the truck come to a stop and the engine cut off. Terry opened and closed the doors of his vehicle collecting his things before walking to the front door. She heard his keys before the front door creaked open. The house went silent as Nadia waited for his presence.

She could hear his footsteps ascending the stairs. Nadia turned to rest on her back. His footsteps were— different. They weren't light and graceful tonight. They carried a nagging weight. A weight Nadia could register from a mile away. Nadia sat up in bed, resting her back against the plush headboard. Her satin gown hung from one shoulder, and she wasn't wearing any underwear as Terry had always requested for bedtime.

She could hear his footsteps moving closer to the bedroom door. They were much louder than normal. Terry opened the bedroom door to find Nadia sitting up waiting for him. He paused to take in the simplicity of her natural beauty. Her natural hair braided back will always be one of his favorite hairstyles on her. It didn't matter if it was messy or professionally done. It made her look like an angel to him. The way the light brown satin gown lay on her glowy brown skin made her look like the finest of chocolates— smooth and sweet. The way that single strap hung off her shoulder slightly exposing the top of her large breast was the icing on the cake for him. He needed his Nadia— his baby girl. The yearning within Terry rose with every second that his gaze lingered on her.

Nadia waited with her hands in her lap while Terry stood in the doorway taking ALL of her in. Terry's eyes reflected the moonlight that glowed through the window. Nadia followed Terry's eyes up her body until they met her's. She nodded and smiled. Terry nodded back.

Terry admired that she was waiting for him without him asking. Terry looked into Nadia’s doe-brown eyes with enough lust to ignite the fire between her legs. Terry approached the bed and patted the edge. Without saying a word, Nadia pulled the covers back and crawled to the foot of the bed. She sat on her knees. She assured that she was close enough to feel Terry's energy but not touch him. She needed permission for that in these situations.

He leaned over and kissed the top of Nadia’s head and her forehead. He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face to his. His stare was heavy and demanding. He bit his bottom lip before speaking. “Daddy's got an itch, baby girl,” he said kissing Nadia’s lips. Nadia placed her hands in her lap and drew in a breath. “What's your remedy, Daddy?” Nadia said playing with the bottom hem of her gown. It was barely covering halfway past her thick thighs and from the right angle he could definitely see she had followed the no panties rule.

“First, are you okay?” he said placing his hands on the sides of her neck. “Yes, sir. I'm okay,” Nadia replied with a nod of her head. “Alright, baby girl. You okay with Daddy being hands-on during this session?” he asked. “Yes, sir. If hands-on is what Daddy needs, we can begin when he's ready,” Nadia said looking at Terry with the softest eyes.

“Thank you, baby girl. Wait right here, okay?” Terry said, standing up straight. Nadia nodded and looked down at her hands. She watched as Terry's work boots disappeared from her line of sight. She could hear him enter the bathroom. She heard the sink turn on and off. Terry was all about cleanliness whenever possible, so she assumed that he had washed his hands.

Terry returned from the bathroom shirtless and carrying his belt in his hand. “Eyes up,” he demanded. Nadia’s eyes rose to find his. “Are you gonna be a good girl fa’ me?” he asked crossing his arms. Nadia's eyes watched the belt as it rested on his chest. “Yes, Daddy. I promise,” Nadia said softly. “Baby girl, we use our big girl voice in this room!” Terry said shifting his weight to one side. “Sorry. I promise to be a good girl,” Nadia said louder. “Thank you, baby. Turn around. Flatten out. Arms out in front of you. You know how Daddy likes it,” he said while uncrossing his arms and dropping the belt since there was no longer a need to restrain her.

Nadia turned around and put her ass in the air. She flattened her body as much as she could against the mattress, deepening her arch. Her arms stretched ahead towards the headboard with her palms faced down. Her gown instantly rose over her ass, exposing all of her to Terry's hungry gaze.

“That's my girl. Ass up, face down. Remember to breathe,” Terry said inching closer to Nadia's backside. He began to rub and palm her ass cheeks. He pushed her gown up further so that it was around her waist. “Do you remember Daddy's rules?” Terry asked massaging her lower back. “Rule number one: count out loud. If I don't and Daddy can't hear it, it doesn't count. Rule number two: keep my hands to myself. That includes keeping them off of Daddy and me. Rule number three: Daddy doesn't like quiet bitches. He wants to hear me. Rule number four: Don't interrupt Daddy while he's having fun. Rule number five: I am a princess and slut. Act like it!” Nadia called out the list with pride as a smile spread across Terry's face.

Terry was a soft dom. He had no interest in being “hard”. He liked things light and playful, yet sexy and spicy. Nadia’s words carried more weight than his needs. “No” meant “no”, and he didn't believe in coercion. Nadia's answers were final. That's why check-ins and consent were so important to him. He would never make her do anything she didn't want to. Even if Nadia desired to do it to please him, it made him uncomfortable. In Terry's mind, this was really Nadia's playroom, and he was just the keeper.

“Ready, love?” Terry asked adjusting himself between her legs. His thighs rested against the edge of the bed. Nadia nodded. Terry cupped her chin and turned her face towards him. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry. Yes, sir. I'm ready,” she said turning her head back to face the headboard. He pushed her lower back down gently and angled her ass higher. He wanted to see all of her.

From this angle, Terry could see her pussy already beginning to glisten. He palmed her ass with one hand as he slid his fingers in between the lips of her pussy grazing her clit over and over again. Nadia let out a soft moan. Terry slid two fingers inside her pussy. “Does baby girl want a reward? I think you earned one. Daddy didn't even have to tell you to be waiting. Do you know how that makes Daddy feel, baby girl?” Terry said pushing his fingers in slowly. Nadia moaned and began clenching her fists.

“Like the king he is,” Nadia said lifting her head. She wanted to make sure Terry heard her. “That's right, princess. Good girl,” Terry said as he began to slowly fingerfuck Nadia. He curved his fingers upward aiming for her g-spot. Nadia clenched around his fingers. “Is that where my baby wants it?” Terry said working his fingers against the same spot over and over. “Yes, Daddy!” Nadia moaned out. “If that's what my baby wants, that's what she gets,” Terry grunted. His fingers began to pick up speed. Nadia’s body jerked forward slightly pushing Terry's fingers out. “Noted,” Terry said in a low grumble.

That meant Nadia had made a mistake. An amount was added to whatever Terry decided— spankings, orgasms, denials, etc. With her in this position, she was adamant that a spanking was happening shortly. “Sorry, sir!” Nadia blurted out. Terry tapped her lower back, letting her know he at least acknowledged her apology. There was no such thing as deductions.

Nadia could feel herself approaching her climax. This orgasm was going to be a strong one. She could feel Terry shift behind her. Terry leaned his head down and opened his mouth letting saliva fall onto Nadia’s pussy. He removed his fingers and dragged them down towards her clit. He began to use the pads of his fingers to rub her swollen clit. He pushed the thumb from the same hand into her pussy.

He leaned over to glance at the side of Nadia's face. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth. “Your reward,” Terry announced. He dragged the thumb from his other hand over her asshole and pressed lightly. He knew that one of Nadia's biggest kinks was double penetration/stimulation. Nadia’s moans immediately grew louder. Terry pressed his thumb into her asshole a little more, passing the rim. Nadia began fisting the bedsheets in front of her. A smile spread across Terry's face. He loved it when she reacted like this. Terry began making small circular motions with his thumb still inside her.

His other hand was still playing with her pussy. “For being such a good girl, you can cum whenever you like,” Terry said quickening the pace of his hands. He needed Nadia to cum hard. He loved making her orgasm. “Daddy, I'm close!” Nadia whimpered loudly. “I know baby. I can feel it. Can you let Daddy have it? Let it out, baby,” Terry cooed. It was as if that was all it took for Nadia's pussy to explode. She came all over Terry's hand that was covering her pussy. He rubbed her clit faster pushing her orgasm out.

Terry smiled at the moans Nadia was releasing as each one egged him on. “That's my baby. You did all that for Daddy,” he said leaning down and kissing up her spine. With each kiss, Nadia released more small moans. “Fuck!” she yelled out.

Terry leaned back up. He watched as she came down and leveled her breathing. “It's time, princess,” Terry said massaging Nadia’s lower back with both hands. She quickly repositioned herself. “Good girl. Ready?” Terry said flexing his fingers. “Yes, Daddy. I'm ready,” she replied closing her eyes. She had learned that anticipating the hits made them hurt worse. She loosened her hips and spread her legs a little more. She liked when his hits got a little wild and struck her pussy just a little.

“Begin,” Terry announced.

smack

“One!”

smack

“Two!”

smack

“Three!”

smack

“Four!”

After every couple of smacks, Terry would gently massage Nadia’s ass cheeks. Once they were past fifteen, Nadia’s pussy was aching again.

smack

“Sixteen!”

smack

“Seventeen!”

smack

“Eighteen!”

Nadia was feeling the throb of every hit. She knew that she was welting or bruising by now.

smack

“Nineteen!”

smack

“Twenty!”

“Last one for your earlier indiscretion!” Terry called out.

smack

“Twenty-one!” Nadia whimpered again. Her hands were lost in the tangled sheets she had been fisting.

“That's my girl. Breathe,” Terry said taking notice of Nadia's pussy clenching on nothing. “You need something?” Terry asked stroking her clit again. “I'm so close, Daddy. Make me cum again, please!” Nadia screamed. She moaned as soon as Terry's fingers slipped inside of her again.

Terry leaned over and placed his free hand on Nadia's waist. He pulled closer to him while fingerfucking her pussy. He got down on his knees behind her on the floor. Using nothing but his flattened tongue he licked from her pussy to her asshole. His fingers left her pussy and found her clit again. He pointed his tongue and inserted it into her wet pussy. He moved his head back and forth while his tongue was inside her, thrusting into her like he was searching for her orgasm.

He wanted her to cum on his face, and he wanted it now. He pressed harder on her clit while continuing to pad it with his fingertips. His tongue went into overdrive. He wiggled his tongue along her walls as far as he could reach. Nadia was screaming now. “Daddy! Oh, fuck. I'm…ahh. Please, I'm…ughhh!” Nadia yelled. Her juices squirted out of her and flooded Terry's open mouth. He held his mouth over her catching everything he could. He licked over her entrance over and over again.

Once he was finished, he stood up from behind Nadia. He tapped her lower back before speaking again, “Turn over, baby.” Nadia flipped over so that she was on her back. Terry leaned down and grabbed her hands. “I love you, baby girl. You know that?” Terry asked, smiling down at her. “Yes, Daddy. I love you, too!” Nadia said panting.

Terry leaned over her body and began kissing all over her chest and neck, causing her to giggle. “I’ll take care of you in the bathroom and before you go back to bed. For now, rest. Okay, love?” Terry said locking eyes with her. His gaze was much softer now. Those greenish hazel eyes were gleaming. “Yes, sir,” Nadia answered leaning up to peck Terry on the lips.

Terry rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. She heard the bath turn on. She could hear him searching through cabinets, opening and closing each one. “Eucalyptus or lavender?!” Terry yelled from the bathroom. “Both!” Nadia yelled back. She placed her hands on her chest and closed her eyes. This was the most intense session she and Terry had done in a while.

Returning to the bedroom, Terry walked into their closet and grabbed two towels and her robe taking them into the bathroom. “Ready, baby?” Terry asked walking back out. “Yes, sir,” Nadia said letting out a yawn. “Tired?” “I was asleep when you came,” she said as Terry picked her up bridal style. “Sorry for waking you up,” he said kissing her forehead. “You can wake me up like this anytime you want!” Nadia laughed as they entered the bathroom. The steam rose from the bath. She could smell the essential oils he used. “Mmm,” she let out, taking a deep breath.

Terry put her down and stepped into the tub first. He held out his hand to guide her in. “Thank you,” she said. She sat down first with him sitting behind her. His back rested against the edge of the large Jacuzzi tub. Bubbles were beginning to cover their bodies. Terry reached around Nadia to turn off the faucet. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush to him. “Thank you, my love,” he said kissing her lips. “Anytime,” she said sinking back into his chest.

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @persethegawd @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theglamclosetsl @nayaesworld @ariiijestertheklown

@androgynousgaz @insidefeelingofanadult @blyffe @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @revealingco @pocketsizedpanther @creartivefairy @disc0fairy @uzumaki-rebellion

@planetblaque @kindofaintrovert @notapradagurl7 @vivaalenaa @5headsupremacist @slutsareteacherstoo @gg-trini

@beenathembo @babybratzmaraj @sageispunk @gwenda-fav @blowmymbackout @megamindsecretlair

@helloncrocs @chasingsunlight

[jolalibrary]

going to make you sweat

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: it's the hottest day of the year; you and javi want to make it hotter.

rating: 18+/explicit warnings: explicit smut. somewhat established relationship. jo's spelling, jo putting to practice her spanish. wordcount: 1.9k

It begins with the sound of the fan.

Whirring. Whirring. Blowing nothing but warm, sticky heat around the over-boiled place.

For four days, the sun has been beating down relentlessly, acting as another unforgiving tyrant ruling over Colombia, forcing waves of heat to seep into homes, regardless of whether doors and windows are closed.

All but forcing everyone to seek refuge from the scorching onslaught.

It's why he's home.

It's why you didn't protest when his hand found your lower back, guiding you out to the passenger seat of his vehicle.

The unspoken understanding between you both fizzes in the air. All silence, discreet.

Just like the rest of the clandestine nature of your relationship.

Now, you’re lying as still as possible. Not even considering sliding your leg over to touch his—even if usually, you’d have done it a handful of times.

Cool showers offered no relief—your skin was already slick with dampness before you finished drying off. Every movement made the heat feel unbearable, trickling down your neck. Your limited attire, stuffed in a spare drawer at his, offers no relief; the white tee and panties cling to your skin, feeling like additional layers you long to peel away from your bones, not just your skin.

Your eyes flick towards him at the sound of his lighter—at the paper burning at the end, before the scent greets your nostrils.

Normally, it would barely irritate you, but now it twists your annoyance into a knot and uses it to fuel its fury. A glare not forcing him to stub it out, your mood souring, further making beads of perspiration collect along your collarbone and drip down the valley of your breasts, all but pooling where your body bends and creases as you remain on the sofa.

You can feel him watching.

Eyes likely following the path of sweat descending under your top—because even in unbelievable temperatures, you’re sure he’s mentally undressing you.

Because he looks wrecked, even with the cigarette burning between his fingers/.

Javier Peña's usually put-together look of swept-to-the-side hair is currently stuck damp to his forehead as sweat drips off the end of his sloped nose. The look is so reminiscent of what you’d imagine he'd look like if he had a full free day to fuck you; if it wasn’t rushed quickies or long, drawn-out nights before the two of you collapsed into sheets before doing it all over again on three hours of sleep.

At some point between coming home early and sitting beside you, his barely buttoned shirt has been discarded, leaving him in a pair of shorts he’d pulled on when he’d been grumbling about the fucking heat, paperwork and bureaucracy all in the space of a minute.

The fact he'd shed most of his layers allows you to trace your eyes down his body. Glance at the soft curve of his stomach, the firmness of his chest and those biceps you see flex when he’s leaning when he’s doing all he can not to flick his eyes from your face to your tits.

He's already caught you.

Taking a drag on his cigarette for a suspiciously long time before blowing the smoke out in one smooth movement. Eyes on you. Fixed. Never unfocused.

And fuck, if it doesn’t make you want him that much more.

“It’s too hot.”

“I said nothing.”

You snort. Loud. Full of intent.

Mind a scrambled mess of want, as your hips shift when your eyes flick south of his neck and land on his thighs.

“C’mon, Cariño,” he drawls, stubbing out his cigarette—punching the lit end out until it’s snuffed, “Come sit on my lap.”

A battle ensures in your skull. It’s weak, both the for and against, which is how you find yourself straddling him, palm flat to your thighs—finding the heat from his body no more intense than the sweltering environment around you.

“This what you want, me all sweaty on you?”

He chews his cheek, a glint in the dark of his eyes, a blip in the pool of desire—and your heart pounds in your chest. Breaths coming in short gasps, matching the rhythm of the fan in the corner.

"I'd have you on top of me however I can."

"Course you would," you retort.

His fingers flex, itch. Sneak in inches up your skin as he continues to breathe slowly, in and out, out and in.

You’re not sure who moves first, but your lips find his—passionate, fiery. Teeth almost grazing but your tongue slides in and licks past his teeth, swallowing his moan, his hiss, as you roll your clothed pussy over his hardening cock, tasting nothing but smoke, coffee and mint, a combination you know to be him.

“Mm—fuck,” he groans.

He sounds pained when he drags his mouth from yours, his fist full of the back of your sweat-soaked tee as he drags it off over your head—throwing it, it landing on the tiles with a wet slap, forcing your head to snap to the sound.

But he’s on you.

Mouth latching to your nipple, tongue swirling, before tracing a line up your breast and across your collarbone.

“Taste so fucking good, cariño.”

It’s stifled, the moan—forcing your best smirk to show, “Put your head between my thighs and say that, Peña.”

And he considers it.

Your words.

Head tilting marginally, the slightest of movements that he’ll pretend never occurred. But he moves, shifts. Practically bucks his hips into you as he repositions, and you land on your bare back on the sofa with an oomph.

A comment arrives on your tongue, almost fizzling before it’s swallowed at the way forces your knees together and yanks your panties down your thighs. Soaked, ruined—both from the mere existence of him and the heat. Discarding them, throws them into some dark space as he glances down at the place between your thighs.

“Even in this heat, she’s pretty.”

You try not to turn away, bury your face in the smoked-scented cushions of his sofa as his words meet you. A sudden desire to hide, to cover—

“You not like that, cariño, when I call her pretty?” His knuckles part your folds, teasing, dragging them up and down as you squirm, whine his name. “Tell me.”

Somehow, all fucking unknown to you, more heat floods your cheeks. It's embroiled in embarrassment, shyness—two things you’re sure he spends most of his time trying to fuck out of you, but has failed to do so thus far—

He says your name.

Not your nickname. Not agent.

Eyes snapping to him, throat dry as he continues to tease, as his thumb presses on your clit and makes you hiss.

“No—ffff-feel embarrassed, alright? Fuck.”

You hear his tongue click—it’s the last thing you hear before ringing. Before two fingers slide into you, slide with ease as they delve deep, his frame coming over your body as he moves them, as he curls them. Doing his best to undo as his eyes come into focus, the top of his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

And the ringing dies down.

Forced to as a pebble of sweat falls from his nose and drips to your breastbone.

“No need to be embarrassed with me.”

Your hips try to buck and seek.

“Impaciencia,” he groans—moisture glistening at the base of his throat, palm keeping you down, still, fingers curled inside of you as you gasp. “You’re… fuck. I need to taste you.”

The breath of his words sweeps over your inner thigh.

“Javi, don't tease—“

“I’ve got you, cariño—don’t worry. I’ll make you come again, and again, and…”

You’re not sure if he speaks the last again—or if it’s buried into your pussy. A high chance you blank it out with other noises as his tongue fucks into your hole. Finger on your clit, swirling, drawing shapes your brain can’t manifest or conjure as you become aware of your moans.

Out of instinct, your fingers find his hair—slick with sweat, trying to curl between your fingers as his tongue flattens. All precise, taunting. Forcing you to the edge and dangling you before pulling you back.

It almost makes you thrash, forcibly lift your hips against him when his face lifts—face slick with your want as he smirks.

“Lo sé, cariño.”

“Please.”

It leaves your lips undignified, dignity gone, transformed into more raw, desperate—a plea that cuts through heat. One answered as he lifts your knee over his hip, feeling bare skin, red hot body heat and the nudging of his cock at your entrance.

He steals your breath, it stammering as he sinks into you in one fluid movement. Your fingers grasp, finding the hair at the nape of his neck again as his mouth comes to your ear, hearing it, the hiss between clenched teeth.

When he moves, your lips find his. It’s different, softer and almost gentle. All measured movements gone, lost, thrown out when you breathe him in, when your mouths are open, moaning into each other's throats as your heels dig into his lower back.

And you want to hold on.

But he’s driven you mad. Teeth grating over his shoulder as you tug on his hair. Tasting it, sweat, sex and salt. Your neck further coated in the slick of the heat, the moment; perspiration trickling, sliding over your skin as his hand grasps your hip firmly. Tightly. Practically noticing the hints of intimacy the two of you pretend aren’t there, but rumble and thrum whenever the two of you are alone.

And the thought adds to the feeling of that impending wave rising inside of you again, more angry, needy than it had been before—

“So good for me, cariño. My good girl.”

“Yours.”

It snakes out, too late to retract. Not even caring that it’s there, staining the space between you both, polluting it. Because it’s the truth.

Some days the only thing you can full on believe—

“Yeah, that’s it. Mine, right? All fucking mine?“

His hips thrust into you harder, matching the tone that makes you even wetter than you were seconds before.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yes. Yes. Ye—”

“Fuck, cariño.”

You‘re close. So close. It almost blinding in the way it tries to force your eyes to clench shut, but you can't look away. Not from him. Each flex of his muscles, the way his teeth grit as he fucks into you, makes your body both taut and boneless.

“Wanna feel you, cariño,” he groans, breath ragged, tortured out. “Let me feel you come, baby. Please.”

Tightening around him, fingers jerking on his hair, he meets your eyes.

Not able to fight it, not able to stop it from unravelling as it begins to crest—

"Let me feel you come, baby. Please." His tone all full of gravel, insistent, demanding. Practically unwilling to bend as it brushes itself into your ear. 

His name cracks out of your throat like thunder, slamming against the walls as it rips through you. Making your back arch into him, hearing him groan; hearing him hiss and fucking moan as you shake, thighs quaking around his sweat-tinged skin before he grunts as he spills into you.

It’s silence, except for heaving breaths.

The dull noise of the fan comes back to you, replacing the ringing from before as you slowly peel your legs from his body.

You’re not sure what you expect when he lifts his head, but it isn’t the look there. The one matched with a smile, sly but still a smile—chest rising and falling as he kneels, staring down at you.

Taking you in, flicking his eyes to the place the two of you had just been conjoined.

“Fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And even if you roll your eyes, you hide a smile behind the back of your hand, whispering a "Cállate, Peña."

[jupitersrising]

Post-Islands Headcannons

Brooklynn sorta becomes a kleptomaniac...just a bit. She's so used to things being free on the islands that she pockets things without thinking about it. So of course whenever she sees keycards and other things she pick it up...just in case. They might need it to save their lives. It's not until later when she empties her pockets that she realized she took so much stuff.

Yaz has chronic pain in her injuries ankle, hip, and knee. Due to the injury not healing right on the islands (ankle injuries have a correlation between knee and hips pains btw). She has to be extra careful running and makes sure she stretches + wears a knee brace and compression socks.

Kenji never learns how to drive. Like ever. Brand tried to teach him a few times but he eventually gave up. If he can, he tries not to take any vehicle. He'd rather walk than take the subway. He can remember how many times he's almost died in the passenger seat of a vehicle (be that a helicopter, car, etc) and doesn't trust them anymore. It takes years before he gets in the passenger seat of Darius' jeep and even then he's panicking the whole time.

Darius is afraid of the dark + silence in the dark. He has big chunky headphones that play music all night and he has nightlights spread throughout his bedroom. But he can't sleep without his window open, even in winter. He wants to have another escape route, knowing that he can get out no matter what.

Sammy takes to wandering around areas of the farm she's never been to before. She'll completely disappear from a room and come back four hours later saying she made a new hiking path up to their neighbor's property. Also, she has an immunity to poison oak/ivy because she got it so much on Isla Nublar.

Ben lights small fires that aren't technically arson whenever he gets a chance. He has a collection of different lighters and mini torches and he carries at least one wherever he goes.

[dandelions-143]

Obsession 2

Obsession Part 1

Minho Masterlist

Member Masterlist

Pairing: Non- Idol, Rich Minho x Curvy/mid-size Dancer

Word Count: 8386

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content, Violence and physical abuse, Emotional manipulation, Dubious consent, Power imbalance in relationships

Summary: The usually cold, calm, and collected Minho is losing his grip. He’s losing his control all due to his intense feelings for his little dancer…

Minho glanced over at his friend Hyunjin, who sat rigid in the passenger seat of the sleek black Lexus LX. The leather interior creaked as Minho shifted, his voice low and cautious. "Are you absolutely certain about this, Hyunjin? This isn't like our usual... activities. Once we cross this line, there's no turning back."

Minho's eyes flickered to Hyunjin's face, noting the taut line of his jaw and the barely contained fury in his eyes. A muscle twitched near Hyunjin's temple, a telltale sign of his suppressed rage. Minho understood his friend's anger all too well. The man they had bound and gagged in the trunk of the SUV had committed an unforgivable act - he had dared to lay his hands on the woman Hyunjin cherished above all else.

The weight of what they were about to do hung heavy in the air between them. Minho's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip. He could feel the thrumming of the engine, a stark contrast to the eerie silence inside the vehicle. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of the deserted road behind them, stretching out into the darkness.

"He deserves everything that's coming to him," Hyunjin muttered, more to himself than to Minho. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a mix of righteousness and something darker, something that sent a chill down his spine despite the warmth of the car.

"I've made up my mind," Hyunjin's voice was cold, devoid of its usual warmth. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, now held a dangerous glint. "No one hurts her anymore... not me... not anyone." He turned to face Minho, his gaze unflinching. "I'm doing this."

With those words, Hyunjin reached for the door handle. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence. As he stepped out, the crisp night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Minho hesitated for a split second before turning off the engine, plunging them into darkness save for the faint glow of the dashboard lights.

Minho exited the car, his shoes crunching on the gravel. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet forest clearing. He made his way to the trunk, where their captive, Joo Won, lay bound and gagged. Even through the metal of the car, Minho could hear the muffled screams and the dull thuds of Ji Won's attempts to free himself.

As Minho's hand hovered over the trunk release, he caught Hyunjin's eye. In that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. There was no going back now. With a deep breath, Minho pressed the button, the trunk slowly opening to reveal their terrified prisoner. Joo Won instantly started screaming and cursing at them. Some how the idiot managed to get the tape halfway off his mouth.

"You fucking pricks!" Joo Won bellowed, his voice echoing in the clearing. His eyes, wild with fear and rage, darted between Minho and Hyunjin. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued his tirade, "You'll pay for this! You won't get away with this! I'll have your heads for-"

The rest of his threat was cut short as Minho's fist connected with his temple. The sound of the impact was sickeningly loud in the quiet forest. Joo Won's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up as consciousness fled. His body went limp, sagging against the edge of the trunk.

Minho flexed his hand, his knuckles already reddening from the force of the blow. His voice was barely above a whisper, cold and detached. "You talk too fucking much."

Without a word, Hyunjin moved to help. Together, they grasped Joo Won's unconscious form, one taking the shoulders, the other the feet. The man's dead weight was substantial, and they grunted with effort as they maneuvered him out of the trunk. Joo Won's head lolled lifelessly as they carried him, a thin trickle of blood now visible at his temple where Minho's fist had connected.

They carried Joo Won's unconscious body across the clearing, their footsteps muffled by the carpet of pine needles. The abandoned garage loomed before them, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Its weathered wooden doors creaked ominously as Hyunjin pushed them open with his shoulder.

The interior of the garage was musty and thick with the scent of old motor oil and rusted metal. Minho fumbled for a moment before finding the light switch. A single bare bulb flickered to life, casting long shadows across the cluttered space.

"Over there," Minho grunted, nodding towards a sturdy wooden chair in the corner. They maneuvered Joo Won's limp form into the seat, his head lolling forward onto his chest. Hyunjin quickly set about securing him with rope, his movements efficient and practiced.

As Hyunjin worked, Minho took a moment to survey their surroundings. The garage, once his father's pride and joy, now stood as a silent witness to their dark intentions. Tools hung on the walls, their edges dulled by time and neglect. A workbench stood against one wall, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust.

With Joo Won securely bound, Minho and Hyunjin stepped back, exchanging a loaded glance. The reality of what they were about to do settled over them like a heavy shroud. In the harsh light of the single bulb, their faces looked gaunt and haunted, shadows deepening the hollows of their eyes.

"Wake the fuck up!" Hyunjin snarled, his foot connecting hard with Joo Won's leg. The impact reverberated through the chair, causing it to teeter precariously. The wooden legs scraped against the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the dimly lit garage. For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if both Joo Won and the chair would topple over, but they settled back with a dull thud.

Joo Won's head snapped up violently, his neck muscles straining from the sudden movement. His eyes, bloodshot and wide with panic, darted around the room. Confusion clouded his features for a split second before raw, unbridled fear took over. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, each one punctuated by a small, terrified whimper.

As consciousness fully returned, Joo Won's gaze locked onto the two figures looming over him. Minho stood slightly back, his face an impassive mask, while Hyunjin's presence was more immediate, more threatening. Joo Won's eyes flicked between them, searching desperately for any sign of mercy or hesitation. Finding none, he felt the last vestiges of his earlier bravado crumble away.

"W-what... what do you want from me?" Joo Won stammered, his voice cracking. Saliva pooled in his mouth, making his words come out thick and slurred. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple, leaving a glistening trail on his pale, clammy skin. His fingers, bound tightly behind his back, twitched and trembled, searching fruitlessly for any weakness in his restraints.

Hyunjin leaned in close, his breath hot on Joo Won's face. The scent of fear emanating from Joo Won was palpable, mixing with the musty air of the garage. Hyunjin's eyes, usually warm and friendly, now burned with a cold fury that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft, barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly in the tense silence.

"What do we want?" he echoed, his words dripping with venom. He paused, letting the question hang in the air, watching as Joo Won's eyes widened in terror and pool with tears. "We want you to suffer, just like you made her suffer. Every bruise, every tear, every moment of fear - you're going to feel it all."

Minho stepped back, the soles of his shoes scraping against the concrete floor as he leaned against the far wall. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes never left the scene unfolding before him. He crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket creaking softly, as he watched Hyunjin reach into his pocket.

The sound of metal sliding against fabric filled the air as Hyunjin pulled out a set of brass knuckles. The weapon gleamed dully in the dim light, its surface pitted and scarred from previous use. With practiced ease, Hyunjin slipped them onto his fingers, flexing his hand to ensure a snug fit.

The harsh angles of the weapon seemed to accentuate the cold determination in his eyes. As he raised his fist, the brass knuckles caught the light again, this time reflecting it directly into Joo Won's terrified eyes. The man whimpered, his bound body trembling in anticipation of the pain to come.

"No, please," Joo Won whimpered, his voice cracking with fear. Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled against his bonds, the rough rope digging into his wrists. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" His desperate plea was abruptly silenced as Hyunjin's fist, now a lethal combination of flesh and metal, connected with his jaw. The sickening crunch of bone meeting brass reverberated through the garage, a sound that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Joo Won's muffled cry of agony followed, a guttural, animalistic sound that spoke of pure, unadulterated pain.

Minho stood motionless, his face an impenetrable mask of indifference. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in every detail with clinical detachment. Almost involuntarily, his gaze flickered down to his watch, the subtle movement betraying a hint of impatience. In his mind's eye, he could see his dancer, her lithe form moving gracefully as she began her shift. The urge to be there, watching her, observing every nuance of her performance, gnawed at him relentlessly. He felt a sudden, powerful impulse to leave, to abandon this grim scene and lose himself in the mesmerizing rhythm of her dance. But a sense of loyalty, as cold and unyielding as his exterior, kept him rooted to the spot. He knew he couldn't leave Hyunjin here alone, not with what they had started.

The abrupt cessation of violence snapped Minho's attention back to the present. The silence that descended upon the garage was deafening, a stark and jarring contrast to the cacophony of brutality that had filled the air moments before. The sudden quiet seemed to have a weight of its own, pressing down on them with an almost tangible force. Minho's muscles tensed as he pushed himself off the wall, his movements deliberate and controlled. He took a measured step towards where Hyunjin stood, looming over Joo Won's slumped, battered form. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, the aftermath of violence hanging heavy in the musty garage air.

Even though Joo Won was knocked out cold, Hyunjin continued his assault with a terrifying intensity. His fists, now slick with blood, rose and fell in a brutal rhythm. Each impact produced a sickening sound - a mix of flesh yielding and bone creaking under the relentless force.

"Hyunjin, I think you've taught him a lesson," Minho said firmly, his voice cutting through the violent cacophony. The words seemed to hang in the air, unacknowledged.

Hyunjin appeared lost in a trance-like state, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of rage and something darker. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with specks of Joo Won's blood. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, punctuating each blow. "Jesus Christ..." Minho muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance creeping into his usually composed demeanor.

With a swift movement, Minho lunged forward. His hands clamped down on Hyunjin's shoulders, muscles straining as he forcibly pulled his friend back. "That's enough," he growled, his grip on Hyunjin's arm tightening to the point of bruising. Minho stepped closer to Joo Won and roughly took hold of his face to get a better look at him. Joo Wons blood getting on Minhos hand as he peered down at the lifeless man. "He's out cold. We don't want to kill him. Just send a message."

Hyunjin's chest heaved with ragged breaths, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system. His knuckles, raw and bloody beneath the brass, trembled slightly. Slowly, as if emerging from a fog, his gaze focused on Joo Won's battered face. The man was barely recognizable, his features a swollen, bloody mess. A mix of emotions flickered across Hyunjin's face - satisfaction, horror, and a dawning realization of the extent of his actions. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing and the occasional groan from their unconscious victim.

A muscle ticked in Hyunjin's jaw as he backed away, his chest heaving with exertion. He threw the brass knuckles down with a clatter, the sound echoing in the musty garage. "Fine," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his earlier shouting. With trembling fingers, he ran his blood-stained hand through his sweat-damp hair, leaving behind streaks of crimson.

"Come on, let's get this piece of shit back so I can get cleaned up. I've got somewhere to be," Minho said to Hyunjin, his tone clipped and businesslike. His eyes darted to his watch, a subtle reminder of the ticking clock and the life that awaited them beyond this grim scene.

Hyunjin nodded, his breathing still labored, each exhale carrying the weight of what they'd just done. He glanced at Joo Won's unconscious form, slumped in the chair like a broken marionette. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Hyunjin's face - a momentary crack in his hardened exterior - before his expression set once more into grim determination. Together, they approached the chair, the floorboards creaking under their feet. Their hands moved with practiced efficiency as they began to untie Joo Won, the rope rough against their fingers. Despite the gravity of their actions, their movements were quick and precise, a testament to a familiarity that spoke volumes about their shared past.

As they hauled Joo Won's unconscious form back to the car, the weight of their actions pressed down on them like a suffocating blanket. The forest around them seemed to close in, the trees looming ominously, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The rustle of leaves in the night breeze sounded almost like whispers of judgment, as if nature itself was recoiling from the violence that had just transpired.

Minho's muscles strained under Joo Won's dead weight, and he could feel Hyunjin's labored breathing beside him. The moonlight filtering through the canopy cast eerie shadows on the forest floor, making their trek back to the car feel like a surreal journey through a nightmarish landscape.

—

Upon reaching Joo Won's neighborhood, they unceremoniously dumped his battered body on his front lawn. The thud of flesh hitting grass seemed to echo in the quiet suburban night. After dropping Hyunjin off at his apartment, the silence in Minho's car became oppressive, filled with unspoken thoughts and the lingering scent of violence.

Minho finally entered his own apartment, the sudden stillness a jarring contrast to the chaotic energy of the night. The soft click of the door closing behind him sounded final, like the period at the end of a dark chapter. He made his way to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty space. His movements were mechanical, almost robotic, as if his body was operating on autopilot while his mind grappled with the events of the night.

Stepping into the shower, Minho turned the water on full blast. The scalding spray hit his skin like a thousand tiny needles, each droplet a searing reminder of the night's events. He welcomed the pain, his muscles tensing and then slowly relaxing under the relentless assault of hot water. Steam began to rise, filling the small bathroom with a thick, oppressive heat that matched the turmoil in his mind.

As the water cascaded over his body, Minho watched with a detached fascination as rivulets of pink-tinged water swirled down the drain. The sight of Joo Won's blood mixing with the clear water was mesmerizing, a visual representation of how the violence of the night was being washed away. Yet, even as the physical evidence disappeared, Minho knew that the memory – the weight of his actions – would linger far longer than any visible stain.

The steam continued to build, transforming the bathroom into a foggy cocoon. The mirror gradually clouded over, obscuring Minho's reflection and creating a barrier between him and the outside world. It was as if the fog in the bathroom mirrored the haze that had settled over his conscience, blurring the lines between right and wrong, justice and vengeance.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Minho stood under the relentless spray. The water began to cool, but he barely noticed, lost in a swirl of thoughts and rationalizations. Finally, when the water ran ice cold, shocking him back to reality, Minho stepped out of the shower. His skin was red and raw from the prolonged exposure to the hot water, a physical manifestation of the emotional rawness he felt inside.

With mechanical precision, Minho dried himself, his movements slow and deliberate. Each pat of the towel revealed more of his battle-worn body. A long, jagged scar ran from his left shoulder down to his ribcage, a reminder of a knife fight from years ago. Smaller, circular scars dotted his torso, testaments to bullet wounds barely survived. As he dragged the towel across his arms, the raised edges of burn scars became visible, a patchwork of pain etched into his skin.

As the fog in the bathroom began to dissipate, tendrils of steam curling away to reveal the mirror, Minho found himself face to face with his reflection. The clarity of the image stood in stark contrast to the moral ambiguity he felt. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, now held a haunted look. He stood there, naked and vulnerable, his scarred body a roadmap of violence and survival. The mirror reflected not just his physical form, but the weight of his actions and their consequences. A particularly nasty scar across his abdomen seemed to throb, as if reminding him of the brutality he was capable of. He truly hated himself at times.

Minho began to dress, each item of clothing concealing another layer of his scarred history. He slipped on a crisp white shirt, buttoning it up with steady fingers, hiding the web of scars across his chest. Next came the tailored black trousers, covering the burn marks on his legs. As he shrugged on the sleek black jacket, it masked the uneven texture of his scarred shoulders. Finally, as he knotted his black tie, Minho felt himself slipping back into his usual persona - cool, collected, untouchable. The suit became his armor, hiding the physical reminders of his violent past beneath its impeccable surface.

Finally, he shrugged on his signature black suit jacket. As he smoothed down the lapels, Minho took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The night's events were now just a memory, carefully locked away behind the impeccable facade of his black suit. He was ready to face the world again, ready to watch his dancer perform, as if nothing had ever happened. Despite this his still felt slightly on edge.. like any little thing could set him off.

Twenty minutes later, Minho was stepping into the gentlemen's club, his senses immediately assaulted by the ambiance. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Soft, sultry music wafted through the air, punctuated by the melodic tinkling of ice in crystal glasses and the low hum of hushed conversations. The scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the faint aroma of cigars, creating an intoxicating atmosphere.

Minho's polished shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards the darkened hallway. This was his usual route, leading to the private room reserved exclusively for him and his dancer. The familiarity of the path did little to quell the anticipation building within him. However, his purposeful stride was abruptly halted by a sound that sent a chill down his spine - a deep, rumbling laugh he knew all too well, followed by his father's commanding voice filling the room.

Slowly, Minho turned, his body tense with apprehension. He expected to see his father engaged in some typical activity - perhaps enjoying the company of a random dancer, indulging in a lavish meal, or sharing drinks with his business associates. After all, this was his father's club, and his presence here was not uncommon. But as Minho's eyes adjusted to the dim light and focused on the scene before him, a white-hot rage began to build within him, threatening to consume him entirely.

There, in the center of the room, sat his father, but it wasn't just any dancer perched on his lap. It was you - Minho's dancer, the one he had claimed as his own. His father's large, weathered hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made Minho's blood boil. Those filthy hands caressed your hips, fingers splayed possessively across your skin. They lingered on your thighs, inching higher with each passing moment. Minho's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides as he watched, paralyzed by shock and fury.

But it was the next moment that shattered Minho's last shred of control. His father, emboldened by the intimate setting and perhaps by the alcohol coursing through his veins, reached up and gripped one of your breasts. The lewd gesture, so blatant and disrespectful, was the final straw. Something deep within Minho snapped, a primal, possessive instinct taking over. His vision blurred, tinged with red as rage consumed him. In that moment, all thoughts of propriety, of family ties, of potential consequences vanished. All Minho knew was that he had to act, to reclaim what was his, to punish those who dared to touch what belonged to him alone. His father had taken so much from him through out his life but he was not going to take you.

You flinched as his calloused hand made contact with your skin, a wave of revulsion washing over you. Men weren't supposed to touch you like this, but this wasn't just any man - it was your boss, the owner of the club. Your stomach churned as you realized your powerlessness in this situation. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to regain composure, plastering a saccharine smile on your face that didn't reach your eyes. You leaned into him, every fiber of your being screaming in protest as you did so. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke assaulted your senses, making you want to gag. Your skin crawled as his meaty hands roamed over your body, leaving invisible trails of disgust in their wake.

The older man's lips, dry and rough, grazed your shoulder. You couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through you, your body instinctively trying to recoil from his touch. Just as you were about to force yourself to endure more, a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, yanking you away from your boss's embrace. The abrupt movement left you disoriented for a moment. "Minho?" The name escaped your lips in a whisper, more to yourself than anyone else, as your eyes focused on the familiar face contorted with rage.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Minho's hand shot out, gripping his father's expensive silk shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled the older man to his feet. The crack of Minho's fist connecting with his father's face echoed through the room, the force of the blow whipping the older man's head back. You watched in stunned silence as Minho landed two more vicious punches, each impact punctuated by a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from his father's split lip, staining the pristine white of his shirt.

The commotion finally stirred the bodyguards into action. They rushed forward, their large frames filling your vision as they struggled to pull Minho away from his father. Minho fought against their grip, his muscles straining as he tried to break free. With a grunt of effort, he managed to shrug them off, the fire in his eyes undiminished. He advanced on his father again, who was now slumped against the bar, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

Minho leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that sent chills down your spine. "You may own this club," he hissed, each word dripping with venom, "but I own her." His arm shot out, finger pointing directly at you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, the words not quite registering in your shock-addled mind. "Own me?" The question tumbled from your lips, barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Before you could fully grasp the implications of Minho's declaration, his hand was on your arm again. His grip was firm, bordering on painful as he began to drag you away from the scene as his father barked out orders to the body guards. Minho didn’t seem to care about the possible consequences of his actions towards his father. All he had on his mind was you.

You stumbled, struggling to keep up with his long strides as he pulled you down the dark hallway towards a secluded room. The last thing you saw before being yanked around a corner was Minho's father, hunched over and spitting globules of blood onto the polished floor, the red stark against the gleaming surface. The image burned into your retinas as Minho pulled you deeper into the bowels of the club, leaving behind a wake of violence and unanswered questions.

Minho swung open the door pulling you inside with such force you stumbled and fell hard onto the plush carpet in the room. “What the fuck! You can’t just drag me around! I’m not your rag doll!” You yelled as you got back on your feet. Minho stalked towards you his eyes furious, it made you a bit nervous but you still stood your ground with him.

"You're mine," Minho breathed out, his voice a low, possessive growl that sent shivers down your spine. His strong hands gripped your arms, pulling you flush against his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, his scent a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something uniquely Minho. You could feel the hard planes of his chest pressed against you, his heart hammering in sync with yours.

For a moment, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, your body betraying your mind's protests. But you steeled yourself, pushing against his chest with all your might. "I am not yours!" you spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desire. "Let go of me!" Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt tensing at your touch.

Minho's grip remained firm but not painful, his eyes darkening with a primal hunger that both terrified and excited you. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin as his lips grazed your jaw. "No one gets to touch you but me," he murmured, his words vibrating against your skin. "You're my dancer." His tongue darted out, tracing a hot, wet path along your jawline, eliciting an involuntary shiver from you.

You slowly turned your head, your angry eyes meeting his heated stare. The intensity in his gaze was almost palpable, a swirling vortex of desire, possessiveness, and something darker that you couldn't quite name. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw your own conflicted emotions reflected in his eyes.

Without warning, Minho's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was as if he was trying to devour you whole, his passion all-consuming. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, exploring, claiming. One of his hands tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he angled your head to deepen the kiss further.

His other hand roamed your body with a possessive urgency, fingers digging into your flesh as they traced the curves of your waist, hips, and thighs. Each touch left a trail of fire in its wake, your skin tingling with an electric current of desire. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, swallowed by Minho's hungry mouth.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, your anger melting away like snow in the summer sun. In its place, a burning desire took root, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your hands, which had been pushing him away just moments ago, now clutched desperately at his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.

You found yourself responding with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his in a passionate tango. Your fingers, trembling with anticipation, fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath. As each button came undone, you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing matching your own frantic pace. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the heady scent of desire and the intoxicating musk of his cologne.

Your bodies pressed closer, every inch of you yearning for contact. The soft fabric of your dress did little to mask the heat radiating from your skin, and you could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. A low moan escaped your lips, swallowed by his hungry mouth as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every crevice as if mapping out uncharted territory.

It was as if all the tension that had been building over countless nights of furtive glances and suppressed longing had finally reached its breaking point. The dam of restraint had burst, unleashing a torrent of raw, unbridled passion. You were both drowning in the flood of need that threatened to consume you entirely, and neither of you wanted to come up for air.

Minho's lips left yours, leaving you gasping for breath. But he didn't relent in his assault on your senses. His mouth trailed a blazing path along your jaw, each kiss igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through your body. When he reached the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazed the skin, eliciting a shudder that ran from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

His lips continued their journey down the column of your neck, alternating between soft, teasing kisses and more insistent nips that were sure to leave marks. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin as he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea how much I've craved you." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the raw honesty in his voice making your heart race even faster. "Every night, watching you dance, imagining my hands on your body ... it's been torture."

Your head fell back, exposing the delicate column of your neck as you gasped, "Minho... I... we shouldn't..." The words came out breathy and uncertain, your voice quivering with a mix of desire and hesitation. But even as you spoke, your body betrayed your true feelings. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest firmly against his, your skin tingling with every point of contact. Your fingers, which had been pushing against his chest moments ago, now curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline.

Minho's eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. His lips curled into a predatory smile as he growled, "I do what I want, and I want you." The low timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your core. With a swift, fluid motion, he pressed forward, guiding you backward until your back hit the wall with a soft thud. The cool surface against your heated skin made you gasp, the contrast of temperatures heightening every sensation.

Minho's hands moved with a fervent urgency, his fingers finding the delicate straps of your sheer black thong. With a swift tug, he tore away the flimsy material, as well as your matching lacy bralette, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. The cool air of the room caressed your newly bared skin, causing goosebumps to rise across your flesh. Your nipples hardened instantly, partly from the chill and partly from the intensity of Minho's stare.

Your body responded to his touch as if it had a will of its own. A rush of heat flooded your core, your arousal evident in the way your thighs trembled and your breath came in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the wetness gathering between your legs, your body preparing itself for what was to come.

With deliberate slowness, Minho stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he shed his jacket. The expensive fabric fell to the floor with a soft rustle. His tie followed suit, his fingers working deftly at the knot before letting it slip from around his neck. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted form, drinking in the sight of him. The crisp white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and toned chest, hinting at the muscular physique beneath.

He returned to you with an intensity that made your knees weak. His hands explored every inch of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was both gentle and possessive, each caress a claim of ownership. His fingers trailed up your sides, ghosting over the curve of your breasts before sliding around to your back. You shivered as he traced the line of your spine, his touch feather-light yet electrifying.

Minho's hands finally came to rest on your ass, cupping the firm flesh with a grip that was just shy of painful. He pulled you flush against him, letting you feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against your stomach. A low moan escaped your lips at the contact, your body instinctively grinding against him, seeking more friction.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with want. His hands continued their exploration, mapping out every curve and valley of your body as if committing it to memory. His fingers traced the delicate line of your collarbone, then slowly trailed down to the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The calloused pads of his fingertips circled your areolas teasingly, making you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

Minho's plump lips found your hardened nipples, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive peaks before he took one into his mouth. The sudden warmth and wetness made you gasp, your body jerking with pleasure. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bud, then soothed it with gentle laps. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you. The slight pain from your tugging seemed to spur him on, his ministrations becoming more fervent.

"Minho..." you moaned softly, his name passing over your lips like a prayer as he worshipped your body. He hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. His free hand kneaded your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching the neglected nipple in time with the movements of his mouth.

His tongue swirled around one sensitive peak, then the other, alternating between them with a rhythm that had you writhing beneath him. The occasional graze of his teeth sent jolts of electricity through your body, each sensation more intense than the last. Your back arched, pressing your chest further into his eager mouth, silently begging for more. Minho's hands roamed your sides, his touch both gentle and possessive. His fingers danced along your ribs, then gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer. Every caress ignited sparks of desire, your skin hypersensitive to his every touch. The heat between you built steadily, a smoldering fire threatening to consume you both.

As he continued his ministrations, you felt your legs weaken, your body trembling with an overwhelming need. Minho sensed your unsteadiness, his strong arms wrapping around you, supporting your weight as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts. The heat between you intensified, the air thick with passion and unspoken desires. Your skin tingled everywhere his hands touched, each caress sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Your fingers, shaking with anticipation, began to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, you revealed the smooth, taut skin beneath, your fingertips tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. Just as your hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring further, he suddenly pulled away. "Don't," he commanded, his voice husky and strained with barely contained desire. Before you could protest, he gripped both of your wrists firmly, pulling you down onto the floor with a swift, controlled movement. Minho loomed over you, his body a cage of heat and muscle, as he pinned your hands above your head with one of his own.

"Let me touch you," you nearly begged, your voice a breathy whisper. Your eyes pleaded with him, filled with a desperate hunger that mirrored his own. Minho's gaze raked over your exposed form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His tongue darted out, slowly wetting his lips in a gesture that was both predatory and sensual. His eyes, usually so guarded, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. There was no mistaking the raw desire etched across his features, his usual composure cracking under the weight of his want.

"Keep your hands here," he growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. "Or I'm punishing you." The threat in his words was clear, but instead of fear, it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. Your body tensed in anticipation, wondering what kind of 'punishment' Minho had in mind, and finding yourself eager to find out. In your mind this was a game and you were very eager to play.

You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. Minho's free hand began a torturously slow journey down your body, his touch so light it was almost imperceptible, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake. His fingertips ghosted over the swell of your breast, causing your nipples to harden even more, painfully so. He traced the curve with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched every minute reaction on your face.

His hand continued its descent, following the dip of your waist and the flare of your hip. Each caress was deliberate, as if he were committing every inch of your skin to memory. When he reached your thigh, his touch became firmer, his large hand spanning the width of your leg as he slowly pushed it aside, exposing you further to his hungry gaze.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your hips lifting of their own accord, silently begging for more. Minho's eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours. A smirk played at the corners of his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction at your obvious need. "Patience," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers danced along your inner thigh, tracing intricate patterns on the sensitive skin. With each pass, he inched closer to your core, but never quite reaching where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"So responsive," he purred, his eyes gleaming with approval as he watched your body react to his every touch. Finally, mercifully, his fingers brushed against your core. The contact, though light, sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You gasped loudly, your back arching off the floor, pressing yourself more firmly against his hand.

Minho's touch was expert, alternating between feather-light caresses and firm strokes. He explored your folds with deliberate slowness, spreading your wetness and teasing your entrance. When his thumb finally found your sensitive bundle of nerves, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. He circled it slowly, building your pleasure with each precise movement, watching intently as you writhed beneath him.

As he continued his ministrations, you fought against the overwhelming urge to reach for him, to touch him in return. Your hands clenched into tight fists above your head, knuckles turning white with the effort to keep them in place. Every muscle in your body trembled, torn between obedience and desire. Minho noticed your struggle, his smirk widening into a predatory grin that sent shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and husky. The praise washed over you like warm honey, intensifying the heat pooling in your core. Rewarding your obedience, he increased the pressure of his touch, his skilled fingers moving with deliberate precision. Your moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke of his fingers brought you to new heights of pleasure, your body arching off the floor, seeking more contact.

The air grew thick with the scent of arousal, punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you at an increasing pace. Minho's mouth found your nipples again, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds before trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses across your flushed skin. The contrast between the coolness of his breath and the heat of his mouth sent jolts of electricity through your body.

"Oh my god!" You cried out, your voice breaking as Minho's other hand began to rub soft, tantalizing circles over your swollen clit. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure building to an almost painful intensity. Your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, toes curling as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy.

"That's right... I am your God," he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath fanning over the wetness there, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with desire. The need to touch him, to feel more than just his fingers deep inside you, became overwhelming.

Unable to resist any longer, you gave in to temptation. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. At first, you felt smooth, warm skin, taut with muscle. But as your fingers explored further, they encountered raised lines - scars, you realized with a jolt of surprise. Before you could investigate further, Minho's hand shot out, snatching your wrists and pressing them firmly back above your head.

"You don't know how to listen," he growled against your lips, his voice a mixture of frustration and barely contained lust. His free hand pressed hard against your clit, making you gasp, as his fingers slid back inside you with renewed vigor. He fingered you with a roughness that teetered on the brink between pleasure and pain, each thrust of his digits sending shockwaves through your body.

Your response was instantaneous and intense. Your thighs began to shake uncontrollably, your back arching off the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Minho's name fell from your lips in a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth as he captured yours in a searing kiss. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, an unstoppable force threatening to consume you entirely.

"Fuck!" The expletive tore from your throat as you struggled against his iron grip, your body writhing beneath him. The pressure continued to build, pushing you closer and closer to that blissful edge. Just as you felt yourself about to tumble over, right on the precipice of sweet release, everything stopped. Minho's fingers were suddenly gone, his hands and body no longer touching you. The abrupt loss of contact left you gasping, your body aching and trembling with unfulfilled need.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, your body aching for release. Minho stood over you, his eyes dark with a coldness you hadn’t seen before. "I told you what would happen if you disobeyed," he said, his voice low and husky. You huffed out in frustration, instantly getting up, your legs shaky as you stepped closer to him. You slapped him hard a cross the face, not being able to hold back your anger. “You bastered your voice dripping with venom. Minho's eyes flashed dangerously, a mix of anger and desire swirling in their depths. In one swift motion, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head against the wall. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he growled, his lips mere inches from yours.

Minho's lips hungrily pressed into yours, his passion undeniable. At first, you tried to resist, your anger still simmering beneath the surface. But soon, your body betrayed you, responding as it always did to his touch. You melted into him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Your tongue tangled with his in a fierce dance, the taste of him intoxicating.

The kiss stole your breath, leaving you gasping when he finally pulled back. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. "Don't forget," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "you're mine and you only dance for me." The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something wilder, more primal. His hands gripped your waist tightly, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. The gentle lover you had come to know was gone, replaced by this demanding, domineering man who both thrilled and terrified you.

Suddenly, Minho stepped back, breaking all contact. The loss of his warmth left you feeling cold and bereft. You watched, confused, as he picked up his jacket and tossed it to you. "I'll send a car to take you home," he said, his voice now devoid of emotion.

Your confusion turned to disbelief as you saw him reach into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed a stack of bills onto the nearby couch. The implication of the gesture hit you like a physical blow, leaving you reeling. “From now on you’ll come dance at my house.” Minhos words came out harsh and final. He wasn’t giving a choice in this and that pissed you off.

Without another word or even a backward glance, Minho strode out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion swirled in your mind, battling with the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. But above all, a white-hot anger began to bubble up inside you. How dare he treat you like this? The bills on the couch seemed to mock you, reducing what you thought was a passionate encounter to nothing more than a cold, financial transaction.

You stood there, clutching his jacket, your body still tingling from his touch, but your mind reeling from his abrupt departure. The contrast between the intensity of your shared moment and the callousness of his exit left you feeling used and discarded. As the initial shock began to wear off, your anger solidified into a hard, burning core in your chest. You were determined that this wouldn't be the end. Minho would have to answer for his actions, one way or another.

On the other side of the door, Minho maintained his cold, impassive mask as he navigated through the bustling corridors. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors, carrying him past curious glances and hushed whispers. The main room, now teeming with patrons, seemed to part before him, his commanding presence demanding respect even in silence.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, the neon lights of the club's exterior cast an eerie glow on his features, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He moved with purposeful strides towards his sleek black car, each step measured and controlled. To any onlooker, he appeared the epitome of composure and authority.

It was only when the car door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in the cocoon of privacy, that Minho allowed his carefully constructed facade to crumble. His shoulders sagged, the tension in his jaw released, and a deep, shuddering breath escaped his lips. In the silence of his car, away from prying eyes, the weight of his actions settled heavily upon him. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as a storm of emotions - regret, anger, desire - battled within him.

He was losing his grip, his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of unfamiliar emotions. This woman had awakened something in him, a vulnerability he had never experienced before. Your touch, your scent, the way you looked at him - it all threatened to unravel the control he had maintained for so long. Minho found himself caught between desire and fear, longing to let you in while simultaneously wanting to push you away. The intensity of his feelings both thrilled and terrified him, leaving him off-balance and unsure for the first time in years. He realized, with a mixture of awe and dread, that you had the power to either heal or destroy him completely.

Taglist:

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[hollowtones]

if you could give one franchise or piece of media a kart-racing game (that doesn't already have one), what would it be?

OK. Prefacing this with "I don't care all that much for Uncharted" and "I'm sure people have made this exact joke or comment before". Yadda yadda. But Naughty Dog has made so many games about driving or racing over the years. People adored "Crash Team Racing". People tolerated? the vehicle shit in the Jak & Daxter games. And the name is free. "Unkarted" is a billion dollar idea. Easily better than "The Fast of Us".

More(?) serious(?????) answer: kart racing is inherently kind of a goofy genre so you need to lean into that. The ideal for me is something that makes me go "haha, thats pretty funny" without it feeling TOO much like a shovelware thing. The Mario ones are funny because Mario sports games are funny. Sonic ones are funny because those guys don't need to drive a damn cars!! (& the good ones also pull from a bunch of old Sega properties. And Danica Patrick.) So I feel like the ideal here is primetime television. You've seen all the "Breaking Bad" edits and that's a good sell for the concept but that's played out by now. We need "Sopranos Kart". We need something based on "The Wire". We need "Twin Peaks: Power Drift with Me". Hell, get stupider with it. People love to eat up crossover multiverse garbage these days, right? "The Karterion Collection" would probably be slop but it'd at least be pretty fuckin funny slop.

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 3

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: girl, do i know where this is going? no, not until i write it. but what do you think? is this gonna end well? hehehe

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

part 2

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"Have her home by... What time was your meeting again? 7? Have her home safely by 7 tomorrow," you say, standing up from where you sat in front of him. You begin to move around the basement, picking up your things that you had brought with you in the whole kidnapping ordeal. Once you've collected your things, you start walking towards the stairs to leave. "If she isn't there, the deal's off."

"You're just going to leave me here?" James asks, pulling at his arm restraints.

You look over your shoulder at him and smile at him. "You're a mob boss, doll, I'm sure you'll get out of there in time." Then, with that, you ascend the stairs.

—

You pace back and forth through your sister's living room, a million thoughts racing through your mind.

What if James doesn't follow through on his word?

What if you're being played?

What if you let go the one person who could actually help you?

You take a deep breath, pulling back the curtains hanging above the living room window to peek out into the street. Empty. Your eyes drift over to the analog clock your sister has hanging above her fireplace. The hands seem to scream back at you: 6:53.

You pace some more, rationalizing that James still has—you glance at your watch that now reads 6:54—6 minutes to return your sister. Six minutes. Six minutes. Six minutes until you have to pull your mask back on and try and somehow track James down again. He might not have been your original target, but now that you've dealt with him, he's the go-to.

You look up at the analog clock on the wall again: 6:58. You pull back the curtain, looking out the window. Empty. You groan loudly and kick the nearest piece of furniture, wincing in pain when it actually hurts. You glance down at your watch: 6:59. You rush to the front door, looking out the peep hole. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, an alarm for 7:00.

Right on time, a black, fancy-looking SUV pulls up in front of your sister's house and you pull the front door open, taking quick steps onto the porch. You watch anxiously as the driver kills the engine and steps out of the car before walking around the vehicle to open the back passenger door. Once the door opens, you suck in a breath.

Ellie steps out. You exhale.

The two of you make eye-contact and Ellie rushes towards you while you hop the stairs to meet her. The two of you crash into a desperate embrace.

"Ellie! Oh, God! Are you okay?" You pull away, hands cupping either side of her face as you move it side to side, examining her for any sort of injury. Your breathing is erratic.

"I'm okay, Y/N. I'm okay." Ellie assures, her right hand rising to cup your face. She smiles weakly (it's meant to be reassuring).

"I'm so sorry it took me so long to find you. I did everything I could," you promise, willing her to believe you.

"I know."

Ellie looks like she wants to say more, maybe apologize for getting herself into such a situation, beg for forgiveness for being so reckless, but she doesn't get the opportunity. Your reunion is interrupted by the driver clearing his throat, clearly impatient and unaffected by the scene unfolding in front of him. You glance up at the man while Ellie turns and looks at him over her shoulder. She returns her gaze to you before offering you another apologetic smile.

"I'll be inside," she says, walking away. You nod, turning your head slightly to your right as she passes you. You wait for the door to open and close behind you before you look back up at Barnes' man.

"Can I help you?" You ask, your voice cold and devoid of emotion. You're doing your best to summon back the confidence and authority you had when you were questioning James Barnes himself. James, however, had not witnessed what you assume the man in front of you perceived as a weak moment.

The man smirks, as if he is aware of your internal battle, and reaches into his coat pocket. From the depths of his suit jacket, he pulls out an envelope and hands it to you. You raise an eyebrow, eyeing the envelope suspiciously. You take it from him gingerly.

"What's this?''

"From Mr. Barnes," is all he says. He does not move, however, and it's clear that he is going to stand there and watch you open the envelope.

"Uh huh," you say, slipping your finger beneath the seal, breaking it. You cautiously pull out a small piece of stationary; it's white with a gold border. It reads:

To the woman who knocked me out, dragged me to an unknown location, tied me up, demanded information from me, and pointed a gun at me,

If you're reading this, then my men have safely escorted your sister home and you've laid eyes on her. Thus, I have held up my end of the bargain. I trust you will hold up yours. I'd hate for you to have drag me back to that basement...

Let's stay on theme, shall we? I will send for you tonight at 7:00. Wear something nice. ;)

Yours Truly,

J.B.B.

You scoff as you finish reading the note, dropping your hand to your side and looking up and around in disbelief. The nerve of this guy! You didn't miss the teasing tone he held back in the basement—he was as flirty as ever—but you also didn't miss the threat held within his words. I'd hate for you to have to drag me back to that basement... As if you'd ever risk Ellie's well-being by standing him up. You may have the audacity to kidnap him, but you're still very aware he's dangerous. You clench your jaw, swallow, and let your eyes meet those of Barnes' lacky.

"Tell James," you put emphasis on the mobster's first name in hopes of seeming unbothered by the note, "that he has nothing to worry about. I intend to hold up my end of our bargain, but," you say, taking a step forward and jabbing a finger into the man's chest, "also tell him that there will be none of this 'sending for me' business. He wants this meeting so badly, then he can dance his pretty little self up to my door and pick me up. You hear me?"

The man nods, "Yes, ma'am." He looks like he's trying not to laugh, but you feel it's not at you. Perhaps at Barnes' expense? You decide you don't care as you turn around and start to make your way back towards the house. You take only a couple of steps before you pause, though, and turn, a thoughtful look on your face.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, catching the man's attention before he gets back into the SUV. He raises an eyebrow, you smirk. "Tell James he better damn well bring flowers."

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv

[moonchild033]

Random astro community related thoughts going on my mind 😏😑

I would request u all to read it thoroughly but yea whatever😏

Idk how many ppl are going to get offended or have controversial views to this but since it's MY BLOG, I'm gonna write things that are constantly disturbing my mind.🙂

First of all, I'm feeling truly devastated by seeing the number of astro posts circulating around Liam Payne's d*ath. Why r u hellbent on dissecting someone's d*ath? Idk what tropical astrology teaches, so I can't say anything about that, but as far as ik, traditional vedic astrologers are trained NOT to predict someone's demise or dissect a de*d person's chart, so kindly refrain from using vedic astrology and its tools such as divisional charts to do this, I find it very disrespectful. Vedic astrology can just be a science or interesting content for u, but for other ppl it's a part of their heritage and it has its respect, so don't misuse it. Also I kind of think it's literally humane to not make content out of someone's demise, be a human first then u can be a celebrity.😒

Be responsible about what u say, u might not know how much impact your words have but there are ppl who are following and reading your posts. I feel like some knowledge should've stayed in the same place, protected and safe in the right hands rather than accessible to everyone, Kali yug is definitely not the era where ppl r sensible enough to understand how to wield knowledge bcoz it is literally a POWER. 😌

The way the world of Nadi astrology is destroyed by the same means, knowledge going in the wrong hands, now it has become a whole scam, spinning tales and extorting money. Nadi is where sages like Agasthiya wrote future horoscopes and its predictions along with their past lives. Our lives have been written in palm leaves years ago, the main sanctuary of the collection is in Tamilnadu, it was passed on from generation to generation in certain family lineages, then some of them sold it, made fake ones and it got sparsely distributed and now almost vanished (Ik in specific temple some of the originals are stored even today, I'll not mention the name, I'm tired of misuse of knowledge, if u r genuinely interested Google is free). Even our accurate d*ath incident is written in there but the real nadi families back then were trained not to reveal it, so they just say 'Stay healthy and careful in that time, be cautious while driving' that's it. I know of real life incidents predicted through that, my dad's friend and my bestfriend 's mother both d*ed on the same predicted year and month by the same warned incident, my dad's friend was asked to be cautious of vehicles in that time period and he d*ed due to an accident and my friend's mom was asked to take care of health issues on a specific time period and she d*ied due to cancer. It's ur choice to believe in an age old writing of ur destiny in a palm leaf but it was an accurate tool some 20-30yrs back but today when it went into the wrong hands, that is when the knowledge got spread rather than being protected and reached ppl with wrong intentions, it all went berserk, now they just bluff nonsense. Still there are authentic family lineages with real texts and skills but it's very hard to differentiate between a whole lot of fraudsters. 🙃

So yea, overall I'm pissed off about the fact that some things are better to have left the way it is rather than showcasing it to the whole world to have it misused, like vedic astrology too, if u r learning it, respect it's ethics too, don't disrespect it's norms for the sake of ur content.😌😬

Idc if u disagree with me, this is MY opinion and I'll stand by it, BYEEE 😤😌

(But I'm angry too 😒)

[esmrecovery]

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[zombholic]

MY KIND OF LOVE — abby anderson

summary — illegal boxing was never on your bucket list until your friend brought you to one.

description — poc fem!reader, illegal boxer!abby, reader has tattoos and a couple of piercings, mentions of drug usage, bidding, sexual themes, not for minors.

chapters — two, three, four, pending.

— 🥊　　 ◦ ✺ 　 🚩　 ⟢ —

“Jesse, I really don’t wanna see your ass get rocked by some she-hulk.” You were wiping down the bar as it was starting to close up, your annoying but dear friend for many years was indeed begging you to go to one of his also many illegal boxing matches.

“No Y/nn, listen if you go with me I swear I will fix your car for free, please I just want someone to go with me.” He clasped his hands together under his chin begging you.

“Fine, only because you’re fixing my car for free.” Rolling your eyes at the boy man.

“I’ll pick you up at 10.” He shoots you a wink before heading out the bar doors.

Sliding your arms into your sweater you turned the light off on the open sign and locked the doors, quickly getting into your tiny vehicle to speed back to your even tinier apartment.

You were quick to freshen up, only wearing basketball shorts and a black wife pleaser that showed off your tattoo pieces. You slipped on your worn out black converse and left your natural, it was an underground boxing match there was no need to dress up so you quickly shot Jesse a text that you’re ready.

Jesse was there in ten minutes, you guys reached a very strange looking building but he had assured you it was quote on quote safe.

He took you into a supposed locker room, and started wrapping his hands in a white wrap. He was shirtless with a pair of blue shorts, Jesse wasn’t ugly of course he was very attractive and if you weren’t a raging lesbian you probably wouldn’t had sex with him already.

“I wont lie, Abby scares me with the way she fights.” Jesse admitted as he started air boxing you.

“I would be scared her too— stop you’re fucking annoying.” You slapped his fists away.

“How much is the bidding anyways?” You both started walking over to the arena, it was small with quite a handful of people that looked like they would watch illegal boxing.

The ring was used and looked very unsanitary but you stood over the edge of the bars watching Jesse enter them, rubbing his shoulders trying your best to hype him up but deep down you knew he was going to get his shit rocked.

“I think it was around two grand.” He took a chug of his water.

The arena grew louder, Abby’s name being chanted as you watched her jog down to the ring. Her hair in tight dutch braids, you could see the bandage wrapped around her chest that poked out of her white fitted tank top, her red shorts showing off her toned thighs that could actually crush you to death.

“I am not bidding on you.” You gave him a worrisome glance before jumping down and taking your place in front of some people.

“Now who’s ready to see our boy Jesse get his ass demolished by the one and only Abby Anderson!” You swore you saw this episode on spongebob and knew it was not going to end well.

“Start bidding motherfuckers! Money goes in the bucket!” A guy and a girl running around collecting money from the crowd, the howls and roars from them only getting louder.

This was not your environment.

You watched at they placed in their mouth guards, Abby slowly walking around Jesse like she was ready to rip his jugular out. She was first to hit him with a punch straight to his cheek, the blood already spewing out his mouth.

Wincing at the sight you couldn’t look away, he begged you to come here to watch his get obliterated by this woman who literally beats men for a living.

Jesse threw an uppercut under her chin she was quick to wipe the blood off her lips, her expression was deadpanned. She threw a couple more hits to his stomach, nose and his head. You watched your friend collapse to the floor his face screamed in excruciating agony.

The round was called out since he was on the floor, you ran over to him crawling under the rubber like bars making your way to him trying not to touch the blood or else you would pass out too. Grabbing his face you pushed his hair away from him seeing the bruises forming on his stupid face.

“Need your girlfriend to revive your bitchass?” Her mocking voice spoke behind you.

“I’m not his girlfriend Ms. She-Hulk, and fuck off you won stop being a bitch.” You turned your head to shoot her a glaring look.

She shot her hands up in defense, her tongue poking her cheek with the cockiest smirk plastered across her bloodied face. “Don’t start with me girl.”

“Or what?” You stood up crossing your arms over your chest as you shot deathly rays into Abby’s face.

“I wouldn’t even have to prove anything.” She twirled your hair around her finger.

You were quick to push her shoulders back, the audacity she had to touch you was beyond comprehension. She barely budged, her build so broad and strong it was a joke to have even pushed her.

I guess your joke of a statement ticked her off, she was quick to pushback on you but harder causing you to fall back on your ass.

“I could do much worse than push you on your fucking ass little girl.” All you could do was look away the crowd was quick to chatter and mumble about the situation.

— 🥊　　 ◦ ✺ 　 🚩　 ⟢ —

authors note — i swear guys the other parts will be better I PROMISE this is the best i could do for someone who doesn’t know shit about boxing. ask to be on the tag list!!

tag list — @atomicami @whore4abby @doepretty

[ganondoodle]

( totk rant?)

i have talked alot about my problems with totk in detail, as most of you probably know by now- but there really is a vibe of big ambitions but then not committing to it throughout the game

they want to have that building mechanic in it no matter what in a world that isnt in any way build around it, mister "freedom = good, linear = bad" guy wanting to give you ultimate freedom in the game (which imo leads to it being nothing again) but not committing to it and it creates a really toxic loop of things being more punishing than rewarding

you can build a fuckton of weird vehicles, but big parts, ESPECIALLY the glider, is on limited time so you cant actually go anywhere you want; they know giving you absolut freedom will remove any possible challenge- so they limit it by making the glider part timed, but then they cant do that for every single part bc it would be almost impossible to create anything that works well when every part is on a timer and you dont know how much of its lifespan is left bc you accidentally hit a fan once so now its uneven with the other one AND the more parts you have the more it uses battery, it makes sense, so you cant build soemthign super overpowered right at the start and its just kinda logical, but it leads to you being incentivised to build something with the fewest parts that dont have a timer-

then theres the battery power, which they try to limit by putting its upgrades behind multiple different currency exchanges, which is frustrating and leads to alot of grinding and gets overpowered really fast (it works against itself too that said currencies are all placed in the most undeveleoped and repetetive area of the game and are all never involved in anything interesting, its reused old enemy camps and the same mines everywhere, theres not a single reward in the underground that actually feels rewarding imo)

then you get the autobuild thing, so you can skip the building part of the building mechanic that is the main selling point of tha darn game, bc they know it can get frustrating to rebuild your things over and over so they give you a skip button for that if you are one of those players that doesnt like it BUT THEN they cant jsut let you do it for free so they give it a price, either spend the same currency you need for the exchange for the one you need for battery upgrades or spend parts you collected- both of which are things players generally save up and refuse to use (like the -never use any health potions bc what if i need it more at some point- thing is a problem for a reason)

then theres the added thing of the building stuff despawning incredibly quickly, im gonna guess its otherwise a performance problem (that the game is already struggling hard with) but it makes the entire already bad loop of trying to fix a problem with bandaids over and over even worse, you dont want to go too far away from your vehicles bc it will despawn and waste all that you used to build it, its like a leash to you stopping you from actually using it for more freedom- and potentially adds another annyoance bc you might try to bring it with you as far as you can, a monster truck in the depths you spend all your parts on gets stuck on the first bits of terrain you run into and you desperately try to get it out without destroying it, and if you cant you need to spend a ton of resources to build it again, even with autobuild

which is how you get the hoverbike, stupidly overpowered and boring but doing anything else is just less efficient in every way, it uses the least amount of battery, never breaks, is only 3 parts to rebuild

(i know me in particular doesnt enjoy the building in totk at all, for all those reasons and more ...... shiekah ........ and i know you CAN still choose to doing it more creatively, but you never need to, its entirely based around YOU making it fun for yourself, and i dont think its that controverisal to say a game should be fun and challenging without you having to create all the fun yourself and set yourself limit it all yourself)

similar goes for the dungeons, they heard you want the dungeons of old times back, but their strict adherance to freedom (which they themsleves contradict) leads to them being more breakable and less dungeony than even the titans in botw, they cant make it linear, thats BAD, so you can do any puzzle in any order, it cant build on any of the others bc you need to be able to do it when you want (the only one going slightly against that is the lightning one? maybe?), totks dungeons dont even limit that you cant climb them (even the titans in botw recognized that makign it easy to break so they are made of the same unclimbable material like the shrines and other shiekah tech) and the new abilities make them laughably easy to break ( .. im not even gonna mention the water temple one bc ... you dont even need to do anything there to break it to make it easier)

they wanted to cater to people wanting old dungeons, but didnt commit to it, making them WORSE dungeons than the titans with the only bonus being they got different designs and a longer build up to it (that often feels more like artificial filler than actually part of it ... like the missing lore tablet at the zoras and the missing part is a few steps away from it at best)

(ALL THE WHILE they DO limit you in SHRINES, you cant climb the walls again, for some reason, you can climb any other sonau structure though, why not that? idk, but dont limit it enough either bc you can break it all in really cheap and unsatisfying ways with ultrahand and time reversal alone- and they CANT limit those bc those abilities are the main ways to solve the 'puzzles'- botws abilities were .. well, limited in what they could do making them much more balanced, but moving sth with ultrahand and then stepping on it and time reversing it can be the boring solution to any 'puzzle', the best and only really good shrines are the ones that take all you shit bc it wactually forces you to be creative BC ITS LIMITING YOU)

(funnily enough a big possible reason why they removed the bombs from botw is bc of the glitches with it ...... like the new stuff isnt even worse and you dont even have to try lol)

people speculated on there being underground exploration due to the first trailer? people are worried about reusing the surface? ok they put the entirety of the surface map into the game again, but dont commit to it being a full thing, its horribly underdeveloped and filled with either nothing or reused filler material, while also neglecting changing anything substantial about the surface, and then the sky isalnds they even reduced and really there isnt anything of substance on there either besides the tutorial (hey, seriously, if one of botws most defining feature is its wide and empty sky why the hell would you decide to use that same map to put in your sky islands idea in), not commiting to one idea but doing all of them badly

ganondorf? well, they sure put him in there, but really what does he do? fuck all, the entire actual game hes jsut marinating in his own miasma juice for no reason, he doesnt have any presecne in the game, all he gets its a few scenes in the "story" that are told through memory cutscenes in a stupidly mega distant past i dont give a fuck about and all he does is go through the most stereotypical villain checklist of both actions and speech, they want ganondorf in there but dont commit to him ACTUALLY being there (listen i love ganondorf but really calamtiy ganon was more interesting than totk ganondorf ok im SORRY they did him so dirty)

they want dragon zelda and link 'losing' his arm be a big epic sacrifice but then .. again, dont commit to it, they tell you its oooh so irreversible and whatever and then at the end just fukcing reverse it, with no build up at all, and NONE of your own input, it just happens, and its not JUST zelda but also links arm, reversing it BOTH even and you dont even need to have all shrines (that are supposedly to cleanse your arm of miasma, i guess thats a non problem if you just stab the source of it to death instead)

they want it to be a sequel but also its own game, not committing to either and leaving us with this weird .... more alternative universe thing, vague references to botw but also acting like it never happened, slight changes, like zeldas hair, to make her seem different when shes exactly the same (you cant imply waifu zelda would ever age and not look like a little doll) and ignoring anything about her character from botw (no im serious, ooh shes nerdy for 3 minutes at the start and one time in a written thing from some servant of da royals in the past and thats it, interest in the shiekah? whos shiekah?- if anything her character is reversed, really having even less agency than in botw, that one decision to dragon is like, it really doesnt matter and not really her decision bc she didnt have a choice and it gets reversed anyway without her even remembering)

even retreading all of botws points (but doing it worse imo), but then attempting to differentiate itself from it by removing a big thing that made it what it is (shiekah) without giving it any or any sensible explanation among more, not committing to either sequel or AU and so doing both incredibly badly

(not quite the point but what i have been questioning for a while ... they way raurus abilities work ... so do all sonau have those? was it just a normal thing to have? could all sonau just glue shit together and jump through ceilings? he never uses anything of that when we see him? why is it just in the shrines at the start and its like .. he just gives it to you ...?? huh??is it part of his arm .. jewelry??)

(anyway, tin foil hat moment but it just feels like either there was a huge internal fight about everything or they neglected it in favor for something else, like say, a movie that earns them billions and is faster and cheaper to make than a game... or just dont care anymore i guess, idk which is worse tbh)