#I say that it’s bc they run so fast that I have to watch slowly to keep the balance😻😻

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter nine, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, rafe and y/n spending a day together, violence, blood, hunting, them also figuring out the rose thorns in the arena are a paralytic, first sponsor gift bc lowkey i forgot those exist LOL, capitol loves them sm ik it

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the fire crackles in front of you, but it’s the only sound that doesn’t make your skin crawl.

your fingers rub up and down your arm. you don’t even realize you’re doing it at first because your eyes are locked somewhere on the ground. your mind is far, far away.

the bruises are already there. you don’t feel them, not really. not yet. you just remember how tight rafe had gripped you. you know it wasn’t out of anger, never that, but out of desperation, or panic, or survival. he saved your life.

you try not to think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t come running, it that thing had chosen you instead of topper. your jaw tenses, throat burning as the memory flashes again behind your eyes—topper’s hand slipping from yours, the blood, the sound, the screaming.

your stomach twists.

you don’t even have your backpack. or your blanket. or your water. all of it is back wherever kie and jj are. or were.

earlier, you and rafe had searched, not too far, not too deep into the woods. every step further away from the cliff made your heart pound louder in your chest, your ears tuned to the smallest noise like the crunch of leaves, the snap of a twig, the awful clicking you now associate with death. but there was nothing. not even a whisper. not a sign of your allies. not a sign of the mutt either, which was somehow worse. so you gave up, just for the night.

rafe found the spot where the cliff bent in slightly, like a broken edge in the wall, where the fire wouldn’t be seen unless someone was really looking. he said it was as good a place as any. and you didn’t argue. you just nodded and sat down.

now, he’s sitting a few feet away, hunched over the small creature he must’ve caught sometime after sunset. it’s long and lean, probably some kind of hare the capitol thought would be a ‘humble’ meal source for tributes. you can hear the soft snk-snk of his knife as he skins it, his hands sure and quiet, knuckles scratched and drying with blood.

he hasn’t said much. neither have you.

your knees pull tighter toward your chest. like the thing is that you’re not mourning topper, not in the way you probably should. you feel sorry, you feel sick, you even feel guilty. but you’re not crying. you’re not lost in grief.

you’ve seen people die before. it’s the games. it’s expected. you’ve always told yourself you’d be fine. you knew death wasn’t going to shake you.

but you weren’t prepared for that.

you remember the way the mutt moved, its eyes, how fast it tore topper apart like he was made of paper and meat, and how real it was when it wanted to tear you apart next. you breathe slowly through your nose, but it doesn’t comfort you.

rafe shifts slightly. you glance toward him and watch as he pauses what he’s doing, adjusting the meat like he’s mentally figuring out how to suspend it over the fire. his brows are furrowed, jaw clenched.

you think maybe he’s trying not to break down or show any emotion. not unless it’s snark, maybe. you go back to rubbing your arm, slow, distracted. at least there’s no screaming now. at least there’s no clicking.

“you should eat,” rafe says finally after a while. you don’t even move. he leans forward, still hovering the piece of meat on the makeshift stick he’s cooking it on. it’s not much. rabbit’s a little paler, probably undercooked, uneven. but it’s warm. and it’s food.

you stare at it for a second too long before answering, “i’m not hungry. i’ll eat in the morning.”

“doesn’t matter,” he says, more quietly this time. “you gotta eat now.”

you swallow hard, eyes flicking away from the fire to the trees again. “you think it’s still out there?” you ask after a long pause, not looking at him.

“probably.”

you nod once, like you already knew the answer. he doesn’t say anything else for a while, and neither do you. then, after another minute of silence, “you did good,” rafe says suddenly.

you blink, turning your head toward him slowly. “what?”

“back there,” he nods, barely. “you didn’t freeze. you held onto him as long as you could.”

“yeah, whatever,” you murmur with a shake of your head, a faint smile on your face to call his bullshit. “i let him go, and he died.”

“you would’ve died if you didn’t.”

your lip twitches. you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, blinking fast. “yeah, but i mean that’s the game, right?” you mutter. “some of us die. the rest of us . . . eat half-cooked rabbit and pretend we’re not next.”

he doesn’t respond. you think he wants to, but the words don’t come. instead, he just watches you.

“you ever seen something like that before?” you ask after a moment.

rafe doesn’t answer right away. “no,” he admits. “not like that.”

you nod again, swallowing, “it’s different when you’re not watching from a screen.”

“yeah.”

he stares at the rabbit like he's not really seeing it for a second, just holding it near the fire. his mouth twitches, jaw flexing like he’s turning something over in his mind. then, without saying a word, he pulls one of the legs off and reaches it toward you.

“just you ‘n me for right now, huh?”

you look down at his hand first, then you look up at him, catching the way his eyes meet yours. you guess he’s right. it is just you and him. kie and jj are gone. maybe not forever, but for now, yeah. it’s just the two of you.

you don’t say anything, just take the piece from his hand. your fingers brush his knuckles for a second, and you feel how warm he still is.

your teeth sink into the meat anyway. it’s dry and tough and probably cooked more by accident than skill, but your stomach grumbles the second it hits your tongue.

you keep chewing, blankly staring at the fire.

rafe pulls the other leg off for himself and sits back with a grunt, picking at it with his fingers, ripping a strip off the bone with a smug kind of smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“greatest thing you’ve ever eaten?” he says, watching you.

you pause mid-chew, blink at him like you can’t even believe he’s trying to be funny right now. “you’re a fucking idiot,” you mutter, food still in your mouth.

“wow,” he says, pretending to look offended. “a simple ‘thank you, rafe, for saving my life and cooking me a gourmet meal’ would’ve been nice.”

you roll your eyes, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “you nearly dislocated my arm dragging me through the trees.”

“yeah, well. you weren’t exactly moving on your own.”

“i was in shock.”

“you were crawling like a drunk baby deer.”

you let out a breath through your nose, half-exasperated, half like you actually want to laugh but don’t have the energy. you shake your head. “you’re unbelievable.”

“you’re welcome, by the way,” he says again, softer this time, like he means it for real now. like he’s not just teasing.

you pause, still chewing. your gaze flicks toward the fire, then back to him. and when your eyes meet his, it kind of settles there in the space between you, so you murmur, quiet and almost too low to hear over the fire crackling, “thanks.”

and you hold his gaze, just for a beat. long enough that he knows you mean it. you’re not brushing it off, not pretending it didn’t matter. because it did. he did save your life.

rafe’s expression shifts. not all smug and cocky like before, just something softer, more real. he smiles, and for the first time since all of this, it actually reaches his eyes. the firelight flickers just enough that you see it. there’s faint dimples on either side of his mouth that clearly only show up when he’s not trying too hard.

your lips twitch before you can stop them. just a small, quick smile. there and gone.

then you both go quiet again. but it’s not tense.

you take another bite, slower this time. he eats too, not looking at you but still kind of aware you’re there. then you tuck your feet closer beneath you, exhale quietly through your nose.

the next morning, your hand brushes against the damp forest floor as you wake, fingers threading through the moss and scattered leaves that make up your bed. it’s still early. beside you, rafe’s already awake, sitting upright with his arms resting over his knees. he doesn’t say anything at first, just glances over once he feels you stir. it’s like he’s been waiting for you to wake up.

you press your palm into the dirt and push yourself up, back aching from the way you slept, but you move quietly.

“i think the coast is clear,” he mutters, eyes scanning the woods ahead. “that thing, whatever the hell it was, it's probably gone now.”

you nod once, just enough to show him you’re listening.

“we should try to find kie and jj. there weren’t any cannons last night, so . . . they’re probably still good.”

your response is silent, but he gets it. you both rise, weapons in hand, neither of you saying much more. the walk stretches into an hour, maybe longer. your legs eventually ache and your throat’s dry.

conversation stays light, if it even happens. just the occasional comment about direction, maybe a weak joke from rafe when a squirrel startles out of a tree and makes you jump. the forest somehow looks familiar now, even though every tree is just like the last.

you stop by the stream again, the same one from yesterday, kneeling to drink as your reflection ripples beneath you. the water’s cold, a little metallic on your tongue, but it works. you wipe your mouth with your sleeve and glance over at rafe just as something sharp pierces the silence.

a yelp.

you both freeze. your head snaps up like a deer hearing the first crack of a branch behind it. your instinct screams to move, to run and find out what it is, but your feet stay planted, waiting, searching.

rafe’s already scanning the trees, his body still but tense like he’s ready to lunge. you both start forward, slow at first, stepping through bushes and uneven terrain. it’s hard to see where the noise came from. your eyes dart around, expecting someone, or something, to burst out from behind the trees, but all you see is green. trees, roses, more trees. nothing.

until something catches your eye near the base of a tree trunk. it’s a rabbit. it’s small, lying still in the grass. not in a way that says it’s sleeping, but like something happened to it. its body is stiff, unmoving, but its eyes are wide open.

you glance up at rafe. he looks back at you with the same cautious confusion, then crouches beside the rabbit. his hand hovers over it like he’s expecting it to snap or vanish. nothing happens. he inspects it, quiet, then slowly lifts his gaze to sweep the woods around you both. his fingers twitch toward the mace strapped to his back.

you get the hint. your hand slowly reaches for one of your daggers, your gaze scanning the trees again.

but nothing moves. no sounds. no twigs snapping under footsteps. the rabbit’s just there. like an offering. a meal.

rafe doesn’t hesitate long. he snatches it up, holding it by the legs, and gives you a look that says he’s not about to question free food.

but there’s a noise.

you don’t notice any at first because you’re too focused on the rabbit, your stomach already reacting to the thought of food. but rafe freezes, and that’s enough. your gaze snaps to the side a beat after his. a branch. like someone stepped on a fucking branch.

your jaw tenses. of course it was a trap, you both think immediately.

your gaze flicks across the trees, and then you see them, two tributes.

they’re standing not far off. the second they spot you and rafe, they go stiff. one of them grabs for something at their side while the other tightens their jaw. they don’t speak. their eyes harden.

you stare at them, straight through them, your breathing slowing like your body’s gearing up for something it already knows how to do. you need to kill them. rafe’s standing beside you still, and for a second, neither of you move. it’s silent.

then one of them takes a step back.

you almost smile. it’s not a real smile, it’s the idea of one. just the hint of amusement pulling in your chest. because it’s been too long since it’s felt like this. the rush. the clarity.

rafe drops the rabbit to the forest floor without a word, the body landing with a thud in the dirt. his hand swings back, fingers curling around the handle of his mace.

you’re already moving.

you vanish into the bushes like a shadow. your body stays low but your eyes stay up, locked on the two tributes even as leaves brush against your cheek. they can’t see you anymore, only rafe, and that's the point. they’ll be so focused on the obvious threat that they’ll forget about the one hiding in the dark.

he doesn’t call after you, doesn’t check to make sure you’re in position. he just knows. that’s the difference between you and them. you’re not clumsy. you don’t break branches.

guess the show’s back on, rafe thinks as he steps forward, the weight of his mace dragging through the air. and just like that, he makes his way over. you don’t wait long to follow either.

rafe barrels toward them like a force let loose. he doesn’t hold his mace back, lets it swing wild in the open air, not to strike just yet, just to warn.

one of the tributes lunges first, the boy. he’s taller than he looked from a distance, quick-footed too. he ducks low, swiping at rafe’s legs with something dull and rusted, a sickle maybe, cut down from a farming blade. it makes a sharp whoosh in the air, and rafe barely steps back in time, the weapon missing his knee by an inch.

rafe exhales hard and pivots, twisting his body with the motion of his mace and slamming it toward the guy’s ribs. the boy blocks it with his shoulder. it’s a bad idea, because the sound it makes is disgusting, bone and muscle crunching under steel, but it works. it slows rafe down. enough for the other tribute to rush him from the side.

the girl, older than you, faster.

rafe’s not fast enough to avoid her punch. it hits his jaw hard enough to rock his head to the side. they’re good. they’re actually good.

he fights both of them like it’s a dance and a slaughter, parrying one while dodging the other. but they’re working together, pushing him back, closing in . . . until you strike.

you explode out of the brush with no warning, boots crashing over the forest floor as you launch yourself at the girl’s back. she hears the snap of leaves too late. she spins, but not enough. you slam into her with the weight of your full body, driving your shoulder into her stomach and taking her to the ground.

the two of you crash hard into the dirt, her elbow slamming against your ribs in the fall. you grit your teeth and roll first, pinning her under you. she twists her body, trying to buck you off, clawing at your arms. you grab for your dagger, but it slips in your grasp, sliding a few feet away in the scuffle. you hiss and reach again, but she elbows you in the jaw.

your head rings, but you don’t move. your knee presses harder into her stomach as your hands close around her wrists. she growls and kicks, wild like she’s dying already, and you feel your lip split as her head knocks yours. pain. blood fills your mouth. you’re holding steady, but you’re not giving her the chance.

meanwhile rafe’s still fighting the boy, both of them panting now, exchanging blows that don’t always land. the boy’s relentless, and even though his shoulder’s broken, or close to it, he still comes at rafe like he’s possessed. rafe gets shoved back, his boots skidding on the dirt, and the boy tackles him.

they hit the ground with a loud thud. his blade catches rafe in the side, and rafe’s face twists in pain. his free hand comes up hard, cracking into the boy’s jaw. it barely fazes him. he’s not just fighting to win. he’s fighting not to die.

you hear the hit, the bodies slamming together, and it drives you harder. you snarl through your teeth and drive your elbow into the girl’s throat, just enough to make her choke, just enough to get her hands to weaken, and you shove her off you, dragging yourself toward your fallen dagger.

you grab it and turn. she’s already on her feet. but so are you, and rafe’s still fighting to his last breath just a few feet away.

your vision blurs for a second when the girl throws a punch that clips your cheekbone, but your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you duck her next swing, grab her arm, and shove her backward with everything you’ve got. she stumbles, hits the tree behind her with a sharp, solid thud that makes the whole trunk vibrate. you don’t stop. you grab the front of her shirt, grip it hard like it’s a lifeline, and throw her to the ground again.

she hits the ground awkwardly, the back of her head catching something behind it. it’s not a loud crack, more like a sudden stop. a soft thump. and then nothing.

you stand over her, chest heaving, face raw and sticky with blood, your own or hers or both. her eyes are open, glassy almost, wide, staring up at you. your grip tightens around your dagger, ready to lunge, to finish it, but she doesn’t move. like not even a twitch.

you hesitate, blinking. what? your blade hangs heavy in your hand, not yet stained. she’s just . . . staring. not really struggling, and not grabbing for her weapon. she’s just lying there. your breath catches. for a second, you think—did it end that fast?

you crouch beside her, slow, and grip her collar again and pull her up by it, trying to see if she’s playing dead. her body’s slack, but not lifeless. her arms dangle, her chest barely rising.

but that’s when you see it.

beneath her neck, a thorn is lodged deep under the skin. a thick one, twisted red. she’s still shaking faintly from the force of her fall. your gaze drops to the ground behind her. there’s a rose. it’s flattened now, crushed by the weight of her body, petals scattered, one’s stuck in her hair.

you look back at her face. she’s still staring. it’s almost worse than death.

you don’t think she can blink or even move. her lips are parted just slightly, but there’s no breath pushing through. the thorn—it must’ve been poisoned. paralytic, you think immediately, like some sick trick of the arena. so the rabbit wasn’t a trap most likely, it must’ve just gotten caught with a thorn like this girl did.

there’s a cannon behind you that makes you blink out of it. rafe killed. so should you. you don’t wait for anything more.

your dagger moves before you even register the decision. you aim clean, right into her chest, right where the heart is. it sinks in deep and quick, and her whole body jolts with the force before it slumps completely. her eyes don’t close. but the light goes out, like someone hit a switch and turned her off. cannon.

you don’t look at her again, but you spit the blood pooling in your mouth onto the dirt beside her body and stand up slow, wiping your blade on your pants. your chest still rises and falls, and your cheek throbs from where she hit you.

when you look up, rafe is already watching you. he’s waiting by the other tribute’s body, one foot pressed against the boy’s back like a hunter posing over his kill. his knuckles are split, mace sticky with blood. but his expression is calm now, like he’s already processed it and moved on. he doesn’t say anything when he holds out his hand.

you take it without a word, and he pulls you to your feet. you wobble just for a second, boots skidding on the dirt, but you find your balance. his eyes lift to scan the trees again, quiet, thinking, his brow tightening just slightly. there’s no celebration. just calculation, like figuring out what your next steps should be.

you wipe your nose on your sleeve again, smearing blood across the fabric, then step over the bodies without hesitation. your eyes scan the ground for weapons, supplies, anything useful. there’s a smaller blade and a matchbook. you pocket both. the girl’s pack is torn but intact, so you unzip it, digging through with one hand as you sling it over your shoulder, then your fingers catch on something small and metal.

a locket.

you pull it free and it dangles in your palm, swinging slightly as you flip it open. inside, there’s a photo. a family, her family. the photo is blurry, probably printed just for this. her arms are around two little boys, maybe brothers. maybe cousins. you don’t know.

your gaze drifts back down to her body, still sprawled on the forest floor. her eyes are still open. the rose beneath her is crushed into the dirt, red petals stuck to her cheek.

you’re not upset. not really. maybe a little. but it had to be them. it was them or you, you and rafe.

“c’mon,” you hear him call for you.

you sigh, slow and sharp through your nose, and toss the locket back beside her body, then you walk away.

you make your way back to the little camp you claimed by the water. you glance over at rafe, at the red streaked across his hands and his knuckles, the corner of his jaw dark with it. there’s a cut on his cheekbone, dried blood where it dripped from his nose. some of it’s splattered up near his eye. it’s mixing now, sweat and dirt and blood, all dried together.

you grimace at the sight. “let me clean you up.”

he glances at you once, silent. no smirk, no smug response. he turns and drops the rabbit beside your things, its neck already twisted at an odd angle. he must’ve done it quietly on the way over, like he said he would. didn’t want to waste the paralytic, didn’t want it running off after all of that.

but he doesn’t argue or shrug you off. he just walks toward you and stands still.

you step toward the stream’s edge and lower yourself into a crouch. the water’s cold. you dip your arm in, just halfway up to the elbow. your sleeve soaks heavy almost immediately. when you pull it back out, water runs down to your fingers and drips off the edge, but it’s the best you’ve got.

you take the edge of your sleeve and hold it between your thumb and fingers, palm cupped beneath it, and step back over to him. he doesn’t move when you reach up.

you drag the wet fabric across his cheek, the water instantly mixing with the dried blood, turning it a little pink before it runs down across his jaw. some of it drips to the ground. that’s fine. better out than dried up and stiff on his skin. you sweep across his cheekbone, over his brow, then down the side of his nose. his eyes close once, just briefly, like it stings.

you make your way to his jawline and just as you reach the curve of it, he flinches.

your hand pulls back by an inch. your eyes scan his face. “sorry,” you murmur.

he doesn’t answer. he’s watching you now, eyes flicking from your hands to your face, unreadable. that must’ve been where the girl hit him.

you move a little slower after that, more careful. your fingers adjust and you press the soaked cloth to a spot just under his eye where there’s a faint trail of red. he hisses again, not loud, but enough to let you know he feels it.

you glance up at him. “you’ve got more cuts than i thought.”

he breathes through his nose, lips parting slightly. “they’ll close.”

you don’t argue. you keep wiping. your sleeve’s half drenched and streaked with red by the time you finish, but his face is mostly clean now.

you reach for his hands next, but rafe pulls them back before you can touch them, his mouth tight as he crouches down near the water, like as if to say that he’s got it. he leans forward and dips his hands in deep, blood loosening off his knuckles and swirling away into the pond.

you crouch down beside him. your legs burn from the motion but you ignore it, your hands reaching for the edge of your soaked sleeve, wringing the blood out into the pond with a twist of your wrist. it turns the water red all over again. you dip the fabric in to clean it. maybe you’ll use it on yourself next, wipe down the parts you can reach. your mouth still tastes like blood, your nose is stinging, and you know you’re probably just as much of a mess.

rafe brings both hands up to splash cold water over his face, rubbing it over the parts you already wiped, like he’s making sure there’s nothing left. you hear his breath hitch a little from the shock of it, but he just wipes the water away with his palm and shakes his head slightly.

and then you feel it. there’s a sudden shift beside you. rafe flinches forward like he’s just remembered something, like something sparked in his head and now he can’t sit still.

“lemme get you,” he says, voice low, already reaching for your arm.

you blink at him, caught off guard, and for a second, you almost ask why, but then you don’t. instead, you pull your sleeve back in, wring it out one more time, and turn toward him.

he dips his own sleeve into the pond and soaks the fabric until it drips between his fingers like you’d done. he reaches out slowly, using his free hand to brush your hair gently out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to see you better.

he doesn’t say anything. he just starts dabbing the wet cloth gently along your cheek, across your jaw, under your eye, just like you did. his movements are careful, maybe softer than you were. you stare at him the whole time, trying not to shift or tense, but your chest feels a little tight.

his eyes stay on your face, focused in a way that makes it feel like you’re the only thing in the world right now. and maybe to him, you are.

you’re his only ally at the end of the day. kie and jj are cool, and topper was useful for the time he was still here, but when it really comes down to it, he knows you’re the only one he can rely on in here. and you know it too.

his gaze flicks up and meets yours, and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. there’s something quiet behind his eyes, something vulnerable.

you stare right back, your lashes wet, your face damp from his sleeve. but he doesn’t break the eye contact. he just keeps cleaning you off, like he’s in no rush at all . . . until something comes.

the beeping starts off faint, almost ignorable, but there’s something about the pattern of it that makes your head snap up. you pause mid-motion, eyes lifting toward the sky. it’s not the kind of beep that belongs to something broken or distant. no, this one moves. it’s getting louder as it gets closer.

you scan the open air beyond the trees. at first, there's nothing. then, in a flicker of motion, you catch the metallic glint of something small descending, slow, swaying slightly as it comes down beneath a small, thin parachute. the beeping is coming from that.

your eyes drop briefly to rafe. he's already watching it too. it’s sponsor gift. has to be.

you stand, cautiously stepping forward to track its float path, watching the way it drifts in the light breeze. it’s soft, almost mocking, the way it takes its time like the capitol wants you to want it. you can’t even imagine how many times tributes in here have been angry just watching it come down while being dehydrated, hungry, or in pain.

the beeping fades with each sway, then spikes again as it shifts direction. it gets lower. lower. almost close enough that you jump. fingers snatch the container mid-air, and you drag it down into your hands. the beeping cuts off.

it’s small in your palm, steel-like and matte gray with a faint latch on the side. you glance down at rafe again as you walk back toward him, but he still hasn’t said anything. he’s watching you now, watching the box.

you try to lift the lid, but it doesn’t budge, locked tight. you frown and twist instead, the seal popping with a quiet hiss as the lid loosens and unscrews in your hands.

a piece of card is folded on top, right on cue. it’s nothing handwritten, just a clear, printed message in bold black type:

BLOOD IN THE WATER ISN’T THE WORST THING YOU’LL TASTE.

STAY SMART.

ENOBARIA

your brows furrow. you flip the card over. nothing on the back. vague. warning? encouragement? enobaria was a career victor. she was brutal and clever. maybe this means something you’re not necessarily getting right now. you tuck the card into your palm and check what was underneath.

nestled into a foam base are two slim vials. clean, unmarked at first glance except for the slightest tint of color. one is a deep navy blue, the other being a darker green.

you lean in, squinting to catch the fine print near the bottom of each vial. it’s almost microscopic but it’s there:

acetafrexan-hydrothrexate. a long name, but your mind sorts it quickly. painkiller. potent and fast. just two capsules inside.

chloralis-wrhydrin compound. it’s a water purifying agent. breaks down bacteria, neutralizes acidity. you’ve seen it used in training. it works.

your pulse kicks a little faster. it’s useful, necessary.

you run your fingers along the vials, thoughtful. two capsules for one dose, as far as the painkillers go. that's how these usually work.

but still, is it for you? or meant to be split between the two of you? there's no label saying ‘district two’ or ‘y/n’ or ‘rafe,’ no names, no confirmation. for all you know, someone up in the stands just liked the blood on your sleeve.

“come here?” you say quietly, reading over the card again. it’s still clutched between your fingers, a little smudged at the corner from your damp sleeve. you let your gaze lift to rafe, who straightens from where he’s crouched by the pond. he meets your eyes and moves.

you walk over to him to meet in the middle, tucking the card into your back pocket with one hand and then pulling out the painkiller vial. you hold it out toward him. he doesn’t take it right away. he hesitates, blinking once, then reaches for it slowly, brows knitting slightly.

“need to figure out the water purifier,” you mutter to yourself, stepping to turn away, already mentally sorting the capsules and what to do next. but his voice stops you before your foot even fully lifts from the ground.

“y/n,” rafe calls. you look back over your shoulder. “these are yours.”

you blink at him. “there wasn’t a name on the sponsor, rafe. it could’ve been either of ours.” he opens his mouth but you keep going, your voice a little too quick, like you’re trying to outrun the argument you know is coming. “you took more of the blows, so just . . . take them. two pills is for one person.”

you’re waving it off. but before you can get another step away, his hand is around your wrist, fingers wrapping gently but firmly, grounding you. you look down at where he holds you, then up at him.

he’s not being rough. not even stern, really. it’s just him.

“one for you, one for me,” he says, calm. “yours hurt too. i know it.”

you open your mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. your jaw shifts. your teeth grind just barely. of course they hurt. your ribs, your shoulder, the side of your face that caught the girl’s elbow. you feel every inch of it, but you’d rather he have the full dose, because that’s what logic says is smarter. because that’s how you survive: by giving someone else what they need more.

but rafe’s looking at you like he sees right through it. through you.

and then it hits you that the cameras are probably still watching all of it. the sponsor gift, your hesitation, his insistence.

it’s probably better for the viewers too, this stubborn little compromise. two halves of one dose. it might be dramatic, tender. they’d eat this up.

you swallow hard, then look down at his hand still holding yours. you don’t pull away. you just nod once.

rafe shifts, turning the vial and twisting the cap open with a faint pop. he tilts it and catches the two capsules in his palm. he holds one out to you, and you take it.

he’s quick with his, actually swallows his dry without a blink, then shakes his head a little.

you hesitate again as you look at the pill in your hand, then rafe, then back again. finally, you tip your head back and force it down. it sticks a little in your throat, dry and bitter. you cough once, then breathe through it.

there’s a weird aftertaste to it that almost pisses you off. you will never understand the capitol and what chemicals it must take to make something as fast-acting as these are supposed to be. the aftertaste is all you’ll need to worry about, if anything.

rafe watches you, just for a second longer, then you both shift back into yourselves. you head toward the edge of the pond again with the green vial in hand, fingers already twitching to open it and check the contents. your eyes flick briefly to the rabbit’s limp body where he left it.

“you should start on lunch,” you say, barely turning your head as you speak.

behind you, you hear rafe huff softly through his nose.

at least now you know the capitol’s watching.

let them.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp @hayleynott @silkenthusiasts ++

[littlepuppers]

A thought to add to that fantasy:

The owners end up having to go on a trip again a month or two later, and seeing as you did such a good job last time, they ask if you can watch him again for two weeks. Even though you really don't want to, they pay really well and you could really use the money, so you end up in their living room as they hand you the keys and head off on their trip, his snout pushing between your thighs before their even out of the driveway...

mmmm yesss i mean unfortunately i need the money and they pay so much bc he’s a big dog and eats a lottt so i have to keep dog sitting him.

as we’re in the driveway, i push his snout away from me and walk inside. i pour food in his bowl and get myself a snack. i remember not to bend over or lean down too much bc of what happened last time. and i wore that stupid skirt again. why?? because i have to be presentable for the owners, they know my parents and will report back or get someone else if i seem like i’m a slacker. anyway, i literally can’t ignore the fact that his huge dick is just out bruh like have some courtesy.

i’m there for a couple hours watching movies and chilling on the couch while he’s on the floor. I fall asleep to the peaceful sound of gunshots from an action movie.

OW WHAT THE FUCK. i wake up in a panicked state feeling claws scraping my thighs. i look down and this damn fuckin dog has his head under my skirt and is nuzzling my pussy rn, licking it way too harshly. wondered why i had such an intense wet dream. ewww disgusting i push his head away but he’s not budging, he muzzles deeper and is tongue goes inside me. it goes in wayyy too easily bc im fucking soaked. WTF buddy get out please..i feel his huge tongue lapping at my walls and my legs start shaking. fuck i’m like about to cum in a dogs mouth this is so sick. my thighs start tightening around his head, then he stops.

dude. what. there’s no way this dog just edged me. fuck off.

he gets up to leave but then bites onto my skirt and drags it up all the way to my face. i playfully bite onto it, taking it from him and giggle. but all of a sudden his paws pin down both of my arms and i realize what position we’re in. oh my god no no no no no NO.

his hips go down and he starts bucking them trying to find my parts. so gross please don’t, not again. i squirm trying to dodge his scary MASSIVE doggy cock. he then lays his upper body down on me, putting all his weight on and pushes harshly into me. FUCK. god what the fuck. he ruts into me in and out so fast and hard, it hurts. i think his cock is getting bigger…oh shit. noooooo no no. please don’t. i try to push his paws off my arms and he snaps at my face, i flinch away and tears start running. he licks them off my face while still pounding me. the squelching sound and my whimpers fill the room it sounds so fucking inappropriate. i feel his knot trying to get in “NO BUD GET OFF!” he pops it in and finally stops thrusting. the feeling is overwhelming and i cum immediately as it goes in. buddy whines and barks in my face. i feel his liquid flood me. fucking disgusting. im still sniffling from earlier but i take deep breathes while his knot goes down. he continues to lick my face till im ok. that’s kinda nice. but not nice bc he knotted me without permission. “no treats later buddy” i say and then he starts shifting his hips, i gasp as he slips it out of me. i hear the liquid drip onto the floor and feel it gush out of me. sweaty and panting, im still laid out on the couch, legs spread, and there’s a disgusting doggy cum mess all over my pussy.

fuck…i look down and see it left his huge puddle on the couch. great, now i have to clean it all up. i get up carefully and start walking when my legs give out. i collapse on the floor, my legs are too shaky to walk. buddy walks over to me and is sniffing me, especially down there. he whines. i think he feels bad and wants to clean me up. i slowly and carefully spread my legs and he puts his head down, licking up my thighs and on my pussy. fuck it’s sore and feels really overstimulated, but um, kinda good ig. his head comes up and he licks my face, spreading his cum on me GROSS. i push him away and he trots away, growing another hard on. i roll my eyes, glad that didn’t go anywhere. i get up, less shaky now, and go to get the cleaning stuff.

i clean up the mess and forgot about his cum, now crusted, on my cheek. gross. i wash it off and sit back on the couch, exhausted even more now. i refuse to sleep near him again. what a gross horny dog. what is his deal seriously. he lays on the ground near me and stares at me, panting, his red cock out on the ground as well. god, can’t believe i have three more days of bullshit.

IM SO WET WRITING THIS

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ GETO SENSEI — GETO SUGURU.

contents. based on this drabble and this drabble, post hidden inventory arc, healing suguru agenda !!, fluff + established relationships, suguru wants to become a teacher :,) bc teacher suguru is what we deserved

“mwah,” you press a wet kiss to suguru’s cheek. “there,” you said proudly, “another kiss for my sugu. want more?”

“i think i’m okay now, baby. thank you—”

“mwah,” you kiss his forehead, giggling, “i have a lot more where that came from, y’know.”

“i believe it,” he shakes his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, “you don’t seem to run out.”

“my sugu needs all the kisses he can get,” you gasp, “they’re good for his health!”

suguru smiles softly at that, closes his eyes and leans into you as you brush back his bangs from his face and thread your fingers into his hair, scratching gently along his scalp as he sighs. you watch him relax, content with the way his under eyes seem to be less dark as of late. you brush a thumb under his eyes, feeling the soft skin before gently stroking along his cheek.

“don’t you have a mission tomorrow?” he asks quietly, letting his head droop into your hand as you cup his cheek.

“i do,” you nod, “but i have some time to kill before i go to bed.”

“you should rest,” he mumbles, “you don’t want to be tired while you’re out there.”

“i’ll get rest, suguru,” you assure with a roll of your eyes, “your hair’s a bit longer, don’t you think?”

“yeah,” he tilts his head as you reach to grab at his bun, pulling the hair tie to let his hair fall freely down to his shoulder. “i guess i should cut it.”

“i like it,” you pout, “‘s pretty like this.”

“yeah?” he grins, cracking an eye open to look at you in amusement, “should i keep growing it for you then?”

“you should,” you nod, “i’ll braid it.”

“yeah, as if,” he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, “satoru’s never gonna let me hear the end of it if he sees.”

“he won’t see!”

“you said that last time when you put my hair in space buns, remember? and then you showed him a picture.”

“baby,” you gasp, “what happened to forgiving and forgetting? that was me of the past—i’ve grown! i won’t betray you like that again.”

you hold a hand up as an oath, nodding seriously to prove your point. he looks at you unconvinced before chuckling and leaning in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“today wasn’t so bad,” he mumbles, “i liked today.”

“yeah?” you smile, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck, shuffling closer on his lap as your arms wrap around him.

he nods into your shoulder, “yeah.”

“good,” you murmur, “you’ll be okay. even if it takes some time.”

“sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” he admits, cheek pressed against your shoulder as he speaks into your skin. your fingers are in his hair—they seem to never leave, and he hopes they never do. your hand rubs up and down his back, slowly, like it’ll snap in two if you go too fast.

“you will, baby,” you say sweetly, kissing his head as you twist his hair into a messy bun, tying it with his hair tie as you speak.

suguru is healing—you like to think so. he smiles more, sometimes they even meet his eyes all the way. he sleeps better, eats more healthy, seeks you out when things are crushing on his shoulders. there’s something lighter about him, something less heavy and tormented and even if he’s still empty sometimes, you always find him at the right moments.

sometimes, suguru is lost—and maybe you can’t always guide him out, but you can be lost together.

sometimes that’s enough.

“i think…” he starts, trailing off hesitantly. your hand hikes under his shirt, rubbing the bare skin of his back—it’s always calmed him more that way, feeling you without the barrier of fabric in the way.

“you think?” you encourage, letting him take his time to process his thoughts.

“i think i want to teach,” he mumbles, “here, at jujutsu high. but…but do it better. i think i’d do it better, y’know? the way kids deserve.”

you smile at that—proud, a little heartbroken deep down. people have failed suguru, they’ve failed you too. and satoru. and shoko. and nanami. and haibara too—and it’s up to you all to piece yourselves back together. maybe you can all do it together, one cracked, sharp little piece at a time.

sometimes the edges will slice your skin, will reopen old wounds and make you bleed all over again just when you thought you were done bleeding. but suguru has you to bandage the cuts, and you have him too. and everyone else, as well.

you pull away, cup his cheeks and press a soft kiss to his lips as you close your eyes. his hands lay over yours, and he thinks, for a brief moment, you’re right.

maybe he will be okay—maybe he won’t be the same, but he can be new. and that’s not always so bad.

“i think that’s a great idea,” you whisper, “i think you’ll be amazing. what kids will need.”

“well, i’ll try,” he chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours, “and who knows, maybe you can call me geto sensei here and there.”

“we’ll see about that,” you snort. he pouts, making you lean in and kiss those jutted lips of his with a quick peck.

“i’ll convince you,” he says confidently, “you’ll be the only one i let get extra credit.”

“oh i’m honored,” you giggle, “i’ll stay in school just for you.”

“how sweet,” he grins.

you kiss him after that, and he kisses you back. your lips taste like strawberry chapstick, and your arms are warm and tight around him, and even if curses taste vile and the world is coldly unforgiving, suguru can make it through each day with at least one real smile with you by his side.

it’s not so hard when you’re around.

“i love you,” you breathe. it’s enough, he thinks, you’re enough.

“i love you too,” he kisses your jaw, “i’ll love you more if you call me geto sensei, though.”

yes this is my own version of canon. u can’t take it away from me. in MY world (the only world that matters) suguru heals and becomes a teacher <3 and fucks me over his desk

[writesvani]

coming down | 07

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): substance abuse, addiction, denial, emotional manipulation, toxic relationships, unresolved trauma, guilt, emotional distress, unhealthy coping mechanisms

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 3,1k // date: 29th of March 2025

CHAPTER SEVEN — Love in the Sky; proceed with caution...

AN: this chapter is heavy as hell, so if ur mental state is hanging on by a thread, maybe give it a lil break before diving in. okay? okay. now, i ate every second of this up, and i hope u feel the energy i’m channeling through oc. anyway, note goal is 150 bc i’m delusional and ambitious. last chapter flopped a bit but we don’t talk about that. hit 150, and i’m dropping the next chapter like it’s a 10k-word five-star meal served on a silver platter. mwah.

Unease creeps up your neck, prickling your skin like static. Something feels... off.

You’re waking up slowly, eyelashes fluttering against the gluey residue of yesterday’s makeup. You should’ve washed your face. Should’ve done the bare minimum before collapsing into bed. But after everything that happened with Gojo, basic hygiene felt like an impossible task.

Still, sticky lashes don’t explain why you feel like prey. Like something is watching you.

Your breath hitches as you pry your eyes open, sluggishly turning your head—

And you scream.

“What the fuck, Ren?”

Ren is sitting right there, inches from your face, eyes wide with disturbing enthusiasm. He tilts his head like an overexcited puppy, his Bambi eyes gleaming as if he’s just witnessed the miracle of childbirth.

“Goooood morning,” he sings, voice piercing through your skull like a drill.

“For the love of God,” you groan, rubbing your face, “it’s too early for this.”

“It’s never too early for the morning after catch-up.”

You squint at him. “How are you not hungover?”

Ren smirks. “Let’s just say I have an amazing alcohol tolerance, babe.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to Aiko’s floor—you know, the one you baptized with your stomach lining.”

He scowls. “Fine. Whatever. I have a good hungover tolerance.” He waves you off before leaning in again, grin widening. “Anyway, let’s not change the topic. I distinctly remember you making out with that hottie last night.”

The events of last night slam into your brain like a highlight reel on fast-forward—smoking, drinking, making out with Geto, that cramped, suffocating hangout in Aiko’s tiny bedroom, Ren throwing up his guts, and, of course, The Gojo Incident.

Your skin prickles. At all of it.

“Mhm,” you hum. “I did.”

“And I remember you saying he kisses reaaaally well,” Ren drawls, doing a painfully bad impression of you.

You roll your eyes. “He does, but—” You sit up on Ren’s couch, running a hand through your messy and straight up oily hair. “Right before you started throwing up on Aiko’s floor, another chick called him, and bro literally bolted out of the room to answer.”

Ren pauses, eyebrows furrowing. He taps his cheek, as if he’s in deep, intellectual thought. “That’s sus,” he finally declares. Then, just as quickly, he shrugs. “But who cares?”

“I don’t, but it kinda killed my buzz.”

“And chilling with Gojo fucking Satoru didn’t kill your buzz?”

You glance at him. “Did it kill yours?”

“Nah,” Ren waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Was too many glasses of whiskey deep to let that bastard ruin my night.” His face twists, like something just dawned on him. “But—I do remember that he put me to bed, which means that asshole was in my fucking apartment.”

"Yeah, he kinda helped me bring you home," you admit, your lips pressing against Ren’s brand-new mattress as you mumble.

"What the fuck? I don’t remember that."

"Yeah, Columbo, of course you don’t. You could barely walk straight. Honestly, I’m surprised you even remember him putting you to bed."

Ren groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Dang, couldn’t, like, anyone else help you?" He whines, his entire body recoiling in visible disgust. "I can already feel his dirty aura polluting my space."

"Sorry, he was the only one."

"Ugh. Fine." He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, as if the mere knowledge of Gojo's presence has spiritually tainted his apartment. "But how the hell did you survive that?"

You swallow hard. Survival? The word feels almost laughable when it comes to Gojo Satoru. You don’t survive him—you endure him. You let him sink into your skin and when he’s gone, you pretend the pain isn’t there.

Last night wasn’t an accident. It was inevitable. The conversation that had been lurking behind you like a devil, waiting for the right moment to wrap its fingers around your throat. And when it finally did—when you finally had to face him—you realized the worst part wasn’t what he said.

It was how easily he said it.

How he didn’t regret it. Any of it.

How he still believed he was right.

You let out a breath and look at Ren, at the concern laced in his features, and you force yourself to do something you haven’t done in a long time—be honest.

"Who said anything about survival?" The smile that tugs at your lips is bitter. But it’s also genuine.

Ren watches you, eyes narrowing slightly. He hesitates before his hand finds your arm, fingertips grazing your skin like he’s afraid you might shatter. "Wait… what happened?"

So you tell him.

You tell him about Gojo, about the destruction he left behind—not just in Ren’s apartment, but in you. How he twisted the knife with every word, every laugh, every goddamn look. How he walked away in the end, like he always does, leaving behind nothing but wreckage.

And when you finish, the room is quiet.

Ren doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

He just looks at you like he’s seeing someone he doesn’t know how to help.

"Don’t look at me like that, Rennie." Your voice is quieter this time, a little unsteady.

"Like what?" His hand tightens around yours, warm, grounding—infuriatingly gentle.

"Like I’m—" You shake your head, frustration curling around your words. "I don’t know. Like you agree with him."

Ren doesn’t speak right away. His fingers move against your skin, tracing invisible patterns, like he’s thinking, like he’s trying to figure out how to say something he already knows you don’t want to hear.

"You do, don’t you?" You whisper.

He exhales, his gaze locking onto yours—soft, affectionate, but carrying something firmer beneath the surface. Something unshakable.

"If you want me to be honest," he starts, choosing his words carefully, "I don’t agree with how he went about it." He pauses, running his tongue over his teeth. "But… I lowkey agree with his reasoning."

The world tilts for a second. You swallow, but it does nothing to clear the lump in your throat.

It shouldn’t hurt. Not like this. But it does.

Your skin prickles, a cold rush washing over you as if someone had doused you in ice water. You yank your hand out of Ren’s grasp like his touch suddenly burns. Every muscle in your body goes tight, retreating, desperate for distance.

"So what?" Your voice is sharp, almost breathless. Your fingers dart to your lips, picking at the skin. "You think I was an addict or something?"

Ren exhales through his nose, slow and measured, like he’s already exhausted. "I didn’t say that. Can you just—can you just stop and listen?"

But you don’t. You can’t.

Your knee bounces. You dig your nails into your palm. "I wasn’t addicted," you snap, your voice rising. "If I was, I’d—I don’t know, I’d have gone to rehab or something. I stopped when I wanted to."

Ren's jaw tightens. His expression shifts—still calm, still composed, but there’s something behind his eyes now. Solid. Unrelenting. "First of all," he says, his voice low but firm, "I never said you were addicted." His gaze pins you in place. "And second—you only stopped when you had no other option."

The words slam into you with the force of a freight train.

Because that’s not true.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how many chances you had to start again. How many times people offered, how many times you could have easily said yes. How many times temptation curled around your spine, whispered in your ear—just one more time, one more line, no one has to know.

He doesn’t know that you stopped. Not because you had no choice.

But because you chose to.

Because of your parents. Because of him.

Because the fear of disappointing everyone all over again was worse than the withdrawal. Worse than anything.

"No, you don’t know," you snap, your voice splintering under the weight of your own frustration. You’re practically vibrating in your seat, your whole body wound tight like a live wire. "You don’t know shit. You just—you just agree with Gojo." The words taste wrong even as you spit them out, hard and warped, but you let them take root anyway. You choose to believe them.

Ren doesn't even flinch. If anything, he looks tired. Tired in that way only Ren can be when he’s watching you unravel and knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

"Honey," he sighs, his voice softer now, almost exasperated, "if I agreed with him, I would’ve stuck by his side and run away from you as fast as possible." He pauses, lets it sink in. "But I didn’t."

Something about that but makes your stomach churn.

"You made some horrible choices," he continues, and there’s no sugarcoating in his voice, no room for argument. "And that’s a fact. But those choices were yours. And that wasn’t his secret to tell."

His words land heavier than you expect. You should feel relieved—he's defending you, right? He’s on your side. But somehow, it only makes your chest tighten, like he’s forcing you to hold a mirror up to yourself, and you hate what you see.

Ren looks at you softly, his eyes carrying that quiet warmth of love—the kind that makes you forget, that smooths over every jagged edge inside you. It should calm you.

It should make you feel safe.

But the churning in your stomach doesn’t stop. It presses down, heavy and suffocating, sinking from your throat to your gut, curling around your insides like something rotten.

Your heart hurts. Really hurts.

You don’t want to think about this anymore. Don’t want to talk about it. You weren’t ready last night. You aren’t ready now. You probably won’t ever be ready. It feels impossible. The weight of it all is crushing, pressing you at the seams. You can’t hold yourself together anymore. Not when this conversation is playing out.

Ren watches you carefully, reading the cracks forming in real time. Then, with a softness that almost shatters you completely, he whispers,

"But I see you still aren’t ready for this conversation. So I won’t dig any deeper."

Relief should come. But it doesn’t. Not when his voice lowers, not when his next words carry that unmistakable echo—the one that tells you Ren never lies to you, not even when it would be easier.

"But I won’t be the friend who nods his head and agrees with you on everything," he says. "That isn’t us. And if that’s what you want—if you want someone to just smile and tell you you’re right about everything—the door’s right there. I’m not gonna stop you."

His words should hurt as well, yet they don’t.

Because you know, deep down, Ren is still here. He’s always been here. Even now, when you can’t breathe, when your whole body feels like it’s crumbling in on itself—he’s here.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Your voice is barely there. A plea.

Ren exhales, long and slow, his hands running over his temples like he’s trying to massage the tension out of his skull. His lips twitch—something between a tired smile and a sigh—before he finally looks at you.

Then, with no hesitation, he extends his arms.

“Come here.”

You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You practically gauge yourself into his embrace, burying your face into the warmth of his neck, the scent of his skin grounding you in a way nothing else can. His arms wrap around you, steady, firm, unshakable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking, “I’m sorry for being so fucking unreasonable.”

Ren doesn’t say anything at first. Just squeezes you a little tighter, letting the silence settle, letting you breathe.

Then, softly—so gently it makes your chest twist—he says,

“It’s okay.”

After the heaviness of this morning, Ren seems to have made it his personal mission to erase the unease—to bask in normalcy. That’s how you find yourselves back at Radio, hoping that breakfast and coffee will wash away the remnants of last night. Of this morning’s conversation.

Your eyes drift across the now-familiar coffee shop-slash-diner. Since the first time you and Ren stumbled in, it became your go-to place. It’s safe. Grounding. Comfortingly unchanging—except, apparently, for the new additions cluttering the tables.

The small car radios that once held the menus now have tiny race car figurines next to them. Your face twists in immediate disgust.

Seriously?

How fucking over-the-top can this place get? As if the walls covered in radios weren’t already screaming, Look at us! We’re so edgy and retro!

“This shit makes me cringe so fucking much,” you mutter, pointing at the newest offense.

Ren barely looks up, smirking. “That’s the vibe they’re going for.”

“There’s a fine line between aesthetic and trying too damn hard, and this place pole-vaulted right over it.”

Ren laughs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Oh, come on. Maybe the owner just really likes cars and radios. Maybe it’s, like, their childhood dream to own a diner that’s both a radio museum and a shrine to F1.”

“Then they should’ve picked a fucking theme and stuck to it,” you argue, waving a hand dramatically. “Like, what’s next? Are they gonna start hanging skateboards from the ceiling? Maybe throw in some old typewriters while they’re at it?”

“Oh my God,” Ren gasps, eyes lighting up. “What if they add a train set next?”

“No. No, I refuse. If I walk in here one day and see a fucking model railway running along the bar, I’m filing a formal complaint.”

Ren hums, tilting his head in fake thoughtfulness. “Orrrr you could just accept that maybe—just maybe—you’re being a hater for no reason.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I will not stand by and watch this place turn into a car market on steroids.”

Ren shrugs, unfazed. “Oh well. Guess that just means more race cars for me.”

You narrow your eyes. “Touch one of those things and I swear to God, Ren, I’ll start telling people you have a foot fetish.”

Ren’s expression doesn’t even falter. “Well good thing I already told people I have a foot fetish.”

You part your lips, your brain already coming up with a perfect sarcastic remark to answer him—but the words lodge themselves in your throat. Because walking through Radio’s door, all long strides and lazy confidence, is Gojo Satoru.

What the hell?

This—this doesn’t happen. Radio isn’t his scene. It’s yours. It’s Ren’s. It’s your place, your little sanctuary. And yet, here he is, stepping inside like he belongs, like the universe just decided to drop him into your morning uninvited.

And the weirdest part? He’s alone.

He doesn’t see you at first. There’s a pair of Bluetooth earbuds tucked into his ears, his glasses perched on top of his head, his long neck peeking out from the collar of his hoodie. He’s staring at his phone, completely absorbed in whatever he’s typing. You watch as he lets out a small, amused smile—probably read something funny. Someone sent him a dumb text or a joke.

And he looks… fine.

No hangover. No tension. No lingering remains from last night. No sign that the conversation you had even touched him. Like it never even happened.

And then, like some horrible slow-mo tiktok edit, he lifts his gaze. His eyes flick from his phone to your face, and then, finally, his whole head follows.

And he licks his lips.

His irises blaze with recognition, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he starts marching straight toward you and Ren.

Fucking awesome.

Gojo slides into the booth beside Ren like he owns the place, his arm draping over your best friend’s shoulders as if they’re long-lost war buddies. Which they probably are, but still.

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets.

“Long time no see, besties,” he announces, giving Ren’s shoulder a few casual taps, like this is all perfectly normal. Like he is perfectly normal.

But it’s not. And he’s not.

“That would actually be more believable if you hadn’t spent last night harassing us,” you snap, waving a hand in the air like you can physically shoo his presence away.

Gojo hums, unbothered. “I wouldn’t call helping harassment, but semantics, I guess.”

Ren, visibly repulsed, tries shaking his shoulders to get Gojo’s arm off, but the man’s grip is firm, unyielding. Finally, with an exaggerated grimace, Ren pries the offending limb off himself.

“Please don’t touch me, you freak,” Ren deadpans.

Gojo grins. “You weren’t saying that when I was carrying you bridal style to your chambers.”

Ren’s face grows red at his remark, fingerd twitching against his coffee cup. Oh, he’s pissed. “I didn’t have a choice! I was drunk, and it’s not like I asked you to do it.”

“No, but she did,” Gojo points a lazy finger in your direction.

Your teeth grit. “You asked if I needed help, and then forced me to accept it.”

Gojo chuckles, entirely too pleased with himself. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Can you, like,” Ren mutters around a bite of his burger, already thinking of the chain of events that led him to this very moment, “go and bother someone else? Please and thank you.”

“See, I would,” Gojo says, drumming his fingers against the tabletop, “but I’m waiting for a friend, and I don’t wanna be lonely,” he whines, dragging out the last word like a toddler in need of attention.

“Leave us alone, for fuck’s sake,” you snap, frustration clawing up your throat. “We actually have something to talk about. Privately.”

Gojo perks up. “Oh, I’m all for privacy,” he muses. “Maybe we can discuss how my parents just called to let me know that our families planned a lil weeknd getaway. For all of us. Privately, of course.”

Your stomach twists so hard it might just tie itself into a knot.

Ren goes still, his face draining of color—somehow managing to look paler than Gojo’s hair.

Your blood runs cold.

Your families haven’t had any holidays, vacations, trips together in years. Not since the truth came out. Not since he and his parents stopped showing up.

Not since they found out about your habits.

And definitely not after they found out you were blowing their son in the janitor’s closet.

Ren chokes on his burger. You can hear it—the sharp inhale, the way his throat works too hard to swallow something that was never meant to go down that fast. But you can’t move.

Can’t speak.

Your ears are ringing.

Gojo just watches, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips, like he can hear the way your thoughts are running wild—like he knows.

He leans forward, elbows braced on the table, voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle.

“Oh, come on,” he murmurs, tilting his head, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about our little traditions.”

Your jaw tightens. “I was never big on tradition.”

Gojo hums, dragging his fingers along the tabletop, slow and deliberate. “Oh, sweetheart,” he muses, his smirk sharpening. “Trust me, we’re all painfully aware of that.”

taglist: @zeunys @charmstarr @ovela @kur0mii3 @dabisdolly @17362939 @krispywhisperswhispers @mintcheery @kazupop @heh123321 @hanakotateyama @choppersworlds-blog @eneiyri @suniloli @44ina. @s4ikooo1 @blushedcheri @dishs0pe @rhea-sylvea @eolivy @decadentcoffeecandy @4thansstuff @crankyarchives @mrswanggae @blobbyblogsdraws @saoirses-things

[lilyxlovelyy]

Hi lovely! I’d love to see you write a one shot of Dallas Winston smut with hyper fem reader. Maybe they could be at bucks and making up for lost time bc Dally just got out of jail? Thank you 😊

Dallas x hyper fem!reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, p in v, oral f receiving, breast attention, very slight daddy kink hehe, don’t think there is anything else but idk

• Authors note: Hiii i am so glad u asked this cause i have been looking for inspiration and i love this idea!!

About 1k words.

You were over at the Curtis house because dal was supposed to be in jail for another six weeks so you had been spending some extra time there.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t live without dallas it was just that after a few months you have grown to miss him, his voice, his touch, everything about him you craved more than ever.

The gang was all over watching movies, playing cards, eating all of Darry’s food and such when suddenly Twobit noticed a special someone walking up to the house.

“Hey, YN you might wanna see this!” He said watching out the window so you got off the couch and peeked out from behind the curtain.

Your eyes widened when you saw Dallas walking up the driveway with a cigarette between his fingers. You quickly scrambled out the door running as fast as your legs could carry you until you were safely in his arms.

“Woah there princess” he said with a chuckle his New York accent shining through, you just giggled in response while still holding onto him. As he He slung his arms around you he felt the heat and wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Miss me that much, huh’” he grinned before finally pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah…” you mumbled softly with a cheeky smile.

“Well lets take you home and take care of that shall we”

“aren’t you going to say hello to the guys?” You asked softly and he shrugged

“eh they’ll see me later” he grinned and began walking back down the street so you quickly followed after him.

When you had made it back to bucks there was a party going on, you could tell by the red lights glowing from inside; but the party didn’t bother you because you both went straight up to his room not caring to say ‘hey’ to anyone.

He shut the door behind him and made sure to lock it securely.

Once the door was locked you latched you hungry lips onto his. The taste of cigarettes and prison food clung to his lips but you didn’t care, all you cared about was him. Finally being back in his arms.

His rough hands roamed over your body until he laid you down on his bed. He swiftly pulled your little dress down over your head carelessly throwing it away before moving his hands to your breasts. Groping and squeezing them. As little moans slip from your mouth. he grins and rips off your bra.

“Fuck I’ve been dreaming of these tits for months.” He smirks before leaning down and taking one in his mouth and sucking hard.

You entangled your fingers into his scruff hair. As you tug on his dark locks he scraps his teeth against your nipple. As he continues to suckle at your nipples you moved one of your hands down to your clothed cunt and rubbing hard.

“Aww baby you want daddy to touch you?” He smirks and you looked up at him with a soft whimper escaping from your lips.

He moves his hands down your body, over your hips and finally tracing his finger over you cunt.

“Your soaked doll” he growls as he peppers kisses down your neck which earns a moan from you. He slowly slips a finger inside your wet heat feeling the juices run down his finger. He doesn’t waste time to add another finger pumping them in and out at a fast pace. Your mouth is ajar as he continually pumps them in and out making moans spill from your soft lips.

“You gonna cum babydoll?” He asks as he peppered soft kisses over your soft tummy.

“Mhmmmh y-yes” you whimper as he roughly shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“Good girl” he whispers quietly as you cum over his fingers. He brings his fingers to your lips

“taste yourself baby” he smirks and you waste no time to wrap your mouth around his two fingers and suck off the sweet taste of your juices.

He smirks before pulling his fingers out and moving them to your hips. He grins before burying his face between your thighs.

“I gotta taste you first” he mumbles before dipping his tongue between your slick folds.

“Fuck I missed this” he groans against your dripping pussy making vibrations course through your body earning another whimper from you. as he lapped his tongue over your clit before digging his tongue back into your hole.

“Mhmmmh fuck” he groans, his voice muffled by cunt.

“Ohhhh I’m cumming again” you cry out and wrapped your legs around his neck pulling him closer. If that was even possible.

He rarely gave oral but he missed you so much he needed to taste you right from the source. As you came he licked it up with his tongue tasting all your sweet juices.

Once he caught his breath he quickly pulled away and moved his hands from you down to his jeans. He unbuckled his belt with ease and threw it aside along with his jeans.

You stared at his cock with lust in your eyes. He gave it one stroke before lining it up with your cunt and thrusting in. He was never the type of guy to go slow or really take his time but especially not now, he needed you and he needed it now.

He continues his rough assault on your pussy as your screamed out in pleasure. He bent his head down to roughly kiss and bite at your neck.

As you got closer to yet another orgasm he brought one of his hands down and started to rub your aching clit which sent you over the edge to extreme bliss.

As you pulsed around his cock he could feel he was about to cum.

“Fuck are you on the pill” he asked between grunts to which you simply shook your head so he swiftly pulled out and came all over your chest.

He collapsed beside you.

“Oh fuck” you breathed.

Your heart was pounding against your chest but Dallas wasn’t finished with you as he carried you to the bathroom.

[rainychaoloveshack]

hiiii i stumbled across ur blog like a couple days ago and. ive been so obsessed with all ur posts theyre so yummy!!! (ESPECIALLY UR BOOM??? ik u mentioned u werent all that familar with him but,,, that one oneshot had me salivating oml)

anyways could i maybe ask for a sonic x reader where they give him a bath bc he's stinky 🤧 just modern/game is fine smile

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sonic had a nice adventure outside. unfortunately, remnants of said adventure were brought into your home. its bath time.

⋆°•☁︎ content . sonic x gn!reader, fluff, sort of shitpost-esque writing but i still did take it seriously i swear anon

☂︎ wc. 1.1k ☂︎ a/n. hueheh this request had me giggling. silly dirty ass mf 😭😭😭 i was messing around during it huehehe this is your reminder to not take me too seriously sometimes 😋still pretty short but i hope you like it ^^ def not my best work but i hope you like it regardless ^^'

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

“You know I can take a simple bath by myself, right?” Sonic growls, watching you kneel down and check the water's temperature for him with your forefinger. Not too hot, not too cold. “Plus, I already took a shower. The dirt’s gone already. No need for a bath, right?” Now why is he acting like that bathtub is going to kill him? 

“Could’ve gotten it all out if you hadn’t pulled me out the shower.” He mutters. “If you had wanted me to take a bath at all, you should’ve said that bef-” You frown, interrupting his rambling by knocking on the side of the bathtub with your fingers in a way that’s telling him to hurry up and get in. You can still smell the mud on him.

And it’s not bad to take precautions. Plus, if the shower didn’t get every single spec of dirt out of his quills, the bath will. Having even one spec of dirt come back inside the house after Sonic’s grand entrance of mud-filled footsteps, and right after you had to clean said mess, might just make you go crazy.

“I already said I was sorry...” He trails off, peering into the tub before taking a step back. You mutter a short curse his way and tug him by his arm, refusing to take no for an answer.

Sonic winces slightly at the volume of the water in the tub but lets out a sigh once he sees your stern expression. “Oh, alright…” He grumbles, spitting out soft curses about his distaste for water as he slips off his gloves, following with his socks right after.

… Paw-beans.

“Hmm?” Sonic’s ear flicks at your small murmuring, turning your way just as he’s about to step into the bath. “You say something?”

You shake your head, trying to make him forget your small slip-up, and urge him into the tub with a small shove. The moment his foot enters the water, you can visibly see a shiver tremble through his body.

“Eugh.” Despite his little complaints, he takes another step in the bubbly water, slowly settling himself into it with unpleasant grumbling, the water reaching up to his chin. “Make it fast. Being submerged in water for too long makes me uneasy…”

Like him? Make it as fast as ‘Sonic speed’, some might say?

His head snaps in your direction, opening his mouth to say something back to your crude teasing, but it closes instantly as you cup water into your hands and pour it over his head, watching it run off his quills and back into the bath.

That shut him up quickly. 

And so it begins.

The water runs down and seeps into his fur, then drips off once it gets too soaked, mixing with the bubbly suds already present. You rub his ear in a slow motion, cupping water up from the bath and pouring it over to get any extra dirt out. So far so surprisingly good; the baths running fairly clear, besides the small bit of dirt or so. Maybe he did get all the dirt out after all? Or maybe it was just his shoes that were the problem? No, then you wouldn’t have seen all those specs of black and brown in his fur. What, did he roll down a hill or-

“Hey, be careful with my quills!” Sonic’s body flinches as you accidentally prod and pull too deeply during your thoughts. “Can’t you be a little more gentle? The bath’s been clear for the past half hour.” He clarifies. “At this point, I’m not sure if you’re still trying to get any dirt out, or if you just like pampering me.”

Oh. Well damn.

Your hand lowers from his head, and it dawns upon you that yes, for once Sonic is actually right about your behavior, and the embarrassment washes over your figure, staggering your motions as you go to unplug the drain, but he stops you with a small kick of his foot at your hand.

“I didn’t say you had to stop.” Sonic mutters, before putting on his best ‘I deserve the world’ act a spoiled child would have towards everyone else. “I’m actually enjoying the attention!” He puffs his chest out, trying to put on a smug face for you, but a splash of water in his face turns that smugness to irritation, shaking his head around like a dog would their body as water flings in every direction possible. You hold your hands up in front of your face, your soaking wet hands dripping onto your lap and the bathroom floor as you shield yourself from the blue blurs little water assault. Ugh. Looks like he’s getting a kick out of your annoyance.

“It’s not so bad.” Sonic says plainly, flexing his fingers in the water in front of him, before adjusting himself to rest his arms on the tub’s edge, resting his head down to let your preen and run your fingers through his quills, forgetting to scrub through them at all. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you pampered me like this more often.” Sonic reaches over and drags a soggy, wet, finger across your arm, leaving small water droplets on your skin as he moves it up towards your hand, currently resting on your lap as the other one rubs against his shoulder briefly. “Think I deserve it a little, ya’ know?” He shimmies his shoulders a bit, yet his tail wags all the same under the water, eager for your answer, even if you give him a plain ‘no’.

Well, if he could be more aware of himself and clean up after his little escapades, you would. But for now, the punishment bath it is. Though, with the way he was acting at first, someone might’ve thought he was taking a small dunk in acid.

Sonic doesn’t utter a word at your own little joke, but he shakes his head disapprovingly, glaring at you for a few seconds as his eyes flick over you up and down, then he relaxes. “You’re gonna help me dry off after this too, right?” He chirps, and you shake your head, already firm in the belief that you deserve some rest after cleaning up the house. Not to mention the other house chores you’ve already done today.

“Aw man...” Sonic says softly, before growling under his breath in your direction, ears pinning down, obviously in a joking manner, and he flicks some water in your direction off his fingertips, splashing onto your shirt and lap. “You can’t just take me a bath and then chicken out once we’re almost at the finish line! Come on.” Another flick of water comes flying your way, this time hitting you in the face, and you scowl, cupping up some water in your palm to splash it back at him.

“Aw, hey, come on!” His tone of voice makes it sound like a complaint, but his expression is the complete opposite; a fat grin spreads across his muzzle and another small splash of water makes its way to you, soaking your shirt. Oh, so that's how it is?

“What? What’re you gonna do about it?”

Stupid hedgehog. Sometimes it’s a mystery how you haven’t gone crazy by now from all his antics.

… Oh well; time to fetch that towel.

[mysticmoosenger]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝕗****𝕕 𝕦𝕡 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭…

synopsis: deciding to ask choso to switch roles!

themes: sub!choso, dom!reader, orgasm denial, edging, nicknames, begging, reader is evil, choso is just a little guy

characters: choso <3 love my boy and hate gege

a/n: hi very happy to be back, excited to write more. everything i’ve written previously is deleted from my page bc i want to start fresh haha. college is destroying my hopes and dreams rn. also, i didnt proofread this like at all and its 4am, so just like, ignore my fuck ups please ily

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

●・○・●・○・●

choso! ur a super freak!

He wont show it, but he is already cumming at the thought of it. He is 110% a switch, but has been taking the dominant role since you seemed so sweet and eager to let him use you to do whatever he pleased.

“baby, I dont know how you feel about it and maybe it’s weird for me to say but… do you mind if I take the lead a little?”

That caught him off guard. Like totally off guard. As he was taking off your shirt his hands froze and his assault on your neck paused, He blinked a few times and asked to make sure thats really what he heard, “…you mean like, you want to be dominant?”

You shyly nod and continue to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, his signature buns starting to unravel, somehow making him even hotter. God, you wanted to eat him alive.

After a few more seconds of processing, he quietly responds, “…yes love”

You feel him slowly kiss the marks he left you on your collarbone, his hands now gently reaching to remove your shirt. As he goes to lift it over your head, he moves back to allow you some space to wriggle the tight material past your shoulders. You catch a glimpse of his face right as he backs up, his face a bright red and his eyes looking glossy, he looks perfectly pitiful. Wow… you never realized how badly you have wanted to do this.

You manage to free yourself from your constricting top, taking off your bra as well. Choso watches you, his eyes following your every move, scanning your body. It’s obvious how down bad this poor boy is for you. You had never expected him to be this eager about switching roles.

The upper half of your clothing now gone, the red LED lights around the border of Choso’s room making your skin look flawless and irresistible. You swear you can see the poor boy drooling over you, waiting for you to order him around, use him, and make him a sobbing mess. He’s sitting in front of you on the bed, his hands tentatively resting on your thighs, staring at you with those sleepy dark eyes. He still had a bit of eyeliner on from earlier in the day, now starting to smudge and give him adorable tear stains. “okay cho… please strip for me baby”, you coo, wanting to mark up that broad muscular chest of his.

He slips his black compression tee over his head in one fluid motion, exposing his perfect abs and those sexy tattoos trailing down them leading to his hips. He stops and begins to run his hands from your waist to your tits, awaiting more instruction, already beet red and breathing fast. His heart is beating so fast that it starts to make him dizzy with lust. “I said strip cho. everything. be a good boy for me okay?”

You have never seen your man this worked up in the entirety of your relationship before. He moves at what seems like lightening speed, tearing off his pants, looking at you for approval as you nod for him to take off his boxers too. His dick springs out with possibly the hardest and angriest boner you’ve ever seen. You motion with your head for him to lay down, crawling on top of him and hovering your clothed pussy over his dripping dick. His eyes begging you to fuck him, he begins to snake his hands around your hips, trying to get you to at least touch him. “no cho, hands up by the headboard.” you say, pulling his wrists together and pinning them above his head. “if you move them I’m not letting you cum today.”

Choso nods immediately, knowing that he’d rather die than not be allowed to finish tonight. You make eye contact and slowly dip down to meet his lips with yours, your hand sliding down his arm from his wrists, gently caressing his muscular tattooed biceps. “you belong to me, got it cho?” you purr against his lips. He lets out an erotic whimper in response, which honestly takes both of you by surprise. You pause and let it replay in your head a few times before saying, “I’m totally breaking you tonight. how did I never know you had such a cute little submissive side?”

You move your hand to gently squeeze his throat and rejoin his lips, tongue grazing gently along his lips, his occasionally meeting yours. And while Choso has a submissive side, he’s still freaky. As you move to pull away, he nips at your bottom lip, making you moan in response, “god I love you.”

You begin to move down his body, leaving little nips and kisses on the way to his beautiful abs. You glance up at his flustered face as you start to fill the gaps between his tattoos with little hickies to mark your territory. “no one else is allowed to see you like this, alright cho? mmmm fuck, no one..” you moan against his skin. You love the idea of your love bites being shown off in his weekly gym pictures.

Choso is squirming, overwhelmed at the sensation of you kissing by his v-line. “..mmm pl-please y/n… ohmygo-d yes pleaseee…” he rambles, his eyes squeezing shut and his eyeliner now officially all over his cheeks, complimenting the long tattoo over the center of his nose. His hair has almost completely fallen out of his buns, now tangled and fanned out around his face. He really does look angelic. And pitiful. You just want to ruin him.

“please what baby? please stop? its too much and i should stop?” you tease as you reduce your love bites to feathered kisses, barely touching his skin. “n-nooo please no i w-want mmore~ please baby y/n p-pleas- oh my go- god fuck!” he begs, his mouth agape and his hips writhing to try to get any pressure remotely to his dick.

You decide that since he has been so good (and you just want to make him a whimpering mess) he deserves a little treat. Your lips ghost down his thigh and to his balls, placing a gentle kiss to them. You quickly suck on your fingers to give them some lube while making sure Choso has a good view, and begin to stroke his shaft. With the way Choso is moaning, you speed up your movements, twirling your fingers over his angry, dripping tip and the end of every motion. Your other arm wraps around one of his thighs, doing your best to pin him in place. His hand slid down sneakily to rest atop your head, lacing his fingers through your hair. Your tongue found a sweet spot towards the base of his balls, eliciting a loud “FUCK oh my- fuck y-yes y/n there!” You continue stroking him and swirling your tongue against his sensitive spots until he is shaking, his hips desperately attempting to buck upwards. Right as he is about to finish, you remove your hands and sit back, away from his cock.

You smile, taking in the gorgeous sight before you. Choso is breathing in loud pants, whimpering and shaking from the abrupt stop of the stimulation. His eyes are teary, his makeup smeared, and his lips are glossy from your kisses. Trailing down, there is a line of love bites leading to his tattoos. His lower abdomen is drenched in slick precum. “baby please p-please keep going~” he begs in between pants.

You giggle slightly sadistically and gently run your fingertips around his v-line and base of his dick. Moving your head up, you give him a sloppy kiss, again inciting cute whimpers from his throat. “cho love, you remember what I said earlier about your hands? Dont think I didnt notice baby…”

Choso lets out a loud moan in protest, begging you for a second chance.

Luckily for him…. the clock just hit midnight.

ending a/n: thank u for reading!! please send in requests my asks are open! or just talk to me!! love u guys and im so excited to be back! :)

[tanghuyuj]

LEFT LOVESTRUCK!

pairing: non-idol or idol!riwoo x short-haired-fem!reader

genre: fluff, fluff, and fluff !!

synopsis: after chopping your hair off to be short, you’re unsure of how your boyfriend will react. though, there’s nothing to worry about; i mean—he is lovestruck for you.

warnings: kissing, not proofread, and i think that’s all.

wc: ~0.6k

maia’s note: 1st riwoo work what am i doing ?? for all my short hair girlies out there (me) bc i just know riwoo would be obsessed with a short haired gf >< enjoy reading! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!! 💘

you raise your hand and run it through your hair. your newly, freshly chopped off hair.

it’s now short, and not medium length short, but short short. so short, it barely reaches to the edge of your chin.

you stand in front of you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment, needing to take a moment before you walk in and see his raw reaction. riwoo knows you were going to get your hair done, he just doesn’t know that you got it cut to a certainly short length.

read under the cut! ⬇️

you aren’t scared for how he will react, just nervous! it’s natural to be nervous in a time like this, is what you manage to convince yourself.

you inhale a deep breath before slowly moving towards the door knob.

but in a snap of a second, you watch the door open.

you freeze in place, scanning the figure that is now right in front of you. a figure that you could recognize in a crowd of thousands of people, a figure that your heart beats rapidly for—in this moment especially.

your boyfriend, lee riwoo, wears soft, light pink pajama pants with white stripes going down them and a baggy, plain white shirt with a image of his dog, daebak, on it (he got it custom made). his short and orangish brown hair sticks up messily and one of his hands holds a trash bag with several recyclable plastics inside. his eyes widen and his mouth opens wide in an ‘o’ shape.

“yn..” he starts slowly.

you mirror him, eyes widening. “riwoo! i.. i can expla—“

he cuts you off, “you look adorable.”

he drops the bag dramatically to the ground as he steps closer to you and cups your face with his hands, your hair slipping into his hold as well.

your cheeks squish together in his hands. “riwoo, what are yo—“ you say, muffled.

he states the obvious, “your hair. it’s short.” he turns your head, tilting it from left to right.

your heart starts to pound against your chest faster.

“yes..” you mutter.

a loving, happy smile grows on his face which eventually turns into a wide grin.

he exclaims, “it’s so cute! why didn’t you tell me earlier you were getting it this short?” he continues blabbering, “actually no. i’m glad it was a surprise. it looks so pretty, you look so pretty.”

your face heats up immediately. for some odd reason, this whole time you’ve been expecting the worse. that he would hate it, find it ugly maybe. you realize that you never once should have doubted your boyfriend. hearing this, seeing him respond heavily positive, is a huge relief and makes your heart grow even fonder for him (if that’s possible).

“thank you, baby,” you smile. you try to remove his hands from your face but ultimately fail. “riwoo, let’s go inside.”

his pink lips form into a pout. “no, let’s stay like this for a little.”

“riwoo—“

he interrupts you with a quick peck on the lips. the touch of his soft, balmy lips withdraw a little too fast, leaving you wanting more.

but lucky for you, you don’t have to ask.

riwoo leans in to place more sweet, fluttering kisses to your face. he tries to not miss a single spot; your forehead, temples, and the last one on the tip of your nose. all while doing so, his hands move to run his fingers through your hair. he twirls some locks, loving the feel of your hair—the feel of you.

he pulls away in a lovestruck daze, leaving you the same.

“now can we go inside?” you tease.

he giggles, “only if that means i get to make little braids in your hair.”

you roll your eyes in annoyance, but truly, you love it.

“sure baby.”

perm taglist: @bambisnc @mungbeancoups @starriniqhts @stantxtforabetterlife @chrrific bnd taglist: @uncasings @oowir net: @kstrucknet

please do not copy, repost, or translate.

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[xoxoavenger]

Can I request wolverine x reader where both of them were madly in love with each other, but reader was unfortunately by one of the sentanails (mutant killing robots), absolutely wreaking him. Then, he went back in time and when he gets to the mansion, and meets past reader (let’s say she also have longevity like Logan) who doesn’t know him at this point and taken of guard. When he’s trying to convince Charles that he’s from the future and needs his help and Charles is being stubborn and gets a little heated, reader is trying to calm things down and try to get everyone on the same page

so sorry this took literally forever. it was partly bc of how busy I was and partly bc I was afraid to write it, having such a popular dofp fic already (literally my fic with the most notes 😅)

Missing

pairing: Logan x Fem!Reader

word count: 2719

warnings: major character death (in the request but just in case), cannon typical violence and talk of violence

masterlist

Logan should have known this was coming.

His luck is shit. It always has been. For a hundred years now, he's felt like everything he touches goes to shit.

And then met Y/N.

She she wasn't shit. She was kind, smooth where he was rough, fitting him in all the right places. He was scared for awhile, afraid that it was too good to be true - her mutant ability being the projection of light. This power, the power of light, caused her to age slower. Charles had tried to explain it, multiple times in fact, but Logan was so lost every time that he just gave up eventually on trying to understand. All he knew was she aged slowly, just like he did, which means they could be together without him having the ever-present fear of watching her grow old.

He just never expected her to die.

He had known this was always a risk. She knew it too. And he also knew that they could have lived together, pretending like they weren't mutants, hoping from town to town, but she would never allow that. Him? He would have ran to that in a heartbeat, because he was selfish enough to want her to himself. To want to live, for the first time in two hundred years. He tried to fool himself, but how could he ever forget that he would always survive, while she simply didn't age as fast.

And that's how he should have known that everything was about to go downhill.

It happened in slow motion. But even then, it was 'unpreventable', as Charles would say. Logan knew the truth, though. It should have been him. He should have been the one to be hit with the laser. He should have been the one to have the hole inside him.

"No!" He screamed, running to her and sheathing his claws. He slides to catch her before she falls, but she's already dead in his arms. Her eyes are wide open, mouth paused in shock. Her body is limp, neck snapped back. And there's the four inch hole in her stomach, which he can see right through.

But he can't help but scream for her, calling her name. He shakes her, as if she's just asleep. As if he can fix this.

"Y/N," He cries softly, not moving as he's being pulled back. Suddenly he realizes his whole team is around him, trying to move him away from of his love. From his dead love. They're all screaming at him, and he knows that he's putting everyone in danger. But he can't let go of her. He can't bring himself to move. He closes his eyes, and then he lets out a guttural scream.

The next thing he remembers is being in a shelter, back against a wall and knees pulled against his chest. He blinks, realizing that he has no idea what happened after Y/N -

He doesn't want to think about that.

Everyone is under the shelter, talking and bandaging each other up. Logan wishes he couldn't heal, wishes he still had the marks on his body. But instead, he's left with just blood and and an empty chest.

"I can't send someone back that far. It would kill them." Kitty says, and hey, dying sounds exactly like what Logan wants right now.

"Send me." He speaks up, causing everyone to stop talking and turn to him.

"Your healing factor would help. As long as Kitty can keep you in the past that long." Charles says, and Logan remembers that his healing factor will keep him from dying. He thinks maybe he just hasn't tried hard enough to die. He's never wanted to more than he does right now.

"I can try." Kitty says with a nod. They all seem to know that if they don't do this, there is no future. They do this, or the Sentinels kill them all. They're at the end of the line. So they explain the plan, how Logan needs to get Charles and Erik on speaking terms again and stop the government from getting Mystic's blood. They think this will do the trick, that they may not be able to stop the downfall but they can stop the Sentinels. Logan realizes, then, that if he does this and it actually works, Y/N doesn't die. It reinvigorates him, starting his heart again.

They get into position, Logan laying on the makeshift table with conflicting emotions. He's mourning his lover, but he has some hope at least. He feels Kitty's hands by his head and before he knows it he's screaming, but it's not too long before he's in a bed, the bright sun beating down on him. He's with a girl - not Y/N, he didn't meet her until he met Charles, unfortunately - and he feels a little gross for it.

He gets into a fight immediately, and when his claws come out he realizes he doesn't have the metal that usually protects him. Shit. This stupid mission just keeps getting better and better. He gets shot, always a fun time, then starts the fight, just wanting to get it over with. He forgot how sensitive his stupid regular claws are, and he's tired of it by the time he makes it through the three guys. Now he needs to go to the mansion, which he has no idea what to find there.

~

He knocks on the door, sunglasses still on. It looks different, and not just because of the time, so he waits outside for a couple seconds for someone to answer the door. He can't even hear any kids running around, which is weird. He's so focused on this, he barely realizes someone answering the door.

"Hello, sir. We're closed, unfortunately, but I can give you directions to the nearest gas pump." She says with a smile. She's got a yellow shirt and jeans on, and Logan is pretty sure he doesn't know how to speak.

"Y/N?" He gets out, eyes clouding with tears. She looks taken aback, which shakes him up a little. He forgot that she wouldn't know who he was, of course.

"How do you know my name?" She asks, trying not to sound too skeptical. Her skin is glowing slightly, and Logan pulls his sunglasses off. It's all he can do not to cry,

"You're not gonna believe me." He chuckles, instantly feeling more at ease. How could he have forgotten that she would be here? He's never been more grateful for anything ever.

"Try me." She says, crossing her arms. He smirks and makes his way past her and into the mansion. "Hey! I didn't say you could come in!" She yells, and he looks around and his home, glad to see it standing.

"Where's the professor?" He asks, knowing it'd be easier to speak to Charles, who could read his mind.

"There is no professor. You must have the wrong place." Hank says as he walks down the stairs. Y/N turns and has a panicked look on her face, and Logan knows he needs to smooth this over.

"Listen, if you just let me talk to him, he'll know who I am. You won't believe me if I just tell you." He repeats, and Hank looks at Y/N before looking back at Logan, his face set.

"Like I said, there is no professor here. I think you should leave." Hank walks to be in front of Y/N, who looks conflicted.

"Who are you?" She asks, and Logan's heart skips a beat as he realizes that she's sticking up for him. She always said it was love at first sight, and maybe this is proof.

"I'm Logan." He says, and then he thinks about if he's actually going to tell them the next part. "And I'm from the future."

"Are you, now?" Charles is at the top of the stairs, and Logan startles when he sees that his friend doesn't have a wheelchair.

"Your legs," Logan starts, not sure what to say. He's caught off guard by a lot right now.

"Perceptive." Charlies says with a smirk as he walks down the stairs. Logan turns to Y/N, whose brows are furrowed.

"How did you know my name?" Y/N is still stuck on it, but it's almost like she's looking through him. She knows something is up.

"I'm from the future." He says, and the rest of the mutants in the room just stare at him. He looks at Charles, who is smirking. "You can read my mind. You know I'm telling the truth." At this, Charles' smile drops and his eyes squint.

"You have the wrong guy." His voice is low, and Logan shakes his head.

"No," Logan says, and Y/N tilts her head. It sounds crazy, someone from the future, but why would he lie? "I know who you are, Charles Xavier. So, read my mind, tell everyone I'm telling the truth, and can get on with what I came here to do." The room is silent as Logan and Charles stare at each other.

"I'm not that man anymore." Charles insists. Y/N knows he's not going to help, but she needs to know what this guy's deal is.

"What exactly is it you came here to do?" She asks, drawing his attention. He stares at her for a moment, making her a little concerned, but he looks lost and hurt, so she feels bad for him.

"In the future," Logan starts to get choked up, not able to look at any of them. He clears his throat, then continues. "The government was able to get Raven's blood. Because of you and Erik's feud. And they make these killers, called Sententials. Mutant killers." He can't look at them. Something happened, something bad. Clearly, if they're mutant killers, but this seems to be cutting Logan deep.

"How far in the future?" She asks, and it unsettles Logan. It's almost as if she knows, as if she's asking how long she has. He tries to remind himself that if he succeeds, she'll be okay. But will they still bet together if he changes the future? He has to hope. It's better for her to be alive, even if they aren't together. Everyone will be saved.

"Far." He answers, because he doesn't know how to tell her it's 50 years, doesn't want them to worry if they can't figure this out.

"How is this Erik and I's fault?" Charles asks, starting to get worked up. "If anything, it's solely his. I had nothing to do with this." He starts to leave, and Logan doesn't know what to do.

"You and Erik sent me from the future." Logan answers, causing everyone to pause. "You sent me because you need to work together."

"You're lying." Charles accuses.

"Well if you had your powers, you would know I'm not." Logan is starting to get worked up. This is harder than he thought it would be.

"I think you need to leave." Hank says, stepping forward. Y/N surprises them all by stepping forward as well.

"I think he's telling the truth." Y/N says, her gaze finally moving from Logan to Hank. "I think we should listen to him."

"Raven will die." Logan says, looking at Charles. "She's going to be experimented on and die. You can prevent this." Logan tries, hoping this will work. Charles glares at him, clearly not convinced.

"What about you?" Charles asks, lifting his chin. "What do you lose?"

"Did you miss the whole part about the mutant-killing machines?" Logan scoffs. Unbelievable, this young version of Charles. He'll take the old guy any day.

"No, no, no." Charles walks toward him, vacant look in his eyes somewhat clearing. "I may not be able to read minds anymore, but I know that you're in it for more than that."

"That's my business." Logan resists looking at Y/N, instead staring Charles down.

"And this is mine." Charles huffs. "I asked for your help years ago, and you told me to fuck off. I don't know what happens in the future, if you're telling the truth or not, but I do know that Erik will not be the one to stop it." He turns, and Logan knows he's losing him. He sighs, looking away from the small group.

"I lost Y/N." He says quietly. Somehow, the room goes even more silent as everyone stares at him.

"What?" She asks, barely able to breathe. He looks at her, face full of emotions she doesn't know how to decipher. She just met this man, but clearly he has known her for years.

"I found the school in 2000. You and Charles ran it, and I only stayed because of you. In my timeline, in 2023," He chokes up as the images of her flash through his mind. He wants to erase it, but it's there every time he closes his eyes. "The Sententials kill you. And they're going to kill all of us in the future, if you don't get your head out of your ass and make up with your boyfriend." Logan snaps the last part at Charles, who starts to get angry.

"Listen here-"

"Charles," Y/N starts, hand on his arm to stop him from walking even closer to Logan. She's glowing softly, emitting a calm, soothing light that even Logan can't help but admit makes his pulse slow. "Logan is giving us a chance to change the future. To save Raven."

"You're just saying that because you die." Charles lashes out, and that's how Logan knows he's not okay. He would never do that to her.

"We're all going to die!" Y/N yells. "Are you listening to him? You're probably dying in his timeline as we speak." She looks over to Logan, who is staring like she is the only person in the room.

"This is Erik's fault." Charles says, as if that made a difference.

"And it's going to be your fault if you don't listen to him." She softly speaks, and finally Charles sighs. Logan is grateful for Y/N; who knows how he would have convinced Charles without her.

"What do we have to do?"

~ When Logan wakes up, he's disoriented. The last thing he remembers he was being in the river, a rebar stuck through him and his brain shutting down from lack of oxygen. He can hear people outside his room, but what gets him to actually leave is the laugh that rings out through the hallway.

He sees her as soon as he opens his door, her smiling brighter than the sun. His heart pounds as he wonders if they're together - they didn't exactly get together in 1973, but she had helped him and believed in him when literally no one else had.

"Hey, baby," Y/N says when she catches his eyes, and he can't help the sound that escapes him. Her eyebrows raise as she realizes something is different. "What's going on?" She asks, leaving the group of people - mutants, kids, that had died, but are now here.

"Am I dead?" He asks, head reeling. She tilted her head with a small smile.

"What?" She asks, grabbing onto his arms gently. He doesn't have the same self control, however, and pulls her in. She sighs, and seems to understand. "You just got back."

"I thought I lost you." He admits, pulling back. "I at least thought we weren't going to be together." It's a hard thing for him to say out loud, but she just pulls him in for a kiss.

"James," She whispers as they pull apart, and he feels like no one has called him that in so long. She is the only one who is allowed to, the only one who won't get their throat ripped out for even thinking of uttering his real name. "There is nothing you could do to keep me away." She kisses him softly again, and he tries not to let the tears fall.

"I love you." He tells her, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you too." She responds, giving one last peck before pulling back. "Now, I'm sure a lot has changed, so how about I catch you up on the last fifty years as we take a walk." She grabs his hand, and Logan swears he's never been happier.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler

[mrskokushibo]

Warnings: Smut. Sex. NSFW. MDNI. Gay sex (male).

Plot: Gojo x Geto. Bc....why not..

Masterlist

His eyes are half open, completely fogged up from the pleasure. His mouth elicits loud, lewd moans. With his body drawing all its attention and resources to his huge, erect cock, his brain is literally mush, only focus is on receiving as much fucking pleasure as he possibly can. He is the love of your life. The most amazing man you have ever met and every intense sexual interaction lets you both forget about the brutal and unforgiving world outside.

The passionate sex you engage in on a daily basis lets you both almost transcend the boundaries of the material world. It was like this the very first time you ended up in bed together and it is still like this a couple of years in. Your bodies yearn for each other, almost a telepathic connection joining you both.

You lick his super sensitive red tip with the end of your tongue, swirling it around and lapping up the shiny little pearls of precum that keep seeping out in his pent-up arousal.

‘Fuuuck, y/n. You are going to make me blow in a moment.’ He groans out with a hitched voice.

‘Isn’t that the point? To make you cum? Because I want you to cum hard. Fucking hard.’

You pant a little, your breathing getting heavier as you press and rub your own hard-on into the mattress. You run your strong fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft and then wrap your hand around the full girth, squeezing the bouncy hardness and pumping as hard and fast as you can. You grit your teeth as the slightly rough action and what it does to him makes you so fucking insanely horny right now.

You add your mouth and suck the upper half of his delicious dick while working your hand in a tight grip. You see his eyes close, some inaudible drabble leaves his mouth and his head is tilted back. You sink your mouth onto him, gagging as his tip reaches down to your throat. He presses your head down and keeps you there for a few seconds and as you detach from his dick to catch some air, his abs contract, and he paints your face with copious amounts of his thick, white, and deliciously salty cum.

You pump him out until emptied and lick him clean, followed by your fingers swiping off the majority of the cum from your face and putting it in your mouth, little by little.

‘You are one hungry bitch, aren’t you? But I want a taste, too. Come here.’ Gojo says in a soft, teasing voice.

You roll the semen in your mouth and slide yourself on top of him, as he awaits you with his mouth open and an eagerly stretched-out tongue. You spit out his cum onto his tongue and he swallows it all and then pulls you into a wet, cum-flavoured tongue kiss.

‘Oh Satoru….You are such a slut. Turn around. I need that tight ass of yours.’

‘It’s all yours. I prepped myself so it is all clean and ready for your cock.’

With a mischievous look, licking his lips, he flops himself onto his belly and lies still, awaiting your next move. You reach for the bottle of lube, pour a generous amount between his ass cheeks, watching it dimple into his puckering hole. You spread his firm cheeks and put your mouth to it, licking and savoring the strawberry-flavoured eatable lube.

You love rimming him, your tongue entering through the sphincter and pulsing in and out making him spasm a little from the pleasure. As you add a finger and then two and increase the pace of penetration while alternating fingers and tongue, he is essentially whimpering making your hard-on painful from the will to fuck him hard.

‘I’m going in. Can’t fucking wait anymore.’

You position yourself at his hole and slowly, steadily begin to enter him. Both of you begin to shake a little, you from the intense friction of your girthy length passing through his tight opening and him from the intensifying stimulation of his prostate. He groans and whimpers as you bottom out, grasping onto the bedsheets with his large, strong hands. You stop for a moment, steadying yourself from coming in this very moment. You close your eyes and throw your head back, biting your lip in anticipation.

When you finally begin to move, you grit your teeth. That is how intense the pleasure is that you are experiencing. When you open your eyes again, you glance into the mirror. The sight of Satoru and you, two tall, muscular young men, fucking away like animals, a blonde and a brunette, makes you all hazy and weak at the knees.

You feel yourself twitch and harden to the point of pain, the blood flow to your dick draining any sane thought that might have been left in your brain, leaving you guided only by your primal instinct and craving for release. Your thrusts are getting faster and more vicious, the thwapping of flesh being the soundtrack to your feral treatment of your insanely hot lover.

You lean forward and place your large hand on the brawny V of his back, supporting your full body weight on him like that, you push your dick even deeper into him, causing Satoru to squeal in pleasure.

‘Do you like it when I fuck you hard…my love?’ You lean down and whisper into his ear with your deep voice.

‘Yes…oh fuck…just like that…go faster.’ He whimpers out.

‘As you wish, my love…’

You push yourself up again, your hand still firmly supported on his back and you increase your pace, sweat dripping down your long, black hair and onto his gloriously sculpted hunches. You get back to watching yourselves in the mirror, your bodies now glistening with the small pearling of sweat, your strong, toned muscles flexing in delicious ways, large arms, shoulders, long, sculpted legs intertwined behind you.

‘Fuck babe…you are so hot.’ You groan out as you keep thrusting into his ass.

‘All day, all I think of is this. I love you so much.’

You place a soft kiss in the middle of his back, such a stark contrast to what your hips are currently doing to him. You stroke his wispy hair with your free hand and then place another soft kiss on his head, your thick black hair, blending with his delicate bluish-white.

A moment later you can tell he is close by the way his back reacts to his abdomen muscles slowly contracting. A few jerky movements later he comes with a quiet groan, pumping himself into the mattress and making an utter mess with his sticky cum. He pants, catching his breath again, while you now allow yourself to go full steam on the way to your own climax.

‘Not long now…I am almost there…fuck…this is so intense.’ You mumble through gritted teeth.

Your thrusts are deep and harsh, pounding into him with the intensity of a jackhammer. Despite his recent climax, he is still moaning in renewed pleasure. One, two, three, and one more deep thrust and you have arrived, your abs spasming as you empty yourself inside him, with only a sharp exhale as the only sound accompanying your release.

You stay like this for a moment, supported on your stretched-out arms, breathing hard as if after a sprint and your long hair weighed down by the sweat of your intense efforts. You look down at him and smile, kissing his neck gently.

‘You are so beautiful like this.’ You speak softly to him.

He lets out a content sigh and you know he is smiling right now. You reach out for a towel, pull out of him slowly, and clean both of you up with delicate, slow movements. After you fold the towel and let it down on the floor, he rolls over onto his back and pulls you to him. The softness of your affection makes the hard world outside seem so distant for a moment. You close your eyes and nuzzle his nose with yours and then lean your forehead on his.

‘Promise me, my love, do not ever leave me, because you are my world.’

He whispers to you as he tilts his head and places a deep, passionate kiss on your sculpted mouth. After this, you sink into each other’s strong embrace, engulfed in the warmth of your love.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[im-yn-suckers]

soft moments with enhypen

pairing-bf ot7 enha x fem reader no pronouns are really used so ye

warnings- kissing, cuddling, midnight convenience store run, food, tired niki, sitting on jungwon and niki's lap, in a FLUFFY way, not proofread. ;-;

heeseung ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

he got home from work and saw that you were sleeping on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. the tv was still on an everything. he sat next to you for a little bit, kissed your head and got up to shower. once he got out of the shower, you were still asleep. he sat down, and scooped you into his arms. you woke up after a few minutes,

you two watched tv for hours while telling each other cheesy jokes and pick-up lines, with kisses in between. you two got hungry so you made your way over to the kitchen. you looked around with heeseung glues to your back. you decided on a snack of your choice and went back to the living room.

you two aim snacks into each others mouths and giving each other light peck when it made it into a mouth (?) he kissed you passionately and you two cuddled for at least another two hours.

jay ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you were laying on your stomach and jay was massaging your back. pressing kisses on your skin whenever he had the chance. once he was done, he pulled you onto his chest and started singing you to sleep. his voice was sweeter than honey and smoother than butter. (idk either, ok?)

you fell asleep and he started to tell you the things he loved about you. all with you unaware of what he was saying.

he kissed you head and straightened the hairs that were out of place on your head. he braided a small patch of hair on your head and undid it. he adored your features as you were asleep.

-''i love you, so much"- he whispered to you, still sound asleep, in his arms.

jake ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

it was mignight and the both of you were starving. not to mention, you guys were wide awake. you decided to drive to the convenience store in his car. before you went in, you said.

-"ill get the drinks, you get the snacks, got it?"-

he nodded in response, you two walked in and spilt up. you snagged the last of your favorite drinks and met up with jake in the snack aisle. he asked what you wanted but you guys ended up grabbing tons of stuff.

you payed and left to the car. (you put on your seatbelts ofc. click it before you ticket!) you popped open both of your drinks and handed jake his. but before that he did that one thing where he puts his hand on the back of your headrest. you blushed but he didnt notice.

you rushed home. watched a movie and cuddled all night.

sunghoon '•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

he took you on a date at the skating rink bc why not. he booked the entire skate rink for the two of you for 5 hours. everytime he sped up, you stumbled a bit, leaving a smile on his face. he would purposely speed up so you have an excuse to hold his hands.

-''slow down jagi''-

-''im not going that fast''-

-''you're going to fast for me, slow down a bit''-

-''ok, ok''-

he stops suddenly and you bump into him. you landed in his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. he kissed you, hands on your waist, your hands on his chest, slowly making their way around his neck. your cheeks turned a crimson red.

you two kept skating for another hour or so. once you got home, you cuddle and just watch tiktoks. maybe even do some. he kisses you in the middle of a tiktok you two are recording.

sunoo˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

skincare items were scattered all over the floor infront of you. you sat on the edge of the bathtub. sunoo kneeled between your legs, he began to pepper your face with kisses to ''prep'' it. he put your face mask on, and you put his on.

you two got hungry so you headed to the kitchen to make some dinner. you made some korean style spicy beef and rice. the timer for your face masks went off and you race over to take them off and put some serums on. you go back to cooking and make corny jokes.

the food is ready and you finish up your skincare. you ate and watched movies while cuddling.

jungwon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

eating dinner with many things to talk about. laughter filled the air along with the scent of food. you told him about a quiz you had the next week and being the comfort person he is, you studied for a bit with jungwon watching, attached to you. you watched movies while laying down on the couch. after an emotional rollercoaster from the movie, you got hungry again so you went to make ramen for the both of you. you slurped your noodles softly and jungwon watched.

he wanted to play video games and you wanted to be on your phone so, you two went to his bedroom. while he played videogames at his desk, you wanted his attention so you went and plopped yourself on his lap. he wasn't surprised, so he continued playing his game.

after a few minutes, you put your finger in his dimple because you were craving his attention.

-''do you need my attention love?''-

you only nodded in response. he turned off his game and out his stuff away. he goes to the bed with you and you cuddle until you two fall asleep quietly.

niki ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

you two were paying hide and seek because its fun. you find him while hes trying to find a new hiding spot. when he finds you, he picks you up and jumps as softly as possible. he kisses you deeply and after a while, you found yourself in his lap. he was laying against the couch while he played videogames on his switch. he occasionally craned his neck down to kiss the top of your head.

you were dozing off and niki was watching a movie on his phone when you woke up. you two had a tickle fight and niki won. all while you were dying of laughter.

after a while you went to the kitchen for water only to find niki half asleep on the table.

-''baby, go to sleep''-you said

-''no, i dont sleep without you. you know this''-

-''i know but-''-

-''no buts. im not going to sleep.''-

-''i'll be a few minutes ok, just go get ready for bed, ok?''- you pressed a kiss to his forehead with his arms lazily caressing your waist. he hummed in response and went to get ready for bed.

a few minutes later, you enter your shared room and plop on the bed. a few seconds later, niki plops down beside you.

-''thank you baby"- niki mumbled softly.

-''why? i should be the one thanking you for waiti-''-

you were cut off with his lips on yours. you fell asleep in his arms. your breaths seemed to sync with each other. your chests falling and rising at the same time.

the end

[unfixablebabyyy]

oml it took me so so long to finish this bc i basically had to rewrite every other sentence to make it work it was a struggle from start to finish so imma just post it so i can move on and stop rereading it 4000 times 😭

love u all sm ty for all the support i've been getting ❤️ hope u like it- just more of dennis being cringey and insane bc that's how we like him

tw: cnc, manipulation??? idk i mean i feel like this man comes w his own warnings so reader discretion

18+ minors DNI

1:00 AM on a Saturday.

I can feel the smirk on my face slip as I realize that what I just said to you isn't exactly landing like I thought it would. You frown and grab for your keys as my alcohol-soaked brain scrambles to salvage this.

"Hold on," but it's too late, you're already halfway out the door and there's a loud bang and I'm alone in the bar. The panic is paralyzing- I know I should run after you, apologize, perform some romantic gesture to reassure you that I'm just another dumb guy who says stupid shit so you'll forgive me for whatever the hell that was. Instead I stand there like an idiot, ten seconds away from ripping my hair out. It's too quiet and I'm so overwhelmed and there's still beer in my bottle that splashes out as I hurl it at the wall and it explodes into glass shrapnel.

"FUCK!"

If I could crawl out of my skin I would. I really feel like I'm going to have a heart attack but I'm sure as hell not lucky enough to drop dead right now. Why the fuck did I say that? I act so fucking weird around you- anyone else and I would be able to keep it together but you make me so nervous and sick it's pathetic. I clench my fists as my vision tunnels and I think I might be hyperventilating so I try to take a deep breath. And then I try again. And again. And then I snatch a bottle of whisky off of the bar and pour a hefty shot and slam it back. And then I do it again. And again. And my head is swimming. The shot glass hits the wall, too. I groan and run my fingers through my hair and think about how cooked I am. I'm going to fuck this up. Maybe I already have.

After a few minutes and a few more shots, I pull out my phone with shaky hands. It rings twice before sending me to your voicemail. So I call again. /Pick up/. Voicemail. Four rings. Voicemail. One ring. Voicemail. Voicemail. What the fuck? I slam my phone down on the counter and pull out the pack of Reds Charlie thinks he's hidden beneath the bar. I tap the pack hard against my palm, flip open the lid, and yank out a cigarette. My fingers fumble for the lighter he usually keeps next to the pack, and when they finally close around it, I bring it to my face- cigarette already between my lips- and strike the wheel. I take a long, hard, angry pull that puffs out almost a millisecond later. Another hard pull that burns my throat and lungs. Another. I almost cough and I'm so light headed I have to lean on the bar. I take a deep breath, put the cigarette to my lips, slowly breathe in, and close my eyes. I let the smoke roll in my lungs for a moment before releasing it through my nose. And I begin to think as I smoke.

You're probably just being a bitch, but what if your phone is dead? What if you're driving home and your phone just died and you can't find parking close enough to your apartment so you have to park a block away? I check my watch. What if some creep sees you and decides to follow you home? What if he puts his hands all over what's mine? What if he takes you away from me? The world is a dangerous place for a dumb little bunny like you, and the way you look tonight is just asking for it.

I'm out the door, in my car, and down the street so fast I remember to lock the bar three blocks away, and by then I'm already pushing 50mph so I don't turn around. I hope I put out my cigarette. Just a few more blocks and I'm at your place. I fly through stop signs- honestly, I barely see them. It starts to rain and I huff as I flip on the windshield wipers because I know it's going to fuck up my hair. Phil Collins pleads for one more night on the stereo. I'm not sure how I'm going to fix this. I hate myself. I don't know what I'll do if you leave me. I almost imagine you with someone else again, but even the suggestion makes me ill. That can't happen.

My recklessness has earned me five minutes off of the regular time it takes to get to your place, and when I roll up, I see your car right out front. Thank god. I park next to it, blocking the lane, but it's so late, no one is out. I throw on my hazards and jump out onto the sidewalk, where I make it to your door in a few long strides. I ring the buzzer about 50 times, and despite seeing the light on in your window, you don't answer, so I call your name. Nothing. Fine. Be that way. I head back to the Range, slamming the door too hard when I climb in. I roll down all of the windows- despite worrying about the interior in this shitty weather- and turn the volume on the radio all the way up. I have to take a breath and remind myself not to be too obnoxious, you wouldn't like that. So I pick a Donna Lewis CD and skip to "I Love You Always Forever". Perfect. The music echoes awkwardly down the empty street, haunting and ethereal mixed with the patter of the rain. A few dark windows here and there are suddenly illuminated, but no one comes to look. Including you. A dog barks in the unit below you, someone shouts. A window flies open and a disembodied voice yells, "Turn that shit off!" Uh oh, your neighbors aren't too happy, better come down and stop me before I embarrass you.

As the song picks up, more lights come on, and I'm not about to throw rocks at your window like a teenager so I call, "Hey, uh, I don't mean to be an asshole but it's fucking freezing out here, sweetheart."

And that's when I see your beautiful face appear in the window, softly lit by the warmth of your lamp. You look like an angel. The window is thrown open and you lean out.

"Are you fucking crazy? Turn that down," maybe a little. Crazy about you.

"I'm- I fucked up," goddamnit I drank way too much. If I was twenty years younger it might be cute, but I'm not sure this looks so good at my age. I turn the music down and you roll your eyes.

"You're fucked up or you fucked up?" You raise an eyebrow and something's got my tongue.

"Yeah."

"And you drove here like a lunatic. In the rain." Yes! See how much I care?

"I was worried about you."

"Oh, jeez thanks," you're so cute when you're mad, arms crossed over your chest, all huffy and defiant. I really didn't think you had it in you to act like such a brat, but I have to say, I like the idea of a challenge.

"You're welcome," I know that's going to make you angrier, but I chase it with a smile and you look away because it gives you butterflies.

"Call a cab, Dennis," you spit back.

"I'll call you a cab if it'll get you cunts to shut the fuck up!" a neighbor cuts in from somewhere above you, and I can see your skin flush all the way from here.

You sigh, "... I'll buzz you in," you whisper-shout, and then you're gone. God I love the people of this city. I turn the car into an alley and shut off the engine and pray I don't get towed as I jog up the sidewalk. A few seconds later, the old metal gate at your front door buzzes with the loud, low hum of outdated technology and the lock pops out of place. It takes me less than a minute to race up the stairs and down the hall to your door. I don't even have to knock- when you hear me panting down the hall, you open up and I'm met with a warm burst of pleasant smelling air as I stand before you.

"Hey."

"Hey," you look me up and down and I'm beginning to worry that you're actually going to send me home.

"I'm not that drunk," I wish I sounded convincing.

"Uh-huh," you step aside and wave a hand, "Whatever, come in, just take your shoes off."

I do as I'm told and close the door behind me and you walk over to the couch so you don't see me flip the lock, just in case. I can't believe you let me into your apartment. Just like that. I've never been in here with your consent. It smells so overwhelmingly like you when you're here in it with me. It was warm before- all those times I broke in- I mean popped in- to do my research- but your presence in it makes it feel like home. I could die here.

"Ok, give me your keys," you hold out your palm as I come over to sit next to you and I pull them out of my jacket pocket and they're in your little hand. I wish I could kiss you. I know you don't want to kiss me right now, which is fair, but I don't care. I want to wrap my arms around you and pin you to the cushions and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until you realize that you do want it- want me. You just look good enough to eat, so cute and comfortable in your domain. So vulnerable. I wish you would walk around my apartment in your panties. And you're definitely not wearing a bra under that...

"Is that my shirt?" It is. Without a doubt. You flush. The buttons are undone just above your cleavage and the skin there is rosy, too. And your nipples-

"Uh yeah, sorry. You can have it back, I'll wash it." Don't you dare. I scoot a little closer and take the bottom hem between my fingers, toying with the fabric.

"No, you look too cute in it," my heart jumps into my throat when you smile a little. "Look," it takes all of my restraint not to force you down and take your forgiveness, "Things got outta hand and..." I'm not good at this.

"Yeah... what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, I-... I've just had a lot on my mind." I can tell you're not buying it.

"Right," you pull back a little and the shirt slips from my grasp.

I cringe.

"I'm- listen, I barely remember what I said but I whatever it was, I didn't mean it."

"Right," god you're stubborn. I have to do something to disarm you, so I scoot even closer and invade your space and now we're so close our thighs are touching.

"Why don't we start over?" I ask, reaching up to cup your cheek, but you hesitate.

"Depends," you push my chest gently, but I don't budge- I don't even drop my hand- I won't let you do that to us.

"On what?" I'll play, whatever you want princess.

"Are you gonna apologize?" Except that. Not fair.

"I just did," I smile, but you shake your head and my hand falls to your lap.

"No, for real," you try to scoot back, but I snake my arm behind your back to hold you in place. Fuck, I hate this game. I really really hate this game.

"Fine," so you'll feel better, "I'm sorry you misunderstood my words."

You just roll your eyes and I knew I wasn't getting off that easy but I had to try because did I mention how much I fucking hate this game?

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry..." you're really backing me into a corner here. The longer I pause the more impatient you seem to be getting so I just suck it up and the words come out, "that I acted so..." Stop looking at me like that, "Look, I don't usually do this."

"Do what?"

I gesture between us, "This."

You raise an eyebrow, and when I don't immediately elaborate, you move to stand, and I grab your arm a little too quickly and rough and for a tiny fraction of a millisecond I see fear flicker in your eyes so now I have to cave.

"Feelings. I don't- they don't exactly come easily to me. Can we just fucking start over please?" I feel so exposed. You grin.

"Fine," you concede, and I sigh because the relief is overwhelming. It's all the consent I need. It makes you gasp how hard and fast I grab you.

"Oh, thank god," I'm not sure if I say that out loud or not. Sorry, I've simply lost my patience. I use my body to tip you back onto the seat of the couch and climb on top of you, pinning you down like I've been wanting to all night. Your body feels so good in my hands. You giggle a little and try to squirm away because you think this is part of the game, which is for the best, I can't have you knowing how close I am to traumatizing you every time I touch you.

"You gonna let me make it up to you, baby girl?" I don't wait for an answer, too caught up in the feeling of your throat against my mouth. Not that it even matters. Even if you said no, it wouldn't stop me from duct taping you to this couch. I've been dying to use that tight cunt all night- in fact, this is the longest I've gone with anyone without sealing the deal- and you've given me all the consent I need to not completely ruin your faith in me. I have to admit, though, it's getting harder and harder to care. All this foreplay- all hands and mouths and light touches over our clothes for weeks has driven me to the edge and if I don't fuck you soon I might commit a felony.

You moan a little when I slip my hand up your shirt (my shirt) and grope your bare breasts, and when I tug on one of your nipples, you yelp and try to wiggle away, but I've got you. I slide my knee between your thighs and you grind against me like a good girl, panties already wet. You'll let me do anything to you- even when I make you cry, you still let me violate you. I don't know if that makes you stupid or a whore or the best thing that has ever happened to me.

You drape your arms around me and your fingers curl around the back of my shirt. The feeling of your nails raking against my skin as you pull my shirt off only adds to my desperation, and when I rip off your panties and shove two fingers into your little hole, you cry out from the pain, so I slap my hand over your mouth and for a moment I feel like I've gone too far, but then your eyelids flutter. I take a breath, try to steady myself, but you feel so good wrapped about my fingers. I want to be inside of you- all of you. I want to taste your breath and hear your thoughts and feel your heartbeat with mine.

I should be gentle- I did just make you mad enough to ghost me- but I can't help myself. I just want to tie you up and cum to the smell of your fear as I bruise your cervix. You whimper as I curl my fingers against your walls and drag them out of you. When I slide them back in slowly, you're practically gushing. I take my other hand off of your mouth and you let out a soft breath that makes me shove my thumb between your lips, hooking it and holding you by the cheek.

"I oughtta slap this pretty face raw for ignoring my calls," I coo and you clench around my fingers and I can't help but smirk a little because you're just so pathetic it's adorable. I lean down close, releasing your cheek to press the pad of my thumb against your tongue, "Whadda ya think, princess?" I purr nice and low, and you close your eyes and moan as you suck on my thumb which makes a cute little pop as it's pulled from your mouth, followed sharply by the crack of my hand against your face. Your eyes go wide- and I'll admit, I didn't mean to hit you so hard- but your cunt pulses as my fingers continue to move in and out of you.

Your cheek is bright red, and when I hit you again, your eyes begin to water and you let out a sob. It feels so good to be in control again. Your hips buck into the palm of my hand, forcing my fingers deeper and you sob again. Your chest is rising and falling like a trapped animal's, and I imagine the heart pumping inside is just as hot and soft and slippery as this pussy but I have to stop thinking like that so I lean down and kiss you hard. You shove your tongue into my mouth which was a mistake because I instinctively bite down hard enough to taste the sweet, metallic tang of your blood, but you don't pull away, you just moan into my mouth. I think I moan into yours, too, but I'm too busy coming down from the head rush of you bleeding against my teeth. It scares me how much I like hurting you. Something deep inside of me stirs. I try to ignore it.

Your fingers are tugging down on the waistband of my jeans and when I realize what you're doing, I sit up and use my free hand to finish taking them off, along with my boxers. The whole time, you're watching the fingers I have still pushed inside of you- three now- your lip between your teeth.

"You like that?" it takes your foggy little brain a moment to hear my words, and when it does, all you can do is look up at me and nod. You gasp as I pull my fingers out of you, but I have your attention again the moment I say, "Then taste."

I bring my hand up to your face and you open wide like a good little girl, taking my cunt-drenched fingers into your mouth. Your eyelashes flutter as you taste yourself. I push my fingers in further and further and further until your wiggling uncomfortably against the cushions, gagging on me. I take the opportunity to line myself up against your hole, and when you feel the head of my cock slowly begin to plug it, your eyes roll back and you moan against my fingers.

"Good girl," I whisper and grunt as I bottom out, my tip brushing your cervix. You feel so good wrapped around me it takes my breath away. You're so warm and soft and so so tight since I didn't give you any time to adjust. I take my fingers from your mouth and you suck in the sweet air I'd been depriving you of.

But your reprieve is short lived and the first few hard thrusts of my hips against yours have you gasping, face twisted in pain as I brutally fuck you. Your back arches up from the cushions, and I wrap my arm around your waist for more leverage as I pound into you. Your fingernails undoubtedly leave deep red lines on my skin as they rake across my back and down my arms and I shiver so hard I lose my pace. You wrap your legs around my waist and just as I'm bringing my hips back to meet yours, you grind into me and it makes my arms weak and I groan into your neck. You smell like your soap and alcohol and perfume and me. You haven't washed this shirt since you wore it home.

I slam my hips into you and you let out the sweetest sound- like a fawn caught in the jaws of a wolf. You're driving me crazy with how quickly you went from a raging cunt to this pitiful, wet little mess, all because I refused to let you behave like a brat. Because you're mine. Allowing me into your space, wearing my shirt, being so ready and willing to take me after I tore you apart. You pretend to be independent but the fact is you just want to be owned.

"I swear to god if you ever walk away from me again, I'll put a fucking leash on you," I hiss into your ear and you whine, "Say, 'Yes Daddy.'"

"Yes Daddy," there isn't even a hint of hesitation. You're so desperate to please me. You whimper as I graze my teeth along your neck and it's so pathetic I almost cum inside of you- I would if I didn't think it would get me into trouble. I'm not wearing a condom. I rut into you and I'm beginning to slip and I just can't get deep enough inside of you. It's throwing me into a sort of frenzy and I can't stop, even when you scrunch up that pretty little face and your breath hitches and you try to readjust. I'm so much stronger than you, and it's just so easy to pin you down and carve into you.

"Shhh, I know baby, I need it," the words tumble from my lips- fast and breathy- out of my control as my brain begins to melt and I feel my orgasm building in my base, "My sweet girl. I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

A tear squeezes out of your clenched eyes and rolls down your face and I can't stop myself from licking it off of your temple just to taste what's inside of you again. Your eyelids flutter and I can see your eyes rolled back in that pretty skull. I wish I could see your brain- know what you're thinking- live inside of you- control you.

You inhale sharply as your body tenses up and I swear I can feel your walls clench around me and suddenly you're so much wetter and I remember the taste of your blood in my mouth and- thank god- I pull out and cum against your asshole and you're sucking in air and your cheeks are so pink and I can barely breathe and when you open your eyes and look at me I feel dizzy because you're not scared or angry or hurt that it was the first time we had sex and I lost control... You're smiling at me.

You hum and tilt your head back as I stand from the couch, reach for my boxers that landed on the coffee table, and pull them on. You drape a leg over the side of the couch and I can't take my eyes off of the mess I've made between your thighs and I'm overcome by the urge to push it all inside of you- to bury my cum-covered fingers so deep into you that I knock you up anyway and then you can't leave me. Ever. A judge would make sure of that.

Instead, I make my way to your bathroom for a clean towel that I make warm with water from the faucet. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wring out the towel and I hate the way I can see every single pore in the fluorescent light. I make a note to come back at some point when you're away to change the bulb.

[munstysmind]

WARNING/S: non-con, rape, loss of virginity, rough sex, rough vaginal sex, rough oral sex, rough anal sex, unprotected sex, multiple men, blood, assault, abuse, slavery, trauma, threats of forced prostitution, mentions of kidnapping/abduction, mentions of death, mentions or murder, mentions of injuries, mentions of suicide. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT

THIS IS A DARK FIC, DO NOT READ IF THIS TYPE OF CONTENT TRIGGERS OR OFFENDS YOU.

You and you alone are responsible for what you choose to consume online.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Thank you to @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure for being my ideas gremlin, and @themaradwrites for beta-ing. This wouldn’t have been written without your help.

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CH. 1 - THEIR REWARD

{54 BC}

Her heart pounds in her chest as she slowly walks down the hall towards the man she despises more than anything in this world.

Dominus Julius Fabius. Her owner. Her master.

She wishes she could stick him in the neck with a dagger and watch him bleed to death, just like all the men he condemns when he forces them into the arena.

He’s pure evil.

The kind of evil Orcus uses to make an example of. The God of punishment and the Underworld is going to have fun with her master when he passes into the afterlife.

She’s lost count of how long it’s been. Five years? Probably more, if she’s being honest with herself. She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.

Except her name.

Amina.

To everyone around her, she’s a thing. An object meant to do as she’s told. No exceptions.

She runs her finger along the cold iron bolted around her neck, her slave collar.

Thirty coins. That’s what he paid for her. She didn’t know you could put a price on someone’s life but that’s what hers was worth, thirty whole coins.

“There you are girl” he growls as he grabs her wrist tightly and drags her towards a door at the end of the hall “I’m in a right mind to give you a lashing for making me wait”

“I’m sorry, they… they wanted to make sure everything was perfect” she mumbles, keeping her eyes on the floor to help hide her tears as she recalls the looks of pity on the faces of the women who got her ready.

She knows they know what her Master’s plans are, and she suspects the reason they took so long was to keep her from her fate for as long as they possibly could.

“I don’t care. Those fighters in there won me a lot of denarii today. You’re going to let them do whatever they want to you. All. Night” her master tells her, getting so close to her she can feel his warm, vile breath across her face.

“I… I’ve never…” she stammers, her eyes going wide as she realises what he’s saying.

“I know. I know you’ve never laid with a man before, they checked you when I brought you. That’s why I chose you” he says, a smirk spreading across his face. “Maybe I should put you in the Lupanar and whore you out after they’ve broken you in. Gods know you’d make me a fortune”

It takes everything in her not to turn and run as fast as she can as she swallows down the bile rising in her throat.

It would be pointless though, there’s guards everywhere. She wouldn’t make it to the end of the hall before they caught her. She’d be guaranteed a lashing too, a public one at that. Just like Vesta.

“I mean it girl. You’re theirs tonight. I don’t care if it hurts… in fact, I want it to. A lot” he whispers, pulling out a small dagger and cutting one of the shoulders of her dress, exposing her breast.

He runs the dagger tip over her nipple, pressing it into the sensitive bud until it breaks the skin, making her let out a small whimper of pain.

“If you resist, or put up a fight, you’ll be punished, and it’ll be much worse than what they’re going to do” he growls before pushing her into the room.

She can’t help but flinch as the large wooden door is slammed in her face, the echo of the metal latch being closed ringing in her ears.

She just stands there, staring at it as she takes shuddery breaths.

She knows what’s about to happen. What she’s about to go through. And there’s nothing she can do about it.

She’s trapped.

Locked in a room with three blood covered fighters.

Their reward for winning their master 5000 coin.

She’s their prize.

“Turn around” a deep voice commands, making her jump.

She closes her eyes, praying to the Gods that she wakes up from this nightmare as she slowly turns around.

She sees the man the voice belongs to and her breath catches in her throat as she fights back tears.

He’s the one who killed her brother.

Champion gladiator August.

“Name” he growls, slowly approaching her with a look similar to the lions in the arena before they attack.

“Am… Amina” she stammers, stumbling back against the door as he towers over her.

She can smell death on him. The twang of iron, of blood. Was it her brothers?

Her stomach churns at the thought and she wants to be sick.

“Amina” he repeats “honest, faithful. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

Under any other circumstance she might have smiled and thanked him for his compliment, just like she was taught, but not this time. She just can’t.

“I like to know their names before I take what I want” he tells her with a smirk.

He remembers them, every name. All the women he’s taken this way. Amina’s the latest entry on his ever growing list.

He grabs her dress and tears it off her body, letting the fabric crumple to the floor.

She instinctively tries to cover herself, but he stops her, prying her hands away from her body before grasping her breasts and squeezing.

A grin spreads across his face as he continues to grope her, pinching and rolling her nipples tightly between his fingers, making her whimper in pain.

The noise makes him let out a low growl from deep in his chest and his eyes go dark, almost black.

Before she can fully register what’s happening, he grabs her by the back of her neck and yanks her towards the small table on the other side of the room, forcing her onto her back.

He takes her legs behind the knees and pushes them open, exposing her to not only him, but the other two men in the room who are now standing behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Her stomach churns as she stares at the ceiling, her face burning with embarrassment as she tries to think of anything to distract her from the way he’s inspecting her.

She bites back a whimper as he touches her, his fingers playing with her most intimate area before spreading it open.

He lets out a satisfied hum, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees she’s intact, just like their Master promised.

“I’ve never had a pure one before” he says, to no one in particular as he pinches the small bundle of nerves above her opening, making her gasp loudly.

“They’re my favourite. Oh, the noises they make” one of the other men says excitedly, much to August’s annoyance.

“She’s mine, Lloyd” he growls, glaring at the man before turning his attention back to her, really looking at her for the first time since she entered the room.

And as much as she tries to look away, to look anywhere but the face of the man that’s about to brutalise her, she can't. Her green, terror filled eyes just stare at him, transfixed.

He’s seen her eyes, and that look, before. He knows he has. There’s something so familiar about them and it takes him a minute to place it. The man he killed in the arena a mere hours before. Her brother.

“You’ve got his eyes” he tells her before turning his gaze back between her legs.

She’s so caught up in the flood of emotions at what he just said that she doesn’t notice his finger pushing into her until it’s too late.

She lets out a loud yelp at the sudden pain between her legs, her body instinctively trying to close her legs and move away from the beast of a man in front of her.

He lets out an angry growl and yanks her up by her arm, turning her around and bending her over the table with so much force all the air leaves her lungs when her chest makes contact with the wooden surface.

“Don’t move” he growls, kicking her legs apart with his feet.

She grips the edge of the table, so tightly her fingers hurt, as tears well in her eyes. She prays the talk of his stamina is wrong, that it will be over quickly.

But it won’t.

When he’s done with her, there’s two more waiting.

And they have her all night…

The sound of his armour dropping onto the ground behind her makes her heart pound.

It’s happening.

Right now.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying her best to relax when she feels him prod at her again, but it doesn’t matter.

He snaps his hips forward and tears into her with force, pulling a scream of pain from her that makes him grin.

In all the beatings she’s gotten over the years, she’s never felt pain like this.

It’s like a searing hot poker being forced into her over and over as she’s split in two.

The tears in her eyes escape and spill onto the table as he thrusts into her, over and over and over again. It feels like the more she cries, the harder his thrusts become.

“Best one I’ve had yet” he grunts as he lays over her, pressing her against the table with his full body weight, and starts grinding into her, moaning loudly in her ear.

He’s enjoying this, getting pleasure out of hurting her. How can he not? He’s a sadistic bastard!

Little does she know she’s not the first woman he’s forced himself into. It’s the whole reason he’s stuck fighting in that gods forsaken arena in the first place. And unless he dies there, she won’t be the last.

“You’re mine now, gonna take you like this whenever I want” he pants, making her let out a loud sob at the thought of him doing this to her over and over.

It all becomes too much and her stomach churns as bile rises in her throat, burning it as she chokes and coughs it up.

His moans start becoming louder as he ruts into her hard, his hips slamming her body into the table over and over and over.

“Oh Gods!” he roars, moaning loudly as his hips stutter then still before he thrusts into her as hard as he can, filling her with a strange warmth.

He says something to her, but she doesn’t hear a word of it, unable to hear anything except the loud ringing in her ears.

She lets out a loud whimper as he pulls out of her before kneeling and pushing her legs wider, smirking at the blood mixed with his spend dripping out of her.

He catches some with his fingers and pushes them inside her, forcing it back into her as she lies on the table, her entire body shaking and twitching from shock as she takes shallow, gasping breaths.

“My turn” the second of the men says, all but pushing August out of the way before grasping her by her hair and pulling her to her feet, making her cry out.

He pushes her to her knees, making quick work of removing his armour as she glances behind him at August drinking wine from a goblet and sees the size of him for the first time, enough to make Priapus himself blush.

She looks back at the second man, terror spreading through her yet again as she comes face to face with his member.

She can’t tell if he’s bigger, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to defile her the same way August did without a care for her.

He hooks his finger into her mouth and forces it open before pushing himself in until she starts to gag.

He holds onto the sides of her head and starts thrusting, hitting the back of her throat with each snap of his hips.

A smirk spreads across his face as he moves one of his hands to the back of her head and forces her down onto him, deep throating her.

He holds her there, moaning at the feeling of the muscles in her throat squeezing him as she chokes.

“We can’t kill her, Lloyd” August warns as she starts scratching at his legs, trying desperately to get air.

He lets out a growl as he pulls himself out of her mouth and slaps her hard across the face before grabbing it and pulling her to her feet.

“You’re going to pay for that” he hisses, manhandling her onto the small bed in the corner of the room.

He climbs on after her, roughly pulling her hips up and slamming into her from behind.

“Gods, I’ve not taken a woman this good in years” he moans, throwing his head back and gripping her hips tightly as he thrusts hard, spurred on by her cries.

“I wonder if her other hole’s just as good?” August says with a smirk, leaning against the table he just had her bent over.

“Let’s find out” Lloyd replies, spitting on her ass. He pulls out and lines himself up with her tiny puckered hole before pushing himself into her, moaning loudly at the muscles squeezing him tightly in an attempt to force him out.

She lets out a shriek of pain, her body going rigid as she tries, and fails, to get away from the man violating her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

He lets out an evil laugh and pushes her face into the bed as he starts thrusting, going out of his way to hurt her as much as he can.

The noises leaving him as he uses her body for his pleasure are burned into her mind as she prays to the Gods to take her and put an end to the indescribable pain coursing through her body.

He looks down at where he’s thrusting in and out of her and smirks proudly at the sight of blood.

“It’s even better” he grunts to August, gripping her hips so tightly his nails break her skin.

“I’ll have to try it next” August says, slowly stroking himself as he watches Lloyd pound into the woman at their mercy over and over again, moaning to himself at the sound of her cries.

Lloyd lifts her hips higher, thrusting as hard as he can into her at the new angle, turning her cries into screams with every snap of his hip.

He lets out a long moan, throwing his head back as he cums hard, filling her with the same strange warmth August did.

“Gods, I’m doing that again” he pants as he slowly pulls himself out of her bloody back passage before slapping her ass, making her yelp as she collapses into the bed.

“You’ll get your chance. It’s your turn, Nick” August says, getting the attention of the third man standing on the other side of the room.

Until now, he’s not paid much attention to the events happening in the small room, trying to drown out her cries and think of anything other than what he wants to do to her.

It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t care. He wants her. And it’s his turn to take her.

He slowly walks towards her, removing his armour as he does before gently turning her over and climbing into the bed.

“No more… please” she begs quietly as he spreads her legs with his knees and settles between them.

Asking for mercy is useless, she knows that. All she is to them is an object to seek pleasure from, to defile.

The only thing she can do is close her eyes and brace herself for the pain as he slowly pushes in, a long moan leaving him as he fills her.

But when he starts to move, the pain doesn't come.

She opens her eyes and stares at him, confused, and scared, by what she's feeling.

Why doesn’t it hurt?

Why is it so different?

Why does it feel… nice?

“Gods” she gasps, her eyes fluttering shut as he starts to speed up, letting out a moan that drowns out the one that slips past her lips.

She has no idea what he’s doing differently to August and Lloyd but she prays he keeps doing it because it feels good, amazing even.

Her mind races as she tries to understand what’s happening. Why does she feel bad, so embarrassed and ashamed, when what’s happening right now feels so good?

He moves his hips faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he gropes one of her breasts before pinching her nipple hard, pulling another moan from her.

He slowly glides his hand up her chest to around her neck, squeezing the sides. The sudden restriction of air makes her panic and start clawing at his hands, making him squeeze even more.

Her eyes roll back as a weird pressure builds between her legs, making whatever he’s doing to her feel even better.

It suddenly breaks, making her moan loudly as a pleasant burning sensation washes over her, before everything goes black…

VENERIS FILIA TAG LIST: @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @aussieez @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @sillyrabbit81 @juliaorplI78 @kingliam2019 @thebejeweledwatercat @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @therockandaroll

[reijisteacup]

A sequel to the pov yandere Azusa stalking fic bc it felt open ended with a clif hanger tbh 😊 and I want to know what happens next

Of course, didn't mean to leave you on a cliffy! <3

TW: (darker themes ahead; mentions of stalking, twisted love, and murder)

============================================================================================

When the knock came, it was soft.

One.

Two.

Three.

Like someone trying not to wake her. Her blood went cold. She stood slowly, heartbeat stuttering in her ears. She reached for the lamp—anything to defend herself—but her hands wouldn’t close properly around the ceramic. The knock came again. Then silence. Ichigo moved to the door, slow and shaking. She pressed her eye to the peephole. Empty hallway. No one there. She backed away, heart pounding. Until she turned. And found him. Standing in the middle of the room like he had always belonged there. "Ichigo..." Azusa’s voice was barely above a whisper, like someone remembering how to speak. His coat was damp. There was dirt on his sleeves, like he’d crawled out of the earth itself. Ichigo froze. Her breath caught in her throat. “How—” she choked. “How did you get in—?” "I watched," he said softly, tilting his head. “Waited… until the door clicked. You forgot to check it twice.” He took a step forward. She took two back. "Don’t—don’t come closer.” He paused, almost obedient. Then smiled. “I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I didn’t want to scare you.” “You’ve been scaring me!” Azusa blinked slowly. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “That… wasn’t the plan.” “What is the plan, Azusa? Huh? Stalk me? Send pictures? Hurt people?!” He looked down, almost ashamed. Almost. “They… touched you. Or wanted to. I fixed it.” “You think this is love?” His eyes flicked up. “It is,” he said, voice trembling like a prayer. “Because I didn’t kill you.” The silence that followed was crushing. Ichigo’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Azusa took another step forward. She didn’t move this time. “Ichi…go…” he said gently. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever loved… right.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He knelt—knelt—like a knight before a queen and held it out to her. She didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to know. Still, she asked. “…What is that?” "A piece of me," he whispered. “So, you never forget who you belong to.” She stepped back again. “I don’t belong to anyone.” He tilted his head. “That’s not true. You belonged to yourself. Until you broke. Until they ruined you.” He stood slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “But now… you belong to me. And I’ll never let you break again.” He reached out—not fast. Not violently. Just a trembling hand, like he was offering her a second chance. “…Let me protect you. Let me keep you.” Ichigo stared at him. Really stared. And for a moment—just a moment—she didn’t see a monster. She saw a boy. Shattered. Forgotten. Rotten inside from the loneliness. And still—still—she said,

“No.”

Azusa froze. Then smiled, soft and sad. “Then I guess… I’ll have to wait. Until you say yes.” He turned, quiet as snowfall, and walked back to the door. He didn’t need to slam it. She knew he can get in whenever he wanted

=============================================================================================

Ichigo didn’t sleep after Azusa left. She sat on the bed, numb, still holding the cloth bundle he’d handed her. She hadn’t opened it. Not yet. But she could feel the shape through the fabric—smooth, cool metal. Something sharp. Something real. Like all of this. Like him. She should’ve run again. Should’ve packed what little she had and vanished into the next town. But instead, she stayed. Maybe because part of her knew it wouldn’t matter. He’d find her. He always found her. So, she did the only thing she could. She waited. Three days passed. On the fourth, she felt him before she saw him. A quiet scrape at the window. A shadow that lingered half a second too long. And then, the soft knock.

One.

Two.

Three.

Just like before. She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. But the doorknob turned anyway. Azusa stepped inside without a sound. He looked different this time. Cleaner. Hair brushed, sleeves rolled, a small cut on his neck where he’d probably scratched too hard. But his eyes were the same—shattered glass, rimmed in devotion. He held a bag in his hand. “I brought food,” he whispered, setting it on the table. “You forgot to eat yesterday. And the day before.” Ichigo stayed seated on the bed. Still. Watching him like a cornered animal. “I don’t want it,” she said, though her stomach ached with hunger. Azusa nodded. “That’s okay… I’ll eat with you. So, it doesn’t feel lonely.” He sat on the floor, cross-legged, opening the bag with careful fingers. There were two rice balls, a miso soup container, and a small box of strawberries. Her favorite. He placed the box gently on the nightstand beside her. “You don’t have to talk,” he murmured. “Just… stay.” Ichigo’s throat tightened. Her eyes flicked to the strawberries. Bright red. Fresh. Her hand moved before she could stop it. One strawberry. Just one. She bit into it, slowly, and kept her gaze on him. Azusa exhaled—shaky, soft, like it was the first real breath he’d taken in days. “You’re eating,” he whispered. Ichigo looked away. “Don’t read into it,” she said flatly. “I’m starving. That’s all.” Azusa nodded, but his hands were trembling. His mouth quivered into something between a smile and a sob. “I don’t... need a reason,” he whispered. “Just… let me stay.” She should’ve told him to leave. She should’ve. Instead, she asked, “…Do you always watch me?” Azusa tilted his head, surprised. “Yes.” “So, you saw me… before. Even when I didn’t know.” “Yes,” he said again, softer this time. “You were beautiful. But no one looked at you right. Not like I do.” She didn’t correct him. Not this time. Instead, she asked, “Did you hurt anyone else?” A long pause. “Only the ones who needed it.” Ichigo felt her stomach twist—but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t scream. Instead, she nodded once. “…Okay.” Azusa froze. His eyes widened—like he didn’t dare believe what he heard. “O…kay?” Ichigo swallowed hard. She was cold all over, and her mouth felt like ash. But she forced the words out anyway, “If I don’t run… if I stay… will you stop hurting people?” Azusa stared at her. And smiled. It was small. Innocent. Terrifying. “For you,” he whispered, crawling closer until his knees touched the edge of the bed, “I’ll be good.” Ichigo reached for another strawberry, her hands shaking.

===============================================================================================

Ichigo hadn’t meant to let him stay. But he did. And somewhere between that night and the next, he became a constant. Azusa never slept in the bed. Just the floor beside her, curled like a shadow—quiet, reverent, dangerous. He never touched her unless she touched him first. He kept his distance. But his presence wrapped around her like a second skin. And at some point, that skin felt… warm. Protective. Safe. He brought her food every day. Memorized what she liked. Cut the crust off her sandwiches without being asked. Always placed the strawberries in a neat row, like he was offering her little hearts. One night, she woke to find him humming. Low. Off-key. Sitting beside her bed, patching up a tear in her sweater. He hadn’t noticed her staring. Not until she whispered, “That’s my favorite one.” Azusa looked up, startled. “I didn’t want it to… unravel.” She blinked slowly. Neither did she. They started talking more. Small things. Memories. Scars. He told her about being alone. About hearing voices that weren’t his. About knives that made him feel real. She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t pity him. She listened. When she finally reached out—gently, hesitantly—and touched the back of his hand, Azusa went still. Like a creature unsure if it was being loved or hunted. “You’re always cold,” she murmured. “I… don’t mind,” he said softly, not daring to move. Ichigo slid her fingers between his, resting her head against his shoulder. Azusa exhaled a broken, fragile breath—like his soul had been waiting for that exact moment to collapse. Weeks passed. The photos stopped. No more bloodstained envelopes. No new bodies in the papers. He was keeping his promise. He was being good. Because of her. And it terrified her how that made her feel. Then came the night he didn’t show up. No knock. No whisper of his coat brushing the frame. Ichigo waited. Sat up until dawn. Hands clenched in the sheets. By the time the sun rose, she was pacing the room. Checking the hallway. The street. Her pulse wouldn’t stop racing. She wasn’t afraid of what he’d do. She was afraid of what had been done to him. That night, the knock finally came. When she opened the door, Azusa stood there—blood at the corner of his mouth, his eyes unfocused, his hands twitching at his sides. “I was good,” he rasped. “I was. But they—he grabbed me. He said your name. I—I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” Ichigo pulled him inside without a word. Wiped the blood from his mouth with shaking fingers. “You’re hurt,” she whispered. “Ichi…go…” His voice cracked. “I tried. I swear. I tried.” She pressed her forehead to his, her hands cupping his jaw. “I know.” “You’re not mad?” “No,” she said, almost too quietly. “I’m not mad.” Because she realized something then. She didn’t want him to be normal. She didn’t want him to stop being who he was. She just wanted him to be hers. And in his brokenness, he already was. Azusa’s voice trembled. “You’ll stay… right?” She kissed his cheek. And for the first time, meant it.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Twenty Four: Alone Together

Mentions of: NSFW/Sexual Content, P in V, Oral sex, and slight drug use

A/N: Trying to post this for the fifth time today bcs tumblr fucking sucks. Enjoy!!

Tags: @vandeaad @prettycutebunny @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya

You watched as your handsome companion paced around your room nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I came here. I just- I can’t stop thinking and I can’t sleep and-”

“Leon, it’s fine. Here, sit down and relax.” You told him. You would offer him another form of relaxation, but it’s the illegal kind and he kind of was a cop…so you’re not sure if he’d approve. You stuck to words of reassurance instead. “You know you can tell me anything right? We’re friends.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking…about you. I can’t get you off my mind, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was saying. oh. Oh.

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s been killing me. I just had to tell you. I want you, _______.” You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something. All you knew was that you wanted this too, more than anything.

So, you leaned in and kissed him. You kissed him hard, feeling the lust and want thrumming through your body, your heart racing. He kissed you back, slightly surprised by your actions, but reciprocating nonetheless. His lips were so soft against yours, keeping up with your quick pace.

You hadn’t done anything like this in a long time…even before you wound up here. You were far too busy with taking care of your sister, working constantly to make it by. Most of your sexual experiences had been average at best, but you had a good feeling about this one. Especially with how you could feel the butterflies and fireworks going off in your stomach as the kiss deepened.

You straddled him, pushing him back against the bed. You began to kiss down his neck, sucking hickeys into it, and nibbling occasionally. He groaned when you sucked on a sensitive spot, making him buck his hips against your lower back. You smirked as you felt his hardness pressing against you, repeating the action a couple of times.

“Wait, y-you’re sure you want this? You’re sure that I’m- that we’re not moving too fast?” He asked, slightly apprehensive as you began to unbuckle his belt.

“Yeah, You want this and I want it too. Nothing wrong with that. We’re just two adults who want to have a good time.” You pulled his pants down slightly, eyeing the bulge in his boxers. You stroked him through the material, before running your thumb over a damp patch where some precum started to leak through.

“Don’t you want to feel good?” You cooed, pressing a kiss to his earlobe.

“Yes- yes. I do. Please just- touch me.” His head fell to the side as he begged. You smirked at him, reaching inside and stroking his cock, making him moan.

You pulled away from him, moving down and positioning yourself between his legs. You wiggled his pants and boxers further down, smirking up at him. His cheeks went bright pink. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I want to, so I’m doing it.” You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his tip. He had a pretty cock, larger than average, not too thick and not too long, with a throbbing pink tip. You opened your mouth and loosened your jaw, slowly working yourself down him.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned as you began to bob your head on him. You moved his free hand to the back of your head, letting him run his fingers through your hair and guide you.

Despite his hand in your hair, you went at your own pace, going a little faster just to watch him struggle. He gripped your hair hard, but not hard enough to be painful, his eyes rolling while he moaned. “God, You’re so good.”

He was a pretty sight, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his face all flushed and sweaty, and pink lips parted. His chest heaved and his were thighs spread wide open, jerking in sensitivity.

“W-wait-” He moaned as you went faster, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth. You made sure to keep eye contact as you watched him finish, committing the sight to memory.

You swallowed around him, letting him finish down your throat. Then, you pulled away with a parting kiss to his tip, making him jolt with overstimulation. “Jesus- that was- that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Smirking, you leaned up and kissed him, brushing the hair out of his face, and letting him taste himself on your tongue. You pulled away. “Trust me, we’re just getting started.”

You removed your clothes and helped get rid of the rest of his. He kissed you, reaching down to caress your cunt. He ran two fingers over your slit, groaning at how soaked you were.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your lips, before kissing your neck gently. He rubbed slow gentle circles on your clit, and you couldn’t help but melt in his grip.

He pressed one finger in, and then two, slowly working you open. You gasped when he rubbed against that spongy spot inside, your eyes fluttering. This was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

You whined when he pulled his fingers out, your cunt clenching around nothing, needing to be filled. “I’m sorry- I just- I have to be inside.”

You nodded rapidly and straddled him, letting him slowly push his hips up and inside. The stretch burned just a little, before it became nothing but bliss. Once you were fully adjusted, you moved first, planting your hands on his chest and slowly rocking yourself.

Your nose brushed against his as you kissed him again, gazing down at him and watching his body. It looked like something carved out of a statue. His lean and muscular body and abs tensing with every roll of your hips.

He pushed his hips against yours, letting his cock brush against your G-spot, hitting it every single time. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulders. It had been so long since you felt this good. Since the euphoria took over your senses and left you to just think about this.

“Fuck, Leon. Just like that.” You moaned breathlessly. He held your waist, his hips moving in unison with yours.

You were bouncing even faster against him now, and you let him lean in and wrap his mouth around one of your nipples. You arched your back, letting your eyes flutter as you moaned louder.

You had forgotten how good this felt. How good it could be. You should’ve done this a long time ago.

He rubbed at your clit and pushed into you harder, managing to get you to come first. He whined at the feeling of you pulsing around him before he finished quickly after, pulling out and climaxing on your stomach.

The two of you lay there in an exhausted heap, panting softly. You smiled over at him. “You feel better now?”

“Yeah..I do..”

It wasn’t long until he left, he had to go to a trial. You didn’t mind him going. To be honest, you weren’t sure how you felt about having him stay the night. He got dressed and walked over to you, kissing you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.” Once he left, you lit a cigarette. You took a few deep drags, slipping under the blankets and melting into the mattress, satisfied, exhausted, and alone…or so you thought.

[14th-century-verona-queer]

Sokka Headcannons

pt 2!

As always i remind you all that I’ve not watched atla in genuine years, please correct me for any wrong information

On to the hc’s!

he’s secretly a VERY good singer. Kya used to teach him how to sing when he was younger in order to do simple prayers and rituals asking the spirits to keep Hakoda safe and bring back a successful hunt. Sokka would sit next to her, looking up starry-eyed at the beautiful melodies that would come out of his mothers’ mouth. He would spend all day practicing, humming the tunes to himself, trying to get them perfect, and at night would run up to his mother with a hushed “look look mom! Listen to this!” And sing it right, note for note. And she would smile and say “very good, sokka. You might even be better than me some day!” And sokka would always grin at the thought of finally, I did something right! And now mom’s proud of me. After Kya’s death, he spent months without singing. He would train all day and almost all night to try to be better, be faster, be stronger. One day after he finished his night training, he heard Katara wake up and screaming from a nightmare. He pulled Katara onto his bed, lay her head on his lap, and stroked her hair while he sang softly to her. Kya’s lullabies one of the few things that he remembers about her, and it’s the only thing that would calm Katara down. He’s still sort of embarrassed about his singing voice, so no one but Katara knows how good of a singer he is until one day Zuko wakes up from a nightmare. He put’s Zuko’s head in his lap, just like he used to to Katara, and starts singing a low, haunting melody in his native language (more on that next), and Zuko looks at him suprised, but then slowly relaxes and falls asleep with a smile on his face. After that night Zuko begs over and over for Sokka to sing for him some more which is rare because Zuko isn’t usually very pushy. I guess he liked his singing. It’s mostly because of the look on Sokka’s face when he sings and how pretty he looks and how well he sings and wow hes just really pretty oh my god and it makes zuko lose his fucking mind. Eventually the rest of the Gaang finds out (after a very very long time), and sometimes certain words, (or even just randomly he’ll remember) will remind him of a song and he’ll just quietly hum or sing and everyone stops and stares for a second cause damn sokka thats rlly pretty youre acc rlly good

(Ive seen this headcannon that all the nations have their respective native languages, and then a universal language used for trade and all that, so this stems from that ) Sokka slips back into his native language a lot and switches between his native language and the universal language a lot (kinda like Spanglish lol). Bc of this everyone in the Gaang knows enough of the language to have a conversation (especially Suki and eventually Zuko because teaching people he dates his native language is just?? Rlly important to him? He wants to share everything about their culture and teach his partners about how see this word actually can’t be translated to Universal Language, but its really versatile and here’s the whole history of how this word was created. He really loves language and learning so he wants his partners to enjoy it too) he mostly slips back into the language out of force of habit, but also makes a conscious effort to speak it to make sure he doesn’t forget his culture and remind people that the water tribe’s aren’t savages, they have genuine spoken languages and converse like normal people. Whenever he and Katara are fighting they’ll fight very fast and unintelligiblyin their native tongue so everyone else is just kinda trying to figure out what they’re arguing about lol.

after everyone made fun of his art skills you know DAMN WELL he learned how to draw after that. Brother was up at DAWN learning the basic elements of art so he could show up with a Mona Lisa next time the Gaang got together and wipe the smirks off their faces (and ofc Zuko hung up every single one of his drawings, no matter how messy or fast or bad, in the palace)

HE BUILT A STATUE OF KATARA. SOMEWHERE. (I haven’t watched LOK but ik that there are statues of the Gaang around!) if there’s one thing that that man loves, its his sister. He will CONSTANTLY remind everyone. “UHM YEA, ALL YOU WOMEN TRAINING IN BATTLE IN THE NORTH POLE??? DONT FORGET WHO YOU OWE THAT TO. YEA. MY WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL AMAZING (but dont tell her i said that abt her) SISTER DID THAT. AND DONT YOU DICKWADS FORGET IT”

And yea, thats all i got for now lol

You can find part 1 here (cause its been a month since the first one): pt1