#and it fuckin shot them all to pieces

[portablechemist]

I'm gonna scream for a sec.

nine years

N I N E Y E A R S

NINE FUCKING YEARS TOGETHER and the ONLY thing you have to fucking say to me leaving you is "it's not fair you took both cats - I should get one of them."

???????

??!!?!??

first of all, I paid for both of them so they're both mine. second of all, fuck you. third, what the fuck is wrong with you??? fourth, we don't always get what we want, you absolute child. maybe if you'd stepped up and learned how to take care of cats instead of me doing it all or if you'd learned to read their body language so you didn't annoy them every time you touched them, I'd be more amenable. but at the same time, actually, fuck you. get your own cats if you're so goddamn heartbroken about it.

Motherfucker.

[snekdood]

idk who needs to hear this but growing native plants is not hard at all, at all

[moonyflesh]

What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,682

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language

A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.

And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.

Life fucking hated you.

Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.

The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!

Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.

Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.

Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.

You could not show up to the wedding alone.

Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?

You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?

Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.

“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.

“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.

Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.

Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.

“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.

Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!

“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.

“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.

You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!

“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.

You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.

“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”

“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”

“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”

“Yes.”

Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.

”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”

”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.

”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.

He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?

”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down

”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”

You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.

”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”

Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.

”Great, lucky me.”

Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”

“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”

“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.

”Well shit, that’s a first!”

”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”

”Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.

”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”

”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”

In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.

It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.

It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.

“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”

“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”

“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”

“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”

You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”

“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”

The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.

You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.

You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.

“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”

“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”

You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.

You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.

”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.

“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”

”Eh!?”

Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.

You owed Haibara big time for this.

After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.

“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”

You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.

”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. “Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.

”You seriously think I believe that?”

Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.

“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”

Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.

”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.

”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”

The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.

It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.

“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.

”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.

Oh, he was fucked.

(TBC)

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.

Request from here.

The minute you brought up the idea, Simon was on board, ready to dish out whatever money he needed to spoil his princess. It seemed like a win-win: you get new lingerie and he gets the benefit of picking out a few items that only he would get to see you in. How could he ever say no to something like that?

The first day you were both off you headed out to the local mall, ready to go on a different kind of mission, one that already had Simon salivating and itching to finish so you both could get back with the items in hand. You did promise that as soon as you got home you’d model them for him and there was no doubt what would inevitably come next.

Walking into the Victoria’s Secret all 6’4” of Simon drew a few stares, but he didn’t care; he was focused on you just as he was any time you two went anywhere. Arms wrapped around your middle to hold your back against his chest as you both slowly made your way through the store.

“Remember, it’s what you want to see me in,” you reiterated the rules for this excursion.

“Best believe I remembered, luv,” he said, his gravely voice hitting you ear just right to make you shiver with anticipation. “Haven’t been able to think of fuck all else since you brought it up, but I think that was your fuckin’ plan.”

You passed by several things that you were sure he would have picked up, you did say anything so nothing was off limits and that included whatever string number he may want to strap you in. The point was to get him excited to chose the bit of wrapping he wanted around his present, not that he needed it. He’d take you in a trash bag and still think you were the hottest piece of tail around.

A severe lack of Simon around your body broke you out of your thoughts as he had let you go to walk over to a display off to the left of you. The way he locked on, it was clear something had caught his eye and you followed him over just as he picked up a bra and pantie set and handed them over to you.

Baby pink with a bit of delicate lace lining the top of the cups, a tiny silken bow in the middle along the rib band and the same matching bikini style panties that had a slightly larger bow on the back, that was his choice. It was very sweet and dainty, something a very soft girl would pick for herself.

“Really? This one?” you questioned, eyebrow raised curiously.

“You said to pick one I liked,” he said. “I like this one. Is that a problem, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t a bad choice at all, just surprising. Never would you have imagined Simon pick something so...quaint. In fact you were sure he would have gone straight for the string thongs or see-thru lace bras, so when he chose that one it caught you off guard.

“Not at all, just didn’t think you liked that sort of style,” you backpedaled, not wanting him to think he screwed up.

“I can like pretty shit too, luv. After all, I chose you, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “This is what I want to see coverin’ across that sweet arse of yours... well, until I get to admire it layin’ on my floor.”

Your cheeks flushed bright red. Fuck, how did he always do that? “I was the one that did the choosing,” you pushed the subject as you tried to dissipate the heat in your face.

“Oh, is that so?” he shot back coolly, moving back in close to take your chin in his firm grasp. “The one that still gets nervous probably wasn’t the one callin’ the fuckin’ the shots. Don’t force me to make that blush brighter just to prove my point, luv.”

Touche, he had won this round; you knew he would too, screw being in public. He wasn’t afraid of people staring as they had been staring at him his whole life, might well enjoy himself while he drew the eyes. You gave in and backed down, receiving a quick peck on your lips for your troubles.

“Now, let me finish my shoppin’ so that we can get outta here and get to the actual fun part,” he said with a smirk.

Lord, he was insatiable. That man could have your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still be hungry for more.

Going through the rest of the place another similar set he found after a bit more of searching, this one a pale yellow with a little silk flower in the same places the bow was on the first set. He handed over everything over to you so that you could double check the sizes and make sure it was correct before he took it back so that he could pay.

Always the gentleman to his girl.

That large palm was plastered to your inner thigh the entire drive back and every now and again he gave it a squeeze. His mind raced as his imagination ran wild with images of what you’d look like in his purchases: beautiful? Always, but these pieces were more delicate than the others you had and so he was curious to see just how pretty you’d look in them.

“You ready?” you asked through the door.

Once you got back, you left him sitting in his chair as you went off into the bathroom to get changed. He had chosen the yellow to go first, saving his real favorite for last. As you slipped everything around your curves, you had to admit that it was actually really cute and surprisingly not too uncomfortable as well.

Good job baby.

“Get out here now, beautiful girl,” he called back.

Opening the door slowly, you stepped out and sauntered your way to him, stopping just shy of the tips of his boots. Placing your hands behind your back, you stood twisting your body back and forth as you let him admire his choice.

Silently Simon eyed you up and down, taking you all in. “Well?” you asked after a moment.

Eyes came back up to meet your own. “Do a spin for me, darlin’,” he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. “Slow like.”

Turning around smoothly at a steady pace, you came all the back around until you were facing him again. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked to your body.

“What’s the verdict?” you asked again.

The corner of his mouth unturned. “I’ve got good taste,” he smirked. “Exactly what I fuckin’ wanted. You look amazing, sweetheart.”

His approval made you smile, excited that he liked it, even though you knew he would since he was the one to pick it out. That obsessive stare gave you new life; who wouldn’t want to be the object of Simon’s desire? “Should I try on the other one now?”

Simon nodded his head as he adjusted the crotch of his pants and you scurried back off to the bathroom to change, fueled by his intense interest in you.

The pink on slipped on just as easy and you actually enjoyed this one even more as it enhanced your skin tone to perfection and the little details were so sweet you knew why this one would be his favorite; you could hardly wait to go show him how good you looked.

Coming back out again you nearly ran straight into him as this time he was leaning against the door frame as if waiting for you. He didn’t say a word, but you swore you could hear his breath hitch in his chest as he gazed down at you in that soft little pink number. Calloused fingers came up to trace over the thin ribbon detail, following the curves of the mini bow in the center of your chest.

“This one I really fuckin’ like, sweetheart,” he purred in that gruff, low tone that set you alight.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing in your veins already. “I have to admit you did really good baby,” you said. “Never thought you’d pick something so pretty.”

Fingers traced the line of the band under your breast along your ribcage before they came back up. “Like you in pretty, sweet things,” he said, slipping a thick finger into the top of the band between the cups. “Bows and flowers, light colors, that sort of shit. Suits you best, luv.”

“Aww,” you picked at him. “You going soft on me?”

That finger fully hooked itself into the fabric between your breasts and pulled you forward, making you take a step to bring you in closer until you were flush against his chest. Those amber eyes shimmered as he tilted his head down close to your neck. “All the shit I’ve to deal with at work, don’t ya wanna give this bastard somethin’ beautiful to touch?”

Well, when he put it like that…how could you deny him?

“My pretty little thing, so goddamn sweet,” he said with a groan, exploring hands releasing your bra so that they could run down the line of your back towards your hips before coming to a stop just under the curve of your ass. He cupped the cheeks one in each hand, massaging the meat in a circular motion.

Hungry lips embraced your neck, quick, burning kisses connecting with the skin to leave a trail of fire where he went. His arousal was already pressing up against your thigh as his hands on your ass squeezed harder; he had been worked up all day and seeing you all pretty for him it pushed him over the edge.

“Just wanna fuckin’ corrupt my little flower, ruin her pretty petals with my fat cock,” he breathed against the nape of your neck. His warm breath wafted down your collar bone to the tops of your breasts, making the skin pinprick with goose pimples while his words worked on your nerves to send you into a tailspin.

Were you supposed to stay sane after that? Because it just got really, really hard to think straight. “Yes,” was the only word your mind could form and you moaned it against the side of his head.

Fingers flitted around the waistband of your panties, outlining the band around your hips before it found the band descending between your legs; he followed that with his fingertips as well. “Mmmm, my beautiful girl, you know no one else even comes close?” he groaned. “Got the prettiest little thing around. Sets me on fuckin’ fire, how lucky I am to have such dainty thing at my disposal.”

Desperation gathered in his movements as he pawed at your body, causing you to respond to him as all your nerve ends across your skin began to ignite like he had just lit a match.

Without warning you were picked up and brought over to the bed where he set you down carefully along the edge. In an instant he had dropped down to his knees before you, one large hand gathered at the back of your head to pull you into his face so that he could press his lips desperately to yours. Wet, aggressive kisses he greedily stole from your mouth over and over again as he moved up into you.

“Lean back for me, darlin',” he said against your mouth.

Releasing you from his grasp you did as Simon said, laying back on your elbows so that you could still watch him. Hands on your parted thighs to steady himself, he swooped in. His face was at your pubic bone and he opened his mouth, collecting the waist of your panties in his teeth before he was pulling them down your legs, undressing you completely without the use of his hands.

Well damn, you had been curious to see how good they’d look on the floor since he had brought it up, but who could have predicted that they would look exquisite in between his teeth?

…Definitely a good choice indeed.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

☒ Summary: "Alastor said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel looked puzzled. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?" 

☒ Warnings: fem!reader she/her pronouns used, hurt with no comfort sorry, tons of confusion for alastor and the reader, one kiss, very suggestive language (its from angel- are we surprised?), slight self harming (alastor), blood, tears, arguing, desprate!alastor, toxic themes, split pov (second devider is when alastor's pov starts!)

☒ Word Count: 2,653

"You- WHAT?" 

Angel shot up from his spot on your bed. His eyes widened, eyebrows knitting in perplexity.

"I know- I know! It's bad... but I wasn't thinking clearly!" You slumped under Angel's judgemental gaze, pulling your knees up to your chest from where you sat on your bed. 

"Toots, there is no way his pussy eating skills are good enough to fuck you that dumb!" You averted your gaze. Heat rose to your cheeks from Angel's crass words.

"Oh, but they are..." You mumbled before you felt two of Angel's hands grip your shoulders, shaking you out of frustration.

"Did you really have to pick an absolute psychopath to be the one to pop your cherry? Toots, you're gorgeous. You could have anyone you want!" You were flustered beyond comprehension as Angel stopped shaking you. Opting to glare at your heated face instead. 

"We didn't go all the way! Plus he's the one who's been pursuing me all this time- I didn't get it at first, and I still don't. But-" Your expression morphed into one of contemplation. Angel's jaw went slack as he impatiently awaited your next words. "But what?! Spit it out!"

"He said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel nudged you to the side before slotting himself atop your bed once more. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?" 

You froze. 

Angel's inquiry filled your mind with more questions than answers. 

"I... not much," You paused, turning to face Angel before you continued. "The earliest memory I have is waking up in a hospital bed after surviving a blow to the head from some hunting accident." 

You closed your eyes, wracking your brain for every last detail you could remember; no matter how small. "I ended up falling into a coma only days after that mishap. The next thing I know, I'm in fucking hell." You chucked bitterly. Angel let out a laugh of his own. 

"No offense, babe, but that has to be one of the saddest fuckin' things I've ever heard," Angel outstretched his legs, overlapping them atop yours. "That accident, what else can you remember about it? Maybe that's the ticket!" 

Your eyes shot open from Angel's question. "Wait... before I fell into a coma, there was this nurse- she told me that I was led into the woods by a dangerous fellow," You paused, eyes scanning Angel's wildly as he perched himself forward. Literally hanging on the edge of his seat from your musings. 

"She told me the gunshot wound saved my life, fucking ironic now because It ended up killing me anyway. She also said that... the man who took me into the woods was a serial killer who had been on the run for decades. He ended up getting shot in the head that night, also. Except he died instantly..."

Angel was hanging on to every word you uttered. He could see the pieces falling into place from your look of awe. "What was the man's name, toots? What was it?!" Angel shouted a little louder than he intended. You jolted back from his outburst, taking in a shaky breath. You replayed that memory with the nurse over and over again. 

She had to have said it at some point. 

Come on! Think, think- think!

“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That 𝘈⃒̅𝘭⃒̅𝘢⃒̅𝘴⃒̅𝘵⃒̅𝘰⃒̅𝘳⃒̅ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer.”

"His target was a nearby deer."

A deer... 

Again. 

Retrace.

"That ɹ̸o̸ʇ̸s̸ɐ̸ʅ̸Ɐ̸ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer."

Fuck- it was just out of reach. 

One more time, one more fucking time. 

Think carefully. 

"The hunter wasn’t even aiming for That A͊l͖a̪sto̶̸̅r̷̦͍ fellow. His target was a nearby deer."

You gasped sharply, startling Angel. You felt your heart sink into your stomach as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Alastor... his name was Alastor." 

Your voice was distant as you spaced out. Angel's face blurred out of focus through your line of sight. 

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me. That freak was going to kill you when you were still alive-? And now... you belong to him? Shit- toots! This is rough... and not the good kind of rough." 

Alastor sat at the piano. Staring at the keys with that ever-present smile— but not daring to strike a tune. 

You’ve been avoiding him again.

What was it going to take for you to realize that he was your fiancé on earth? 

Sure, his features were more creature than man, but at the end of the day; Alastor was still the same man you fell in love with. 

Maybe he should have held off from his… desires. 

Could you blame him, though? He’s been waiting nearly a century to be reunited with his beloved. 

You’re the person he thought about for all these lonely years in hell. The only solace for Alastor was the notion that you survived, lived a long happy life, and inevitably made it to the pearly gates. 

So imagine his despair when you showed up at the Hazbin Hotel, looking to be redeemed. 

Alastor recognized you immediately. He could spot that grin of yours in a crowd of billions. 

Smile at the world, and she smiles back at you. 

But— you didn’t even spare him the time of day. Alastor gave you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you just needed some time to reignite your memory. 

And so, he gave you time. You’ll come around, Alastor thought. 

But he couldn’t have been more wrong, as much as he hated to admit it. 

He grew impatient— losing all of his resolve when you admitted to his voice reminding you of home. 

Alastor presumed maybe a passionate encounter would jumpstart your adoration for him. You had never breached that level of intimacy when you both were alive. You were adamant about waiting until marriage, but those dreams never came true. 

Yet even still, it was not enough. 

Was he really that forgettable to you? 

Suddenly, a knock on his door pulled him from his stupor. Alastor quickly cleared his throat, straightening his bowtie and taking steps toward his door. 

The second he swung the door open, he was met by the person who invaded his every thought; you. 

“What a pleasant surprise! Come in, my dearest.” Alastor piped up, stepping aside to let you into his safe haven. 

Your face was devoid of any vibrancy, and your eyes frantically avoided his. Alastor watched you closely as you hesitantly stepped past the threshold of his space. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor hummed as he shut the door before turning on his heel to face you. 

You rubbed at the sleeve of your dress nervously. Alastor’s mind instantly flashed the memory of your first meeting. 

The sight of you soothing yourself with a gentle caress to your bicep. Clammy hands seeping perspiration through that gorgeous vermilion dress of yours.  

“I-I remember you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Legs trembling from where you stood before him.

Your words caused Alastor’s heart to race wildly. 

At long last— you remember him! 

“I knew you would, my smart girl! Ah- you have no clue how elated I am to finally hear those words leave your lips!” He invaded your personal space without missing a beat. 

Alastor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as you dodged his hand— that had full intention of clasping around your cheek. 

“Don’t… don’t touch me.” Your voice was shrill as you took a step back from him. 

Alastor took one step forward. 

“My darling, why are you being so cold? You know how much I loathe teasing.” Alastor forced out a chuckle as you took two steps back. 

Alastor took three steps forward this time. 

“You’re sick! You’re the one who’s been teasing me all this time— how dare you?!” You spat, raising your hands to push him away, but to no avail. 

Alastor grasped your wrists with his large palms. He gazed down at you with a frenzied look, grip tightening scarcely around your wrists. “Darling… this isn’t funny anymore.” His voice was low, and the corners of his lips twitched in irritation. 

“It never was funny to begin with! I mean, how could you try to kill me on earth and then think it’s okay to fool around with me in hell?!” You glared up at him, tears of frustration now rolling down your cheeks. 

Alastor’s grip loosened from your words. He was utterly astonished. "You think I... tried to kill you?" His voice was quiet, crimson orbs frantically searching yours. 

You grimaced at him, rolling your eyes before you shouted, "You led me out into the woods, and the next thing I know, I'm in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the head and no memories before waking up in a stiff hospital bed! Everything I know about you and the accident was spoon-fed to me by some crappy nurse!"

Alastor's smile dropped. He wasn't even aware of the frown that crossed his features. The only giveaway was the absence of that standard achy feeling in his cheeks from holding an everlasting grin. "Darling, I-I'm not following... you mean to tell me you... don't remember your life before that mishap?" 

You looked puzzled by Alastor's uncharacteristic display of distress. His hands slipped from your wrists as he wobbled backward. "Yeah, and It's your fault! If you didn't haul me out into those woods to kill me, I would still remember who I was! And my whole life before all this bullshit!" 

You took a step forward. 

"I would remember my family, my career, if I even fucking had one! I would remember my joyful memories, my painful ones, and— and- maybe I would remember somebody who actually loved me!" You furiously glared up at him. Pointing your index finger into his chest in an accusatory fashion. 

Alastor snapped at your last words. 

Somebody who actually loved you?

It was him.

It was always him. 

Was his love for you really that immemorable?

"You truly aren't joking... you... don't remember me." Alastor felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. You were the last thing keeping it intact. All that he felt in his chest now was your blunt fingernail piercing his skin from where you jabbed him. 

"I just told you I do! What the fuck are you talking about?!" Alastor could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were probably just as confused as he was but for all the wrong reasons. 

Alastor's arms fell limp against his sides. Yet his fists were balled up so tightly that he could hear the pitter-patter of his blood spilling onto the carpet from how deeply his nails sunk into the flesh of his palm. 

You weren't ever going to believe the truth, but Alastor still needed to try.

"My dearest... that is not how we met. And my intentions were not and never will be to end your life." Alastor paused, taking in a shaky breath before continuing. 

"You're frustrated about not remembering somebody that loved you, yes? As am I..." You tilted your head in confusion. Finally pulling your finger away from his wounded chest. "What the fuck are you trying to say, Alastor?" Your voice was laced with annoyance, and your scowl was unwavering. 

"Darling, that somebody that loved you was me-and still is. It will always be me," Alastor paused, hands now finding purchase on your shoulders. "That accident should have never happened! We were scheduled to be wed at the courthouse later that evening... but... we never... made it..."

Why were his cheeks burning unbearably so? 

And why was your countenance blurring before his very eyes? 

Alastor's grip on your shoulders was unwavering, but his hands now trembled. Your expression was one of perplexity as you shook your head incredulously. "I loved you in life and now in death. I've loved you all this time, my sweet girl. Nothing will ever change that! Please, I beg of you- you must believe me!"

The definitive radio static crackle to his voice was nowhere to be found. Instead, his voice was laced with desperation. You looked disoriented through his blurry gaze as you took a weary step back. 

Alastor felt wetness trickle down his burning cheeks. 

Oh, he was... crying?

The last time he wept was when he first arrived in this grim place otherwise known as Hell. The realization that he left you on earth all alone tore him up. Alastor was inconsolable for years.

You truly knew how to put him together just to rip him apart all over again, huh? 

There is no undoing grander than love itself. 

"I-I don't believe you..." Your voice was just above a whisper as you slipped out of his grasp and approached the doorway. You turned your back on him, literally and metaphorically. 

Alastor didn't miss a beat. He rushed to you, large palm slamming flat against the wooden door. "We worked at the same radio station! Your bitch of a friend Elaine and her parents took you in after your pill-addict parents abandoned you on your eleventh birthday!"

You let out a sharp gasp as he hovered over you. Alastor couldn't read your expression, with your face practically pressing into the wooden door. All he could see was the top of your head as he pushed his chest into your rigid back. His arm was outstretched, keeping the door shut and caging you in entirely. 

"It was love at first sight for me! We went dancing for our first date. Did you truly fail to notice how effortlessly we moved along the dancefloor at Charlie's last gathering? It's because deep down, your body remembers every dance we ever shared,"

Alastor flipped you over faster than you could process. Your back was now flush against the sturdy door, his arm still caging you in. He peered down at you as his thumb and index finger from his non-dominant hand grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Every lingering touch..." 

He felt you tremble beneath his intense stare from how his chest now squashed against yours. Alastor's face dipped lower, invading your personal space. He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, breath fanning over your tear-stained cheeks. 

"And every kiss..."

Alastor observed you desperately as he pressed his lips against yours. He poured all his love into the shared embrace, hoping it would jumpstart your memory. But instead, you just shoved him away harshly, breaking away from his embrace. Alastor felt his world crumble around him as you wiped his kiss away with the back of your hand.

"You're fucking crazier than I thought!" With Alastor still reeling from the rejection, you took your leave. The sound of the door slamming thundered through his head. 

Alastor sunk to his knees. His hands came up to tug at his messy tufts of hair. Allowing the tears to flow freely now that he was completely alone.

Alastor did not think you were capable of hurting him until now. 

Alastor yanked at his locks furiously as his cheeks burned brightly in frustration. His knees quivered as his forehead kissed the carpet that was stained with his blood from earlier—when he unintentionally ripped up his palms. Alastor curled in on himself as he wept. 

This pain was worse than any other.

But more than anything, his love for you only burned brighter.

As did his determination to have you remember him and the pleasant life you both shared before all was lost. 

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz @fokrilove @yourdoorisunlocked @willowshadenox @izakyun @fangirlbitch02 @kyana-chan @aquariaries @sincerely-lorely @maxlynn17 @ivebeenthearchersstuff

[wolviensabes]

Pajamas and Lingerie.

RQ: 'Been thinking abt the idea of the reader surprising Logan with Deadpool themed lingerie of PJs to annoy him and then BAM it’s now single wear bc he’s jealous 🤭 If you wanna write it, I’d love to see your take on this req 💖💖' - @smokeywhalee

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ; F!reader, spanking, fingering, slight orgasm denial, some teasing and dominant Logan. Did not edit, possibly later ignore errors ty.

A/N: Sorry this took forever. I'm working on multiple requests at once so I try to get out as many as I can. Jealous Lo is my fav <3 I hope it's okay I made it nsfw, I couldn't help it. I hope you enjoy this one!

WC: 2.1k

"Oh god," Logan growled out with deep annoyance and disgust at what you wore. Red pajamas with Deadpool's mask printed all over them. He could see the lingerie portion on top, and your pajama pants were covering the lacy bottoms you had on. Still, he stared with rooted irritation at the fact you were decked out in Wade's colors and his damned mask printed all over you.

"You don't like them?" You feigned, tilting your head and spinning in a circle, Logan's eyes staring at you with a blank, unamused expression. The man shifted where he was on the bed and scoffed at you.

"Where the hell did you even get those?" He asked, taking a drag of his cigar. Part of his tone said that he didn't really want to know, but he asked regardless. He had a weird feeling Wade had them made for you so it would irritate him. Well, that walking mouth succeeded in annoying Logan.

"Wade made them for me," you replied with a smile, bingo. Right on the money.

"Take that off. I don't wanna see his damn fact plastered on ya." He waved his hand at you, almost as if to shoo you away. You could tell he was starting to come to a bad mood, so you tried to sweeten it up. "I have pajamas for you too~"

His head shot up and he grunted deeply, "Hell no."

"Come on, please?" you begged, drawing out your pleads and doing the very best puppy eyes look you could muster. It wasn't enough for Logan, whom turned away and scoffed.

'That ain't gonna work, pup." He took another drag of the cigar he had and gave you a short glare. "And what did I say? Take those off. Or I will." His tone was set and firm, yet...you couldn't help but feel yourself clench. God he was hot when he was annoyed.

"What if I don't?" you retorted bravely, feeling a surge of defiance that made you feel like a brat. This unexpected challenge caught Logan's attention immediately, and he turned his head back to you with a swift, almost predatory motion. The intense look in his eyes made you stiffen, your breath catching in your throat, and a strange mix of fear and excitement boiled in your belly. His gaze seemed to pierce through you, making your heart race even faster.

"Come here." he said firmly, putting the cigar down, his finger pointing down to the ground in front of him. You stiffened and swallowed, you felt nervous but excited, looking forward to where this was going. You could see the fire burning in his eyes, staring at your choice of pajamas.

The moment you were in front of him, he grabbed you and he made a fist with his other hand, those silver claws shooting out like bullets. He carefully let them drag across your abdomen, right above the waistline of the pajama bottoms before he pushed them down and he tore them off you. The bottoms turned into stray pieces of uneven fabric by the time he was done. He let out some steam once they were off you, going as far as tearing pieces into even smaller ones.

"Fuckin' Wade put you up to this...thinks it's funny to have ya wear his face?" Logan glared up at you, "You like gettin' me worked up, is that it? You little brat." He grabbed you and he pulled you over his knee. "Well, if you wanna be a brat...then I'll treat you like one."

You barely had time to register what was going on before his rough hand came down on your ass. It didn't hurt, it was sort of like a warning or experimental smack. When his hand collided with your backside you let out a natural gasp from the sensation. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and arousal. He took his cigar up and took a long drag from it once more, the smell took some getting used to at first, but it was more tolerable than a cigarette, plus it mixed with his natural musk well.

"Naughty girl. You like this don't you? Pissin' me off..." he growled out and smacked your ass again, a little harder this time. His calloused hand marked your ass with each smack. Those precious little sounds you made urged him on, making him smirk with satisfaction as you wriggled around. Your hands searched for something to grab, he watched the pretty skin of your ass turn red and he grinned.

"Not so bratty now, are ya?" he huffed and stopped after a handful of spanks, looking down at you as you tried to squirm out of his lap. "Not so fast, princess. Sit still and take it." Logan ordered you, feeling the round of your ass and rubbing the red skin. He dipped his fingers down and he felt between your soft legs, letting out a short laugh, nearly a snort. "Wet, huh?"

"S-shut up..." you blushed darkly from shame, you didn't know how turned on you'd be from being spanked. You hadn't been spanked before, maybe you got spanked once or twice as a child, but it was so long ago you had forgotten about it. You knew Logan wouldn't let you live this down either, he was eating this up and he'd probably tease you forever.

Before another thought could cross your mind, his thick fingers pressed into your pussy, they stroked your slit before pushing into your tight hole. It made you gasp in surprise, you were so wet he didn't have to spit on his fingers at all. Two of his fingers slowly pumped you before working up to a quicker pace. You let out moan after moan, occasionally making a sweet squeal as he expertly curled against that special spot deep inside.

"Logan! Mmn, ugh, fuck..." Your hands found the sheets and fisted them tight. Your hips lifted off his lap slightly and pushed into his hand, your clear need and eagerness wasn't unnoticed. In fact, it just urged the primal mutant on even more. His fingers curled against that spot again, making your shaking legs stiffen as pleasure shot through your body.

"There it is," he continued to curl his fingers, that sweet, spongy spot that gave you so much pleasure was being constantly stimulated. "He ain't gonna get ya like this, ever. You wanna tease me, get me to make ya shake and whine?" Logan's words filled your head but honestly the pleasure you were getting from his fingers kept you from responding normally.

"Answer me." he laid a light smack with his free hand, grunting at you. Your brain was mush, god his fingers were thick and perfect inside you. The way he was manhandling you so much and spanking you like the brat you were was so hot, your pussy clearly told him how you felt.

He wasn't satisfied with just those nice sounds you made, so he grabbed your right leg and flipped you, you laid on your back now and his fingers returned to your warm cavern, listening to how wet you sounded as his fingers worked you. "So needy...your face is so red. Do you like this pretty girl? You like when I handle ya around?"

"Uh-huh...." you nodded, pathetically trying to respond. By now your inner thighs were soaked and you coated his fingers and palm with your juices, he looked at your pussy and gently pulled up on the skin, looking at your clit. The bud was swollen and a little redder than normal, clearly wanting stimulation. He tilted his head and smiled, the pad of his thumb gently teasing it and rolling over it in circles.

"Logan!" You couldn't help the moan and buck your hips into his touch, he knew what he was fucking doing. Giving you just enough, but not too much to push you over the edge. It was so frustrating. You whined and squirmed, trying to encourage him to give you more with your little hip movements and whimpering. The bastard kept his smug smile as he watched you, feeling satisfied with himself.

"Use your words, princess. I can't read your mind, do I look like Chuck?" he carefully circled your clit with his index finger, his other hand kept two buried in your wet cunt, slowing the movements and watching your desperation grow with each passing second.

It took all the willpower in you not to scream at him to let you cum already. You knew better than to demand something from him, the more you demanded something from him, the more he'd withdraw it from you. You couldn't make him let you cum, he uses denial as a punishment, and god does he love punishing you with something so simple, yet effective.

"Don't think I forgot what you came in with. You think it's funny to tease me with something like that?" he asked, his fingers pressed up into your sweet spot, but they were still. The light pressure send electric shocks down to your toes, it wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed him to let you cum, you hoped he'd show you mercy.

Your eyes burned with tears as you whimpered and whined, really pouting like a child. Like the brat you were. The desperate, needy, pitiful little brat. It just made him smirk down at you, his hand moved from your clit to your breast, gently groping and then pinching your nipple. He listened to the new sound you made, his fingers rolling the bud around. "Maybe I'll just play with these, let you get so, so wet and beg for me..."

"Nooo," you whined, just like the needy girl he turned you into. He knew just how to work you, just what to do, just where to touch. He knew you like the back of his hand, and he memorized every inch of you. Literally inside, and out.

"Come on...beg. I know you want to." Logan chuckled and leaned closer, setting the cigar down and blowing the smoke away. The smoke tickled your nose as it barely blew over your face. "Come on...you like it don't you? Just beg, a few little words..."

"Please! Please, just let me cum already!" you whined out to him, your hips unable to keep still by now. You could feel the obvious boner in his jeans and knew he wasn't going to hold back for long if you continued your little movements.

Logan sighed, looking down and giving you a scolding glance, "No, no...that's not good enough sweetheart. Beg like you mean it." His fingers slowly began to retract and your eyes widened. All hell...

"No! Don't take them out...fuck! Fine!" You groaned loudly, "Please, let me cum...please, I need it...look at me!" You couldn't help yourself, you sounded so pitiful, your watery eyes looked at him and silently pleaded for him to make you cum.

Your pleading was satisfying enough. Logan's fingers plunged back and curled up, that sweet motion that you needed. Your gasp and eager bucking urged him on, and he toyed with your sensitive clit. His finger rubbing it in just the right way you liked. You had enough slick for his calloused pad to slide all over it and the texture of his finger felt just as good.

"Cum for me, princess. You begged for it," Logan growled out, looking at your red face, your cheeks damp from the intense pleasure. "Pretty girl, that's it...I feel you're getting close..." His fingers could feel you clenching and you were more slick now, your body preparing for your impending orgasm. Your chest rose and fell, he watched your chest as it moved and he chuckled, his fingers doing a little bit more and...there it came.

You cried out, your back arched and you moaned loudly. Your pussy tightened and you came all over his fingers, soaking his hand and lap. Your gentle voice cried his name in ecstasy, Logan groaned and he was painfully pressed against his zipper. "Goddamn..." he grunted, withdrawing his fingers when your body relaxed. He pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, making you mewl and cover your face. "Good girl...look at this mess you made..."

The whimper that left your trembling lip was barely audible as you sat up and looked at the soaked spot below you, his jeans were wet and you could see his hard on struggling to remain contained in his jeans. He grunted and palmed himself as he carefully sat up, looking down at you. "I think you need another little punishment for that, don't you agree?" His dark gaze eyed the pajama pants you brought in for him, a low snarl escaping his lips and he gave a slight eye roll.

"I need to remind you who you belong to, princess...and you will wear me instead of that..." he growled, leaning over you as he pulled you closer, your bare pussy rubbed his jeans and felt how hot he was around his crotch. "What do you say, sweetheart...hm?"

"Please..." you barely got out, knowing what you are in for. Jealous Logan was about to ruin you.

"Good girl..."

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[billysgun]

jealously

billy the kid x cowgirl!reader |during a party for the house, you catch girls flirting with billy and can't stand it, little do you know, billy feels the same way when he finds you talking to one of the members|

you suck your gums once more as you rest the rim of the cup on your chin, swaying as you stare daggers at the girl who won't leave billy fucking alone

first, out of nowhere in the street, then at poker, and now at this stupid fucking party.

Mrs. Riley dared to doe her eyes and flutter her lashes as billy shifted uncomfortably

"you're very good-looking, billy..can we go somewhere?"

billys eyes drift to yours and you can't take it anymore as you turn down the hallway

you arent together, you aren't exclusive, and you've never talked about being something more..things just happened and clothes were forgotten about as mindless kissing turned into nightly fucking.

you downed another whiskey as the house chattered, dying to distract yourself as your gang drunkenly laughed by the make-shift bar and you decide to join them

as your head tilts back to slam more shots than you can count, you feel a hand rub your hip.

"now I think that's enough for you, cowgirl!" Jesse cheers, and you roll your eyes, hand swiping for the whiskey he stole from you while you stumble back, subconsciously hoping that was a different hand on your hip...

you drink and cheer with your gang as you sway deeper into the night deciding to forget about your troubles

"Y/n can I talk to you?" you barely hear his voice from the yelling around you, but you turn to see billy with a solemn expression

"you can talk right here" you tell him, reaching for another drink but billy softly grabs your hand

"nah, not right here..." he mumbles, you turn and he's about to lead you down the hallway when Jesse snatches your arm

"hey man, what's your issue?" Jesse questions, feeding you more liquor but billy slaps the glass away from you

"why don't you let go of her fuckin' arm?" he asks, protectively standing in front of you once Jesse lets his hand fall

"didn't know shit was like that, man" he says with his palms out, you suddenly sober up as the entire situation hit you and you're dragging billy to the nearest bathroom to fucking scream

you slam the door but it's barely audible from the music yelling outside, you turn to him as he stumbles toward you

"what the fuck was that?"

billy looks confused as you practically shake with anger

"those men out there just lost the little respect they had for me" you feel your insides boil as he starts to understand

"no one saw" he shakes his head and you push his chest

"what? no one has fuckin' mouths anymore? now I'm your little fuckin' thing to screw" your entire body is hot as you scream at him, he doesn't meet your eyes as he seems pissed himself

"then why you lettin' his hand roam all over you?" he spits you feel your chest cave in

"are you seriously gonna call me a whore for a hand on the hip? really billy?" you say through gritted teeth, he reaches for you but you move away

"no, no that's not what I meant" he quickly corrects himself but you're done with him, thinking maybe he saw you as something more than just a slut

you open the door but he shuts it before you can leave, you turn and see he's only a few inches away

"I'd never think that about you...ever" he whispers, sincerity all over his tongue as his eyes almost water with honesty and you take a lip in before you admit something yourself

"I thought it was you" you mumbled, you watched his brows furrow and you quickly added,

"I thought you were grabbin' on me...when I saw it was Jesse I backed up."

"shit...I'm sorry...that's all I saw until she pulled me away-"

you interrupt him with a scoff, knowing immediately that she was Irene

"I can't stand that woman, callin' you an outlaw like it's some sexy shit. fuckin' piece of work." you look up to see billy laughing at you

"what?" you feel your face glow as he cups one of your cheeks,

"are you jealous of her?" he asks, a cocky smile on his lips as you scoff once more

"you were jealous of a hand"

"hey, that hand didn't have a ring on it!" he quickly defends

"yeah, well after that outburst the whole town probably knows we're screwin'" you mumble

"maybe that's a good thing" billy adds, you stare up at him as he brushes your lower lip

"I want people to know you're mine and I'm yours" he whispers, you feel your heart quicken as the air around you stills

"...I want that too, billy" you barely mumble out as he dips down to kiss you softly

you can't stop smiling as his lips sweetly lap over yours, knowing that sneaking him into your room nightly wasn't just fucking, it was lovemaking.

an: ily guys so much! thank you thank you thank you for 400 followers!!! mwah!! <333

[gamblersdoll]

heyy can u do denki x reader and they both take honey packss??

ooouu anon i love your brain.

HONEY PACK KAMI! daddy kink, slight humor, spit, masturbation (m) and grinding, love taps to the face

“how are we supposed to do this again? just take it as a shot?” he asks, trying to tear a piece of the wrapper open, but fails.

“well, if youre an alcoholic, sure. but technically— you mix it in with a drink.” you chuckle, hearing his poor protest about him being an alcoholic. “you dont even drink, kami’. the fuck you angry for?”

“girl, bye.”

you both laugh, mixing your honey pack with your little concoction of pineapple juice with cranberry with a little bit of mango nectar— while he mixed it in with his nasty ass red bull flavor; that green orange one. “red bull of all things, denki?” you deadpan, almost gagging. “id understand your bang drinks because its just sugar.”

“its zero sugar, be so damn for real.” he suck his teeth, chugging his drink and sticking his tongue at you. “dont hate me cause im beautiful!”

“no one hates you for that, but low calorie dont mean no calorie.”

its only been about ten minutes, and he had pounced on you already to attack your throat with his lips. his hips fluidly grind against yours, your skirt riding up and feeling his hard on press against yours clothed clit.

“kami, baby—“ you choke, feeling his fingers slip down to the junction between both of you.

“mm mm..” he grunts, kissing up your ear and suckling. “whats my fuckin’ name.” he asks, more of telling you to call him what he likes to hear.. and you oblige, hands going onto the curve of his ass and pulling him in closer.

“d-daddy..” you moan, his hand whipping out his cock and then tugging at it softly. “please, let me feel you.”

“was talking alot of shit earlier, y’know?” he mumbles, pressing his thumb against your lips and you part them.. the flat of his thumb pressing against your tongue and he giggles. “i should make you use those little mints you got to have you drool all over this dick.”

“— addy..” you try and say, but your mouth was pried open and his thumb almost hits the back of your mouth. you feel hot, tense and definitely can feel how his balls twitch against your folds. “please daddy,” you whimper, watching him lean down to your face and spat into your mouth.

“drink up,” he groans, watching you struggle to swallow and he softly slaps your cheek. it stings for a second, but you refocus on his face. “dont got all day, mama.” you were caged in, his legs pinning yours down and feeling his wrist slick slick slick against his shaft. his knuckles almost turn white, his knuckles bumping against your pulsating clit and he coos when you move your hips with the rhythm of his fist. “shit, yer’ so damn sexy, girl.”

you nod, eyes rolling and he kisses your lips. “want daddy to take care of you?” he asks, watching your eager little nod and he bites his lips. “you better say something before this honey pack leaves my system.”

[star-girl69]

After Midnight

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: flirting with the star hockey player at the frat party isn’t what you would normally do, but it’s after midnight and something about the lights is making everything a little hazy.

feel free to send requests!!! 🫶🫶

a/n: GUYS PLEASE. PLEASE IGNORE THIS. i’m sorry i’ve betrayed all my morals… but i cant sit idly by while my fellow kk lovers suffer… i hope you all enjoy!!

After Midnight - Chappell Roan

warnings: not proofread!!!, ALCOHOL!!! we are in a FRAT people!!, some swearing ofc, super brief barely there mentions of violence and such, kk is taller than reader by like an inch suck it idc i do what i want, super brief mention of y/n having hair (length unspecified), idk like a bit of kissing and some somewhat suggestive thoughts… y/n is a freak 💔, i’ve never flirted with anyone before how do you do this, so probs inaccurate, i don’t know anything about hockey just prefacing this, i also don’t know how college works rip, as chappell roan said: “i love a little drama, let’s start a bar fight, cause everything good happens after midnight”

—-

“Shit, babe, you look fuckin’ hot.”

This entire night is almost painful for you. Stepping out of your comfort zone on any level is always an adjustment, but trading your early nights in with homework and Netflix for a sexy dress showing everything in all the right and wrong places- is especially hard.

You almost cringe touching the velvet fabric of your revealing dark red shirt, staring at someone in the mirror you don’t even recognize.

“Jackie,” you mumble to your best friend and roommate, “I think it’s.. too much.”

Jackie tilts her head to the side, short dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. She’s only humoring you, you can tell. “Nope. Perfect.”

You look at the pictures stuck in the slats of the mirror. Pictures of you, Jackie, and the other girl in your trio, Tyla, faces pressed together in bright smiles from various adventures from your freshman year at college.

It was such a relief when Jackie was the sweetest girl and an amazing person to share a dorm with, but when she brought along her best friend Tyla from a few doors down- the three of you fell into a quick and beautiful friendship, like the ones in the movies.

Jackie and Tyla were definitely more on the party girl side than the study girl side, but that was what was so great about your friendship. You reminded them that they did in fact have homework, and they pushed you to do things like this every once in a while.

This was the first time you had ever suggested it. Midterms were over- it would be wrong to not celebrate. To breathe in the few seconds you had left as a freshman, before it all got turned up again for sophomore year.

“Okay,” Jackie breathes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Take a deep breath, babe. The fit is a lot, yes, but it’s gorgeous. I mean, damn, where have you been hiding that ass?”

You bite your lip, eyes tearing away from the pictures, meeting Jackie’s eyes in the reflection.

“My ass does look really good,” you concede.

“Hell yeah it does!” Jackie shouts, smiling brightly. “Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just some random frat party. We can go sit outside if it gets too much.”

It’s break. It’s Friday night. You look good, however uncomfortable you are.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m just gonna do a few shots when we get there.”

“That’s my girl.”

Jackie thinks for a moment. “Besides, I think it’s a party to celebrate the girls hockey team winning a game, or something like that. The attention is gonna be far away from you. But…”

She trails off, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her comforter.

“What?” You ask, heart jumping to your throat in fear.

“Dylan might be there,” she shrugs.

Ugh.

Dylan.

Dylan wasn’t even that big of a problem, just a boy you had overzealously dated right when you got to college, when you were adjusting and still kind of lonely, only to find out his obsessive, stalker-ish personality was literal hell to be in a relationship with.

After maybe a week of constant love-bombing and clinginess, you broke up with him- and he tried for literal months to get your attention before he finally seemed to give up.

Once in a while, you’d see him at these parties, and he’d stare at you in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but was only weird and uncomfortable.

“Who gives a fuck about him?” You ask, your own surprise reflected in Jackie’s face.

“Damn, girl. Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right. Who gives a fuck about his sad ass?”

“I don’t,” you scoff, refusing to let him ruin your night.

The bathroom door slams open suddenly, revealing Tyla in an even more revealing black dress. Skin tight with cut outs showing her dark skin.

“Jesus Christ, I pity the other girls at that bar.” Tyla runs her hands down her sides, smiling brightly in a way that can only be joking.

And you laugh, and you laugh when she softly bumps you away from the mirror and admires herself even more.

—-

Because of this rash decision to go out, Tyla hadn’t done her usual shopping for the pregame so you were forced to go to the party early- which Tyla actually groaned at and complained about how “embarrassing” it was. But after a few shots, that embarrassment fell away and she was back to being the funny, confident girl you knew her as.

You talked amongst the three of you, and with the two boys who were acting as bartenders, until more and more people slowly started filing in and the sky got dark. It was probably close to 10pm by the time the party really got busy, and those first two hours faded into a montage of alcohol stinging your throat and the sounds of your best friends laughing.

When the hockey team finally arrived, you were sitting on a couch with your girls, Tyla talking in this played-up sensual voice to a random boy who had taken an interest in her, while you and Jackie were busy scouting out the new arrivals and the different kinds of alcohol they placed on the table.

Even if Jackie hadn’t off-handedly mentioned it earlier, you quickly would have found out who this party was for. A large group of girls walked into the party, immediately met with cheers and shots, swarmed with alcohol and congratulations.

Some guy, probably one who actually lived in this house, whipped out a shitty megaphone and shouted their arrival, but it wasn’t even that loud.

Even you, however studious you were, knew about the girl’s hockey team. A bunch of them had played on the Olympic team a few years ago, and all the students of this D1 school were generally pretty proud that the Wisconsin team had won the most national championships.

Most of them were wearing their jerseys, but a few had dressed up. The girl’s hockey team was probably the hottest, most talented group of girls to ever be within 100 feet of you.

It was almost unfair how all of them were so beautiful and so talented, but you suppose that the rigorous workout schedules of Olympic and national athletes didn’t leave a lot of room for anything other than a fuck ton of muscles.

God, half of them towered over you and all of them could probably break your wrist with just a flick.

It was impressive.

What was most impressive, though, is the way the infamous Caroline Harvey walked in carrying about 27 cases of beer, which must have weighed as much as this fucking house, and effortlessly set it all on the ground beside the table full of red solo cups, chasers, and bottles of vodka.

Cheers rang out and people scrambled towards it, ripping the cardboard boxes open greedily and opening them just as fast.

You watched, hiding your parted mouth with your hand, as Caroline accepted an open beer from someone, cheers with a few of her teammates and drank a long sip. When she was done, she laughed and lifted her shirt to her mouth to wipe off some stray liquid, a movement that let just a sliver of her toned abs peek through.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, quickly looking to the floor and deciding hockey was your new favorite sport.

You knew her from around campus, you both liked to study in the library at the same time- around 3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it became kind of tradition to just stare at her for a few minutes in between sections of your work. Almost like some weird little reward. You did feel kind of bad about it, but fuck, there was no way you could stop.

Besides, it’s not like she noticed.

You always sat on opposite sides of the library, and she never once even looked in your direction. What Caroline didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and you never see her unless it’s at the library or in passing at parties. But, God, doesn’t it feel good to just relish in how beautiful she is and stare for just a bit.

“Y/N, babe.”

Jackie knocked herself into you, her knees tucked up to her chest, some sort of a smile on her face.

“What’cha doin’?” She asks, smiling in a way that can only be described as evil. “Starin’? Hockey player pique your interest, huh?”

“No,” you say, forcing a laugh into your voice and rolling your eyes. “Just lookin’ at all the commotion.”

You’re trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but now that Jackie’s mentioned it- those abs did pique your interest. And now they came flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.

“Oh, my God, I think I’m in heat,” you mumble, slightly to yourself and slightly to Jackie.

She wraps a lazy arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Oh, sweet girl, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Which one is it?”

“Caroline,” you mumble, so quiet and so sudden before you can really think about it.

Jackie hums, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t know a whole lot about her, but I heard she had a girlfriend freshman year, so definitely into girls. Not dating anyone right now, though. Olympian, hockey player, all that sexy stuff.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you mumble, sneaking a quick glance and then looking away immediately when she takes another sip of her drink, not wanting to know what would happen if you caught another glimpse of those god-sent abs.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Jackie asks, nudging your head with hers.

“No, no,” you dismiss. “Just… being a freak. Admiring. God, I’m pathetic.”

Jackie laughs, abruptly standing and pulling you to your feet too. “Come on, babe, time for more drinks, let’s get your mind off of this if you’re not gonna make a move.”

You roll your eyes but follow her to the table of drinks farthest away from Caroline and the other hockey players. You’re not going to do anything, it’s not like you have a chance, and you’re just bored without schoolwork to occupy your every thought.

You take a deep breath, standing next to Jackie and surveying your options. Jackie choses for the both of you, definitely the more experienced party girl, mixing a drink that is majority vodka, making you groan slightly just at the thought of it.

“Here you go!” Jackie smiles, placing the red solo cup into your hand, smiling like she’s not trying to give you alcohol poisoning. Her gaze fixes on something behind you, and you faintly register the way her eyes light up- already a little tipsy from the few shots you’ve done- but you can’t even be bothered to question why.

You eye your drink suspiciously, mentally preparing yourself for the taste.

“Whoops,” Jackie mutters, and you look up at her only to feel her push you back.

“Jackie-” you start, angry, and she quickly scurries away from you. You want to kill her a little bit, at least question her- but you don’t get the chance to.

You gasp as you slam into someone behind you, drink splashing all over your front, alcohol mixing with the rich velvet texture of your shirt in a way that might very well ruin it. You bite your lip, glancing around the room, grateful that the room is so crowded and busy that no one noticed.

“Damn Harvey, knockin’ girls over on and off the ice,” someone laughs. You think you hear the sound of someone lightly hitting another person, followed by a small “ow.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

You turn around, Jackie nowhere to be found, and completely freeze when you realize not only did the person you slammed into have enough decency to ask if you were okay, but that person was fucking Caroline Harvey.

You would have laughed at how cliche it was if you weren’t so secretly exhilarated. The only reason you even had this drink was to stop shamefully staring at her.

But she’s right in front of you… and she looks even better like this, cheeks slightly flushed already from the alcohol, a glint in her eyes.

Her eyes meet yours, staring at you in obvious confusion and concern- “Hey? You okay?”

She places her hand on your waist and you suddenly return back into your body, looking anywhere but her eyes that were literally fucking drowning you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I’m fine. I’m just, like, really drunk.” You laugh, awkwardly, trying to pretend that you’re talking to just anyone. Trying to pretend like her hand on your waist wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

She smiles, Jesus Christ that fucking smile, your knees go a little weak.

“Oh, good. Would be a shame if that pretty head got a concussion.”

You laugh, staring at her smile. Intoxicating. It’s the only word that comes to mind- maybe enchanted. She’s like some drug, and, God, it’s so stupid but you think you might be addicted after hearing her voice just once.

And, the suddenly, so vividly you almost fall over again, you realize what she said to you.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, effortlessly taking the now pretty much empty red solo cup from you and placing it on the table behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to what you assume is a bathroom, probably where she was originally going. “I’m Caroline, but you can call me KK.”

Your mouth is slightly agape as she leads you through the crowd, and you suddenly pass by Jackie who gives you a big smile and a thumbs up- disappearing into the crowd before you can curse her name.

Fuck it. She’s right in front of you. The alcohol is getting to your head, the dim lighting is making everything hazy- everything except her pretty blue eyes and her intoxicating smile.

“KK,” you say, testing the nickname. “That’s cute. I’m Y/N.”

“That’s cute,” she echoes, and the way you can hear the smile on her voice seriously makes you almost fall over.

Thankfully, the bathroom she leads you to is kind of out of the way, it’s completely empty and the door clicks behind the two of you.

Your mood immediately deflates when you see yourself in the mirror, your top noticeably darker where sticky alcohol has sunk into the fabric.

“Fuck,” you mumble, peeling the sticky fabric from your skin.

Before you can even think to do anything, Caroline- KK- is running a random hand towel under the sink and gesturing to you. You expect her to hand it to you- but she doesn’t.

“Okay if I touch you?”

God in Heaven.

“Y-yeah,” you choke out, feeling your world literally recalibrate when she puts her hand on your shoulder- so fucking close to your neck- to keep you steady. You always thought it was the stereotype that basketball players have big hands, but apparently hockey players do too.

Her hand is really warm. This bathroom is suddenly really warm. Your cheeks are heating up, and as much as you try to tell yourself it’s from the alcohol- you know it’s not.

“Sorry,” she mumbles after a few more seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna do much. Maybe try putting it in the wash, though.”

You sigh, now turned sideways, hip to the bathroom sink, looking at yourself out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s fine, my friend… bumped into me, and then I backed up straight into you. Not your fault.”

You look up at her, realizing at this close proximity that she’s taller than you, maybe only an inch.

“I might just go home,” you sigh, feeling kind of disgusting in this nasty shirt.

A frown immediately forms on her face.

“Party’s just started, though. Can’t go home yet, baby.”

She wants you to die. She literally wants you to die. She’s secretly an assassin, and you’ve blocked out the memory of some horrible crime you’ve committed, and now she’s here to kill you by calling you baby and having the sexiest abs you’ve ever seen.

Not a bad way to go, though.

“Here,” she says, reaching up and tugging her jersey over her head, again revealing those fucking abs, and she’s left in a black tank top you didn’t even notice the first time you were staring at her abs. “Take my jersey.”

“Oh, no. I can’t, KK. I mean…”

“I was getting hot anyways, it’s good. Take it.”

It’s nicer quality than any other jersey you’ve ever touched before- nicer than the obligatory Wisconsin sweatshirt you bought at the school store.

You cough, taking it with a hand that shakes slightly, not able to look at her.

“…Thank you,” you say after a moment.

She smiles, big and goofy. “It’s no problem. Maybe you can repay me by having a drink with me, though?”

You pretend to think about it, but really you have to knock your knees together so you don’t fall to the floor in excitement.

“That’s a pretty good price.”

You finally meet her eyes, holding your breath as she stares into your eyes like they’re a lifeline.

“Yeah, a drink with my sexy self- pretty good fuckin’ deal.”

You laugh, and she takes a step back, looking you up and down in a way that literally gives you butterflies-

“I’ll let you change,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, yeah, baby?”

“I’ll find you,” you breathe, turning around to start slipping off your shirt so she doesn’t see the way you literally bite your lip.

The jersey is huge, since they have to be to cover all the padding and gear hockey players wear, and you’re almost worried that you’d look really stupid in it- but your jean bottoms pull it together, somehow.

It smells good. It smells dark, like a forest, still with a hint of something fresh and light. Is this her perfume? You might want to bathe in it.

You still look pretty good, and your mind races, wondering if KK would compliment you in it- but someone bangs on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?!” Jackie. “Y/N? Holy fucking shit- did I just see what I think I saw?!”

Tyla quickly shouts too. “I got dragged away from a really hot guy for this!! Please tell me it’s true!!!”

You open the door wordlessly, holding your hands out wide so Jackie and Tyla can see the the jersey, the Badgers emblem.

“Ladies, hold your applause.”

“What the fuck!” Tyla screams, forcing you to turn around, then tracing a finger along your back, no doubt where Caroline’s last name is printed on. “Harvey. Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“God, she’s so hot,” Jackie groans, and you whip around to shoot her a glare. “Calm down, jealous bitch, I mean this is hot. Fuck, does she have any friends? This red is a good color on me…”

“Well,” you smile, mirroring Jackie’s own “evil” smile from earlier, “She said to come find her and get a drink. With her.”

“A drink…” Tyla breathes. “With… fucking Caroline Harvey?”

“Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“I think I might faint from, like, secondhand hotness.”

“Well,” Jackie starts, looking away from the jersey in awe and back at your face, “You look hot. Go over there right now, get that girl, and make out. Just- right on the couch. Fuck right on the couch.”

“I second that,” Tyla smiles, adjusting the jersey slightly. “Fuck her.”

“Okay, shut up, thanks. We’ll see where the night goes.”

“Oh, my God, I can’t even believe you’re doing this. What happened to my little studious best friend?”

“Alcohol,” you shrug, momentarily wondering if you would regret all of this the next morning- but everything is just so goddamn hazy in this frat house, and you can’t think straight, can’t think about anything other than her.

“Okay, okay,” Tyla says, grabbing your shoulders and staring into your eyes like she’s about to gift you with the greatest wisdom. “You want her to come back?”

You inhale sharply. “Maybe.”

“Okay, well, if this goes good- you gotta leave her before midnight.” She glances at her watch, “It’s 11:06 right now, flirt her and romance her, all that, but leave before midnight, got it?”

“Um… why, though?”

“To keep her guessing, to keep her thinking about you, obviously,” Tyla rolls her eyes. “Trust me girl. We’ll meet you outside at 12 and then take an Uber back, right?”

“Right,” you and Jackie both repeat.

“If you really want her, before midnight, okay?”

“Okay, okay, Tyla. I’ll meet you guys then?”

Jackie pretends to wipe a few tears away. “My girl’s all grown up.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hugging both of them quickly before disappearing into the crowd of people.

—-

You make your way towards a big couch, some armchairs, and a coffee table filled with liquor.

KK’s eyes light up when she sees you, and you notice there’s a conveniently placed empty seat right next to her, and two cups in her hands.

You don’t think anyone has noticed you wearing her jersey yet, and if someone has commented on KK’s lack of jersey, you can’t tell. You smooth it down, take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.

A seductive one, you hope, one like Tyla would do. And with the way she mirrors your smile with her own- except this one is just as big and goofy- you think it’s working.

“Y/N?”

Someone walks past you, then immediately stops and steps back, looking right at you.

“Yeah-?”

Oh.

“Hi, Dylan,” you mutter, smile falling from your face immediately.

“Y/N. I haven’t seen you in… forever, it feels like. How’ya been?”

“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry, I’m meeting somebody, okay?” His face falls, and you feel sort of bad, so you add on “Talk soon,” to make yourself feel better.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, eyes moving from yours down to your outfit. “The fuck are you wearing? A jersey?”

“…Yes,” you say after a moment, genuinely confused until you remember how much Dylan despises sports, thinks they’re all just some popularity contest. “Okay, I’m meeting someone. Bye, Dylan.”

“Hi,” a new voice says, and you smile just a bit when you realize it’s Caroline. “I’m Caroline,” she says, ever-so politely, and it kinda makes your stomach twist. “Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”

Dylan’s eyes narrow at her. “No, I’m her ex.”

“Oh, my God,” you mumble to yourself, stepping close to Caroline. “Shut up.”

KK shoots you a look, and you can’t help but avoid your eyes. You tug your arm away from Dylan, but he doesn’t budge.

“Dylan, please,” you sigh. “I have to go, okay? Let go.”

“No, Y/N, come on-”

“Uh, I think she said let go, buddy.” She still has that same smile on her face, but your eyes flick to her exposed arms, now noticing just how much muscle is there too. There’s this glint to her smile, this edge to her voice, and you would genuinely be kinda scared if it was directed at you.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Dylan huffs. “Y/N and I need to talk- why the fuck are you going around trying to purposefully piss me off? You know I hate sports.”

“Dylan,” you start, genuinely having to take a deep breath. “We dated for a week in freshman year. Let go of me, stop embarrassing yourself, and stop talking to us.”

He stares at you, before scoffing and letting your arm drop. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Thank you, Dylan, goodbye.” You turn around, wondering if KK is even going to be there anymore. “I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is his problem?” She says, and you genuinely smile at the pure disgust on her face. “Seriously- what?”

“I’m sorry,” you giggle. “It’s just… you’re so, disgusted by him.”

“You aren’t?”

“Well, yeah. But I know him.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I met him once and I never want to meet him again. Weird fucking bitch.”

You laugh again, linking your arm through hers without thinking. “Thanks for trying to defend me, though. I’m sorry- he’s just… an annoying bug that won’t go away, normally he doesn’t talk to me- but I guess he was bored tonight.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I think we lost the seats I saved.”

You look towards the couch, now completely filled with hockey players. “It’s okay,” you hum. “We can find somewhere else. Wanna go outside?”

—-

With the hum of the party behind you, and the stream of people walking out and walking in, the little bench on the corner of the porch was shrouded in darkness, and you felt like you were just in your own little corner with KK.

You sipped on the drink she had gotten you, exchanging basic information like what majors you were taking, how many siblings you had, and al that boring stuff before she finally stopped talking and just looked at you for a moment.

“What?” you asked, wiping some of your sip from around your lips.

She smiles. “Nothing. My jersey just looks nice on you.”

“Oh,” you say, stupidly. “Really? I was worried it didn’t get the same vibe as my original fit.”

“No, I would say you look even better.”

You smile, taking another sip for confidence before you place your hand on her arm. “So, tell me about hockey. Maybe workout routines?”

She laughs. “Workout routines?”

You softly squeeze her bicep. “Well, you don’t get these by just sitting around, do you?”

She takes a sip of her drink, trying to slyly cover her face, and you smile even wider.

“No, you don’t.” When she looks back at you, there’s the faintest hint of something on her cheeks, you don’t move your hand, sinking back into that addiction of making her blush. “Mostly lifting weights, cardio, boring things.”

“M’kay, what about actual hockey? I heard you were an Olympian, right?”

She flexes her other arm, and you can see a tattoo made up of the Olympics logo, intertwining rings, on her inner bicep.

“I’m defense, number 4, and I’m basically the star of the team.”

“Really?” You laugh, pressing your thigh against hers. “Would your other teammates agree with that?”

“Ehhh, maybe don’t ask them so you stay all impressed.”

You smile, and suddenly you realize you’ve been smiling all night ever since you started talking to her. And it feels so good to smile with her, it feels so good to be all giddy, and even when Dylan was bothering you it felt good knowing she was right behind you. And it felt even better when you turned around and she was still behind you.

“Can I have your number?” You blurt out.

“Course, baby.”

You hand her your phone, feeling like a damn middle schooler with a raging crush, and she hands you hers.

You make your contact name Jersey Stealer and she laughs when she sees it, and that sound might be your favorite thing about her- second only to her abs.

You can feel the night coming to the end, but it’s a good end, a comfortable one, and there’s definitely doors unopened and words unsaid. It feels like a really sweet beginning to something really beautiful.

You check your phone, smiling at the contact name of Hockey Star and seeing the time is 11:58.

“My friends are waiting for me,” you say, almost with a grimace. The night is coming to an end but you still don’t want it to end. And like clockwork, you watch as Jackie and Tyla walk out of the party arm in arm- sneaking subtle glances all the way to the end of the driveway, eventually disappearing out of sight behind a tree.

“Oh,” she says. “No problem.”

She sounds disappointed. It makes your stomach twist yet again, to know she doesn’t want this to end as much as you do.

You both stand up and walk to the edge of the porch, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway to the driveway. Somewhere along the way, your hand had slipped into yours.

You stop where concrete meets driveway, turning around to face her. She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of her skin on yours. It feels like an electric rush, like an addictive high.

“I’m really glad I give you a concussion.”

You laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t either.”

She looks from your lips back to your eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that, yes, kissing exists- and you suddenly want to kiss her. Badly.

Fuck.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go.”

You softly place your hand on her face. You lean forward, placing your lips in a grey area between her cheek and her lips.

“Goodnight, Caroline,” you whisper, an inch away from her skin.

Suddenly she surges forward, lips fully pressing against yours, hand on your waist, and God does the feeling of her lips on yours feel so good, so right.

Oh, God. She’s succeeded in killing you, you think to yourself- everything fading out for a moment before it all comes rushing back in. The sounds of the party, the chill of the nighttime air, and the sweet sweet feeling of Caroline’s lips on yours.

You don’t think your lips will ever recover from this feeling, from the weight of her lips on yours- you’ll always be chasing this feeling, this moment.

Tyla’s words flash in your mind. You revel in this moment for a heartbeat longer until, just as quick as she kissed you, you pull back.

“Didn’t know you were the type to kiss girls on the first date, Harvey. How scandalous.”

She seems disappointed you pulled away. You can see it in her pretty blue eyes- it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“Are you really just any girl?”

“Nope,” you smile, silently thanking Tyla and every star in the sky- you can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to kiss you senseless, and if the game didn’t feel so good you would have let her.

And the way she’s looking at you, slightly blown away, completely in awe, lips parted but curling into a smile- it gives you an addictive rush.

“Text me when you want your jersey back.”

You take a step back, softly prying her hand off of your waist, but holding onto it for a moment.

“Oh, no, you can wear that to my next game.”

“Really?” You smile, fingertips grazing the back of her knuckles as she tries to hold onto you, but you eventually let go. “You’ll save me a good seat?”

“The best seat,” she corrects. “For the best girl.”

This time, you don’t bother to try and hide the way she makes you feel. You clench your thighs together and let your tongue dart out to slightly lick your lips.

“I’ll be there. You better win, though.” You turn around, then look over your shoulder to see her eyes fall down to your ass.

“With a pretty good luck charm like you? I’ll probably score the winning goal.”

“Bye, Caroline,” you say over your shoulder, smiling so brightly you’re sure you look all lovesick. You can’t care, it’s just how you feel for her. Maybe you should be embarrassed, the way she makes you feel kinda like silly putty in her hands, but it feels so good. So right.

“Bye, Y/N.” Her voice is breathy.

And when you check your phone, you see it’s after midnight. So much for Tyla’s advice.

But, you think to yourself, shoes clicking on concrete and KK’s gaze on your back, you kissed her after midnight- maybe all the good things just happen after midnight.

—-

laila when kk hit her for saying the taking girls down on and off the ice thing: 😞😞😞💔💔💔💔💔

y/n also being happy that she left kk AFTER midnight bc she doesn’t just want her she actually likes her

jackie and tyla wingwoman supremes i love them sm

dylan you are annoying i wish you suffering

[maiamore]

PASS THE SALT, MR MILLER

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.5k

Summary: Joel finds out the hard way that leaving a pretty girl with blue-balls isn’t the smartest.

Or, Joel fucks you in his garage.

Tags: christmas-y vibes, fucking on Joel’s car, implied age gap,unprotected p in v, grumpy!joel, lots of yearning, squirting, sexual games, brat taming, outdoor sex, creampie

A/N: merry christmas folks! tbh this is just a game of how many fics can I write that has to do with (a) joel's truck or (b) joel yearning. side note, looped Disease - Lady Gaga track on repeat while writing this oops

MASTERLIST | MAIN STORY

Holidays have never really been something you celebrated. Fuck it, your own birthday even. It just wasn’t a priority you considered worth fussing over. Admittedly, your lack of enthusiasm for these events was probably why you ended up avoiding them. You would do the most for the people you loved but never for yourself.

Take Halloween for example. Your friends from Columbia were begging you for a slutty girls' night out, but you’d opted to stay home to help chaperone your younger brother Oscar’s party. Even so far as to set everything up, you’d made sure Oscar had a shot at being the coolest damn guy in his school. Fret not, jobless big sis is there to help ya. 

Of course, it hadn’t gone unrewarded, to put it loosely. All that really happened was some broody hot middle-aged dad jerking off in front of your face. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You found yourself staring at the pale green piece of paper your younger brother, Oscar,  handed you when he came home from school that evening. Eyeing the morbidly cliche design that screamed of some bored old receptionists' handiwork, you tilt it to get a better read.

Oak Ridge High School Annual Christmas Potluck.

Great. Another one. You were often the stand-in for his PTA Meetings in place of your ever so busy parents. While you had your fun with the free buffets and whatnot, you were getting tired of people asking how old you were when you “had” Oscar. 

*Calling all Parent Volunteers. Please Contact Joel Miller at +1 (512) 555 XXX for details. 

Now that got your attention.

Joel Miller. The man who, after that night, weaseled his way into your glorious collection of mental spank bank. Evident in the plethora of stolen nudie mags your mom stashed underneath her mattress—you’d gone as far to dog-ear pages of men who had the slightest resemblance to him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. By him, his dick. All eight fuckin’ inches of pent-up old man dick. 

The desperation in the way he thumbed his slit, coaxing his milky cum into your waiting mouth in your bedroom flashed in your mind like post-traumatic-sex-disorder. You were robbed of a good fuck.

The beeps of your dial-pad echoed embarrassingly loud while you dialled the number on the flyer before fully seeing the idiocy in this move. The line connects after a few rings. 

“Miller. Who’s callin’?”

A shudder runs down your spine. His voice hit you like a freight train, low and gravelly, cutting through the faint clatter of what sounded like construction work on the other end.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Hang up. Hang–

“Hi.” You blurt out, forcing a higher register in your voice in a desperate attempt to disguise yourself. “I’d like to register. For the Christmas…thing.” There was a pause, followed by the clunk of something heavy and the sound of boots against a hard floor. 

“Right. You’re the parent of…?” 

You clutched your phone tighter when Joel’s voice rang clearer than ever, throat dry as you scrambled to speak. “Oscar.”

He repeats your last name when you offer it, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to place it–a flicker of recognition almost.

“Alright then,” he finally says, the faintest edge of suspicion still lingering.

 “Guess I’ll see ya there.”

—

Impulsiveness was something that fucked Joel over most times. 

Messing around with someone he’d consider uncomfortably closer to his daughter's age than his own settled within him like poison. 

It’d been two whole months since the incident at halloween and he was still hung up over you. He was certain that a pretty girl like you had far better prospects than a washed up crotchety shit like him. 

You plagued his mind every time his fist wrapped around his cock. Every time he’d tried to fuck the stress of working long hours of grunt work at the site. Your soft and sweet expression offered him instantaneous, sticky reprieve. 

Guilt, or something he should’ve been feeling over using your face as masturbation material didn’t quite blare the alarms in his head through post-nut clarities. 

He knew he had fucked up the second he had you on your knees that night. 

You parked your sedan in front of a navy chevrolet in the driveway. Hopping out of the car as you looked up at the quaint home, clean white siding, neatly trimmed lawn. 

You figured by the bustling noise from the backyard that a volunteer offered up their home and all. Generous, you thought. And then you catch it. The worn down navy mailbox that sprawled the letters–

M I L L E R

The swirl that was now your mind dragged painful throbs in your head. To be in his own backyard felt stalker-ish even for you. 

With a weary exhale, you click open the boot of your car. Worrying had to come later, you had to formulate a game plan for the boxes of fairy lights you somehow had to haul into Joel’s backyard.

With a heaving effort, you propped up two boxes into your arms when the shuffle of footsteps catches your attention, coming from beside the opening garage. 

“Hey! Sorry, could use a little help...” You call out instinctively. 

Only managing to catch a glimpse of a hand bracing against the rickety garage door to shove it all the way up with a loud metallic clang. 

The sound startles you, but not as much as the sight when one of the boxes lifts from your hold, revealing your apparent savior.

The both of you pause, staring at each other in slight shock. Well–for him at least. You had ulterior motives that came delivered to you all wrapped up in worn-out denim.

Joel’s expression was less than welcoming, which in his defense—he wasn’t quite expecting to see his ghost in his own yard. 

“What are you doin’ here?”

The curtness of his voice throws you, but it’s too late to think of turning tail and driving off.

“I’m…one of the volunteers.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel begins, lifting the last box out of your arms like they weighed nothing. “You signin’ up under your mama’s name just to come sniffin’ round’ me? That it?”

“What? No. She couldn’t make it,” you shoot back, a little too quick, a little too defensive. Joel wasn’t buying it, his unimpressed stare making you shift on your feet.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, already stepping over to your car. With a grunt, he hefted another box from your trunk, the effort drawing a low sound from his chest. 

The bitterness (and arousal) pools in your mouth at the noise he makes. 

Yes. You’d admit. You sniffed out Joel’s trail like some stray, chasing after the smallest crumb of him. It wasn’t irrational for you to think that you deserved some sort of closure. 

His voice cuts clean through your spiraling thoughts. “If you’re expectin’ somethin’, you best stop right there. I ain’t messin’ around.” You grimaced, fumbling for words. 

“I’m just here to help—” 

“S’enough outta you. Stay out of trouble.” He interrupts, not quite looking at you. 

Joel wills himself to flick his gaze anywhere but at you, one look at your face was enough to remind him of the fact, one look was probably enough to pop a damn boner. He sets the boxes down by the patio, knees cracking as he stretches back up with a grunt.

“Get someone to hang ‘em up. ‘Cause clearly,” he says, eyeing your sweater and skirt, “you ain’t dressed to actually help.”

He gives you a short, dismissive nod before turning away, leaving you standing there. Warmth pools your cheeks, feeling foolish to have gone this far for the attention of a man who made it clear that he didn’t seem to give a fuck whether you were here or not.

—

Joel spends the better half of the afternoon hovering around you. 

Approaching you normally was out of the question now that Sarah and the other kids began to flitter into his backyard to help with preparation. His daughter’s presence acted like a highly effective cock-block. Not that he had any business entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Risky didn’t begin to describe it, so he kept his distance. That resolve went straight out the window when he spotted you, half-balanced on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the edge of his roof. With candy cane printed panties peeking out from under your skirt—god almighty, Joel nearly doubled over.

You could feel Joel's eyes on you while attempting to hang the lights over the siding. Purposefully going against what he said, purposefully giving everyone a goddamn show. 

"You ever learn how to listen?" 

“I can do it myself.” You shot back. Coyly soothing the back of your skirt. A proper fuck you to him at his insinuation that you’d been here just to man-trap him. Not that the notion did much. 

You felt the ladder steady with Joel’s hold. Effectively blocking everyone else from seeing what you were flaunting. 

"For the love of christ, darlin’, get down." 

“For the love of christ, I’m almost fuckin’ done.” You parroted his words back to him with an annoyed huff. It was hard not to let Joel infiltrate your mind but lack of his attention was eating you up–making you do crazy things, evidently.

With a satisfied huff at the placements, you brought your arms down.

Why did that…feel heavy?

A sharp crackle and metallic clatter fills the air before you fully completed your thought, the chains of lights comes tumbling down. You froze. Lowering your gaze to see the single goddamn twine snagged onto your sweater that you’d effectively yanked down with you. 

The bulbs burst into chaotic pops as they hit the ground, shards of glass scattering like tiny fireworks across the patio, drawing everyone’s attention.

Joel doesn’t hesitate, his hands found your waist as he lifted you off the ladder and set you firmly on the ground to safety with a grunt, his eyes snaps to the shards of glass glinting in the light and the fresh scratches marring his freshly varnished patio.

"You gotta be shittin' me..." He mutters, the irritation sharp in his drawl.  

“Mr Miller…”

Joel held up his palm as a sign to get you to be quiet so he could speak. Damn if you calling him Mr Miller now of all times didn’t make him want to haul your ass up to his bedroom.

Which he might add, seemed conveniently close.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "D’you think before you do anythin’ at all? Or do you just act on impulse?" He asks in a sharp and biting tone, looking directly at you as he spoke.

You cock your brow at his words. Surely he wasn’t seriously reacting this way to a couple of broken lights. To mention, your lights.

“What? Think about being a decent person to help?”

"A decent person would've listened the first time when I told you to leave it the hell alone," he snapped, stepping closer. "A decent person wouldn’t have shot me attitude n’ thrown a damn temper tantrum when I told you to get down."  

“What are you getting so bent out of shape for?”

“For starters, you wrecked my patio, darlin’.” He grumbles. Rubbing the back of his neck in the slightest amount of awareness that he’d overreacted, though he’d rather chew rocks than admit it. 

You don’t answer him. Humiliated as is. Your pouty-ness showed in the way you stomped over to get the broom that lay in the corner. He watches you regardless, arms folded taut.

“Goddamned train-wreck.” He mutters under his breath after a long pause, not even giving you the chance to let an apology leave your lips before he turns his heel to leave.

—

You didn’t take it well when people spoke to you like you were stupid. 

An Ivy League degree hung the walls of your room for fucks sake. Who the hell did Joel think he was? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you’d tucked your tail between your legs to sweep it all up without a word. The embers that lay dormant were further fanned as time passed. You were pissed.

Joel, on the other hand, begins to feel guilt at the way he’d reacted. Even in the corner of his eyes, he sees you helping set up with the rest of the parents. It wasn’t the behaviour of some reckless nympho he imagined you to be when you stepped foot into his yard. 

You didn’t have to stand there to stand under the sun in the unforgiving Texas heat, refilling lemonade for the parent’s committee. Or entertain Sarah and the rest of the kids. You’d turned his backyard into a damned Christmas Wonderland by the end of the night.

You were a good girl, he figures after a long while of brooding.

And he tries. He tries to approach you to apologize but you didn’t seem to be having it. Going out of your way to swerve at the slightest sight of him near you. Which he gets.

You were over it, really. Chalked it up to his personality being generally the way it was. But what really helped you get over your humiliation? Seeing Joel Miller fucking grovel. 

Which you were acutely aware of with the way he lingered around you, waiting for an opening that you deprived of him.

—

The skies grew to a dusky violet, the backyard gently lit up with the soft twinkle of the fairy lights you’d painstakingly hung up (and re-hung). Lull of familiar Christmas classics playing by the speakers. 

The warmth of the chatter and laughter surrounding the table tugged at your edges, coaxing a reluctant smile to your lips. You weren’t ready to admit it, but the festive mood was infectious.

You sat near the end of the committee’s table, the seat next to you conspicuously empty. The kids–Oscar, Sarah, and their friends were huddled at their own table. You briefly wondered if you should join them instead, given that the current hot topic at your table being mortgage rates.

The thud of a melamine crystal glass landing next to your plate broke your train of thought. You flick your gaze up, your expression hardening the moment you caught sight of Joel dragging the empty chair over next to you and lowering himself into it with a creak.

Without a word, he slides the glass closer to you, taking a sip from his own. His movements were deliberate, careful, like a man trying not to step on a landmine.

Joel wasn’t quite well-versed in apologies, as evident by Sarah’s constant reminders that one of these days he was going to piss a woman he actually fancied. His hand stretches over your lap, unfurling the napkin on the other side of you to drape it over your thighs. 

“Could you pass over the salt, sweetheart?” 

You tilt your head, arching a brow, not moving a muscle. Instead, you shot him a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh and a muttered curse under his breath, Joel stands up, his knees popping audibly as he leaned across the table to grab the salt himself. He slumps back into his chair, setting it down with a huff. How could a little thing like you hold so much anger?

“Done torturin’ me yet?” 

A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Who said I was?” 

“I’m tryin’ to apologise, sweetheart.” You shudder at the manner he whispers the words out. As though it was a secret reserved for just you and him. 

You rest your cheeks on your palms, shooting him an uninterested look. Joel’s eyes darts down to your plate that you were pushing to him. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching over and starts loading your plate up again with generous portions of the dishes spread across the table. The sight of him doing so, quiet and almost reverent, made your chest sing.

Oh this. This you could get used to.

For the next twenty minutes, you’d milked Joel’s newfound contrition for all it was worth. Needed a refill? Joel was already reaching for your glass. Running low on napkins? He was up and grabbing a fresh one before you even asked. You’d even braced yourself for him to snap when you made a fuss over your creaky chair, but to your delight, he stood up and swapped it out without so much as a grumble.

Unfortunately for you, your luck does runs out.

The flutter of your napkin onto the makeshift mat spread across the lawn catches his attention, his eyes darting to the rogue square of fabric before slowly flicking back up to meet your gaze. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him expectantly, lips quirking just enough to toe the line between innocent and insufferable.

Joel’s jaw twitches.

“Fuckin’ pick it up on your own, sweetheart.” his voice was laced with just enough irritation to make your smirk widen. Still, you couldn’t resist one last little prod.

Your legs shifted, one crossing over the other, the toe of your shoe brushing lightly against the denim of his jeans. His eyes darted down to the motion before snapping back up, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to apologise?” 

Joel shifts in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think I settled my debts, crackles.”

You roll your eyes at his taunt, the warning laced in it only served to burn in your gut like uncontrollable lust. You felt yourself grow bored now that he’d ruthlessly cut you off from your only source of entertainment. 

The thrill begins to wane, you’d grown impatient at Joel’s lack of well, giving in. Though the idea, a possibly stupid one, that you might’ve needed to give him a little push crosses your mind. 

With a deliberate stretch, you rose from your seat, leaning over the table to reach for the salt shaker resting comfortably on Joel’s side with a hand placed on his thigh. It was perfectly positioned for him to hand it over to you–if you’d bothered to ask. But that wasn’t the point.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the faint tick of his pulse. Slowly, you eased back into your seat, dragging your fingers in a slow deliberate curve as you went.

The sharp grip of his hand on your wrist came next, firm enough to make you gasp. Joel’s dark eyes locked on yours, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep whatever storm was brewing behind them at bay.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He’d taken the bait all right. The unmistakable rise against where your hand was placed told you what you needed to know. Hook, line, and sinker.

It doesn’t quite matter to him whether you’d forgiven him anymore. 

With a sharp tug, Joel pulls you up with him. “S’cuse me. This one isn’t feeling too well.” 

The protest dies in your throat when Joel practically hauls you across his yard, away from the nosy glances from the rest of the parents. 

You frown at the dusty old garage he leads you to up front where you’d parked your car. A hand comes up the back of your head to force you to duck underneath the half opened door, cringing at the loud sound it draws. 

You tip your head up to watch Joel grab the edge of the half-opened garage door to full slam it down shut.

Fuck. You felt your cunt clench with the way his sleeves tightened around his forearms, wetting your lips subconsciously at the sight.

“This where you murder me, Mr Miller?”

His jaw ticks at that. There it was again. Mr Miller.

“Shut up.”

You mouthed the words wow as you looked to the side. As though there was a camera you were monologuing to. Joel approaches you tentatively. Backing you up until you feel sturdy metal stop your path. 

A firm slam against the hood you were backed up against causes you to jolt. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” He begins. Shifting closer until he had you snug against him and the truck. “You’ve been fuckin’ with me.”

You tilt your head up. Neck stretched uncomfortably to its limit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel sighs. Looking towards the side, as though he might back off and run away again. 

“This ain’t right.”

You frown. Why was he getting cold feet now? You gaze darts to the side, following his line of vision. A frilly pink bicycle parked in the midst of the dusty old boxes stacked up against concrete walls. Some labelled with years of mementos of his daughter growing up. 

Joel groans when he feels a much smaller, soft hand cup against the growing strain on his jeans. “Judging by this, I think you’re full of shit.”

His restraint teeters on the edge. “Don’t.” He grasps around your wrists to stop you, though, he half asses it, barely with the amount of strength he could’ve used if he’d really wanted you to stop.  

You palm against his erection, feeling it quickly harden beneath. You suck in your breath at the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his lips. A whimper leaves your lips at how receptive he’d been to your touch. 

“You’re trouble.” He manages. Finally meeting your gaze. You can tell he’s conflicted, but the way you cupped around his balls through the denim has him keeling over with a rough exhale. 

He finally gathers enough strength in him to force your hand away from his cock. Just as you were about to whine about it, he flips you over. You steady your palms against the hood of his truck. 

“Gotta be quiet. You understand me?” You nod quickly. Not daring to speak considering how his voice already echoed in the garage even at its softest.

Your elbows move to rest against the dirtied metal. Folding it so you could comfortably rest your head on it. 

Joel lets out a low whistle at the way you bend your hips. Hiking your skirt up slowly. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He mutters. Thumb swiping against the growing dampness of your panties. 

A dull noise from his zipper is the only other thing you hear when you feel him grind his clothed cock against you. 

“Mr Miller—please.” You breathed out. Your thighs tenses, wiggling your hips higher to relieve the ache you felt. Feeling his hardness prod against your folds. 

Joel sighs softly, thumbing against your clit before you curl into yourself. “Don’t need it.” You breathe out quickly. There’s a pause in his movements before you feel a thumb hook around the waistband of your panties. Dragging it down to your ankles. 

The sound Joel makes at the sight of your slick stringing down the gusset of it makes him wince out audibly. Two fingers gather the slick of your folds, messily dragging it up and down your clit in a repeated notion. His fingers dipping in and out of you with a squelch. You groan out. Hips stuttering at the sensation. 

“Hurry.” You urged.

You feel his other palm carefully twirl around the back of your hair. The breath knocks out of you when he heaves you backwards into his chest with a sharp tug. Fingertips entwined with your locks.

“Been patient with ya all fuckin’ day and ya think you got the right t’rush me now?”

Tears threaten to prick in the corners of your eyes at his tone. You grip around his wrist where he holds your hair. “…hurts” , you whisper, guiding his other hand back to your clit, “..here.”

Joel swallows thickly. He clenched his jaw so damn tight you audibly heard just how hard he ground them. How could he deprive you further when you were begging so sweetly? 

He shucks his jeans down further, guiding his twitching cock out from his boxers. A drawn out groan leaves your lips when he nudges the head of his cock against your soaking pussy. Your moan echoes loudly into the space around you both. 

He growls into your ears. Before you could apologise, your voice gets muffled around the heavy palm that comes to cover your mouth. You whine against it. “Told t’be fuckin’ quiet.” He grits, voice hushed against the side of your head. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the way he begins to thrust into you with the tip in an effort to get you used to his size. But it didn’t matter. The way his cockhead stretched your pussy out stung. But it was quickly replaced by the nauseating need to be fucked full. 

Joel leans down to trace kisses up your neck before he fully sheathes himself into you. The muffle around your mouth grows tighter to suppress the loud moan. “Shh shh…you’ve got it.” He praises, breathing heavily into your ears. 

The tears trickle directly over his knuckles. He releases the grip he had on your hair, looping around your abdomen. Snapping his hips into you at a punishing pace. You babble incoherently, practically slobbering into his palms, whining about how deep his cock was pounding into you. 

The obscene slaps of where the two of you connected fills the garage, only spurring his need to fill you deep with his come. 

Joel lets out a groan when you clench around his dick like vice. “Fuck. Pussy’s chokin’ me.” His head drops to the dip of your neck. Pressing kisses onto your pulse point. 

“Don’t think I can last much longer.” He admits, dragging his hand–slick with your saliva down to your throat. His head flush against your shoulder blade. He takes a moment to breathe you in. Joel isn’t quite the man he used to be and coming this embarrassingly fast wasn’t on his docket. Least of all tonight. 

You squirm a little at the sensation of Joel’s stubble against your shoulder. A deep exhale leaving your lips. 

“M…me too..” You pant out heavily. Resting your head back against his chest. Joel’s free hand slides underneath your sweater, yanking your bra down. 

A rough palm kneads the softness, tweaking your hardened nipples in a circular motion. “Shit. Mr—…Miller.” You manage. Squirming at how his palm gropes your tits clumsily. You give yourself the final push you needed, your fingers coming down to rub against your clit. 

Joel’s hips stutter at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock, following your orgasm soon after. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Both his hands firm around your hips. 

Your hands hastily come up to grab around his wrists. “Wait—stop—…stop.” You gasp out. Joel doesn’t quite register your pleas with how his mind was whirring around wanting to fuck his come deep into you until he feels a warm splatter of your release trickle down his thighs. 

Your bated breaths fill the garage. Mortified, you watch the liquid drip from the radiator grill of Joel’s truck. 

“I’ll be damned.” He muses, earning a warning look from you. Joel shakes his head, a low rumble from his chest makes you feel a little less embarrassed about squirting onto his truck. He turns you around to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheeks. 

“Been meanin’ to get er’ washed. Guess I don’t gotta anymore.”

[prettiedup]

hello!!! i hope ur having a lovely day! <3

i would like to request a nanami fic. maybe using the one bed trope??

thank you! XOXO

nanami has always preferred to do things alone. living, cooking, sleeping, organizing, everything needs to be done precisely and in his preferred way. working was also something he enjoyed doing on his lonesome. the way nanami moved was meticulous and it left no room for error. he enjoyed taking his time to learn his footwork and his abilities. as dreadful as being a sorcerer is, he has to find enjoyment in the littlest things.

“nami! i can’t open this!” you’re pouting and groaning in irritation while you struggle to open your can of cola. he glances to his side, you’re trying to use the tips of your fingers instead of your nails due to them being so long and squared.

“i told you to stop getting them so long.” he’s grumbling while taking one hand off of the steering wheel to open the can for you. once you hear the satisfying pop, a bright smile plays onto your pretty lips. 

“thank you, nami!” you smile excitedly while taking the can back.

he didn’t reply, only giving you a hum to let you know he heard you. you’re a nice girl, you remind him of something sweet. your personality is so bubbly and energizing, something nanami is completely polar of. even after months of working with you as both his partner and your mentor, he could never get used to you. you’re like a sweet slap in the face, he had stigmatized that the earth is cruel and evil years ago. and then here you go, prancing around all pink and glittery. 

when he first saw you, he thought you were a teenager, to give you some lead way; fresh out of high school. his eyebrows almost touched his hairline when he learned that you were actually well into your 20’s. you’re just a few years younger than him. he remembers complaining to yaga, to the higher ups, he was even so devastated that he found it in him to complain to gojo. 

“i’ve never needed a partner. i sure as hell don’t need one now.” he told gojo as he downed his fourth shot of whiskey. “and一and she’s just so fuckin’ opposite.” he complained. his pale cheeks were flushed red and there were small beads of sweat formed around his hairline.  

gojo has his infamous smirk on his lips as he listens to his ‘friend’ rant. “maybe that’s what you need, kento.” gojo tells him, honestly. “a reminder that you’re not even goddamn 30 yet. live a little.” 

if they wanted him to live a little they should’ve given him a vacation to the beach or something of that sort. that’s how nanami sees it, anyway. 

while you are just the sweetest thing, you sometimes are a lot to deal with. your attention span is too short, you become emotional when things don’t go your way, and you shut down too easily. nanami finds himself having to pick up the pieces alot when it comes to you. especially with you two being partners and the missions can sometimes be months long. something so delicate, hosts something so fiery inside. he’s seen you during battle. when a curse is taking too long to exterminate, when a mission drags on longer than told, when you accidentally break a nail from punching too hard. all those things tie together and create an absolute beast. he had almost felt foolish for doubting you the first time the two of you had gone on your first official mission together.

“nami.” your soft voice rings through his ears. he had a bad habit of zoning out, especially while driving. it’s become habitual to call out his name every now and then to make sure he’s actually focused. 

“i’m here.” those two words carry two meanings as he pulls into the hotel parking lot.

the two of you step out of the car. you stand beside nanami, watching as he pulls out his solid black duffel bag along with your hello kitty duffle bag. you continue mindlessly sipping on your coke even while he has to use his hip to close the door because his hands are full.

“you’re too good to carry your own bag?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows. 

“yup.” you make sure to pop the p. he can only glare at you. with a bright, unaffected smile, you blissfully ignore his intense, piercing glare and walk towards the entrance of the hotel. you stride confidently, with nanami towing closely behind you.

you walk up to the front desk and begin talking to the receptionist. she appears noticeably young, perhaps younger than both of you. her face is dotted with a variety of moles, along with a few faint acne scars. her upturned hazel-green eyes are striking, despite the dark circles beneath them. the contrast between her youthful features and the weariness in her gaze has you intrigued. you were a complete sucker for pretty girls. 

“we do have one more room available, but there’s only one bed.” she tells you two. her eyes sweep between the two of you hesitantly as she breaks the news.

both you and nanami freeze at her. usually, you would both get your own rooms and meet back up in the morning. instantly, there’s a pout on your face. the cheerfulness and confidence you once walked into the lobby with is quickly gone.

“how far away is the next closest hotel?” you ask.

“about forty minutes.” she replies.

you look behind you, at nanami; who seems to be calculating something. “what are we gonna do, nami?” you’re frowning and your tone holds a silver of frustration.

“we’re going to take the room. i get the bed and you get the couch.” is all he says. he steps up to give her the money.

minutes later the both of you are walking to your designated hotel room. nanami holds a look of nonchalance while you’re all pouty and frowning. 

he ignores it, he’s gotten so used to it. he knows your little attitude won’t last forever. something else will soon take your attention and you’ll soon forget about how upset you were seconds ago. once the two of you make it to the door, he slots the keycard inside of the lock and watches the red light flash green. he allows you to walk in first and trails closely behind you.

the room is spacious and inviting, a large king bed lies in the middle of the room, draped in crisp, high thread count linens and a plush, oversized duvet. soft lighting creates a warm ambiance, while large windows offer a stunning view of the cityscape surroundings. in the far corner,  a plush, deep set couch padded in soft, rich fabric, inviting everyone to sink into its comfort. the couch is surrounded by a pair of stylish armchairs.

“this is the best room so far!” you’re excitedly bouncing around and touching everything. you can barely stay in one spot before you’re moving onto the next. you open a door that leads to the bathroom. you let out an excited squeal when you see how big the bathroom is. “they have those drop-in bathtub things!”

you skip to nanami and grab you duffel bag out of his hands. “i’m gonna go shower!” you tell nanami before running back inside the bathroom.

𓊆ྀི ❤︎ 𓊇ྀི

“nami! jus’ lay down! i’ll sleep at the headboard and you sleep at the foot of the bed.” you try to negotiate with the man. this has been going on for a few minutes and you were beginning to grow irritated.

“the couch is fine. it’s big enough and it looks quite comfortable.” he declines.

“i’m gonna cry.” you threaten him.

“are you really going to cry because i prefer the couch?” nanami asks with both amusement and frustration. he was growing tired and wanted nothing more than to lay down at the moment.

“this is a large bed! i won’t be able to forgive myself if you sleep on the couch.” you explain to him.

nanami just sighs and stares at you. you stand there with your arms crossed, not giving up on wanting him to sleep on the bed also.he’s sure that if just goes and lay down on the couch you’d follow him and complain until he caves in to get you to be quiet. 

“alright.. alright.” he mumbles as he goes to the foot of the bed, far away from where you’d be laying. 

the both of you climb into bed with your backs toward each other. you’re facing the now covered windows while he faces the door. 

“g’night, nami.” you tell him sleepily.

“goodnight.” he replies.

𓊆ྀི ❤︎ 𓊇ྀི

nanami should’ve known. his eyes sleepily flutter open, he could feel your body greedily rubbing against his. your leg is thrown over his so that your clothed cunt could rub against his hardening dick. you’re letting out gaspy moans every time your clit gets captured against the tip of his cock. your face rests in the crook of his neck, dribbles of spit escape past your lips and land on his neck only for you to lap it back up. 

“sweetheart..” nanami trails off tiredly. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good but you two had to get up extremely early and when you don’t have enough hours of sleep, you turn into a little demon.

“i-i know.” you whine. “‘s gonna be the last time, n-nami. i jus’ need you.” you sniffle. 

everytime is you two have sex you try to reassure nanami that it would be the last time. he knows you’re lying and he can’t tell if you say and genuinely mean it or if you say it to just quiet him down. he should’ve known when you begged him to sleep in the bed with you that you were up to something. 

“i need you!” you repeat stubbornly. 

he huffs to himself as his fingers slide down under your flimsy shorts. you thumb makes contact with your clit and you’re instantly bucking yourself against his hand instead. you’re so wet, you already have his fingers covered with your arousal. 

“don’t wan’ your fingers, nami. wan’ your cock!” you don’t wait for him to reply to your statement. your hands greedily dig into his sweatpants and fish for his cock. when your hands come in contact with his length, he shudders and lets out a low curse.

“greedy girl.” he tsks. he helps you shuffle his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to be freed. “no prep?” he asks in worry. you need it so bad that you’re shaking your head no. you continue to lap at his skin, leaving marks onto him. with shaky hands, nanami tugs your shorts off of your legs and slides your panties to the side. “look at me.”

you raise your head and search for his hardened eyes. the second you two make eye contact, his lips latch onto yours. he hungrily keeps his lips pressed against yours as he lines his thick cock up to your leaking hole. he slowly pushes himself into you, the both of you gasp and moan into each others mouths as you become one.

he doesn’t keep a steady rhythm for long, the second his pelvis slaps against your ass he speeds up. he’s serious about getting some amount of sleep so that you two could be well rested for tomorrow’s mission. he continues to thumb at your clit while he thrusts into you.

“mnghhh! s-shit.” you moan out once the two of you pull away. nanami’s eyes glance down at your spit glossed lips, you look so delicious like this. 

“pretty girls don’t curse.” he lectures you. 

you can’t think of an insult to throw at his way. all you can do is moan a weak ‘sorry’ and grab at his shoulder. nanami coos at how dumb you’re becoming for him. he uses his other arm to hook it under your leg and bring it up higher. even though the movement is subtle, the change is obvious.

nanami is barely holding up, himself. his skin is flushed red and his hair is sticking down to his head. he’s letting out huffs as he tries to control himself and not cum so fast. it’s hard not to when your pussy is gripping him so tightly. 

he looks down and watches as his dick appears and then disappears inside of you repeatedly. he could see strings of your arousal smeared all over both yourself and him.

“fuck.” he mumbles before diving for your lips once again. as much as he wants to finish as soon as possible with how wet and needy you are, he knows you two will be going at it for hours. 

[remuslupinslittleslut]

No Cocks in Cunts.

It's been a while since I wrote reader insert and I feel a bit unsure of the quality, but I felt I had to just get back in the saddle and write something.

Prompt: Reader doesn't enjoy penetration but the boys make it fun for her anyway.

This is for @mavelfan1 and everyone who voted for one shots for tumblr on my poll. I love you and have some smut.

Masterlist.

Original post here.

His hands rub your legs, trying to provide comfort. “What do you feel about getting eaten out?” He asks you, before winking and leaning down to kiss up your legs.

“I uh, feel, I think good, about that,” you say, forcing the words out, cheeks heated as Sirius’ lips continue their way up your legs. “Just don’t, you know, get in there.”

Kiss. “I won’t.” Kiss. “I promise, I’ll take such good care of you princess.” Kiss.

Your whole body shudders as his lips almost touch your wet core with every kiss pressed to your thighs. “Siri,” you whimper, “please…”

He chuckles, again, and this time you can feel the hot breath against your pussy. He’s soon silenced, as his tongue darts out and licks a stripe along your lips, stopping only to swirl around your clit.

Remus is still balancing his body weight on one arm, face above yours, lips having been moved from your forehead in order for his eyes to graze your face. As your body is opening up to the sensations of Sirius’ tongue, however, Remus gets impatient and your boyfriend leans down over you to kiss your lips.

It’s soft at first, a gentle press of lips, but he soon escalates it, licking across your lips and nipping softly at them. This forces you to open your mouth and he’s quick to enter, curious tongue finding it’s way around yours.

Between your thighs, Sirius is working his tongue all the way around your cunt, licking and sucking, making heat start to build in your core as you feel the finish line getting closer and closer.

“Go on,” James says, from somewhere on the bed, with both other boys’ mouths on you you’ve lost all of your attention span. “Come for us, come on Sirius’ tongue, be a good girl now.”

Your back arches as you grind your hips against Sirius’ face, forcing his face deeper into your cunt, making him taste every last piece of you as his tongue makes it way up and down, in long licks.

Remus pulls away before Sirius does, his hands on your cheeks and holding you still, eyes following your every move. “You’re fuckin beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, kissing you softly again on the lips.

When you have calmed down from your orgasm, you find that you’re the only one who got to cum, which somehow feels a bit unfair.

“So,” you start, heat rising to your cheeks again, as you feel their eyes on you, all aware that you’re about to say something cheeky. “What were the other things we could do that wasn’t…”

“Cock in cunt?” James provides, earning himself a shove from Remus and a laugh from Sirius.

“Yes,” you say, avoiding eye contact, “that.”

They share another look, and your stomach drops slightly, like when going on a roller coaster, knowing that the creativity about to flow would be exciting to say the least. They seemed to share more of a silent conversation than just a look, and soon your body was moved across the bed, placing you flat on your stomach.

“So,” Sirius says from somewhere behind you, “you just tell us if there’s something you don’t like, and then we’ll stop and do something else, yeah?”

You nod your head, anticipation rising in your chest. Your lack of verbal confirmation earns you a soft slap to the ass, and you manage an “okay.”

You hear the soft sounds of fabric moving, along with clinking of hardware, likely their belts, and the smacking sound of kissing. You love knowing that they can get off on each other, that you don’t always have to be the center of focus, even though you usually ended up in that position anyways, not actually minding one bit.

“Okay, we’ve decided on something each, and we won’t tell you beforehand, but you can choose who you want to start with,” Remus explains, reaching a warm hand to rub the flesh and fat of your ass. “So take your pick darling.”

You shudder at the thought, raking your mind for who you think would be the most fun to start with.

“Remmy,” you say it the same second you’ve decided, the choice coming easily to you. You’ve missed his hands on your body and you can soon feel the withdrawal in an uncomfortable way. “Please,” you add, trying to make him hurry.

“Coming, darling,” he says, straddling your thighs and leaning down to kiss along your spine. “Padfoot, lube,” he demands, one hand leaving your body.

Soon after, you can feel the cold fluid hit your backside, falling into your crack, leaving your arse all cold and wet. Remus’ warm fingers rub through the liquid, running it along your backside and all the way to your front, allowing it to mix with your own natural wetness. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you when his heavy cock drops down, slapping your ass and gliding along the lube.

“Remmy,” you whine it this time, desperate for more sensation.

He chuckles, but guides his cock to the crack between your thighs nonetheless, allowing the length of it to rub along your pussy, the head pressing against your clit.

“How’s that feel baby?” He asks, hips thrusting his cock back and forth in between your thighs.

“So-oo-ooo good.” It comes out a moan, the sensation against your already sensitive clit sending sparks of pleasure through your body with every brush of his head.

“See that,” he muses, “making perfectly good use of your pretty cunt, no need to go inside love.”

His pace slows down, hips grinding in hard, intentional motions against you. It starts as a throbbing somewhere within the pit of your tummy, small waves crashing through your body until it’s convulsing in pleasure.

“That’s my good girl,” Remus says, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

His warm body is moved away from you and for only a moment you are left alone on the bed.

“Hi darling, my turn?” James says, reaching two strong arms out for you, moving your body to turn you, making you face him.

“Hi Jamie,” you say, smiling sweetly at him, reaching your own hands out for him, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

For a few minutes you stay like that, tangled up in a kiss with James, hands in his hair and breathing calming down after your orgasm.

His hands are rubbing down your sides, trying to keep you warm in your nude state; he never had any issues with that, his blood was almost always at a boiling temperature.

You don’t know what it is or where it came from, but suddenly, there’s a low vibrating sound from somewhere in the room and before you can really think it over, the object is pressed against your cunt.

“Ah!” You squeal, the vibrations causing your back to arch and your hips to grind. It’s so much, almost too much, after coming twice, the feeling is almost painful.

James dips his head into your neck, kissing the skin and breathing in your scent.

“You’re delicious, babe,” he murmurs, licking a long stripe up your neck. It’s only minutes before your body starts shaking, a blinding orgasm taking your body to somewhere in outer space. “Shh, love,” James is whispering, body still atop yours. “Shh, just gotta take it, just take it.”

You drift away from this reality to the sound of James’ soft voice.

*

When you awake, it is entangled in a warm embrace, all of your boys having fitted themselves around you on the engorged bed. There are limbs and love everywhere and you find your breathing is strained, but you don’t mind it one bit.

“Morning darling,” Sirius says, pulling you closer.

“It’s morning?” You ask, confused, making him chuckle into your hair.

“Not really,” his voice is soft but raspy in the mornings, it tastes like honey when you breathe it it. “Still very early, afraid you passed out a bit.”

He’s chewing his bottom lip, a tic you’ve noticed him having whenever he’s nervous or unsure of something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching your hand to cup his cheek.

His eyes flutter close at your touch, his cheeks turning a soft rose color. “I just…” he breaks off, and you know it best to not pressure him, but rather to just allow him to take his time. “I feel really bad about last night, I didn’t know you weren’t in to that and I almost made you do it,” he shudders at the memory. “Even with safe words in place I’m scared we’ll hurt you, I mean, we went pretty hard on you after that…”

You smile at him, brushing your thumb across his skin. “You don’t have to worry about it, my love,” you say, and you know that you mean it. “I know that I can always say no, and it was only proven when I did, and you stopped. You did exactly what you were supposed to, I’m just sorry to disappoint you with the whole no penetration thing.” The last bit is meant as a joke, as you are sure that they can make perfect do without it, but Sirius’ eyes widen still.

“We’re not missing out on anything, besides, Moony fuckin ruined my arse while James used that toy on you, it was really fucking hot, I’ve gotta say.”

It’s your time to shudder at his words, finding the thought of Sirius being fucked by Remus, turned on by watching you with James a very sexy one.

“Really?” You ask, giving him a smirk, “what was it like?”

You reach a hand down to tug at his briefs, freeing his half-hard cock and taking it into your hand.

He groans, turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Baby…” it’s a whine, music to your ears. “You were so beautiful, all blissed out, holding on to our Jamie for dear life, he’s got such a nice back, oh,” your hand is moving, a soft flick of the wrist that makes him moan. “Fuck, and Moony, oh my Moony, he’s so big, feels like he’s splitting you open, you couldn’t take it, you’d have to be all warmed up, and he shows no mercy, just fucks me so hard, while telling me not to take my eyes off of you.”

His eyes are screwed shut, but his hand reaches down to touch you, pinching and rubbing at your clit.

“I can image,” you tell him, “I felt him, Remmy, he’s so big, you did so good taking him.” You know Sirius always goes soft for praise, and your words send shivers through his body, convulsing in the shine of your appreciation. “You’re so good, so good to me, so good at touching me, I love you.”

Sirius’ body shakes as his breath gets heavy and his fingers toy with you in a rushed and impatient way. “Love you too baby,” he says, leaning his head in closer to yours, foreheads pushed together.

You come together, fingers sticky and thighs shaking, breathes shared between the two of you. When you’ve calmed down a bit, he leans in to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes, giving his usual chuckle.

“So was that your plan? If I’d chosen you first?”

He grins at the thought, pulling you closer into him. “Nah,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I would’ve sat you on my face, maybe tried suggesting a sixty-nine.”

[sad-stucky-shipper-107]

ISAGI YOICHI DESERVES MORE RESPECT.

Minor rant incoming:

It fuckin pisses me off that people underestimate Isagi so much, like even after he's leaving people in the dust left and right and is now a terrifying player in his own right, he's still treated like some- some weakling?! What the fuck?!

Its like he has to prove his worth with every fuckin match, to every single fucking person, every single time. They all act like he's beneath them and finally catching up. They all go on about like "Omg Isagi so weak he gotta compensate for it with his smarts"

Like. Bitch. No. His smarts is fucking crushing all of you. Oh my god. His smart is a weapon that is so fuckin terrifying but everyone's like "Uwu isagi, ur lucky, barely scraped by the skin of ur teeth there" like. Fuck off omg, he destroyed u. Stfu.

He's already devoured Barou, Chigiri, Nagi, Reo, Aiku: fuckin Rin and Shidou (although briefly) even before the U-20 MATCH BEGAN.. And yet they are considered better players in blue-lock verse?! Like mf in what world does that make sense?!

ITOSHI SAE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO I SEE PROPERLY RESPECTING ISAGI'S POTENTIAL, HE DIDN'T SAY SHIT LIKE 'I underestimated you' or 'lucky shot'

NO, HE FUCKIN ACKNOWLEDEGED ISAGI AS A STRIKER AND A POWEFUL ONE AT THAT (RIGHTLY SO) AND THEN MOVED THE FUCK ON.

His observational skills are a weapon, people gotta stop acting like physical weapons are the only ones that count. Isagi been breaking them weapons left and right with his mf brain. Ong.

And the NEL. God the fucking NEL.

He's keeping up with kaiser. I'd go so far as to say, he's managing to beat the fucking shit out of kaiser and in such a short while no less, working with the pitifully small pieces of advice that he himself has to go ask Noa for. We havent seen him recieve any other mentorship.

HE FUCKING IMPROVED HIS LEFT FOOT SO FUCKING MUCH IN LIKE- 10 DAYS. WITHOUT WHATEVER FUCKIN STEROIDS EGO WAS GIVING KUNIGAMI. AND HE MANAGED TO EVEN CONVERT IT INTO A USEFUL WEAPON?!

He devoured fuckin Chris motherfuckin' Prince. And adult. World's no. 2. And people just?? Brush over that?! Like mf. What do u want from him. What more do u want from him.

AND HE'S DOING ALL THIS WHILE HIS SHOTS HAVE BEEN GETTING BLOCKED AND STOLEN LEFT AND RIGHT BY HIS OWN TEAMMATES (FELLOW BLUE-LOCKERS INCLUDED)

My boy deserves so much more respect from like. Every single fucking person in bluelock verse.

I WILL NOT SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT THIS. ISAGI YOICHI DESERVES SO MUCH BETTER-

[corazondebeskar-reads]

could be

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).

genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."

words: 1.7k

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Whoa, that’s a new one,” drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. “ If it ain’t the prettiest little clicker I’ve ever seen.” 

You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumn’s early frost already turning the ground to stone. “Shut up, Joel,” you mutter. 

“That always work for ya? How haven’t you gotten shot yet?” He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap you’ve adorned with the decapitated clicker’s face.

(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms don’t matter.) 

“Yep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.”

“It’s a good impression, darlin’, but it’s not quite enough to trick me.” He’s drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face. 

You roll your eyes. “You a clicker whisperer or something?” 

His lips curl. “Not quite, no.” He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go. 

When you look back up at his face, you’re caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.

“You got somewhere to stay tonight?” he says, instead of acknowledging the way you’ve drawn a breadth closer. 

“Sure do,” you drawl. 

He chuckles. “Alright, keep your secrets. But, uh—my back ain’t what it used to be, so the forest floor ain’t gonna work for me today.”

Your lips curl. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“You’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you must be desperate, then, ‘f’you’re back for an old man like me.”

“Guess so,” you hum and give in. “How d’you always find me?”

“Hmm, don’t you worry ‘bout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and I’ve got some of Tommy’s peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.”

“My hero,” you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal ‘gimmie’ gesture at his backpack. 

“Could be, y’know,” he mumbles. 

You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger. 

“Nope, not yet,” he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. “If I give it to you now, you’ll just run off, and then what’ll I have?”

“A sense of satisfaction from being kind?”

You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe “house” but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected. 

“Calm down, I already cleared it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.”

“You mean so you don’t break a knee fuckin’ me over a log?”

“It didn’t break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?”

“Old as shit,” you mutter. 

He just grins. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’. You just get brattier the longer you’re away. Ain’t got any good cock back home?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, but it’s close to the truth. There’s cock back home, sure, but then you’d have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joel’s ruined you. 

Ruined you with intent and precision, and now he’s taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodge’s dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room. 

You whistle. “Did you clean this just for me?” You ask, batting your lashes. 

“If I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. “So get your ass up here.”

You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch. 

“You think I brought you here for you to ride me? Y’can do that shit in the woods. Get up here.”

You hesitate. “I live in a fucking camp, Joel.” The “without running water” bit is obvious but unspoken.

“I do not give a shit,” he says bluntly. “Get up here.”

“Your funeral,” you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. You’re barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him. 

It’s been… longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasn’t done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckin’ terrible because this is nothing like you’ve ever known. 

But he doesn’t dive in and rush it. He doesn’t go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesn’t push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock. 

Oh, no. You’ve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. He’s brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckin’ time with you. 

His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy. 

“Shit,” he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. “It’s been too goddamn long.”  He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you can’t wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response. 

He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. “Mmm, baby, is all this for me?”

“Shoulda known you wouldn’t shut up,” you mutter, even though you’re addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.

“Shut me up then,” he says in a way you simply cannot refuse. 

You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work. 

You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips. 

“Y’ain’t quittin’ on me, are ya?” He taunts. 

“I thought you were gonna shut up.” 

He smacks your ass. “Turn around.”

When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. “Get nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, he’s diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing. 

Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but it’s so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick. 

He spanks you again. “Don’t be a tease.”

You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and it’s all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway. 

You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you. 

You can’t hold back your questions now that you’re back up and running. “How d’you have the time for this?” 

“Hmm?” Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up. 

You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. “You’re usually in a rush.”

He turns a little pink. “Don’t matter.”

“Uh, it clearly does. I’m asking.”

“Well, it’s nunya.”

You groan. “Think I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall. 

You shrug. “Gone forever,” you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically. 

It’s a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face. 

“I’m on watch here,” he says once you stop screeching indignantly. 

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” you let him know solemnly. 

“Ain’t alone. M’brother—Tommy,” he clarifies unnecessarily, “S’here too. He’s got it handled.”

“Oh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Aw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you drawl. 

He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing is—you know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, he’s been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up. 

And you’re pretty sure he’s using Tommy’s cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. You’d be mad at the absolute gall, but… it’s not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.

When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You won’t go with him, so he’ll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.

[hysterotic]

✩ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶𝑲𝒀𝑶 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑿 𝑭𝑬𝑴!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹. 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰𝑰

⚠︎ : vulgar language, shinichiro’s death mentioned, pregnancy and abortion mentioned once, another cute lil moment with kazutora except no coke is involved. temperature play, alcohol, usage of drugs, murder threats, violence, hanma has a dick piercing giggles mischievously and runs away, panty stealer!hanma and panty sniffer!kazutora, fingering, p in v, hanma calls you angel, forest sex, semi humiliation kink, you do keisuke's makeup for the halloween party.

<3 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 : kazutora hanemiya, baji keisuke, hanma shuji, rindou haitani.

vile’s note : keep in mind that the last part was very rushed and not proofread </3 i’ve got an exam in like 5 hours and i needed to finish this chapter before october so hopefully it's good enough. & thanks to @ljubimaya for helping me figure out a scene with keisuke, enjoy<3

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰 | 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷 (𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻) | 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

flashlights cast eerie shadows across the walls as rindou moves about, cracking glow sticks and laying them around the cabin. you were all in black ghostface cloaks, sitting in a circle on the floor after rearranging the living room to create more space. yet, as the dim flashlight flickers, the scene begins to resemble something more akin to a satanic ritual.

you sat in a side-sitting position, body angled towards mikey’s whose head rested comfortably on your lap. rindou finally sits in the circle and begins to explain the game, carefully tearing pieces of paper and marking circles on all but one, which gets an 'x'.

“If you draw the piece of paper that has the ‘x’ on it, you are the murderer.. and you have to keep it a secret,” He whispers the last part, his speech slightly slurred from the shots he had earlier. he places shot glasses directly in front of each person, except Keisuke who waves off the shot glass before rindou places it, raising his beer bottle to indicate that he’s good with the drink he has.

“So, how do you play exactly?” you ask, twirling Mikey’s hair with your finger.

“You have to hit the lights before playing the game, which..” Rindou pauses, saying as if the power outage had done the job already. “we’ll be wearing the mask so no one will recognize one another or team up, and the killer won’t get real fuckin’ personal,” he mumbles the last part and swiftly glances at someone. Still, you don’t care to check who.

He pushes himself up to walk towards the counter, grabbing a bottle of vodka, lime, and salt for those who need it, and comes back, pouring it into each shot glass.

Before Rindou could continue explaining, Draken interrupts. “yo, Mikey.. you wanna..?”

Mikey nudges your hands off his hair to roll over on his stomach, facing Draken and resting his chin on your thigh, his sharp chin on your thigh making you hiss slightly at the pain, but he doesn't care. “hmm?”

Draken stands up, jerking his head to the side while walking toward the front door, “Y’know.."

“Oh, yeah. excuse me.. be right back.” Mikey starts to crawl toward where Draken is walking, standing up when he reaches the front door, you glance at Emma expecting an explanation, which she shrugs off.

Rindou clears his throat to continue, “Whoever gets the paper marked ‘x’ has to find the knife’s location that’s written on the back, and sneak around to find someone to kill, alone, with nobody around to witness the murder. If you come across a body, you have to yell ‘bodies bodies bodies!’ and then we’ll pull the body back here and try to figure out who did it within 5 minutes, if the timer’s up and nobody figured out who the killer is they’ll stay anonymous and continue to be the killer to keep their streak going.”

He finally reaches your shot glass, looking you in the eye as he pours. “Remember, you can’t trust nobody.”

“So, basically a game of hide and seek except we kill each other,” you note.

He reluctantly nods, “Guess you could call it that.”

Takemichi, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, speaks up, “I get stressed out every time we play this, someone always ends up beaten up,”

“Exactly what makes this game fun,” Hanma exclaims, his tone a little too excited for comfort.

You jump in, curious as to why Takemichi’s nervous about some game, “Why what happened last time?”

“It got ugly, that’s what,” Keisuke says, swallowing his beer before responding.

“Only because Mikey and Ken fought not that long before the game, so they kept butting heads,” Mitsuya adds.

“Still, that is not fun at all,” Takemichi says.

Rindou knocks back a shot glass, smacking his lips before opening his mouth to speak, “Let’s hope this time, somebody wounds up dead instead, you guys ready?”

Before anyone can continue, Mikey and Draken walk in, “Wait,” Mikey interrupts, glancing at Emma, who is sitting beside Draken on his left. “Emma, move to the right between Draken and her.” he points at you as he stands in the circle.

Emma furrows her brows, turning to look up at Draken who sinks next to her on the floor, “Why?”

Mikey’s expression softens slightly. “I prefer Draken to slap you rather than the rest of the guys, and you’ll be the one slapping her.”

Emma quickly complies, sliding over next to you with a wide grin, too excited at the fact that she gets to slap you.

Mikey then sits down, positioning himself between Rindou and Takemichi. Then Kazutora, who had been watching where Mikey would sit the entire time, nudges Rindou aside and takes a seat next to Mikey. earning a glare from Keisuke as if he knows what Kazutora’s planning. Huh, that was weird.

“Alright, who will do the honors?” Hanma says, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms.

“Me,” Rindou volunteers, turning to his right to face Kazutora. he knocks back another shot in one go, then smacks Kazutora hard across the face.

Kazutora grunts but laughs immediately after, rubbing his cheek. he then turns to Mikey with a creepy smile on his face, brushing it away over the fact that he could just be coked out. he grabs the shot glass and tosses it back into his throat smoothly.

Mikey’s eyes narrow at him with a glare, to which Kazutora responds with a much harder slap than Rindou did. the sound echoes in the room, making everyone groan at him for that unnecessarily hard slap.

“The fuck, Kazutora?!” Draken yells, almost standing up but Mitsuya stops him, calming him down.

Mikey appears unfazed, adjusting his jaw, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, you could swear that the color of his eyes just went darker than usual.

“What? It’s the game, chill,” Kazutora replies nonchalantly.

Mikey flexes his jaw, jerking his head to the side in a sharp, dismissive motion, shaking off the irritation as he tips back a shot, the burn of the vodka barely registering on his face.

He then turns to Takemichi, his expression softening at the sight of him, watching Takemichi squeezing his eyes shut. he hesitantly opens one eye, wondering why Mikey’s taking a while to slap him, Mikey’s mouth curves into a silent laugh at that. he raises a hand up and finally slaps him, making Takemichi hiss in pain, clutching his cheek and groaning exaggeratedly, earning a laugh from the guys. despite his initial reaction, he toughens it out, rubbing his cheek.

Takemichi sips the shot, his mouth twists into a grimace from the alcohol burning his throat. then turns to Keisuke, you can tell he’s intimidated by him. hesitantly, he slaps him, but it’s a weak effort, making Keisuke smile, his eyes narrowing as he tongues the inside of his cheek.

“Really?” Keisuke says, his tone mocking. Takemichi chuckles nervously, his eyes darting around the circle who were laughing at the weak tap he’d call a ‘slap’.

“Hit me again, harder, come on,” Keisuke insists, pushing his long hair back and leaning in, his eyes fixed on Takemichi.

Takemichi looks to Mikey, whose eyes are darting between him and Keisuke with an unreadable expression. he takes a deep breath, turning his head back to Keisuke, and slaps him harder. making him grin, “Goddamn..” he mutters.

“Are you mad at me?” Takemichi asks, his voice shaky.

Keisuke shakes his head no, but the gesture doesn’t reassure Takemichi at all.

You lean to whisper in Emma’s ear, “Why are we slapping each other exactly?”

“To give the killer a reasonable motive I guess,” she whispers back.

Keisuke takes a swig of his beer, turning to Chifuyu, and slaps him hard. making chifuyu wince, hissing in pain as he rubs his reddening cheek. he shoots Keisuke a mock glare before turning to Mitsuya.

Chifuyu then drains his shot in one go, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. he quickly slaps him, the impact making Mitsuya’s head jerk to the side. “Shit.” he laughs, rubbing his cheek and looking up at Chifuyu, who was chewing on a slice of lime with a smile. “I’ll get you for that,” he promises, his smile widening.

Mitsuya turns to Draken, almost excitedly, and then his eyes suddenly shift to you, locking onto yours as he licks the salt off the back of his hand and downs a shot. the liquid burns down his throat, but he still keeps a neutral face. he then looks back at Draken and gives him a solid smack in the face, making Draken’s head snap to the side. Draken laughs, a deep, rumbling sound. “goddamn, Mitsuya, was that personal?” he jokes. Mitsuya just shrugs, a soft smile on his face.

Draken then turns to Emma, his expression softening. he takes a shot while maintaining eye contact with her. she quickly tucks her hair behind her ears, offering her cheek. he gives her a solid slap, but not hard enough to harm, making her scoff and roll her eyes.

“Don’t go easy on me because I’m your girlfriend, Ken, c’mon!” Emma protests.

“Nah, you don’t know what you’re asking for little lady. now move on and slap her,” Draken nods at you, leaning back with his hands propped behind.

“Ohhhh yeah.” She giggles, remembering that she gets to be the one to slap you. She takes the shot and scoots closer to you. you roll your eyes at how extra she is as she affectionately cups your face, wiping away the excess mascara smudges under your eyes, and then slaps you hard enough to almost knock you off balance, making the guys collectively wince with some laughter.

“Fucking hell.. Emma!” You exclaim, rubbing your cheek from the burning sensation and glaring at her. Emma tilts her head in a challenging way, her grin still wide and cocky.

Shaking your head dismissively, you grab the shot glass and down it. turning to face Hanma, who seems a little too excited to get slapped by you right now. he licks his canine and leans down to make it easier for you, does he always have to show off that he’s taller than you every time?

You sigh, giving him a soft, shy tap on the cheek, making everyone yell at you for it, including him.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Chifuyu groans.

“Oh, c’mon, what was that?” Hanma says, his tone a mock of disappointment as if he’s talking to a kid.

“Put some muscle into it, new girl.” Keisuke encourages through his beer.

“I don’t bite, go ahead,” Hanma nods at your hand, staring at you with his hypnotizing heavy-lidded purple eyes. fuck, he can’t be looking at you like this, not right now.

You smile nervously, giving him another slap, firmer this time but not as hard.

he slowly blinks, “Seriously? fucking hit me,” Hanma insists.

“If anybody deserves a hard slap, it’s him,” Draken points at Hanma with his beer bottle, “I’ll finish this for ‘ya so you can smash it on his head.” He wiggles his beer.

“C’mon, his face is practically begging for it,” Mitsuya adds.

You glance at Mikey, who gives you an encouraging nod, and your sight then scrolls to Emma, who only gives you an eager nod. knowing her, she would probably kill to be in your position right now. you then take a deep breath, facing Hanma again, you straighten your posture in preparation, and this time you let loose with a solid smack that is hard enough to leave a soft red imprint on his face.

Hanma’s head jerked to the side a bit, biting his lips, he lets out a little hum, which sounded more like a growl. “Atta girl,” he praises, then downs a shot in the blink of an eye, turning to Rindou who took off his glasses in preparation, delivering a slap hard enough to almost knock him out of his position, but Rindou took it well.

he jerks his head to the side, “Jesus Christ, dude,” Rindou winces, he then clears his throat and shakes his head. “Alright, everyone turn around in your seat and put on your Ghostface mask,” he instructs. you all follow suit, putting on the masks and adjusting the cloaks.

“Now, stand up and shuffle around each other so no one knows who’s who, then pick up the papers on the table.” he continues. the group rises, moving in a chaotic, disorienting shuffle. some purposely bumped into you—definitely Mikey—while others suddenly grab your shoulders to startle you.

The group then moves toward the table, they reach for the folded papers, some squabbling over a single piece, while others snatch one and slip away quickly. unfortunately, you’re the last to approach the table. you pick up the final paper, slowly unfolding it, hoping to see an ‘x’ but to your luck, you find a circle marked on it. with a sigh, you crumple the paper before stuffing it into your cloak pocket.

You glance around the cabin, seeing nothing but the shadows of the guys in their cloaks walking away. good, no killer on your radar so far.

Your eyes land on the front door that was left open, as much as running around the woods would be easier than trapping yourself in a cabin with a killer, it’d be safer to stay inside where most of the group is, at least to have someone witness the murder instead of playing dead on the dirt.

You inch down the dark hallway, taking small, tentative steps, doing your best not to trip and fall on the glow sticks. the eerie glow from the flashlights disappearing the deeper you go into the halls. the atmosphere getting more and more sinister.

You make a few turns down narrow hallways, the sound of footsteps you were hearing before going distant, making you feel undoubtedly alone, and yet that thought scares you twice as much.

Eventually, you spot a closet big enough to hide in, before you even begin to think if hiding there the entire game is a good idea or not, something flickers in your peripheral vision. a slight shadow movement in the corner of the hallway, something lurking just beyond your sight. you quickly slip inside, hoping that your sudden movement didn’t alert whoever was at the end of that hallway.

The small space is cramped, hot, and pretty hard to breathe in, especially with this damn mask and cloak on. you remove the attire and slowly push back the hung coats, going deeper into the closet. the closet air is weirdly thick with the scent of cheap beer, maybe one of the coats has beer spilled on it.

You try to steady your breathing to listen intently for any sounds outside. But instead, you hear the soft sound of breathing next to you. your heart pounds as you turn slowly, only to come face to face with another figure in a Ghostface mask, looming over you and practically pinning you against the closet wall with his body.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare into the dark eyes of the mask, the sound of their breathing filling the small space. you can feel the heat radiating from their body, their presence both intimidating and familiar. the figure breaks the silence, his voice low and menacing, though unrecognizable. “You’re in my spot.”

You clench your fists, trying to maintain your composure. “The spot’s big enough for both of us.”

“Nah, you’re crampin’ it up. I was doing great alone.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to deal with it ‘cause I’m not moving.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, you’re not moving now?” The figure tilts his head slightly, “and how are you so sure that I’m not the killer?”

Fuck, you didn’t think of that. You let out a short, nervous laugh. “W-what killer would hide in the fucking closet?!”

“A killer that’s waitin’ to pounce,” He replies, stepping closer.

“You would’ve pounced by now,” You retort, trying to sound braver than you feel, positive that he can hear the hammering beat of your heart.

“I would have,” he concedes, “or I could just rat you out to the killer right here, right now.”

Your eyes narrow. “What? you gonna start screaming?” You mock.

He shakes his head slowly, a creepy edge to his voice. “I’ll make you scream.”

“Oh, so cliche. You’re just gonna get us killed, dipshit!” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low.

“Think I care?”

Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps nearby, growing louder with each step. your eyes widen in panic, and before you can react, the man clamps a hand over your mouth, silencing you. The rough texture of his glove presses against your lips, and you can feel the strength in his grip, since when were we required to wear gloves?

The footsteps stop just outside the closet door. Your heart races, ear ringing from the beat of your heart as you strain to hear for any movement.

There was a brief silence, an anticipation for the closet door to rattle. it was eerily quiet, not a sound from out the closet, but there was still a shadow standing in front of it as if trying to scare you out. you kept your fixed eyes on that shadow, not noticing the mysterious man in front of you lifting your skirt up.

Before you could react to that, you feel a sudden sharp cold chill jolt against your clothed clit, pulling a muffled gasp from you and making you stiffen at the sensation. your eyes dart from the eyes of the mask to whatever’s against your panties, seeing an open ice-cold ultra beer bottle, from which he responds by squeezing your face with his palm as if forcing you to keep your eyes only on him.

You attempt to struggle, grabbing his big arms or hitting his rock-hard chest and pointing toward the closet door with your eyes so he wouldn’t get us caught but he doesn’t budge. he has you pinned so hard against the closet wall that all you can do to squirm is arch your back. you hear him take a staggered breath, clearly enjoying your struggles, feeding off your fear.

You turn to see if the shadow that was in front of the closet is still there, it is, and yet the man shows no sign of stopping as he drags the ice-cold bottle down lower toward your entrance. almost emitting a moan out of you but all that came out was a whimper.

You want to hate this sensation so bad, you want to hate the fact that the tall guy, with a ghostface mask on his head—that looks a little too good on him than frightening—has you pinned against the closet wall with a freezing cold beer bottle against your pussy, shutting you up with his hand and the thrill of the killer opening the closet at any second and killing you both, you really do wanna hate it. but it’s just all too hot, you can’t even tell if the wet spot on your panties came from the beer or if it’s from you, hopefully, he doesn’t notice that too.

He gets closer to your face, “think you can keep that mouth shut?” he whispers, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek and neck as he nudges your panties to the side using the bottleneck. you didn’t respond, you don’t want to, you can’t. you don’t even know who you’re dealing with, and you sure as hell won’t be able to sleep with the fact that there’s a guy here that knows that you like to get fucked with a beer bottle like a cheap whore.

He uncovered your mouth but kept a grip on your face. you blinked up into his hollow “eyes”, you weren’t prepared for something like this at all, not a clue in that little brain of yours how to react. so you just sit there, choking out the desperate needy sounds that kept trying to escape your iridescent pink glitter lips. Oh, fuck. those lips that he’d kill to kiss right now, he wanted to bite it, he wanted to take your lip between his teeth and hear you moan. but your reaction to this was more than enough to fulfill his fantasies. there was uncertainty in your eyes, yes. but there was excitement too. such a fucking minx.

He never expected that type of look out of you, or for you to just sit there and take it. but shit, he’s not fucking crazy to be complaining about this. “Got a fuckin’ clue how hard it was to hold back with you runnin’ around the camp in that skirt of yours?” the man strains.

“h-huh?”

“Don’t play innocent now.” he cuts you off, “glad you didn’t keep that cloak on or I would’ve ripped it off of you.” he starts circling the tip of the bottle against your clit slowly, teasing you, torturing you. “Make everyone see that you’ve got taken advantage of, bet you would’ve liked that huh?”

“Who are you..?” you manage to whisper out, looking back at the closet door, seeing that the shadow’s gone, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him again, “Tellin’ you would ruin the fun.”

Just as you were about to feel the bottle being inserted, you hear a muffled shout from across the cabin, “bodies bodies bodies!” the call echoes through, making him step back, the cold feeling on your cunt that you started to crave now gone. “guess the fun’s over.” he murmurs disappointedly, he slips out of the closet, and before you know it he was gone from the hallway.

You continue to sit there, bewildered as you adjust your panties and put on your cloak and mask, not for the game but to hide the shame plastered on your face. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since then, that was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced and yet it was with someone completely anonymous, to be honest, you don’t wanna find out who it is, just to save yourself the embarrassment.

You step out into the hallway, walking towards the glow of the flashlights in the corner like it’s a safe spot. As you approach the living room, you spot everybody already there except three people. All also holding a bottle of beer except one whose cloak looks oversized and has a blue glow around their neck, assuming it’s either Emma or mikey. this doesn’t narrow it down for you at all, who the hell could the closet guy be?

You then see two Ghostfaces dragging a body across the cabin floor, they drop the body’s limbs onto the floor and it dramatically plops, whoever’s dead is having too much fun playing it.

The group crowded around it, finally taking off their masks including you. Chifuyu steps in closer to the body, grabbing the mask and pulling it off, revealing Rindou Haitani.

Hanma dramatically gasps at the reveal, Takemichi then steps forward with a half-assed attempt at a eulogy, “Here lies, Rindou Haitani, known around the community, and was such a, uh, he was..” there’s an awkward silence as he scratches his head and looking around at the circle as if asking for help.

Hanma then steps forward, “He was such a genuine person.” he shakes his head exaggeratedly, Oh he’s so drunk. “Who would throw the craziest parties.. he was so sweet and kind, considerate and loving..”

“Alright, you’re draggin’ it.” Draken cuts in, earning a kick in the leg from Rindou, he then sits up from the floor and settles into the couch, pointing at Takemichi and Draken. “remind me to blacklist you two from my funeral.” he says, “Go on! guess who killed me.” He sits back and observes with a grin, loving the attention on him.

You raise a hand up, “I vote Emma,” You interject. “The second you grabbed that paper, you vanished. Seems like someone was a little too excited to be a killer.”

“True, saw her waddlin’ away quick at the glance of her paper” Hanma chimes in, earning a nasty glare from Draken.

“Bitch, please! If I were the killer, I would’ve picked you as my first victim,” Emma retorts at you, crossing her arms defiantly under her oversized cloak.

“You hear that, guys? If I end up dead in this game, vote her out!” you declare, pointing accusingly at Emma.

"Do you hear that, guys? If I end up dead in this game, vote her out!” You declare, pointing accusingly at Emma.

“Nah, if we’re sticking to how the game works, it’s usually who got slapped by the victim, and that is…” Draken points accusingly at Kazutora.

“I also vote Kazutora, he’s oddly too quiet for a game like this,” Emma adds, eyeing Kazutora suspiciously.

“Don’t point no fuckin’ fingers at me. How about we point the fingers at who found the body?” Kazutora shoots back.

“That’s a great point, Hanemiya!” Hanma exclaims enthusiastically, Draken rolls his eyes at Hanma’s inconsistency, “Don’t invite this man for jury duty.” Draken mutters to himself.

“So, who found the body?” Mitsuya leans casually against the couch arm.

“I did, but I had Mikey nearby to witness!” Takemichi steps forward nervously.

“We said no teamin’ up,” Keisuke interjects, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“We just bumped into each other and found the body,” Mikey explains.

“Wait, how did you know that was Mikey?” Chifuyu asks curiously.

“The height,” Takemichi replies, prompting nods of understanding from the group. “The hell?!” Mikey retorts.

“Was the killer the size of a gnome, Haitani?” Keisuke asks, ignoring Mikey’s pout at him, which Rindou mimed, zipping his lips shut and locking it with an imaginary key.

“Alright.” Keisuke stands up, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “Mikey and Takemichi have each other as an alibi, and two people voted Kazutora.” He then turns toward Kazutora. “You have yet to give us an alibi, where were you?” Keisuke steps closer to him, who maintains a neutral smile.

“I wasn’t even in the cabin, I was outside. Whoever was sitting here first can vouch for that,” Kazutora asserts confidently.

Mitsuya raises his hand. “I was here first, and I did see someone come in from outside the cabin.”

“What were you doing outside the cabin, Kazutora?” Draken questions skeptically.

“Least likely for the killer to find me easily, and a good space to run. C’mon, Ken, you’d know that’s basic horror movie logic,” Kazutora explains, taking a sip of his beer nonchalantly, so Kazutora’s not the closet guy since he was outside, that should narrow it down for you.

“Hmm, hey Emma.. you’re real quiet, tell us your alibi,” Mikey interjects, attempting to corner Emma.

“I was at the balcony.” She replies confidentially.

“Why the balcony?” You cut in.

“’Cause I could hear if the killer walked up the stairs, and I have a good view of the outside of the cabin, duh,”

“Seems like everyone’s got a real good reason why they were at their places,” You observe suspiciously, earning surprised glances from the group that had you a little nervous.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook now, new girl. You were the first one to accuse too, where were you?” Keisuke steps closer to you, his tongue lingers around the top of the beer bottle for a little too long, taking a sip of his beer as his gaze locks onto yours, trying to read you. Fuck, you can’t afford to break a sweat right now, not when you’re being interrogated by none other than him.

“I was hiding in a closet, and I never left it the entire time,” You assert, crossing your arms defensively. “What about you, Baji? Don’t think just because you’re the one interrogating us doesn’t mean you’re not a suspect,” You redirect the attention to him instead.

Suddenly, a ringing sound echoes from Rindou’s phone. “Times up!” He announces, “The killer gets to stay being a killer next round, and the dead.. shall remain dead.” Rindou says in a mock-ominous voice and goes back to playing dead on the couch, almost looking like an excuse to nap.

A chorus of scoffs and groans fills the room at the sound of the alarm. You turn to Keisuke again, his eyebrows jump at you in amusement, his neutral face forms into a smug smirk. Lucky little shit, until next time, Ghostface.

Everybody reluctantly turns around, putting their masks back on and walking away, as you move to follow, a tall figure bumps into you, seeing a familiar sight of possibly the same guy in the closet, same height at least. He raises a hand, points two fingers at his own hollow “eyes”, then directs them toward you as he disappears into the halls.

You ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you scan the living room for hiding spots, your eyes landing on the front door. Maybe Kazutora’s idea isn’t so bad. You walk toward the front door and slowly twist it open, closing it quietly behind you, you keep your eyes on the door in case someone follows you out.

It was pitch black out, the only noises were the rustling of trees and crickets. Regret creeps in for leaving the cabin, but you can’t go back now—that’ll draw attention.

You approach the woods to camouflage your appearance in case the killer’s out here, not going too deep in, staying near the camp and scanning around it. You crouch down behind a tree and fix your eyes on the cabin, seeing occasional black figures walking by the windows, almost reassuring in your opinion.

Then unnervingly, it went completely silent, the cricket noises that once comforted you were now dead quiet, making you a little too aware of your surroundings.

You can’t seem to shake the sense that you’re being stalked, watched, that you’re not alone right now. Your senses are heightened as you start to hear unnatural leaf movement, like crushing it or moving it, you whip your head toward where you think the sound is coming from, you’re not sure what it is exactly but you don’t like it at all.

You want to call out, ask who’s there, but the rational part of you tells you it’s just a mind trick, it does that when it’s pitch black and silent, it makes appearances and noises out of nothing, it’s just your brain playing tricks, that’s all it is, you are completely and absolutely fine.

Then suddenly your spine tingles, somewhere nearby you hear footsteps creeping behind you a little too close, hair prickling along your scalp as your brain screams at you to run, and what would a rational person with survival instincts do?

That’s right, you bolt, not even thinking about investigating what it was, no matter if it was an animal or the wind you’re getting out of there. You run as fast as you can toward the cabin, pushing the doors open enough to have them slam against the walls, and the first thing you see standing in the living room is somebody in a Ghostface mask, holding a knife that does not look plastic.

Panic surges through you as you turn toward the hallway and continue to run. Cause no way in hell are you going back out there and having him and whatever’s waiting outside to chase you. You hear footsteps pounding behind you, your lungs start to burn and your legs feel like lead, but you don’t stop.

Suddenly, you run into another Ghostface emerging from a hallway. Making you crash into them, your instincts forcing you up as quickly as possible. “I’m really sorry!” You apologize to whoever you knocked down, bolting away again.

Breathless and disoriented, you sprint down the hallway, heart pounding in your chest. You glance over your shoulder to see if they’re still chasing you, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

You quickly turn a corner and find yourself in the living room again. Your breath coming in ragged gasps, heart pounding in your chest. The sound of your footsteps echoes in the dimly lit cabin. You quickly glance around, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, half expecting Ghostface to leap out at you.

Rindou, who’s still sprawled across the couch, body motionless as he continues his charade of being dead from the last round. But when he hears you enter, one of his eyes slowly cracks open, “Hey, you good?” His voice calm, almost lazy.

You nod, still catching your breath. “Yeah… yeah, I just got chased.”

You walk over toward the couch he’s lying on and sink down onto the floor, leaning against it, your legs are still trembling from the adrenaline.

“Yeah?” Rindou’s tone is light as if this is just another round of the game. He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm draping over the backrest. “I just heard them yell out ‘bodies bodies bodies’ just now.”

Shit, how come I didn’t hear that? Whoever’s dead right now is your fault, but you couldn’t help it. Whoever was chasing you took the game a little too fucking seriously.

You hear the couch springs creak behind you, seeing Rindou peering over at you in the corners of your eyes with a smirk as if he’s amused by your reaction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Are you sure you're good?”

Before you can answer him, the rest of the group begins to gather, removing their masks. Spotting everybody except Takemichi. You fixed your eye on the front door, waiting for someone to walk in but nobody did. Was that all in your head?

Draken drags in the body and places it in the middle of the room. Everyone circles around as Draken kneels down and removes the mask, revealing Mikey lying face-down, playing dead with an exaggerated stillness.

Emma drops to her knees beside him, her gasp over the top as she clutches her chest. “Ohh noo! My big brother..” She wails as he leans over his body, pretending to cry into his chest, her shoulders shaking with fake sobs.

You crawl over to sit beside Mikey’s “lifeless” form, tucking his hair behind his ear to see his face better, silently apologizing for being the one who accidentally got him killed.

Chifuyu speaks up, “Okay, so do we have any nominations?”

“Yeah, I’m for sure voting Emma now,” Draken accuses.

“Ohh, coming in hot,” Mitsuya crosses his arms, leaning against the fireplace wall.

“Why do you think it was Emma?” You ask, still looking at Mikey, why is he still playing dead?

“Yeah, why do you think it was me, Ken?”

“Because she agrees with everything that everybody’s saying to try and steer it away from herself. That’s her strategy in the game, and it always works.” Draken explains.

You tap Mikey’s shoulder repeatedly to try and wake him up, but he’s not budging.

“Do we have any other nominations?” Rindou speaks up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead? Shut the fuck up,” Keisuke retorts, earning a glare from Rindou, and yet he still complied.

“Yeah, I nominate Draken,” Kazutora cuts in.

Draken rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue. “Seriously? It’s a low-hanging fruit.”

“I mean, he who casts the first stone,” Kazutora shrugs.

“Guys, why isn’t he moving?” You nudge Mikey’s cheeks, “Mikey, get up.”

“Mikey, you don’t have to keep pretending for this long,” Emma pushes him.

Chifuyu sits next to Mikey’s body, pushing him to face up. He’s still playing dead.

“The hell?” Emma starts to shake him aggressively, starting to freak out, “Manjiro, fucking get up. It’s not funny anymore,” She tugs his arm up but he still doesn’t move an inch, “Guys, he’s not getting up.”

“Relax, he fell asleep.” Draken steps closer and leans down toward Mikey’s body, holding the neck of the bottle and nudging the cold bottle on Mikey’s crotch, making him yelp and immediately sit up from that, holding his crotch. “Fuck, that was cold!”

Emma punches him in the shoulder. “That wasn’t funny at all,”

Mikey grumbles, a little grumpy over the fact that he was woken up. He then looks around, as if searching for somebody. “Wait, where’s Takemichi?”

“Probably playing dead somewhere, poor guy.” Chifuyu snorts.

Mikey raises a brow, “We need to find him, he probably didn’t hear the call.”

“Alright, but… what about Kazutora?” Draken points at him, ignoring Mikey.

“Maybe it’s Draken. He’s always really aggressive when he’s the killer,” Mitsuya notes.

Kazutora snaps his fingers and points at Mitsuya. “There you go.”

“What? No, I am not,” Draken gulps.

“You’re lying. You always gulp when you lie,” Mitsuya continues teasing.

“It would be so fucking obvious if I were the killer, which I’m not.” Draken defends.

Kazutora sighs out of frustration. “Guys, Jesus Christ, can we just point out how Draken hasn’t said a fucking word to defend himself? No alibi, nothing! He’s just denying shit.”

Mikey crosses his arms, giving Kazutora a hard look. “you aware that we’re still playing a game here Kazutora? Quit pointing fingers at Ken and just admit that it was you, take responsibility for once.”

Kazutora’s frustration bubbles over as he points his finger at Mikey. “Ohoho… I don’t need to hear jackshit from you, Mikey. you always act like you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Mikey’s expression doesn’t waver, his tone remaining cold. “what I’ve got figured out is that you can’t handle the truth. you’re the killer, Kazutora. just own up to it, it’s getting late.”

Rindou, lounging on the couch with a bag of chips in hand, suddenly cuts in, nudging Mikey’s shoulder with his foot. his voice is sing-songy, muffled by the crunching. “Dead people don’t taaaalk.”

Everyone ignores him, their focus entirely on Kazutora and Mikey. Kazutora’s eyes narrow, his frustration turning into something darker. “ohh own up to it, huh? let’s not forget what you did to Sanzu. nobody was at your throat for that, were they? cause poor Mikey.. he didn’t even know what was going on when he did that shit to Sanzu’s face!”

Keisuke steps forward, trying to diffuse the situation. “Kazutora, that’s enough.”

Kazutora pushes Keisuke aside, his wide eyes still locked on Mikey. “but when I make one mistake—one fucking accident—everyone’s ready to crucify me but Mikey gets a free pass? why? I don’t get it.”

“That’s different-“

Kazutora cuts in with a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. “different? how? because it was you, it’s okay? but when it’s me, I’m a fuck-up, right? I get called a murderer, that I’m fucking psychotic for that?”

Draken shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting between Mikey and Kazutora, “Kazutora, calm down—”

Kazutora cuts him off, yet again. “no, I’m not gonna calm down. I’m done taking shit for something that was never my fault. all of you, you’re all fucking hypocrites.”

Mikey stands up from the floor, taking a step forward, and puts his hands up toward Draken to stop him from interfering. “at least I took responsibility for it in the end. you, on the other hand, continue to blame everybody but yourself.”

Hanma, who’s lounging on the couch next to Rindou, snickers as he watches them. “sounds like somebody’s feeling guilty. maybe you’re the killer, after all, Kazutora.”

Kazutora’s frustration reaches a boiling point as he snaps back, his head twitches to the side. “guilty? you’re all so quick to accuse me just because I’m not falling in line like the rest of you. I had to live with that shit for years behind bars while all of you welcomed Mikey with open arms right after he fucking stabbed somebody in the face!”

Draken glares at Kazutora, moving closer. “What’s up your ass Hanemiya? what’s gotten you so pissed like this huh, you on something?”

Kazutora scoffs, shaking his head. “don’t you start with me, Draken. don’t you got other shit to worry about?”

“Tora, shut the fuck up, right now.” Keisuke interrupts, attempting to calm him down before he says something he shouldn’t.

Draken’s eyes narrow dangerously. “and what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kazutora hesitates to speak, eyes darting between Keisuke and Draken, and for a split second at Emma. he couldn’t hold back as his frustration is tipping him over the edge. “you can barely keep your shit straight with your girl, Ken. you’re no better than any of us. focus on that instead of sticking your head where it shouldn’t, would you?”

Mikey takes a step closer, his voice low and threatening. “Keep my sister out of this conversation.”

Hanma almost choked on his beer, “Woah, woah.. what did I miss now?” eyes darting between Emma and Draken.

The room goes still. Emma’s jaw dropped, slowly turning her head toward Draken, her voice trembling slightly. “You told them about that?”

“Hold uuup, what does he mean by that?” Hanma stands up enthusiastically as he attempts to interfere but gets dragged back down the couch by Rindou, not wanting him to ruin the argument he’s so obviously enjoying.

Draken’s head snaps toward Kazutora, eyes narrowing. “how do you know about that? huh?” he then scans the room, “Who the fuck told him that shit? We're telling everybody our business now?”

Then silence, the room’s atmosphere shifts into something you need to get out of, now. “everybody? what the fuck do you mean ‘everybody’?” kazutora’s voice drops an octave.

Draken scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “oh, we’re just gonna ignore the elephant in the room now?”

Keisuke quickly moves to stand between Draken and Kazutora. “Ken, let’s talk about this later,” he then turns to Mikey, whose expression is completely unreadable.

“No, no. Keisuke, let him continue, what fucking elephant in the room? elaborate, c’mon!” Kazutora nods, trying to pick a fight. Keisuke turns to Draken to observe his reaction in case he lunges. seeing his eyes completely blown out and dilated, Keisuke’s eyes narrow at him. “Ken, did you use?”

he ignores him, his focus on Kazutora completely. “Elaborate? fine, I’ll fucking elaborate. when you were in prison, everybody was relieved you were gone. manjiro was relieved, you think any of us gave a shit about you? huh?”

Mitsuya quickly pushes himself off the wall, moving towards Draken, “Ken, calm down, you’re drunk.” he places a hand on Draken’s chest, trying to create a distance between him and Kazutora—who stays silent, his heart beating rapidly.

“the only person that gave a rat's ass about you was Keisuke, why? because he feels responsible for that. he doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

in a blink of an eye, Keisuke steps forward, around mitsuya, and swings a punch at Draken, his fist connecting with Draken’s lip with a strong thud. Draken stumbles back from the impact, his lip split open and blood streaming down his chin.

“You don’t know shit, Ken. so shut the fuck up.” Keisuke spits as he shakes his hand, shaking it up and down to ease the throbbing pain, his knuckles are already forming redness, you didn’t realize how hard that punch must’ve been.

Draken wipes the blood from his chin, still glaring at Kazutora. “I wish you got your head bashed in instead of him, Kazutora.” He growls, the blood staining his bared teeth red. “You spineless piece of shit.”

Mikey’s eyes went dark, and all you saw was a blur of motion and a strong thud. seeing Draken being knocked off his feet, with his head hitting right onto the floor.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Mikey’s voice is low, deadly calm as he looms over Draken, whose jaw is open, completely not expecting Mikey’s reaction to be this severe.

Still facing Draken, Mikey shoots Kazutora a glare over his shoulder. “Don’t think I’m defending you, Hanemiya.. you’re still dead to me.”

Kazutora, breathing heavily, with his pupils being a frightening dot. he reaches his hand to the beer bottle on the floor, fingers curling tightly around the bottle, slamming himself on the head with it before holding the jagged glass out toward Mikey, his hand trembling with rage and whatever he took before. “I’ll show you who’s really fuckin’ dead, Mikey! I’ll kill you!”

Mikey doesn’t even move an inch, there’s something terrifyingly calm about his demeanor that you can’t really put a finger on, but it feels like time has frozen now, either that or you're just too shocked to move.

“Go ahead, try.”

Kazutora’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his hand tight around the glass. he swings it toward Mikey with reckless fury, but before he can land the blow, Chifuyu and Keisuke rush in, grabbing him by the arms and holding him back.

“Get off me!” Kazutora roars, thrashing violently in their grip. his eyes were wild, full of rage and something else—but it was too dark to tell.

Draken finally pulls himself to his feet, wiping more blood from his mouth, his eyes locked on Mikey with disbelief, as if he didn’t expect him to knock him down. there was a silent exchange between them, his eyes still locked on Mikey. But before Draken can voice his thoughts, his attention shifts sharply to Kazutora.

Draken steps in front of Mikey, his large frame acting as a shield, a shocking sight after seeing him get kicked in the head.

“I’ll fucking kill you all, I swear!” Kazutora yells, still clawing and twisting against Keisuke and Chifuyu. his voice strainer and raw.

Draken spits a wad of blood onto the floor, scoffing. he sneers at Kazutora. “yeah, you’re real fuckin’ familiar with that—“

“Enough.”

Mikey quickly cuts him off, his tone tolerating no argument, so commanding, that even kazutora falls silent for a split second.

Keisuke let go of Kazutora’s wrist, taking Kazutora’s silence as a chance to step in between, casting a wary glance at the three, ready to intervene again if necessary. “this is getting us nowhere, alright? let’s just go to bed, It’s late.” he then grabs Kazutora’s wrist and forcefully pulls him out of the cabin, leaving no room to argue. “we need to talk.”

As Kazutora and Keisuke leave, Mikey shoots Draken a quick glare, “I’m gonna look for Takemichi.” he leaves the cabin, heading toward the forest. the rest follow him out, heading toward the boys’ cabin. mitsuya kept close to Draken just in case, while you and Emma—still shocked from the scene—trail behind, not noticing hanma running to catch up next to Emma.

“Could’ve called me when your boyfriend couldn’t hit the spot for you.. you know I’ll always answer,” Hanma teases loudly. Draken overhears and spins around, throwing a punch that lands squarely on Hanma’s face.

Hanma staggers back but then starts laughing, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. “really? that all you got?” he taunts. Draken lunges again, fists flying. Hanma dodges and laughs, his mocking tone only making it worse.

Mitsuya, Rindou, and Chifuyu rush in to break up the fight, grabbing Draken’s arms and pulling him back.

“He’s trying to get on your nerves, Ken. calm. the fuck. down,” Mitsuya says firmly, blocking Draken’s punches with his hand.

Draken, panting heavily, looks down at mitsuya and then fixes a hard glare at hanma, yanking his fist away from Mitsuya’s grip. he then storms off towards the boys’ cabin. hanma—still chuckling—walks towards a different cabin with Rindou following behind, their laughter echoing through the camp.

You put a hand behind Emma’s back, caressing it. “let’s just go.” you gently push her towards the girls’ dorm. quietly, you open the door and tiptoe inside, heading towards your bed with Emma still following close behind. before you collapse into your bed you quickly change into something comfortable as Emma stares into the distance, sitting on your bed, her face unreadable but clearly exhausted.

When you finally slid on your tank top, you heard Emma sniffling. “Emma? hey, are you crying?” you sit next to her, scooting closer to her to rub her back soothingly.

“I just.. didn’t think he’d get brought up like that.” she whispers, wiping away her tears with her palms, but more keeps pouring down her cheeks. “I don’t know why he’d do that, we were playing a stupid fucking game then suddenly, I..” she starts to choke on her words.

“Shh, it’s okay.” she quickly turns to hug you, squeezing you a bit too tight but you don’t complain, quietly sobbing on your shoulder, she continues to blabber incoherently but you don’t stop her, you run your fingers through her hair as an attempt to soothe her but it only made her cry more. “it’s okay Emma.”

Still, you can’t shake the image of her reaction when Kazutora brought up her and Draken. it lingers in the back of your mind, nagging at you. now that you think about it, you can’t seem to remember any issues they’ve had except for the fact that he took too long to confess. but this isn’t the time to pry, deciding to leave that conversation for another time, when she’s ready to tell you.

After a moment, she loosens her grip and pulls away, her eyes red and puffy as she holds onto your hand. “can i sleep in your bed tonight?” she asks, her voice small and shaky.

“Of course, you can come here.” you crawl under the covers, to your side of the bed, making room for her next to you, pulling the covers up for her to lay in. She lays down next to you, facing you while still having her fingers intertwined with yours. “thank you.” she sniffles. “goodnight..” she buries her face into the blanket, refusing to let go of your hand, even when it’s disgustingly sweaty, but you’ll brush it off for her.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

You jolt awake, heart pounding, drenched in cold sweat. For a few seconds, you’re still caught up in that nightmare. Your adrenaline races as you run from the masked killer, desperate to escape brutal death.

Even as your eyes slowly adjust to the walls of the cabin, you can still feel the masked killer nearby, stalking. Hunting us one by one. It doesn’t help that the location you are in happened to have a similar fate to your nightmares.

Your feet kick at the sheets as sweat pours off your body. Rolling over onto your side and reach for Emma, only to realize that the bed is empty. Guess she might’ve gone back to her own bed at some point.

Fuck, you need air. Now.

You throw the covers off your body completely and slid in your fluffy black slippers, moving toward the front door and slowly opening it to avoid any sound.

Once again, it’s pitch black, no winds, no rustling trees, just quietness. You lean against the porch rail, staring into the night sky, searching for the moon as you take a deep breath.

You hear the faint sound of metal clicking as if somebody was sharpening or playing with a knife. Ignoring the goosebumps, you scan your surroundings, peering around the trees, spotting a figure leaning against a tree a little way off, flipping what seems to be a butterfly knife in their hand. You squint, trying to make out who it is.

He ran his fingers through his long hair and sighed heavily as he gripped it, it’s Keisuke. He looks frustrated, apparently, you weren’t the only one who’s having a bad night.

He flipped the knife again. His fingers were quick and light as the blade swung out. The metal appeared impossibly fluid as he manipulated it through the air, making it look easy, like it was second nature. He played with it for a while without much focus, staring off into the trees as if distracted by something in the distance.

You quickly wipe underneath your eyes, hoping to catch any smudged mascara or eyeliner, and quietly make your way toward him. The leaves crunch softly under your slippers. As you get closer, Keisuke turns his head slightly, still staring ahead. Before you can say anything, he brings the knife to his lips, shushing you. He then points at something with the knife still in hand.

Following his gesture, you see a baby deer standing at the edge of the clearing. It looks peaceful, completely unaware of the human presence nearby. The scene feels almost surreal after the nightmare you just had, almost like you needed a little pureness after that, but it didn’t help seeing Keisuke dragging his thumb across the sharp knife while staring at the poor innocent deer, you were suddenly feeling a hell of a lot warmer.

You cross your arms, still staring at the deer, opening your mouth to speak quietly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your alone time,”

“Hardly alone.” His deep voice rolled out, making the hair on your skin stand. He flips the knife closed and tucks it in his pocket.

“Seen it’s mom yet?”

He shakes his head in response.

After a few minutes, the deer raises its head, its ears flickering as it senses something. It looks around, then suddenly bolts into the woods, disappearing into the darkness.

You and Keisuke glance at each other, then back to where the deer ran off. “Think there’s a predator around?” You ask.

He made a sound that could have been a laugh, but he wasn’t smiling. “Guess you could say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Could be a ghost.” He teases, finally facing you, seeing that your cheeks are swollen and your eyes heavy with sleep. “What’re you doing awake?”

“Had a bad dream.. couldn’t sleep after.” You glance up at him, noticing a couple of bruises on his cheek and a cut on his lip and jaw, almost deep enough to have blood dripping down his neck. “Jesus, you look like shit. What happened?!”

He takes a minute to think before answering. Contemplating if he should just tell you but decided to be careful around his words. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it.”

“Let me patch you up at least.”

His tongue swirls over his bottom lip, licking the bleeding cut. “No need.” He mutters as he wipes the blood off his jaw with his thumb,

“You’re gonna get an infection like that. Hold on, I’ll be back.” You head back into the cabin, searching for the first aid kit you brought with you, a cold water bottle, and your phone for the flashlight. Thank god you didn’t listen to Emma when she told you that an aid kit would be useless to bring, now you got an excuse to get close to him and maybe be his little personal nurse.

Returning to him, you find him still leaning against the same tree, staring off into the distance. He turns toward you, giving you a quick once-over, his eyes landing on the tank top you’re wearing with a printed band logo on it.

“What do you know about that band, huh?”

You stop in your tracks, squinting at him. “What do you know about that band?” You step closer and sit right in front of him, patting his bloodied boot and ignoring how painful it feels to sit on the forest ground. “C’mon, sit.”

He stands there staring down at you for a minute, his gaze intense, this position only making your body even warmer than usual. Finally, he sinks down with a groan, indicating there are more injuries than just the ones on his face. He leans back against the tree with his legs spread, resting his arms on his knees, you crawl up between his legs to get closer to his face.

Your scent hits him like a truck the minute you crawl closer, vanilla body lotion mixed with lavender shampoo you borrowed from Yuzuha after the lake. How the hell do you smell so good even after already spending a day at this campsite?

You soaked the cotton pad in alcohol, carefully dabbing it against the cut on his chin. He flinches, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth.

“Quit being such a baby, relax,” you murmur.

He grumbles under his breath but keeps his eyes glued to you. Leaning his head back against the tree, he gives you easier access to his neck and chin, but the way he’s staring—intensely, unwavering—sends heat crawling up your skin. It’s impossible to ignore, especially with that focused look cutting right through you. His gaze is more than a distraction; it’s a problem, a problem that makes you wanna gouge his eyes out. A problem that makes what’s between your legs throb and you can’t afford to acknowledge right now.

“Can you not stare at me like that?” You say, still wiping the blood off his chin, trying to avoid looking up into his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like that!”

“What?” A soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips but quickly vanishes.

“You’re doing it right now.”

“I’m not doing nothing.” He drawls.

“You’ve got that face on your face!” You snap.

He cocks his head to the side, “That face on my face?”

Frustrated, you throw the cotton pad down. “You know what I mean!”

“You’re not even looking at me, and you’re complaining about a face I’m making?”

You let out a huff from your nose as you grab another cotton pad, soaking it in alcohol again, and continued tending to his wounds. After you finish cleaning it up, you place an ice-cold water bottle on his cheek without even looking at him. He quickly swats it away, that action surprises you enough to meet his eyes, he then softly grabs your wrist, guiding it back on his bruised cheek.

“If you’re gonna patch me up,” he says softly, “you gotta look at me.”

Your breath hitches as you release the bottle, forcing him to hold it himself. You reach for a band-aid, your fingers brushing against his skin as you lean in to place it on his chin.

“Technically, I need to be looking at your wounds,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally meet his gaze again. A hot flush rises up your neck.

“Think you missed my chin there..”

You frown, glancing down at the band-aid and realizing that it’s nowhere near where it should be. So much for being his “personal” nurse, you can’t even get the damn bandaid on the wound. Ripping it off, you try again, cursing yourself under your breath.

“What’s gotten you so distracted huh?” He teases, his voice low, and husky. Like he knows exactly what effect he has on you.

“Baji…” You warn, the sound of his name coming out more breathless than you intended.

“I’m messing with you. You need to relax… Need a smoke?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’d love to if Emma and Draken hadn’t finished it all last night.”

He hums in acknowledgment, the sound almost sympathetic. “Rough night, huh?”

“Oh yeah…” You shift and crawl over to sit beside him, resting your back against the same tree. The bark is cold and rough, but being next to him makes you feel a bit more grounded.

Keisuke puts the water bottle down and digs into his pocket, pulling out his butterfly knife. The familiar click of metal fills the silence as he flips it open, fiddling with it in his usual absentminded way. There’s something oddly soothing about it, even though your nerves are on edge. His presence makes you want to spill everything that’s been making you paranoid about this campsite.

“I keep having this reoccurring nightmare,” you admit, your voice quieter now, as if saying it out loud will make it more real. “About this Ghostface guy.”

Keisuke lets out a little snort, like it’s ridiculous, and you elbow him lightly in the side.

“I’m serious!” You say, half-laughing. “There’s a serial killer on the loose, and everybody treats it like a joke.”

He’s about to say something but catches himself, offering a quick apology instead. “My bad, sorry…”

Your gaze drifts toward the dark forest in front of you, the trees casting long shadows. You instinctively flick on your phone flashlight toward the direction you're staring at, just in case. “But I don’t know why… That nightmare this time, was way more vivid. Like, more real than before.”

Keisuke doesn’t look up from his knife, but his brow furrows slightly as he flips the blade with a practiced hand. “How so?”

You hesitate, trying to find the right words to explain the feeling gnawing at your gut. “It’s like… The killer is even closer now, y’know? Watching me. I’m twice as paranoid, and I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye.” You hear a sudden snap of a tree branch nearby, your body tensing as you whip your flashlight toward the sound, but all you see is darkness and the endless maze of trees.

Keisuke, on the other hand, barely reacts. He keeps fiddling with the knife, unbothered. “Think you just really need a smoke.”

“Yeah… Maybe…” You mutter, still staring in the direction of the noise, your heart pounding a little too fast for comfort.

Keisuke flips the knife shut with a swift motion, tucking it back into his pocket as he pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll give you some of mine tomorrow. Just get some sleep.”

You push yourself up as well, stumbling a bit since your feet fell asleep. He jerks his head to the side toward the direction of the girls’ cabin, “I’ll walk you to the cabin so you won’t get killed.”

“That’s not funny,” you mutter.

“It is,” he teases, making you walk in front of him as he follows behind.

Reluctantly, you step ahead, feeling the weight of his presence close behind. The crunch of leaves underfoot fills the dead silence of the night, not even crickets. And you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious with him right there, walking just a pace behind. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder, catching him watching you, his hands casually in his pockets, fiddling with the butterfly knife as he strolls along like a visible stalker.

When you finally reach the cabin, you stop by the door, turning to face him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

He gives a soft hum of acknowledgment, his usual way of saying ‘yes’ without actually saying it. His gaze holds steady on yours, and for a brief moment, there’s something unreadable in his expression.

“Okay… Goodnight, Baji.” You smile softly as you push the cabin door open, the wooden hinges creaking as you step inside.

Before you can fully enter, his deep voice cuts through. “Keisuke.”

You pause, glancing back at him, “Huh?”

“It’s Keisuke,” he repeats, his tone softer now.

Your lips part in surprise, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. But then a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, face warmer than before. “Alright then. Goodnight, Keisuke.”

He nods, his eyes lingering on yours for just a second longer. “Night.”

You groggily rub your eyes, trying to adjust to the noise of loud chattering and the bright sun hitting your eyes. You attempt to tug the blanket up to hide your face but you struggle, you then attempt to kick the blanket up thinking it was just tucked in the corners but you struggle again, kicking your feet in frustration, you hit something solid, only to realize why it’s stuck.

Mikey, sitting at the edge of your bed like a statue, unbothered by your kicks, as if you barely grazed him. you kick at his back on purpose this time, back to back, each hit harder than before. and despite your persistent kicks, he doesn’t budge, making it seem like he’s completely immune to your attempts.

“Move,” you mutter.

He glances back this time, your voice being the only thing that got his attention, fucking prick. “look who’s awake,” Mikey says casually as if you aren’t still trying to kick him off the bed. “Emma says you know how to do creepy face paint.”

You finally give up, squinting at the bright room, sunlight flooding through the wide-open doors makes everything a bit too much for your still half-asleep mind. the dining table that’s pushed in the center is now a cluttered mess of makeup bags, hair straighteners, and mirrors, as if everyone decided to make it their vanity, spotting Senju sitting there and putting rollers in her hair.

Still too tired to process much, you stretch lazily, letting out a muffled groan as your body cracks back to life like those glow sticks from yesterday. “makeup…?” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

“Yeah, yeah. can you do that for me?”

Before you can respond, Emma pops up from behind his shoulder, seeing you finally awake. she approaches the bed and shoves Mikey down, crawling over him.

“Come skinny dipping with me,” she chirps, hovering above your legs as Mikey continues to struggle beneath her, her bodyweight suffocating him as he starts squirming beneath her, grumbling little ‘Get off of me’s’ and ‘Stop!’

You pursed your lips, raising a brow at her as if that’s the last thing you want to hear right now. “Why don’t you ask the other girls?” You mumble, not ready to leave your bed.

“Everyone already did, we woke up late,” Emma pouts, finally climbing off Mikey. She pats you on the shoulder like it’s a done deal, “C’mon! go brush your teeth.”

Mikey, still recovering from almost being squashed to death, glares at Emma before giving you a look like this is somehow your fault, like you’re the one ruining his morning. “bullies, you two.”

“I literally just woke up, I barely did anything to you,” you mutter, kicking him in the back one last time, finally getting him to move. But unfortunately, he stays in the room, lingering like he’s got nothing better to do.

You ignore him now that he’s off the bed, finally having the chance to get comfortable again. you pull the covers up, snuggling into them, ready to drift back into a cozy 20-minute nap.

Just as you’re about to doze off, you feel Mikey leaning in close, whispering something in your ear that you didn’t know you craved. “the lake is really hot right now…”

Your eyes shoot open, no way in hell you're missing out on that. you fling the blankets off, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag and quickly run out of the cabin toward the bathroom.

Outside, everyone from the campsite is already preparing for the Halloween party tonight. at the gate, there were new bikes and cars pulled over, guessing it’s the people that are here for the party and not to stay.

You continue walking toward the bathroom, almost bumping into guys who are hauling logs of wood to stack in the center of the campfire, with some sitting lazily in chairs they were supposed to move. It’s as if the party has already started before anyone’s even put on a costume.

As you approach the bathroom, you notice that it’s already occupied by Keisuke, who’s standing at the sink flossing his teeth, you move past him hoping he would acknowledge you somewhat, but he doesn’t seem to notice your entrance, or at least bother to say ‘Hi’. that kind of stings..

You wave off the thought and start washing your face beside him, glancing at him through the mirror every now and then, until the gorgeous sight gets interrupted by Mikey, who clearly followed you all the way here, walks right up next to Keisuke and stares at him through the mirror. “That’s crazy to look at,” he comments dryly.

Keisuke pauses mid-floss, turning to face Mikey with the floss string still stuck in his teeth. his left hand rests against the sink while his right hand settles on his hip. So dramatic. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

Mikey’s eyes flick to Keisuke’s floss before he grins. “Last time I saw you brush your teeth, you did it with your finger. Now here you are, flossing and shit… who’re you lying to huh?”

Keisuke glares and kicks Mikey in the knee, making him yelp and bolt out of the bathroom, with Keisuke chasing after him, leaving the floss still awkwardly hanging from his mouth.

Kazutora squeezes past them, shooting them a look as they disappear in between the crowd that’s already forming around the campfire they’re making. he walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, glancing over at you.

“Hey,” he greets casually, not so casually locking the door behind him.

You turn to face him, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, disheveled, yet unfairly attractive. His black and blonde hair is tousled, strands falling messily into his eyes, there’s a slight puffiness to his face, his eyes still heavy-lidded with the remnants of sleep, making him look soft but no less intense.

Your eyes landing on his wife beaters that cling to his figure, creased from sleeping in it. you glance down at his hand that rakes up under his rumpled shirt, scratching his stomach as he squints at the bathroom light with a faint scowl. his blue plaid pajama pants hang low on his hips, before your eyes roam over to his.. obvious print, you greet him with a nod, mumbling out a little ‘Hi!’ as you continue to brush your teeth as if the way he looks didn’t almost make you weak in the knees.

Kazutora moves behind you, stepping closer against you, his body presses lightly against your back, basically pinning you against the sink as his arms move around your waist to grab the toothpaste, his chest brushes your back as he squeezes the toothpaste onto his brush. he made the contact seem casual enough to be innocent, but you both knew it was far from that.

He reaches around you again, this time moving his arm up and over your shoulder to start brushing his teeth, practically enveloping you. his bicep brushes your cheek, he smells so clean, like mint with a mix of shampoo, making it impossible to focus on brushing your teeth. As you glance down, you spot a deep scratch on his arm, the wound looks fresh. probably from the glass he broke last night.

You tilt your head down under his arm, bending over, pressing close against him from behind to spit out the toothpaste, putting yourself in an awkward position and making Kazutora’s hand slip down to your hips instinctively, his hands hold you tight as he mumbles through his toothbrush, “Damn, we’re doing this the second day?”

you quickly wash your face, turning around to swat him lightly in the chest, “Uh-uh, don’t put this on me. You’re the one doing all that just to brush your teeth!” You grab some tissues to wipe off your face.

He finishes brushing his teeth, rinsing out his mouth, and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “what? didn’t mean nothing.. you were just right there.” he stuffs his hand in his pocket casually, his eyes flick to your lips for a second, as if your words are going in his ear and coming out the other.

“Well, that same argument goes for me,” you counter, leaning back against the sink and crossing your arms.

He steps closer, looming over you, his arms come down again, bracketing you in against the sink. “Yeah, alright.” his eyes won’t stop glancing down at your lips, enough to make him bite his own to hold himself back from pouncing on you.

And you picked up on that, “someone could walk in you know..” you murmur, heart racing as he leans in, his nose gently brushing against yours.

“So?” he whispers, right against your lips. “Let them, I don’t care.” his voice is low, just like how he spoke to you in the same spot yesterday, will he finish what he started this time?

Kazutora’s lips hover just inches from yours, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what you didn’t know you craved so much until he got so close, until yesterday in the same exact spot when he could’ve had you.

“But.. we barely even know each other.” you manage to whisper against his lips, eyes nervously darting at the door and then back at him, he seems to notice that as he tilts his head to make you keep your eyes on him.

“We could get to know each other now,” he murmurs, his eyes looking down at your lips then flicking up to meet your eyes again. “What’s your favorite color?” he asks as his lips graze against yours. The question feels almost like an afterthought with how focused he is on torturing you—and himself.

“Yellow.” you joke as his mouth moves to the corner of your lips, trailing soft, teasing kisses. “What’s yours..?” you mutter, barely getting the word out before his lips are on yours, fully this time, kissing you as if he’s been hungry about you. His hands move up to grip your hips, feeling his fingers go under your waistband.

He hums against your mouth before breaking the kiss to glance down, tugging at your panties to check the color, “mm.. black,” he mutters against your lips as his finds yours again, feeling his hands rake under your shirt to hold your waist, pulling you closer toward his body as his lips find new ways to kiss you each time.

His mouth finally pulls away just enough for you to catch your breath, eyes dark and heavy with need as he leans in again, but instead of another kiss, you feel his hands under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter, feeling the cold surface beneath you as he tightens his hold on your thighs, pulling you closer to press his body against yours.

He moves his hand up your chin, brushing his thumb across your lower lip while biting his, making your breath hitch as he lifts your head up and captures your lips between his again, except sloppier—more desperate, yet so annoyingly slow, like he wants to savor your taste against his lips. his tongue delves deep into your mouth as he softly groans against you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the back of his messy hair as he leans in even more into the kiss, pushing you to lean back against the mirror.

His hand snakes down your stomach, going between your legs to play with your clothed cunt that was embarrassingly soaked just from him kissing and teasing you. he breaks the kiss to rasp against your lips, a string of saliva still connected. “You’re soaked, you know that? I can feel it all through your shorts.” he grits his teeth, “It’s so damn hot.”

You let out a mewl, closing your legs on his hand as two of his fingers start to play with your clit, keeping his hypnotic honeyed-eyes on yours, “How long have you been friends with Manjiro for?” he asks another question as he teases your clothed clit, slowing his fingers down to make you focus on him instead. you can barely think, let alone form a coherent thought as you grip the front of his wife beaters.

“A-a while..” you stammer, glancing down at him toying with you through your shorts, he takes it as a hint for him to go under it as he snakes his hand down your waistband, moving under your panties as he runs two fingers between your soaking wet folds.

The corners of Kazutora’s lips tug into a smile, letting out a small laugh. “a while huh? where were you from me then? you hidin’?” he slowly inserts two fingers inside your cunt, his palm right against your clit for stimulation, making your thighs jerk up as he fucks his fingers into you. You're extra sensitive now and he’s abusing the hell out of it. “m’ sorry.. I wasn’t—” he cuts you off before you can explain by speeding up, making such embarrassingly lewd sounds echoing around the bathroom.

“You do this with anybody else?” he asks another one, making you look up at him from that unexpected question, he’s already possessive of you and it’s only been the second day. God, this is not how things are supposed to go, you didn’t mean to have a guy get possessive over you so soon, the wrong guy too. but you can’t stop him now, not with how his fingers are hitting your sweet spots continuously.

You manage to shake your head, trying to find your voice, but before you can respond, he’s already speaking again, his lips brushing yours. “Good, I wanna be the only one.” his voice soft but his eyes say otherwise. he pulls his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth, sucking your wetness off his fingers, his eyes still on you.

‏Then his hands move down to your thighs, tossing your thigh over his shoulders, “I know a better way to get to know you more,” he murmurs as he lowers his head down between your legs, his nose coming to bury itself against your soaked shorts, taking your scent in as his hands rub up and down your thighs while his eyes roll back.

Your thighs clamp around his head as he kisses your puffy folds through your shorts, the leg on his shoulder curling around him instinctively as if you are pulling him in for more, making Kazutora growl, hands going up your hips to pull you against his face again, keeping you in place as he takes in your scent while teasing your clit with his kisses.

You then get interrupted by Emma's muffled voice against the bathroom door, calling out your name, “Can you hurry the fuck up? I feel disgusting.” she calls, followed by the rattling of the doorknob as she tries to open it. You quickly move your hand to clamp it over your mouth, muffling out your whimpers.

Kazutora seems unbothered, too distracted getting drunk on your scent as he tugs on the waistband of your shorts, sliding it down your legs with your panties as he glances up at you, expecting you to answer and dismiss her. Nothing's stopping him this time, not when your pretty pussy is displayed in front of his eyes. You can't expect him to stop.. not when he's been craving you, not with his pants getting tighter, rubbing against the annoying confinements of his boxers. if he can't fuck you now, the least he could do right now is eat you.

And you both did just that, "Yeah, just.. give me a second Emma I'll be right out!" you manage to call out, running your fingers through his hair as he buries his face into your pussy, his tongue slid over your clit. Emitting a moan out of you as he licks you again, he flicks his tongue back and forth slowly over that swollen nub.

Every flick made your body jerk, whimpering as you watched him. his eyes remaining fixed on you as his lips close around your clit, his tongue rolling over it, brows furrowing in desperation, moaning against you as if he's tasting heaven on his tongue. His fingers digging into your hips. You cry out quietly, gasping at the feeling of his tongue against you—something you haven't felt in too long, and not this fucking good either.

You start to feel the ache building up slowly, speeding up as you hear Emma's continuous knocking on the door. hearing muffled little 'Hello?'s' and 'Hurry up's' and whatever the hell she was saying through the door, you didn't even care anymore, not with Kazutora devouring you alive right now with his sexy honey-colored eyes fixed on you so intensely.

You whimper against your hand, nodding your head at him repeatedly, silently telling him to not stop as his tongue fucks into you, going in and out, making your legs squeeze around his head and desperately grinding on his tongue. Earning a needy moan out of him, the tip of his dick leaking pre from how hot you are right now. He loves it when his tongue is being used by you.

You move your hand to his soft hair, tugging at it. You're close, so damn close, your ears completely muting Emma's persistent knocks and doorknob rattles as your brain only focuses on him and his tongue, your vision starts to blur around him as his head bobs side to side, only hearing his earring jingle as his tongue glides across your folds, moving back to your clit, sucking on it as your legs begin to shake.

You curl your lips inwards to hold back your moans, melting onto his mouth as the coil bubbling in your belly finally snaps in a rushed climax. you let out a gasp, quickly silencing yourself with your palm as he licks your mess up, not missing an opportunity to taste you.

He hums, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy he calls a delicacy. Chin, and lips still wet from you as he moves his hand back to barricade you. "Wanna keep eating you.." he whispers, almost coming out like a whine. his hand slides up to your hips, moving you closer against his crotch and pushing himself onto you, making you feel how hard he is against you.

Another gasp emits out of your lips, and just as you are about to speak, Emma does it for you. "What the fuck are you doing in there?!" banging on the door even louder than before, causing unnecessarily too much attention around you.

Kazutora clicks his tongue and lets out a heavy sigh, “Of course.”

You let out a scoff, leaning your head back against the mirror again. “I don’t think the universe wants this to happen.” you tease, trying to lighten up the mood but he still looks frustrated.

“Fuck the universe for that,” he mutters, stepping back reluctantly, His gaze lingering on you for a moment before picking up your shorts and soaked panties. looking down at the fabric before bringing it up to his nose, inhaling it in front of you shamelessly. "Let me keep this."

"No, kazutora I can't be walking around with no panties on, give it." You reach out for your panties as he moves them up from your reach. "But I want something to remember this by.. come on." he says with a smile, almost convincing you from how fucking hot he's being, you cup his cheeks, running your thumb on his lips. "You've got more than enough to remember this by." you quickly snatch your panties from him, putting them on with your shorts as he, once again, shamelessly checks you out from behind.

He then wraps his arms around you, pressing light kisses to your neck, tickling you. until Emma interrupts yet again.

"Oh my god, you better be dead in there or I'm ditching you!" she shouts through the door, her frustration obvious not only to you but to bystanders nearby.

"Alright, fine! Jesus!" you call back, exasperated. Kazutora groans and rolls his eyes, begrudgingly pulling away from you, his eyes still fixed on you. even as he backs toward the door, his gaze unwavering as he unlocks and opens the door for you, unbothered by Emma's presence.

Emma stands there, her mouth slightly opening, clearly confused by the sight of Kazutora inside with you. She wasn’t expecting him to be there, much less the two of you together. You slip out beside him, flashing her a sheepish smile, but Kazutora barely acknowledges her, his focus still on you as he finally steps back, nonchalant as ever. he strolls off, ignoring the curious looks from nearby as Emma’s earlier outburst had clearly drawn attention.

Emma rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated sigh, grabbing your hand. “Come on, we’ve got shit to do.” she mutters, pulling you toward the forest where Senju and Yuzuha were waiting.

You step outside—pulled outside really—weaving through the camp where preparations for the Halloween party are in full swing, people swarming Mitsuya to alter their costumes, guys passing by, blocking your path and forcing you to go around them as they carry more hefty tree logs toward the center of the camp, a makeshift bonfire already starting to take shape.

Your eyes drift to the right as a familiar car pulls up near the entrance. Rindou and his brother Ran hop out, hauling bags filled with battery-operated Halloween decorations—speakers, candles, everything needed to throw a full-blown party without electricity. Rindou’s crew—slaves—rush to help, gathering boxes and bags and carrying them to the cabin where the party’s taking place.

You continue toward the trees, where Senju and Yuzuha are deep in conversation. Their voices are hushed as if talking shit about somebody, catching bits and pieces as you approach.

“Yeah, ever since Takemichi disappeared, he’s been… different. More persistent with her, it’s weird.” Senju says, crossing her arms in discomfort.

You reach them, slipping into the conversation. “Who are we talking about?” Your gaze drifts, searching for the victim of their discussion.

Emma steps closer to you as she points discreetly toward the chairs where a small group is gathered. “See that guy with the glasses? Sitting next to Hanma.”

You spot the victim immediately—Kisaki Tetta. Not from Emma’s description but because his eyes were already on you. And for a second, it felt like time had stopped. His eyes were so sharp and calculating, almost like he was aware you were talking about him. Something about his stare makes your skin prickle—like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. The corners of his lips quirk up just for a split second. Hina’s complaining about that giving her attention?

“Yeah,” you murmur, dragging your eyes away from his. You fight the urge to do something silly, like twirl your hair and kick your feet.

Emma crosses her arms, leaning into her stance like she’s about to go to war. “He’s got this weird obsession with Hina. They used to be friends back in elementary, but then he turned into a total douchebag.”

Yuzuha scoffs, “And now he thinks he can compete with Takemichi. Not like... Takemichi’s cuter or whatever... but still.”

“Kinda cute…” You let it slip out before you can stop yourself, putting your hand over your mouth as if you said something to the wrong audience.

Emma turns to you, her eyes narrowing as if you’ve just betrayed the entire group. “I hope to god you mean Takemichi.”

Senju steps in, resting her hands on your shoulders. “Actually... distracting him away from Hina might be good for her, at least until we find Takemichi.”

You raise your hands defensively, “Ohh no, no, no.. I’m not going to be whoring around this Halloween all because you want Hina’s boy toy off her dick.. besides, I’ve already got someone in mind.”

Emma’s brow furrows teasingly, a smirk plays at the corner of her lips, “Kazutora?”

“What? No! He wasn’t part of the plan!” You protest a little too quickly.

“Wasn’t?” Yuzuha teases even more.

“Oh yeah, she had her eyes set on Baji Keisuke.” Emma whispers in Yuzuha’s ear loud enough for you to hear.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Wow, can you say that any louder?”

“I mean, I’ve already seen how Kazutora was practically eating you in the bathroom. I don’t think you can score better than that with Keisuke, at least before the getaway’s over.”

At that, both Senju and Yuzuha gasped dramatically, with little ‘How come you never told us!’ and ‘Where were we during this?’

You shake your head, “I’ll tell you two later! I feel too gross to be standing around right now.” You wave them off as you start to head toward the lake, watching them head back to the cabin giggling as you and Emma start walking toward the lake. “And it was nothing. We barely even kissed.”

“Uhuh, right. Okay.”

You stop abruptly, turning to face her and grabbing her shoulders. “Okay, listen. If I tell you this, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Especially Keisuke.”

Emma’s eyes widen, “You’re calling him Keisuke now? Oh my god, what season did I miss? Did I skip a few episodes?”

“Emma. Swear.”

“Alright, alright! I swear.” She holds her hands up in surrender, “So, spill it. What’s going on?”

You hesitate for a second, scanning the area to make sure no one’s listening. “Kazutora and I did coke together.. and after, there was a little tension.."

Emma gives you a long, suspicious look, “There’s some details missing… I can tell from your face.”

“No important details. just little kisses on my legs and all that, but it stopped when the power went out.”

Emma crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Then why are you being so secretive about it?”

“Because he told me not to tell anybody, and I kinda figured that he meant Keisuke.”

“Hmmm.”

You narrow your eyes at her, trying to read her expression. “Do you know why he doesn’t want Keisuke to know?”

She shrugs, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

As you both finally reach the lake, you spot a few empty shampoo bottles littered on the ground, men’s shampoos to be exact. Guess everybody had the same idea, although they could’ve at least picked up after themselves. “Y’know, for being known as rich... they couldn’t afford showers in this dump?” You remark.

“You think they give a shit about quality from a place with history like this?” she responds. Emma wastes no time, quickly peeling off her clothes and stepping into the water. You hesitate, glancing around nervously as you undress, feeling a little too exposed right now.

“Hurry up before it gets cold!” She calls, already waist-deep in the water. “God, I needed this.”

You step into the lake, the warm water enveloping you as you sink into it, letting out a sigh of contentment. The water really was just as Mikey described, hot and relaxing. You dip your face under, wiping the water from your eyes as you emerge.

“We should’ve brought some shampoo,” you mutter, eyeing the empty bottles floating around, and pushing them back to the shore.

Emma leans her head back, letting the water get into her hair. “It’s not worth it. I’ll need another shower after the party anyway. Can’t be wasting it.”

“True…” You murmur, gazing up at the sky.

For a few moments, it’s quiet—just the sound of water lapping against your bodies and the soft rustling of trees. That’s a surprise, you’re not paranoid about silence anymore. This is a nice feeling.

Emma suddenly breaks the silence, her voice low, almost as if she’s been holding it in for too long. “I haven’t spoken to Ken all day.”

You turn your head toward her, sensing there’s more she wants to say.

“I didn’t think he’d tell the gang something so personal, y’know? I didn’t even tell you guys about it… I just thought it’d be fair if he kept it between us too.”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt, though you really want to know the context—what’s gotten them all so tense yesterday, but you don’t want to pry, not when she’s pouring herself out to you.

She takes a breath, staring at the water. “He got me pregnant… and I had an abortion without telling him.”

The words hit like a wave, and though you try to keep your face neutral, Emma already caught the surprised expression on your face before it disappeared. She chuckles a bit at that.

“I just… I thought he’d run away,” she continues, her voice trembling slightly. “That’s a lie, I know he wouldn’t… I like to comfort myself with that thought so I won’t feel shitty about it. But, a part of me didn’t want to tell him because I knew he’d convince me to keep it, saying he’s ready to be a dad and stuff. But I knew I wasn’t, and he didn’t take that lightly.”

“What do you mean?” You ask softly.

She stays silent for a minute before letting out a big sigh. “He kinda took it as me saying I didn’t want a baby with him. It wasn’t that. I just wasn’t ready. That’s it.” Emma pauses, dipping her hand into the water, and swirling it around absently. “We fought about it—bad. Even Manjiro got involved. Everything went to shit after that. Which… was out of character for him, yeah. But things were already going pretty bad for the gang, he and Mikey fought before, and this just kinda made it worse, I guess.”

“Emma, I’m so, so sorry…” You want to reach over and hug her, but the fact you’re both naked stops you. Instead, you extend your hand toward her, and she takes it, squeezing gently.

“It’s okay. It’s been a year since then, and we never really talked about it after, until today. I didn’t think it’d get brought up again, especially not like that.”

“That was really messed up of Kazutora, I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You squeeze her hand back.

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Don’t apologize for him. Yeah, he’s been all up on you lately, but still…”

You smile softly. “I can drop him for you, you know?”

Emma’s eyes widen, shaking her head quickly. “No, no! Please don’t. that’s the last thing I need right now. he’s already being fucking insane I don’t need you depriving him of pussy too.”

She dips her hair back into the water, letting the warmth wash over her as she sinks deeper into the lake. “And then there’s Hanma… It’s like he has a sixth sense whenever Ken and I are having issues.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, he hits you with a ‘you up?’ text?”

Emma lets out a dry laugh. “Literally! No joke, he’s exactly that cliché. He’s the type who goes after vulnerable women in relationships just for the thrill of it.” She pushes back her hair from her face, getting all the water out. “And back then, he had this weird phase of being obsessed with taking a girl’s virginity, especially mine. Like… I wasn’t even a backdoor virgin at the time.”

You wrinkle your nose, cringing. “Okay, I didn’t need to know that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh please, like I haven’t told you worse.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “How could you resist him though? I mean, the guy’s hot. He’s got the height, the eyes…”

Emma’s expression drops into a deadpan. “Are you only attracted to the absolute worst of the worst? Be honest.”

“Emma, don’t even try to deny it.”

She sighs, tilting her head as if considering for a moment. “At first? Maybe, before I really knew him. But after dealing with his antics for so long, the charm kind of wears off, and Ken is my type, not Hanma.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun…”

“Bitch, please. if your definition of ‘fun’ is Kisaki and hanma, I’ll pass. and stick with Keisuke—he’s better for you mentally.”

You scoff, leaning back in the water. “Not really… He gives such mixed signals, he was driving me crazy yesterday.”

Before you can elaborate, Emma suddenly perks up. “Hold that thought! I really should’ve brought a bikini before jumping in here.” She stands, the water sliding off her skin as she quickly grabs her clothes to put them on. “You want me to grab yours too?”

You glance around, feeling a little exposed now that she’s mentioned it. “Yeah, please. I’ve been feeling a bit too vulnerable out here.”

She pulls her wet hair out of her shirt, and then nods toward the trees. “Gotcha. I’ll be back.” She starts walking toward where the cabin is, disappearing into the forest and leaving you alone with the quiet ripples of the lake.

You float lazily in the warm water, letting your body relax as your mind drifts back to yesterday. Glad she didn’t pretend nothing happened like those guys did, especially Mikey. He was still acting the exact same this morning, although they do have a history of forgetting their arguments, but this one was too intense. Guess they were just too drunk. It’s pretty frustrating though, it’s like no one but you had felt the weight of what happened.

You tilt your head back into the water, exhaling softly, your mind drifting to the cut on Kazutora’s arm. Sure, you were just as fucked up as they were, but you seriously don’t remember him getting a cut from the glass, or anything really. Maybe he and Keisuke fought after? That would explain Keisuke’s bruises. If that’s so… that fight must’ve been intense.

The water’s stillness is suddenly interrupted by the realization that Emma’s been gone for too long. You push yourself up slightly, scanning the edge of the lake for any sign of her. Nothing. The trees remain undisturbed, quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves from the wind.

You stand, the cool air hitting your wet skin immediately. As you step out of the lake, you instinctively reach for your clothes, only to find them missing. What the fuck? You start to scan the area, checking to see if they might have fallen or been moved by the wind. Maybe Emma took them with her? But something about that doesn’t sit right. She wouldn’t pull a prank, not after being so vulnerable with you a couple of minutes ago.

Your heart starts to race as your eyes dart around, feeling more and more exposed. You cover yourself with your arms while searching for anything to do the job for you. Finally, you spot a towel draped over a rock nearby. It’s ridiculously small, probably meant to be a face towel, but it’s your only option. You wrap it around yourself as best as you can, covering what’s most important, though it barely does the job.

Still shivering from the cold, you tiptoe into the forest, leaves, and dirt clinging to your feet. You’re wet and vulnerable, like prey ready to be pounced on. The dense canopy overhead makes everything seem darker, and the chill in the air feels sharper against your damp skin. Every rustle of leaves makes you jump, paranoia creeping in. Great, just as you were about to celebrate the fact that you weren’t as paranoid anymore.

As you step deeper into the forest, the towel clings to your wet skin, barely offering any warmth, and you clutch it tightly, scanning the dimly lit path for any sign of Emma or your missing clothes. “Emma?” You call out, although your voice doesn’t seem to be reaching the cabin. It’s as if no matter how loud you scream, no one will hear you. Why did your thoughts lead to that now?

The silence around you feels suffocating, the occasional rustle of leaves now sending a chill down your spine. You’re not sure what’s worse: the fact that your clothes are missing or the creeping feeling that something isn’t right.

You push through the underbrush, the wet towel sticking to your skin, its small size doing little to make you feel more secure. The chill of the air and the dampness on your body make everything worse. You try calling for Emma again, but your voice sounds weak in the thick, still air. “Emma?” you repeat, a little louder this time. The sound of your voice feels hollow, swallowed up by the trees as if there's no one around to hear it.

A twig snaps behind you. you then hear a voice—faint at first, like a low chuckle. you freeze in place, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. not right now, not right now! He chuckles again, a deep, mocking sound.

“Lose something?” a familiar voice drawls from behind you, sending a chill down your spine that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re wet and naked.

You turn around slowly, hoping that it’s just a hallucination. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. you spot Hanma Shuji, standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a tree, with your underwear dangling on his finger, his lips curling into a lopsided grin as he witnesses your terrified eyes, his eyes expanding at the sight of it.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” You mutter, your voice betraying the anxiety you’re trying to suppress. You tighten your grip on the towel, taking a step back away from him, considering bolting for it or fighting him for your underwear, at least you would only worry about the top being exposed.

You feel Hanma’s eyes slowly travel down your body, his gaze lingering on the damp skin left exposed by the tiny towel.

“Oh, come on now,” he pushes himself off the tree, taking a step closer to you. “you don’t need to be so shy, not after the little show you’re putting on.” He teases.

You clear your throat, “Hanma, give it,” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady, though you can’t ignore the way your pulse is racing.

Hanma lifts the underwear higher, inspecting them with exaggerated disinterest with a hand on his chin. “hmm, I don’t know. you’re looking pretty good like this. s’ a shame to cover up so soon.” his eyes flick back to you, filled with that lazy, predatory hunger look in his eyes that always seems to follow him.

“Don’t push it,” you snap, though your voice falters just a little. you try to stand your ground, but with nothing but the thin towel to cover you, you can feel your confidence slipping. Oh fuck. you need that underwear now.

Hanma tilts his head, his grin widening, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Black, huh?” he muses, raising an eyebrow as he gives you a slow, teasing once-over. He clicks his tongue in mock frustration, “Damn, was betting on white, y’know.. ” he trails off.

You feel your face heat up instantly, did he hear what you and Emma were talking about? “what the fuck does got to do with anything?!”

Hanma chuckles at your reaction, twirling your underwear around his finger. “unless you’re gonna tell me you’ve been keeping yourself pure for someone special,” he says, his voice dropping low, the words rolling off his tongue with that smug, knowing tone, “are you?”

Your eyes narrow, fighting the urge to lunge at him and snatch your clothes back. “Why does that matter, huh? Can you just give me my clothes back?”

“Answer my question and I’ll give it to you.” he takes a step closer, forcing you to step back into the tree. “Are you, or are you not?” his gaze flicks back down to the towel, then to your face.

You grit your teeth, fighting to maintain control. “That’s none of your business.”

He bites his lip, shaking his head while looking down at your underwear, fiddling with the lace. He then dangles your underwear in front of you once more, but still keeps them just out of reach. “I’d kill to see you walk to the camp like this anyway..”

You might actually bolt for it this time, you glance back toward the camp, where you can already hear the faint sounds of people talking and preparing for the Halloween party. The idea of walking through the crowd like this, wrapped in a towel barely covering a thing, makes you wanna curl up and fucking die. Your eyes dart back to hanma, who’s watching you with that insufferable smirk of his, clearly eating up every second of your discomfort.

You sigh, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Can I please have my clothes back?” your voice comes out soft, almost pleading, just barely above a whisper as you impatiently stomp your feet in frustration.

Hanma tilts his head, matching the soft sound of your voice in a way to mock you, “Answer my question first.” you should be pissed but jesus christ did he sound so fucking hot doing it.

You clench your jaw, knowing you’re trapped. There’s no way around it, not with how he practically has you pinned to the tree, you look away from his gaze. “Okay! alright! I’m not a virgin, whatever! give it back.”

But Hanma only scoffs, “You think I’m just gonna give this to you without proof?”

Proof? Is he fucking crazy? Proof? your breath catches, and you feel your stomach drop. “Proof?”

He steps closer, the gap between you shrinking as he looks down at you. “Let me check.”

Your stomach tightens, heat rushing to your face. “What do you mean ‘let me check’? you can’t just—”

He cuts you off, “You want your clothes back or not?” his grin widening, shameless as ever.

Is this why Emma fucking despises him? cause now you’re starting to get it. You stood frozen, heart pounding, chewing on your lip as your mind races. There’s no way you’re going to let him get away with this, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice dips so low, makes it impossible to think straight.

“So?” he leans closer, his breath brushing your ear. “You gonna let me?” he drags his fingers along your curves, going down to your thigh. And unfortunately, your body betrays you. Your mind locked onto the feeling of his fingertips drifting your thighs, going between, accepting the sensation of his fingers drifting up from your inner thighs to what’s next to it. Kazutora’s unfinished business is being handed to hanma, and somehow, you’re not complaining.

A part of you enjoys the way he toys with you, the way he puts you in such a humiliating position just for his own pleasure, just to see you crack. and a part of you wants to crack for him, you can’t hide your masochism forever. unfortunately for you, as much as you try to deny it, and pretend you have self-respect and dignity, your body will always betray you.

He chuckles against your ear as if what he’s feeling on his fingers is unbelievable. “you’re fucking wet.” he whispers, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

You let out a whimper, almost loud enough for the camp to hear but he quickly covers your mouth. “you don’t want them seeing you like this do you?” he speaks against the back of his hand.

You repeatedly shake your head, already tearing up and he barely did a thing to you. “why’re you crying?” he murmured, his gaze softening at the sight of your tears, but his dick was far from soft at that. his knuckle grazes beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. but it wasn’t gentle, no, it was patronizing. “do I need to shut that mouth of yours?”

A soft pout forms on your plump bruised lips as you peer up at him through your lashes, your eyes wide, almost pleading—an instinctive reaction to his taunt.

Hanma tilts his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “you’re really bringing out the big guns with those puppy eyes, huh?” he then holds your underwear up, stretching it out enough to use it to gag you with it, he then stuffs your mouth with it, tying it to the back of your head.

“Bite.” he demands, and you comply, earning little whispers of ‘good girl’ and ‘you look so damn pretty like this’ against your lips as he leans in to kiss you, soaking up your underwear from it, his thick tongue rushes over your own, feeling yourself getting wetter as you silently wish emma doesn’t come back for you.

He then breaks the kiss, yanking the towel off your grasp and exposing you completely to him as he throws the towel aside, the sharp cold air hitting you enough to twitch. before you had time to react, he sinks to his knees, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs open enough for him to go in between, “that’s a pretty fuckin’ pussy..” he mumbles right in front of your folds before spitting on it to make it easier for what he’s about to do to you. his warm breath fanning your cunt as he uses his ‘sin’ etched hand to lightly play with your clit, watching you twitch and pulsate against his fingers. humming little ‘mhm’s as he inserts two fingers inside you.

You practically melted on him, “so tight..” he coos, “not a virgin, huh?” he teases, you couldn’t even look at him anymore from how humiliating this is, biting your panties to muffle out your moans, and he couldn’t have that either.

He clicks his tongue, “let me hear you.” he says irritatedly as he pushes himself up from the ground to loom over you, wrapping his fingers around your neck with his ‘punishment’ etched hand, forcing you to look up at him again as he speeds up his fingers. shamefully, his long fingers feel so fucking good inside you, and your body can’t help but react to it.

“Don’t be ashamed about it.. wouldn’t expect a girl like you to be alone for this long. hey.. am I the only one that went this far in the camp? tell me.” he whispers huskily as he tightens his fingers around your neck.

You replied with muffled choked whines, but instead, he moved his hand from your throat to grab your chin, forcing you to nod your head at his question. “yeah? such an honor.” he gets his face closer to your lips, hovering over it as his ‘punishment’ hand moves to your thigh, lifting it up to get better access as he goes knuckles deep into your pussy, making you almost short circuit. “y’know, you’re all the guys have been going on about. couldn’t help but wanna get a taste of what they’re cravin’.. maybe ruin it for them too while I’m at it.” you tightened around his fingers at that, making his brow raise and let out a deep chuckle, “Ohh, you liked that huh.”

Your eyes rolled back as you leaned your head against the bark, you couldn’t even tell if it was because of his words or how good his finger felt. and of course, he would turn this into a competition. it makes perfect sense that he’d chase after someone the guys won’t shut up about. that’s just who he is—a thrill-seeking asshole, always needing to one-up everyone else. the exact kind of man Emma kept warning you about. but you just can’t ignore feeling yourself make a mess on his fingers, soaking and tightening around it even more, every time he speaks, like the dirty fucking whore you are.

He pulls it out, putting it in his mouth to suck on, making sure you’re looking up at him as he tastes you. “Mmm, mhm.. you’re ready.” he leans in to meet your lips with his again into a sloppy wet kiss against your panties while he unzips his pants, slipping it down to his thighs as he gives himself slow strokes, precum already dripping down his dick.

He breaks the kiss, biting his lip as he grabs both your thighs and lifts you up, supporting you with the tree he’s got you pinned in. The rough bark scratches your bare back painfully but you don’t care anymore. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Hold onto me better,” he murmurs, you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails on his back for support, leaving behind stinging lines from your nails as he digs his onto your hips, angling your wet slit on his tip.

Your eyes widened looking down at him: his cock is pierced, a curved silver bar fitted through the underside of his tip. you’ve never seen that before— never even thought someone would do that—and you could scarcely imagine how that would feel inside you, and he’s sooo fucking huge too. for a guy who used to be obsessed with being the one to take a girl’s virginity, with a size like his, combined with the piercing.. that would feel so painful, but you assume he’d be into breaking girls like that, making them bleed on his dick, and gosh does that thought turn you on.

It’s so indecent the position he has you in currently, it’s so indecent that you just got your pussy eaten by a different guy you barely know too. this wasn’t even the plan at all, you didn’t plan to have Hanma Shuji driving his pierced cock deep into your pussy right now, and you didn’t plan to have your cunt squeezing his dick either, making him question if what you said about you not being a virgin is true from how goddamn tight you are. you didn’t plan to have your pussy eaten on the second day of the getaway and yet here you are. in the middle of nowhere against a tree with a seven-inch deep in your stomach, you can’t even complain about the cold anymore, not with his hot dick and pre already coating your insides.

“Ohhh fuck, look down.. look down at it angel, watch how it fucks you.” Hanma choked, his face scrunched up with need from how good your pussy was swallowing him. you roll your head down to watch him stretch you open, resting it on his shoulder while watching your skin clap against his as his veiny dick disappears into you, making your clit throb as he drives himself into you over and over. your mouth now dry since you drooled all over yourself, the sight only making hanma even harder from how braindead you look.

You lean back against the bark again, tears rolling down your cheeks, sniffling. so cute to him, so cute as he’s continuously pounding his cock into your puffy, swollen pussy. with each heavy thrust, he hits your spot, making you cry out for him as his hips interact with yours. and you can’t help but make Hanma’s back bleed as he cusses under his breath.

You’re ready to cum, so close to it you feel it in the pit of your stomach as your eyes roll back, a moaning, drooling mess. “uh-uh,” he says sternly, “Look at me.. look at me while I fucking ruin you, c’mon.” he growls, getting even more aggressive as he stretches your legs further up. his dick bulging out of your tummy. he wasn’t even looking at you either, his eyes were on your tits, bouncing each time he thrusts his hips into you. he can’t help it either, every single inch of you is hypnotizing to him.

You let out a soft mewl, breath hitching as you feel yourself coat his dick, the slapping sounds getting wetter, almost echoing through the trees. it all comes crashing down at you as the ache in your stomach snaps, squirming against his grip, legs twitching, and hips bucking against him. you feel so, so painful and sore now but that’s an issue for you to worry about later.

He pulls out his dick, and a part of you wishes he didn’t as you already start to miss him being inside of you. He starts to stroke it. Speeding up as thick, pearl white cum oozes out of his pierced tip, dripping on your stomach and your rhinestone belly piercing, making it shine for him as he groans at the sight. “So damn pretty..”

He pushes himself against you more to pin you hard against the tree for support as he scoops up a bit with his middle finger, grabbing the panties from your mouth and pulling it down to your neck, shoving his middle finger down your throat. “Suck,” he orders, making your clit throb one last time at that.

And you did just that, his purple eyes were focused on your lips as you glide your tongue against it, keeping your doe eyes locked on his as you start to moan around him, his mouth fell open with a desperate sigh as you were sucking down hard on his finger and letting your tongue tease its tip.

You take the chance to distract him with your mouth as you undo your underwear from the back, trying your best to imitate as if you're sucking his dick, his eyes remaining on you with such intensity. you finally undo it, swiftly hiding your underwear behind you as you let go of his finger with a lick, purposely leaving a string of saliva still attached.

“How am I supposed to let you go after that..” he says with hunger so unmistakable and raw it made your legs weaken, almost convincing you to stay with him a little longer. you bring your fingers to your lips, kissing them softly before grazing them against his mouth. his body that was pressing on you momentarily loosening. Taking that chance, you kick him back away from you with all the strength you can muster. His surprised expression is the last thing you see before bolting.

Quickly snatching the towel from the ground, you barely manage to wrap it around yourself as you dash away from him, wiping away remnants of him on your stomach, a sick reminder of what happened as the cold air hits your skin again. Your heart races as fast as your feet as you sprint toward the camp, the towel slipping dangerously, barely covering you.

You finally reach the camp, bursting out of the treelines, your worst nightmare—aside from being murdered—begins in slow motion before you. The once lively camp now silent as everyone stops to stare, conversations freezing mid-sentence as people halt whatever they're doing, gawking at your half-covered figure. You should've at least worn your underwear before running here so you would only have your tits to worry about, but something about the thought of you running around in your underwear sounds just as worse as right now.

You don’t even have time to process the embarrassment creeping up your neck as your grip tightens around the towel, fingers trembling as it threatens to slip from your grasp. You make a desperate dash across the camp toward the girls’ cabin, each step feeling like you’re running through thick mud, the weight of humiliation heavier than anything you’ve ever carried.

Please, not now, not like this…

One pair of eyes catches your attention more than the others. You recognize the blonde hair streaked with blue—fucking Rindou Haitani. His eyes were locked on you, widening as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying—and failing—to hide a grin. He leans over, nudging his brother Ran with an elbow, chin pointing directly at you.

Great. Didn’t even need to get anyone into bed for them to see you half-naked. Already crowned the whore of the century in just two days. Heat floods your face, prickling your skin as humiliation grips you tighter than the towel ever could.

You quicken your pace, legs trembling beneath you. Just when you think you can make it, you hear someone call out, something about Hanma. Wait—Hanma? Why is he brought up?

Your blood runs cold in realization. No. No, no, no... don’t do this to me.

Your breath hitches, and your question hangs in the air for a split second. As if on cue, Hanma bumps into you from behind, his hands finding your waist as he nudges you to the side like you're in the way, "Shit... didn't see you there," he says with a smug, half-assed apology, making his group break into jeering laughter, the kind that digs under your skin.

He then appears in your line of sight, strolling across the camp casually, his usual lazy grin plastered on his stupid, stupid face, the action only fueling his group even more. you don't even need a crystal ball to figure out what they're thinking either—Hanma and you are alone in the woods, with you naked. The weight of their stares nauseating as he walked toward Kisaki, mumbling something in his ear. whatever it is, makes Kisaki glance your way, fucking great. Now you've got Kisaki's attention on you, and Hanma’s as well as his eyes drift back in your direction.

You can feel their stares—Hanma’s eyes burning into you like he knows exactly how uncomfortable you are—and it’s unbearable. The humiliation is indescribable, you’ve never felt more suicidal until now. Your grip on the towel tightens as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Then, before you can even think of bolting, a familiar, comforting voice yells through the camp, coming to your rescue.

“The fuck you looking at? Huh?!”

Your head snaps up, spotting Draken at your side in an instant, quickly shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over your shoulders with no hesitation, the fabric heavy against your skin. Your legs feel like jelly from the embarrassment, but Draken catches on as his hand finds the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Look away, you fuckin’ cunts!” Draken barks, “Nothing to see here, scram!”

You flinch at his words, the sharpness of his tone making the embarrassment feel even heavier now that all eyes are on you from how goddamn loud he's being. At least he has good intentions, but now you’re not sure whether you want to be hidden or to disappear entirely.

At the corner of your eye, the person you desperately want to yell at—Emma—appears beside him, rushing toward you, her voice apologetic. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to leave you out there!” She urges, her hands hovering uselessly near you as if trying to help without knowing how.

Draken’s towering frame shields you as he leads you toward the cabin. You can still feel their eyes on you—the weight of their stares, lingering like fingerprints on your skin—but it’s all just background noise now.

Just then, the cabin door bursts open, and Mikey storms out, drawn by Draken’s voice. His eyes widen as he spots Draken and Emma ushering you toward the girls’ cabin. “What’s going on? Why are you naked?” Mikey asks as he strides over, nudging you further inside gently as he closes the door behind him.

Your heart pounds in your ears as your face reddens from embarrassment. Legs give out as you sink to the floor. Your face burns, skin hot to the touch from the sheer mortification.

You’re not sure what’s worse—the fact that it happened or that they all saw it.

It was already sunset, four hours before the Halloween party. You stroll toward the boys' cabin with your costume in hand. Your steps are quick since you don’t want to be seen by anybody else right now—the sting of embarrassment from earlier creeping back up your neck. On top of all that, you found out that Emma conveniently decided to make up with Draken, leaving you to fend for yourself naked in the woods. Timing, right? But it’s whatever now. It already happened. What can you do?

The cabin door is left slightly ajar, and through the crack, you spot Mitsuya sitting at the dining table, chatting with Hakkai, who's leaning on a chair in front of him, rocking it back and forth with his long leg. You vaguely remember Hakkai witnessing that whole ordeal earlier since he was nearby helping the others carry logs. Just your luck. With a sigh, you try to center yourself before pushing the door open further, letting it creak to announce your presence.

As you step inside, Hakkai notices you immediately, his eyes widening in surprise before he quickly looks away, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He glances at Mitsuya for some kind of signal, who only gives him a subtle nod, silently dismissing him.

Hakkai stands awkwardly, muttering a quiet “see ya,” as he shuffles past you, practically shrinking, avoiding eye contact. At least he didn’t comment or stare at you like the rest of the guys did earlier.

Finally, Mitsuya looks up from the table, giving you an easy smile like you didn’t just flash the entire camp. “Hey, what’s up?” he greets, his eyes flicking to the costume you’re holding. “Got something for me to fix?”

You cringe slightly at his casual tone. It’s only the second time you’ve really interacted with him, and you’re already asking for favors. You feel a little guilty, but then again, you only have four hours to get ready. “I hate to be that person, but I completely forgot to alter this… it’s too big on me, and I need it, uh… shorter.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, hopping off the dining table, clearing it out for him to start working on your dress, grabbing his glasses from his head and putting them on. He looks so cute with his glasses on… “Hand it here.”

You pass him the costume, and he starts to feel the fabric between his fingers, laying it out on the table for a better look. “Velvet, huh? I can work with this. How short do you want it?”

“Umm…” You chew on the bottom of your lip, reaching for the dress as he moves back with his hands in his pockets. You fold up the bottom of the skirt, nearly half of it gone, showing him how short you need it. You smile sheepishly, feeling a bit ridiculous.

He stares at the fabric for a beat longer than necessary, chewing on the inside of his mouth. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” you reply, more confident this time. “I’m sure.”

“Can you, uh… put it on so we can see exactly where you need it?” he suggests, still making sure you really want it that short.

“Yeah, okay.” You take the costume back and slip it over your clothes. It’s loose around your waist, and the skirt falls all the way to your ankles. Walking over to the giant body mirror, you fold the fabric up, bringing the hem slightly above the bottom of your ass. You glance back at Mitsuya, who’s now standing behind you, hand on his chin as he examines the skirt you’ve folded up. A quiet laugh slips out. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting between you and the absurdly short skirt.

“Oh, so you’re serious?” he asks, trying to hold back another laugh.

You glance at him through the mirror, your face heating up. “Yeah, I’m serious,” you attempt to say confidently, but you can’t help but crack a smile.

He stares for a moment longer, his eyes drifting over the costume and back to you. “That’s really short,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not saying anything, I’m just making sure you know what you want…” You can tell he’s debating whether to warn you about how impractical the length is—dancing, bending over… all risks.

“Thanks for the concern, but I know what I want, don’t worry, Mitsuya,” you mutter with a smile. It’s your costume, after all. With a shrug, he nods.

“Alright, I’ll make it work. You mentioned tightening it around your waist, too?” He walks back to the dining table to grab a few pins.

“Yeah,” you confirm, turning to the side in the mirror to inspect the fit. “It’s a bit loose.”

Mitsuya moves behind you with pins in his mouth, his hands hovering near your waist, waiting for permission. You meet his eyes in the reflection and nod with a small smile. He gently runs his hand on your waist as if you are fragile, tightening the fabric at your waist, and carefully placing a pin to hold it. Then, he drops to his knees, pinning the skirt’s hem to the length you want, still hesitating but ultimately deciding to trust your choice. For a moment, it looks like he might add a bit of length without telling you, but he wouldn’t. The customer’s always right anyway.

“Alright, you can take it off now,” Mitsuya says as he stands up.

Careful not to mess up the pins, you slowly slip out of the dress, folding it neatly before handing it to him. He walks back over to the dining table, already gathering his tools to start cutting and sewing.

You follow him, perching yourself on the edge of the table next to his work, watching him as he does his magic—focused and all, long lashes that almost brush his cheeks when he blinks, then to his lavender hair, holding the urge to run your hand through it, then at his hands as he takes off his rings, placing them to the side.

One of the rings catches your eye, resembling the cross earring he wears that you really liked. You hum in interest. Without thinking, you reach for it, slipping it onto your thumb. The ring is far too big, but you try to make it fit, twisting it around, and looking at the details. Mitsuya, still cutting, notices the missing ring, his eyes flicking up to you. With a soft smile, he tilts his head slightly to grab your attention.

“You like it?”

You glance back at him, realizing you’d been caught playing with his ring. “Oh—uh, sorry,” you say quickly, taking it off and setting it back on the table, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” he says casually, his voice soft. “It looks good on your finger.”

“Yeah… it doesn’t really fit though,” you mutter, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you place your hands in your lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your pants awkwardly.

Mitsuya’s gaze lingers on your hands fidgeting for a moment longer before he asks, “So, who’re you gonna be tonight?”

“Bela Dimitrescu,” you reply.

He raises a brow, clearly not recognizing the name. “Who?”

“She’s just some hot mutant from Resident Evil. You might recognize her when I put the costume on.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to seeing that then.”

Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s gonna be, your stomach growls, loud enough to make you freeze. Mitsuya glances up at you with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You should go eat while I finish this up.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mumble, slightly embarrassed. “Thanks for this, Mitsuya, you really saved me.” Hopping off the dining table, you give him a grateful smile before heading out of the boys’ cabin. Your feet carry you toward the main cabin, silently hoping that they brought an acceptable breakfast. You’d kill for some Honey Cheerios right now.

Reaching for the cabin door, you pull it open and step inside, only to find two guys already there, mid-conversation—the Haitani brothers. Their words pause the moment you enter. Making you hesitate to walk in, but it’s too late to leave. Their eyes are already on you, and turning back now would just make it look like you’re trying to avoid them.

They finally look away as you cast a smooth, subtle glance at Ran without him noticing. He’s frowning so deeply it almost looks permanently etched on his face, his lips pursed as he sips his coffee. You hope it’s just a case of him not being a morning person, rather than something to do with your presence.

Rindou, on the other hand, looks like he’s holding back a laugh as he stares down at his cereal, swirling it lazily with his spoon. You ignore the awkward tension and move to walk past, doing your best to seem unbothered. But just as you pass, you hear Ran mumble, “No good showers… No good coffee… The cheap-ass motel nearby can at least give me a good shower.”

Tell me about it, you roll your eyes at that, moving toward the cabinets and trying not to engage. You sift through the shelves, noticing most of the snacks are half-eaten or left wide open, gross... What do you expect in a cabin full of guys? You turn around and finally spot something decent—a box of cereal right next to Rindou.

“Dude, we can leave after the party… Quit whining,” Rindou says, leaning back in his chair, still playing with his cereal.

You grab the box of supposedly protein cereal, lifting it to see how full it is. Thank God, it’s brand new. You move over to grab a bowl and head to the sink, which Ran is currently blocking with his brooding presence. He’s ignoring you, his attention is still on Rindou.

You let out a quiet sigh and clear your throat. “Excuse me,” you mutter, hoping to avoid any unnecessary interaction with him.

Ran side-eyes you but eventually steps to the side, he seems so grumpy. You quickly wash the bowl, hearing the brothers chatting again, but you’re too tuned out to catch their conversation. After grabbing a plastic spoon, you sit at the dining table and pour yourself a bowl of cereal, only to realize that the milk already out on the table is… lukewarm.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter under your breath.

“Goddamnit indeed,” Ran quotes you, grimacing as he takes another sip of his coffee before slowly stepping out of the cabin to sit on the porch.

You dig into your cereal, grateful to get something in your stomach before getting fucked up tonight. But even that small comfort is ruined by the weight of Rindou’s stare, first on you, then your cereal, like your mere existence is bothering him. His gaze feels heavy, almost like he’s expecting something. You glance up at him, your eyes lock with his, and he doesn’t look away. Which only makes you eat faster, hoping to finish and get out of there as soon as possible.

“You know that’s my cereal, right?” he says with a brow raised.

You freeze mid-chew, looking at him with a mouthful, feeling caught. “I’m sorry,” you reply, your voice muffled by the cereal. “It’s just… everything else was already half-eaten or stale. I should’ve asked.”

“Nah, you’re good, I don’t wanna shit on your morning like he always does with me.” He points his spoon toward where Ran left, then scooping up some cereal for himself.

“Is he always that grumpy?” you ask, still chewing while looking at Ran’s back through a window.

“Mmhm,” Rindou hums in response, resting his head on his palm. Giving you a once-over, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. You pretend not to notice his staring, focusing on your cereal like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“So, who are you, anyway?” he asks, breaking the silence again.

You pause, swallowing before responding with your name. “…I’m a friend of the Sano’s.”

At the mention of their names, Rindou straightens up slightly, his interest piqued. “Oh, you’re with them? How come I don’t know you?”

You shrug in response, attempting to cut the conversation short since you still feel awkward about this morning but he seems persistent as he still keeps his goddamn eyes on you.

He leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table. “Interesting. Can’t believe Mikey didn’t mention you.” The way he emphasized his name sounded almost like he was mocking, “So, who’re you gonna be for Halloween?” he tilts his head as if he’s trying to piece together how you fit into their world.

You shift in your seat, feeling the intensity of his gaze as if trying to study you. “Uh… Just some character from Resident Evil,” you say, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“Oh yeah? Who from Resident Evil? I’m going as Leon Kennedy tonight.”

Your face brightened at the mention of Leon, but you kept your cool, trying to not fangirl as much. “Bela Dimitrescu, that one mutant from Village. So, which Leon are you gonna be?”

“Damn…” he mutters, leaning back with a feigned sigh of disappointment. “Was hoping you’d be Ada. We could’ve matched, y’know.” He teases, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks you up and down before adding, “You know how he looked in Resident Evil 2? Yeah, him.”

“You gonna wear a wig, too?” you finish up your cereal, only taking spoonfuls of milk now.

“Pfft, nah… I don’t look good with brown hair.” He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“Really? I think you’d look good.” You respond without thinking twice about the way you said it.

His eyes gleam as he sits up, leaning closer to you with his elbows on the table. “You think I look good with brown?”

You nod, trying to see what he’s getting at since what you said was completely innocent. “Yeah, totally.”

He grins wider, “So you’re saying I look good?”

You roll your eyes, laughing it off, “Okay… I didn’t say it like that!”

He crosses his arms, his arm tattoo distracting you enough to slip up. “So I don’t look good?” He tilts his head again like he’s waiting for you to stumble on your words.

“I didn’t say that either,” you shoot back.

“Which is it then, huh, new girl?”

You stand up, reaching to grab your empty bowl, and putting it in the sink. “Come back with your Leon costume and we’ll discuss,” you reply before heading out of the cabin.

Rindou watches you walk away, leaning back in his chair as you walk toward the door. “I better get an answer by then,” he calls out after you as you bite your lip, trying to suppress your giggles before finally stepping out of the cabin.

You walk out toward the girls’ cabin, seeing some of the guys already loitering around, either borrowing makeup or pleading for help with their own. You vaguely recall Mikey insisting on you doing his makeup too. Ugh, how the hell will you manage both his and your makeup before the party even starts?

As you enter, you spot the girls halfway through their makeup routines, Mikey planted beside Emma while inspecting her makeup, and next to him, Keisuke watches with the cutest look of confusion on his face as Emma carefully applies her eyeliner. It’s hard not to let your eyes linger on him for a moment longer than necessary. Not that he’d notice, though—his attention is all on whatever witchcraft Emma’s doing.

Mikey catches sight of you walking in and immediately perks up. “Fucking finally, you gonna do the paint now?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Who are you even gonna be?” you ask, pulling out your heavy SFX makeup from your bag with a sigh. The weight of it feels appropriate for the mess you’re about to deal with.

“I’m gonna be a vampire,” Mikey replies, crossing his arms with a smirk plastered on his face as if he’d just dropped some mind-blowing revelation.

You can’t help but deadpan as you drop the makeup bag onto the bed. As if you pulled it out for nothing, “Mikey, you barely need makeup for that.”

In the corners of your eye, you catch Keisuke approaching, your heart starts to race as you pretend to be casual about it, keeping your eyes on Mikey as Keisuke jumps in. “You gonna be a vampire? I was gonna be one.” His gaze remains stubbornly fixed on Mikey, making you subconsciously pout. Look at me, look at me!

“Uh-uh, change. I called dibs on being a vampire in August,”

You cut in, “You’d make a pretty solid Eric Draven, Keisuke,” you say with your hands clasped behind your back, holding yourself back from rocking side to side.

Keisuke finally turns his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Who?”

You feel your heart skip a beat—not because of him not recognizing an icon, but because, well, he’s looking at you. “He’s from The Crow,” you explain. “You’ve never seen it?”

Keisuke narrows his eyes at you in confusion, and just as you’re about to elaborate, Kazutora, sporting cute little leopard prints on the sides of his face, slides in with his arm lazily draping around your shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I was just telling Keisuke he should be Eric Draven,” you reply, instinctively leaning slightly into Kazutora’s touch.

“Ohhh yeah, he kinda does look like him,” Kazutora agrees, giving Keisuke a light nudge. “You should totally do it.” A small part of you didn't want him to intervene. But another part of you says that Kazutora can convince Keisuke to let you do his makeup for the party. One, because you can touch his face without him being weirded out by it, and two, you get to see him in corpse paint.

Keisuke looks between you and Kazutora, brow raised in doubt. “You think so?”

“Yeah! He’s got that corpse face paint metalheads do. Plus, he’s got long hair, so you already got that down.” Kazutora explains.

“So, I look like him just ’cause he’s got long hair?"

“Nah, dude, it’s more than that. Trust me, let her do the face paint. It’ll look sick.” Kazutora finally slides his arm off of you, casually strolling away out of the cabin.

“What about me?” Mikey suddenly whines, pulling your attention back.

“Mikey… you literally just need fangs and some fake blood. You barely need anything else,” you say, turning to Emma for backup. “Right, Emma?”

Emma, engrossed in her makeup application, shrugs. “I don’t know what you just said, but yeah, sure,” she replies, turning up the volume on the music playing. Body by Summer Walker flows through the speakers, indicating that she doesn’t wanna be bothered right now.

You move over to your bed, unzipping your makeup bag and grabbing the fake blood bottle to hand to Mikey, "That'll work, just dab it everywhere on you." Then you grab the essentials for Keisuke's makeup, waving him off to sit anywhere so you can get started.

You stroll toward the dining table where everyone’s scattered their makeup tools, only to spot Keisuke already sitting there, leaning on the chair, waiting while bouncing his leg.

His eyes meet yours as you move closer to him, steadying yourself in between his legs as he moves to sit on the edge of the chair, closer to you. Legs apart enough for you to stand in between, his hands loose on his thighs. Occasionally cracking his fingers while you arrange your products away from the other girls'.

You grab the first step of the makeup, the Elf Power Grip primer, squeezing a bit of it onto your fingertips, his brows immediately furrow as soon as the cool, slightly sticky substance touches his skin.

“The hell is this? Feels sticky,” he mutters, instinctively pulling back an inch.

You grab his chin, gently but firmly, bringing him back into place. “You want this stuff to last the whole night, don’t you?”

He grunts, still clearly annoyed by the texture as you wave it off to dry with your hand before grabbing the white under-face paint stick, carefully gliding the pale white makeup across his cheek. You didn't realize how tan he is until you added paint, noting in your head that he might need a double coat as you're making sure to cover every inch, but not touching his neck.

You try not to be affected by how close he is, even though you're feeling his breath on you, and each time your fingers graze his skin, you swear his breathing deepens, just enough for you to notice. You're positive he can hear your heart hammering against your chest but you pretend to be unbothered—impossible—focusing more on doing his makeup.

You grab a brush to blend it all in, and your fingers brush his jaw as you tilt his head for a better angle. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a sharp contrast to the cold makeup. His eyes watching you closely, unreadable but so distracting, god why is he so fucking distracting.

You catch his gaze, and it’s like the air in the room shifts, you flash him a polite smile as you tilt his head again, blending the paint in with the brush. He huffs but doesn’t pull away this time, settling into the stool again.

As you move on to the actual white base, you dip the beauty blender into the paint and begin dabbing it across his skin. Almost immediately, he makes a face,

“Stop that,” you mutter, holding his chin steady with one hand, blending the paint in with the other.

He shoots you an exaggerated glare, eyes narrowed like a cat who’s been stepped on. “Feels like you’re trying to knock me out.”

“You’d know if I was trying to knock you out, just stay still,” you mutter, though the words come out softer than you mean them to.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs.

“I know a thing or two.”

You dab the beauty blender on his cheek again, harder this time just to mess with him, and he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. His long legs stretch out, and he shifts like he’s trying to get comfortable.

“Oh—god, Keisuke. Please don’t move.” You say, exasperated. “You’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be.”

He doesn’t budge, instead choosing to stare at the ceiling, “I’m perfectly comfortable like this,”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “Fix your posture, please?” you insist, tapping the side of his knee with yours. “You’re not helping me here.”

He keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling, tongue gliding over his teeth before responding. “Nah, I like it like this.” He settles into the chair even more to get comfortable.

You mutter a ‘Jesus Christ.’ and with a huff, you put your knee on the chair, positioning it right between his legs as you lean over him. The closeness makes it harder to focus on the makeup, but you’re determined to make this work.

You reach for a couple of products to hold at hand as you're hovering over him, “If this turns out to look like shit I’m blaming it on you,” you say. He’s unyielding, maintaining that ridiculous position, and you find yourself almost pressed against him as you try to get the angle right.

“Yeah, that’s great,” he teases, his voice low, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

When you finally finish with the white, he runs his hand over his face, frowning at the texture. “This stuff feels weird.”

You quickly grab his hand, "Don't touch your face, it'll crease!" You start blending the part he touched to fix it.

He raises a brow, and his expression changes in a way that you could only describe as regret that he even agreed to this, "The hell's the point in this if I can't touch my face?"

You roll your eyes at his impatience, pulling out a small container of powder. “Don’t worry, it won't move when I set it with this.”

He eyes the powder suspiciously, “What is that?”

He squints at it like he’s deep in thought. “Glitter?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Keisuke. It’s powder. You put it on top of the base paint so it 'doesn’t feel gross.'” You mock him, unscrewing the powder and dabbing it with a powder puff, dusting the excess powder before applying.

He frowns but doesn’t argue, letting you dust the powder over his face. As you work, you notice his jaw relax a little, clearly less bothered by the texture now.

You reach for the dark eyeshadow palette on the table, trying to maintain your position against him as you tip over. Just as you feel yourself wobble, his hands find your waist, steadying you on the chair. The suddenness of his touch almost actually made you tip over, the expensive palette slipping from your grasp as you froze in place, awkwardly grabbing it before it fell on its face.

You then look up to see his reaction through the mirror, your breath hitches as you catch a glimpse of his confused expression, making you jolt back to reality. You quickly regain your composure, trying to shake off the flutter in your chest. “Thanks,” you mumble, your voice steadier than you feel.

He, of course, says nothing about it, moving his hands back on his lap as you start on the black around his eyes, applying a generous amount all around it. When you reach for his waterline with your black pen, you feel him tense up again, squinting like he’s bracing himself for impact. You’re careful with the pen, making sure it doesn't bother him and yet he’s still being a baby about it, “You’re getting it in my eye,” he grumbles.

“No, I’m not. Shut up and hold still.”

He huffs, but he keeps still, though you can feel the way he’s resisting the urge to blink. As you finish the last stroke, you step back, admiring the shape of the dark circles around his eyes. He opens them fully and stretches his face again, clearly trying to get used to the feel of the makeup. He's so annoying about it but so cute still.

You shift to the other side of his face, trying to ignore the way your fingers tremble slightly as you work on the black lines around his other eye. More calm now and less freaked out over the pen.

“You’re done with that part, right? ‘Cause it’s—” He frowns, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done.” You pull out the last piece of the look and hold it up in front of him with a grin. “Alright, what’s this?”

He squints at the small tube you’re holding, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Lipstick?”

“Wrong. It’s eyeliner.”

He mutters something under his breath but doesn’t protest as you move in closer again, tilting his head back to get the last lines around his lips. As you carefully draw the dark line around his lips, filling them in. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a second, you pause, forgetting what you’re doing. It’s just you and him, his amber-colored eyes pulling you in like they always fucking do.

You watch his mouth move, mumbling a "You good?" with his soft-looking lips, fighting the urge to kiss him right here right now until you remembered where you were. There were people around, everybody is watching, he was watching, and you need an excuse on why you just stared at his lips for too damn long. "Yeah, it's just... I'm trying to figure out how to shape it to your lips."

He hums in response as his eyes blink to the ceiling, lifting a weight from your shoulders, and finally giving you the chance to actually focus on doing his makeup.

When you move to line the corners of his lips, your thumb accidentally brushes the corner of his mouth. His eyes flick back at you at that, but he stays quiet, his lips parting slightly as you paint the dark line.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way your hands feel warmer than usual. “Stop staring. It’s weird.”

He slightly smirks in response, probably knowing how much his stare affects you. You scoff, but it’s hard to focus when he’s looking at you like that. You quickly regain your composure as you move to do the lines on his eye down to his cheek, keeping it quick and sharp. You finish the last line and step back quickly from him, and once you do, you feel like you can breathe now.

You reach for the final piece of the puzzle—the setting spray. The bottle makes a soft rattling noise as you shake it, and Keisuke immediately looks suspicious.

“What’s that? Perfume?” he asks with a furrow to his brows.

“Setting spray,” you say, stepping in front of him again. “Keeps everything in place so you don’t look like a melting corpse halfway through the night. Now, close your eyes.”

He blinks a couple of times at that, but he does as he’s told, closing his eyes. The moment you spritz the mist onto his face, he scrunches up like you just sprayed him with water from a hose, his entire face contorting.

“Quit scrunching your face!” you laugh, “Just relax.”

He dramatically holds his breath, still keeping his eyes shut tight but trying to loosen up. You spray another mist, and he manages to avoid flinching this time.

“There, done,” you say, stepping back to admire your work.

Keisuke opens his eyes, blinking a couple of times as if testing whether everything is still intact. His fingers hover near his face, but he doesn’t touch the makeup.

“Feels like I just got hosed down,” he mutters, now testing the feel of the makeup on his face, and his eyes return to yours. There’s a heaviness in the way he stands, the way his shoulders shift as he rises from the chair, towering over you now.

“Well?” you ask, folding your arms. “How do you feel?”

Keisuke stretches his face out again, eyes flicking to the mirror, “Like a dead guy.” He reaches up, running a thumb over the edge of the makeup near his jawline. “You did a good job.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips as you watch him.

He tugs at his hair tie, running a hand through his hair, his intense gaze flicking over to you one last time.

“Let’s just hope this shit doesn’t come off,” he mutters, “Or else I’m blaming you.”

Before you could speak, the cabin door creaks open, Mikey, Chifuyu, and Pah-Chin strolling in, all done with their makeup and face paint, on cue to Keisuke being done as well.

Mikey’s immediate reaction is to cackle, his fake vampire fangs gleaming, “Keisuke, you look like you came out of a morgue!”

Keisuke’s eyes cut to Mikey, unimpressed. “Your fangs are bigger than your teeth,” he deadpans.

Mikey instantly shuts his mouth, clearly self-conscious about the oversized fangs, his grin shrinking into a scowl. “Shut up.”

Chifuyu, who’s been checking out Keisuke’s makeup, steps closer, “You look like you’re ready for a metal concert,” he says, his tone amused.

Pah-Chin, who’s dressed as the Joker with his own face painted up, snickers from behind them. “More like the circus.”

“You would know about that wouldn’t you?” Keisuke smacks Pah-Chin’s head from the back as they all head out the door to leave the girls’ cabin. Before he does, Keisuke shoots a final glance at you, his eyes locking with yours for just a moment longer than usual before breaking it and stepping out.

After they finally leave the cabin, you turn back at the mess you and Keisuke made, the lingering warmth of his presence still evident, making you miss him already as you collect the scattered makeup items. Just as you were about to start your makeup, the door swings open, and Mitsuya steps in, a dress draped over his arms, looking almost comically small against his frame, the realization of how tiny the dress actually looks and how naked you’re practically gonna be just decided to hit you. “Hey, almost forgot to bring this over.”

“Thanks, Mitsuya,” you say, “I really need to hurry up.”

He glances at the mess you made on the dining table, “Yeah, good luck with that, see you at the party?” he says as he rushes back to the door, also needing to put on his costume.

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” You say, rushing over to your side of the dining table, your heart racing as you quickly prepare until you realize you almost forgot the most crucial part of the costume, “The blood! I need the fake blood for the look! Oh my god. Mikey!!!” You shout, your voice echoing off the cabin walls, making Emma flinch and almost fuck up her makeup.

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