#and now looking back it probably helped me get over a lot of them

[sailoryuns]

LUST ─── JJH

genre. jaehyun x f!reader | strangers to ??? (wtv they got going on in this dynamic)

warnings. kinda angsty, some fluff i suppose, smut, mentions of alcohol & smoking (cigs), dom!jaehyun & sub!reader, hookup culture, slight corruption?, reader cries a lot, spanking, choking, oral (m. rec), fingering, unprotected s*x (don’t be stupid pls), reader gets fucked against a window, jaehyun is a little mean in this oops wc -> 3.2k

now playing 🎧 — wus good / curious by partynextdoor

it happened two years ago, yet the memories of that fateful day still carry on with you as if it were yesterday. vibrant recollections of those slender, jewelled hands clasped around your neck as you cry out for him, body subconsciously submitting to all of him— breaking every barrier you’ve built up within. of all your years of existence, that night was the only time you’ve felt truly alive, shedding every ounce of innocence away in one night for a man whose name you didn’t even know.

do you regret losing your virginity to someone who only saw you as a temporary plaything? partly yes and partly no. you were conflicted on the fact you never exchanged info after he left but other than that, nothing regrettable came out of it. the only issue per se was that he’s set your standards far into oblivion, you’ve yet to find a lay as memorable as he was.

it’s not as though you haven’t tried getting over it in the past— you’ve been desperately wishing to forget. suppressing your inner desires with all kinds of self pleasure methods; even going so far as to banging other hot strangers you meet from the bars/club—but even then, you couldn’t replicate how you felt with him and you still couldn’t reach your climax without thinking of your first time.

you’d catch yourself daydreaming of him daily. the raspy tone of his voice, the intoxicating aroma of expensive cologne, his chiseled facial features, and sublime sense of style. everything you could’ve ever wanted, slipped away from your grasp forever. that was, until you were met face to face with him again— a total of 738 days later (yes you did the math).

you went bar hopping downtown with all your girl friends, looking for an eventful weekend. little did you know you’d be running into him again, the nameless man that gave you a night to remember. you were definitely the first to notice him, it felt quite peculiar but as soon as you walked in you got struck with a weird deja vu moment. it all felt so familiar to you, even down to the symphonic melodies of jazz music playing in the distance, everything brought you back to that gloomy autumn night.

you’d try your dearest not to stare but your mind was not complying with any rationality, one look at his broad physique and it was endgame for all your sanity. it didn’t help that your body went inert, lost in a trance of him indefinitely, wanting nothing more than to worship him and give in to his every need. you reminisce about him telling you how much of a good girl you were for taking all of it, sucking on his fingers as you completely come undone underneath him. he left you begging for more that night, crying and pleading for at least a goodbye kiss— which you never got the pleasure of getting.

“i told you this was a one time thing only.. besides, i’m leaving the city tomorrow for good so you’ll probably never see me again. it’s for the best anyway.”

his cold last words left more than a lasting impression on you. it sent you into an endless spiral of overthinking, analyzing any and everything you could’ve done wrong. did that night really mean absolutely nothing to him at all? all the countless times you’d touch yourself to vivid recounts of his face pressed into your thigh, plastering wet kisses all over them and sucking on your bruised skin.

he’d spank each thigh one by one as a punishment, proudly smirking at the way you’d wince out in pain mixed with so much pleasure. he thrived off the idea that he was the first to corrupt you like this, a girl he hasn’t even known for a span of 24 hours willing to give up just about anything she had to offer. had you utterly wrapped around his finger like a brainless puppet.

you still don’t understand how someone can look so divine, even when doing nothing but just standing. you watch as he sips viognier out of an oversized wine glass, gazing at the crowd, ruffling his fingers through his hair from time to time. then it became unreal when you locked eyes with him, catching him stealing a glance when he realizes who you were.

you look almost exactly the same as you did a few years ago, the only part that’s different about you now is the recent butterfly tattoo you got on your lower back. that’ll be a pleasant surprise for him to find out. his eyes never drifted once they landed on you, he was in just as much shock as you were— maybe more. he’d made an internal promise to himself to keep you as a forever one time fling—nothing more just that, but if fate wasn’t real then why would the universe send you back into each other’s lives?

no, not a romantic kind of fate. the fate you get when someone you’ve mindlessly lusted over for ages has finally found its way to you again. a fate that doesn’t occur by chance, or coincidence, it was pure destiny awaiting to happen.

“wow, you haven’t changed at all have you?” he says nonchalantly, acting as if you were an old friend he was catching up with.

you weren’t sure how to respond, the surrealism of the moment brought you everywhere but reality. all you really could do was blink, fluttering your lashes at his towering figure over you. though there was a sea of people in this packed, lively bar, it felt like only you two existed in this confined space. he tried striking up the usual basic conversation with the typical: how’re your studies going? work’s been treating you well? anything exciting happen in your life recently? you gave as much of a vague answer as you could, barely putting any thought or effort, you were only giving him the same treatment that he gave back then. he would often come off as bored or condescending at times, it felt good to take back just the little bit of power you upheld.

you quietly observe as he orders another drink, two actually, not even bothering to ask what you wanted. he hands you a glass with a salted rim, the clear liquid made you believe it was either vodka or tequila, either way you gulped it down in no time and squeeze the lime on the side as chaser. you didn’t have much to drink but his presence alone was already enough to make you feel tipsy.

“i thought you said you were never coming back to the city?” you blurt out, instantly scolding yourself for bringing up the past this quickly. it was just the undying curiosity of wanting to know the inner depths of him, not the stonewall of a persona he portrays to be.

“i don’t know, guess i just felt like visiting. also had some unfinished business to attend to.”

there he goes again with those subtle answers, toying with you so easily. his responses have always annoyed you to a certain extent but this feels even more strange for some reason. what’s the “unfinished business” he’s referring to?

“so” he pauses, never actually finishing his thought.

“so..” you awkwardly mimic, hoping he’ll spit out whatever the hell he has to say.

it took some time before he clears his throat and takes a sip of what seemed like his fiftieth drink of the night. “soo, do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” you’re not sure what’s with the shy act suddenly, he wasn’t this timid when you first met him. it’s like you’re meeting a whole new person.

“uhm, sure i guess” you spoke hesitantly, taking his hand as he reaches out for yours. bumping into loads of drunk people while he weaved you through the crowd, it felt like multiple eternities before you’ve found the exit. he lights a cigarette before heading down the vintage spiral staircase, still hand in hand with you.

“goddamn… look at your fine ass. still just as sexy as i remember you last time.” he gracefully compliments, walking slightly behind in attempts of getting better sight at the back view of the form fitting dress you wore. his hand left yours in favor of wrapping around your waist.

“thanks..” you reply sheepishly, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are. before getting in his car, there was one more thing you needed closure with, the one thing that constantly kept you up at night.

“i don’t mean to be this straightforward but, i want to know your name. i know this probably sounds really lame and pathetic but it’s been eating me up inside since the day we met and… i just- i think i deserve the right to know is all.” you wanted to scream at your poor delivery, sounding nowhere near as confident as you did in your head. the cigarette was still tucked between his lips, taking another long drag before answering you.

“damn, even after all this time i still occupy your mind sweetheart? that’s cute,” he teases, reveling in on your confession. “but i suppose i can agree with you since i did keep you guessing for so long. it’s only fair you should know, right?” that sly little smirk never left his face, he knows exactly how to mess with you. “it’s jaehyun. and you are?” ah, so he really does have a name.

“y/n.” you mutter, looking down at the pavement.

“that’s pretty, i like it. suits you well.” his hand raises yours to his lips, kissing it gently, “nice to formally meet you, y/n.”

your eyes dart at him reluctantly, hoping your palms weren’t too clammy. “you too, jaehyun.”

none of this still felt real to you, you wanted to pinch yourself and wake up immediately.

“it’s kinda hot the way you say my name.” he casually admits, the grin on his face deepens, “but that won’t be the only thing you’ll be screaming at the top of your lungs tonight.”

this certainly wasn’t the first (or last) time you found yourself like this. getting severe brush burn from the carpet by being obediently on your knees, swiftly bobbing your head as tears stream down your face, ruining your precious mascara. the only audible sounds were his groans echoing in the room of this giant suite at the four seasons. it gave a sense of familiarity, and oddly enough you found comfort in being in such a compromised situation. especially with him again.

“fuck, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of hair, never taking his eyes off you. “look even prettier with my cock stuffed deep in your mouth.” his words sent chills, all you wanted to do was keep pleasing him.

your mind goes hazy from the end of his shaft hitting the back of your throat, other than the tears, you showed no outright emotion—you had to endure this, you’ve been praying for this moment since your first ever encounter. big doe-like eyes look up at him innocently as you suck the soul out of him, all the shiny gloss you wore on your lips now completely transferred onto him, in this perspective, you were utterly perfect.

“shit- forgot how good you were at this..” he hisses, watching as you kneel beneath him, saliva glistening on your chin as you gag all over his thick cock.

you do the best you can to fit all of him, you did learn from the best after all. you hum against him in response, feeling his cock twitch from the sudden vibrations. if you keep going like this he’s bound to cum for sure, but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction— he wants to have all the power and control.

“get up.” he spat harshly, if you swirl your tongue around him like that one more time he feels as though he’s about to combust. the choice of only taking him further in made him even angrier.

“did you not fucking hear me? i said get. the. fuck. up.” he pulls your hair tighter to yank your head back, forcing a semi-loud *pop* with your lips as you detach from his cock, swallowing the string of drool from the corner of your mouth.

silly you for keep going, you should’ve listened the first time. now your forever fantasy of getting to suck him dry and drink his cum has sadly been cut short...

“since you’re so damn greedy for this cock why don’t you go stand up against that window while i fuck you, hm?” your face becomes mortified when you haven’t realized just how big those windows truly were. it took up a quarter of the living room and the curtains were never closed which you also failed to notice. you were at the top floor of this fifty-two story building but still, you were rightfully nervous out of your mind.

the next thing you knew, your body’s pressed up to the cold glass, his big hands caressing both sides of your waist and trailing kisses to the exposed skin on your back. you watch the faint reflection of him toying with the hem of your mini dress, slowly pulling it up then stopping when he gets to a certain point.

“oh.. what’s this here?” he asks, glancing down at your butterfly tattoo, his fingertips lightly grazing over the fresh ink. “guess you aren’t so innocent as i thought you were.”

you shook your head, biting your lip when he gropes your ass, “never was innocent..” you quietly mewl.

“oh yeah?” he breaths warmly against your neck, hiking the dress up further. “then be a good little slut for me and don’t speak unless i tell you to.” the palm of his hand slaps your cheek hard enough to leave a visible print, pushing you up against the window more.

you were enjoying every single minute of this, you were so elated that you could cry again. you feel his touch down lower, grazing over your folds to feel how wet you are.

“shit, you’re already dripping like this just from sucking me off? always knew you were such a filthy whore.” two fingers slid into your heat with ease, pumping them in and out.

“nngh,” you moan lowly, “shh, quiet for me doll. wait ‘til i fill you with my cock then you can scream all you want.” when he pulls them out his chest collides with your back, rubbing himself between your folds and bringing his drenched fingers up to your mouth. of course, you open eagerly to suck on his sleek digits, you remember doing this exact thing last time.

history truly does repeat itself.

once he fully settles in, the clench of you around him makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever.

“fuck..so fucking tight” he husks, firmly gripping at your waist before he begins moving.

first he goes at a normal pace, stuffing you nice and slow with delicate kisses to your shoulders. he soon built up more momentum, sending powerful strides into your soaking cunt as your bodies clash together. you arch your back more as he his cock hits your walls deeper, mumbling a bunch of gibberish whilst he fucks you completely dumb.

“what’s that doll? can’t hear you, speak the fuck up.” he orders sternly, producing another harsh, loud slap to your ass— never letting up on his stamina.

“mmh, fuck. you’re so big, feels so good..” you whine, feeling nothing but cockdumb at this point.

“yeah? you like the way i stretch this pussy out? gonna cream all over my cock just like you did for me last time baby?” his strokes get rougher with each question.

“yes…yes.. oh fuck- jaehyun!” you chant his name over and over like you’re casting a spell, the ring of his name slips on your tongue smoother than the pungent liquor you drank earlier.

“only i can fuck you as good as this right? have you acting this obedient and submissive? bet you were manifesting this shit all along, just can’t enough of my cock can you?” the questions just won’t stop, and the waterworks soon start up again, you’re not sure how much more you can endure.

“don’t even fucking answer, i already know anyway.” his cockiness really pissed you off but at least he had the evidence to back his arrogance up.

his pace grew relentless as he watches himself disappear in you, still gawking over the pretty design of the butterfly. you felt so close— that same knot tied in your stomach like you felt before; you haven’t had this feeling since the very first time, as if only jaehyun was the one to unlock this level of passion out of you.

“g-gonna cum soon..” you alert him, tasting the faint bitter saltiness from your tears pooling down. a pair of strong hands connect around your neck, wrapping tightly as he rams in harder, making every bone in your body tremble and shake.

“go ahead, do it.” jaehyun encourages supportively, “cum with me dollface.”

those words were all you needed to hear to let go, screaming out his name and a slew of more curses. you feel your release drip down your leg, mind completely blank from the buzz taking over you. he quickly pulls out, spilling his white seed onto your back as you whine from being empty again. you could honestly go for another round if he asked you to right now. it was fun while it lasted though, looking over at the skyline view as you’re getting your back blown out— seemed like a literal dream come true.

the aftermath was quiet, you didn’t say much and neither did he, you reverted right back to your shy demeanor. after you’ve finished cleaning up yourself in the bathroom you grabbed your purse to rummage for your house keys but he stops you mid action.

“where’re you going?” that only confuses you more, where else would you be going?

“uh, home?” you meekly respond, unsure of his real intentions.

“don’t be like that, you can stay the night here.” he suggests, “my flight leaves in the morning though but you can sleep here for as long as you’d like, i’ll book this room for an extra day.”

it was sweet of him to do that for you, it was the least he could do to mellow your sorrows. you were hoping to be with him for a bit longer but what were you expecting really? he’s just someone who comes and goes, taking everything you had to give, just to leave you high and dry all over again.

“come here.” jaehyun directs assertively, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap, you waste no time in propping yourself onto him. “don’t be sad doll, cheer up. we’ll meet again sometime, yeah?”

you nod, feeling so hopeless and broken inside, he’s only saying this because he probably just wants to fuck again. that’s all you are to him, a fucktoy and nothing more. even though he sees you in that light, it still makes you feel validated in some twisted kind of way. at least right now you have all of his attention, it may just be momentarily but it felt so good. one thing was definitely made clear by him though— he was deeply, undeniably, in pure lust with you.

- 完 ♡︎

[masoncantthinkofaname]

My advice as someone who has shifted many times

Got some really sweet comments on my last post, and I decided I should probably get myself over my fear of posting here. I just love everyone in this community, you're all family to me💚

First, and most importantly, coffee:

When I posted my introduction here, a couple of months ago, I felt like I was already quite an experienced shifter. 4 kids, the most amazing husband, a life outside of this reality longer than I lived within it.

Looking back on it now, more than 500 years later, 3 more kids, 4 grandchildren, I was almost like a baby still, and even at this moment in time, I feel like I'm only at the start of my journey.

However, for the people that know my tiktok account, I have shifted to a lot of places by now. Experienced immortality as a human, as a deity, I've seen different cultures practice shifting, and taught shifting to every single one of me and my husband's children.

My main purpose in coming back here, is to help others achieve what I finally managed after years of trying. I want you all to pursue your dreams, and find the infinite happiness you so deserve.

So here is some advice:

Shifting itself is extremely simple. You want something, you get it. The concept of the reality that we're in doesn't allow for instant 'manifestations', but that doesn't mean you can't do it. It just means that, this reality by itself, doesn't have the rule of ''you desire something = you get it.'' That's where humans came up with the term ''manifestation,'' but it's simple really; you persist in wanting something, so you shift somewhere you have it. How easy that is can depend on the person, but every single one is capable of doing it, it's not technically any more difficult.

There are realities out there where, ''you want something'' does equal ''you get it,'' the term manifestation wouldn't even exist in those places, it's just as natural as it is for you here to feel as though you struggle attracting your desires.

I do not want to be rude to anyone, but there is no key to shifting. Anyone claiming they have the method to shift, or know the key to it, is overcomplicating it. Shifting is shifting, you don't need anything for it. Just existing, being aware, that's all you need to shift. HOW you do it, depends on the person. Assumptions, methods, intention, they're all tools to help you, but they're not the key.

You can shift while showering, while taking a dump, you can jump in the air and yell ''Yippie!!!'' to shift if you would believe that it works. An actual method? A joke method? There's no difference between them. The only real difference? You assume one to work, and one to not do anything, and that's where our limited mindsets are created.

I've seen so many different groups by now. People that shifted through meditation, through rituals, a group that would quite literally dive into a lake that they saw as magic, but also people that simply just, decided they wanted it, and shifted seconds later. They were raised with those beliefs, so they work for them.

And you here? You're raised in a society that tells you that you have to work for what you want, that a dream life is impossible, nothing is for free. And then you wonder why you struggle with shifting, why it's so hard to believe that you can do something so incredibly simple. Your struggles are valid, it is not your fault.

As an awareness you're so much more than the 3d, you're so much more than the body or brain you're aware of. You're simply a guest in this body, until it expires or you choose yourself to move on, but that doesn't take away that while you're here, you have to deal with your experiences, memories, and taught mindsets from this place.

That's why, the biggest advice I can give you, is to listen to yourself. Not society, not other people, no one who tries to tell you that they know ''the way.'' If someone's method aligns with you, that is amazing, and definitely put it to practice. But don't force yourself to go through methods and practices that don't feel right for you. If you dread doing it, it's not for you. Find something fun, something that fits your routines and beliefs.

Remember that time has no meaning. 5 days, 5 months, it's not going to matter in 3000 years. Literally nothing can stop your existence, nothing that could happen to you in this reality can ever stop you from existing.

There is no pressure, eternity is waiting for you, be kind to yourself. You are exactly where you're meant to be. It doesn't matter how you shift, so don't make it a chore. Script, create scenarios, daydream, make up your own rituals or find the most fun ways to set intention. You don't need hour long methods of counting, starfish positions and difficult affirmations. Your desires are already heard, your subconscious already knows where you want to go, so enjoy the ride until you get there💚

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Ready for Sleep

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You fall asleep with Bucky after a tough mission.

Disclaimer: mentions of body injuries from a mission, established relationship, domestic fluff, short read. Not proof read.

You were ready to sleep for a year. Three severely bruised ribs and two dozen other bruises scattered across your entire body, a stiff neck that had been reminded a little by a hot shower, at least a dozen cuts and scrapes to your skin and enough images that will probably pop up one random night in a nightmare when you’re least expecting it. It was safe to say you were tired. 

Bucky had spent most of his morning reading. After two back to back missions, he’d been ready for a break so when Banner and Cho had forced Fury’s hand and allowed both himself and Sam to take a few weeks rest, he was more than happy to take it. 

He hadn’t heard you come back. Nor had he heard you limp down the hallway towards your room a few hours before his alarm went off. But he heard you when you walked into the living area just a little after two. 

“Hey- oh-” 

Holding the book still on his chest, Bucky looked over at you as you slowly made your way inside and across the room to him. Your hair was down and wet from your shower, your clothes had been changed from your standard black tactical gear to a fresh black t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

“No, no, stay where you are.” You said to Bucky as he began to move. But you didn’t want to have to be constantly moving. You were ready to sleep. 

“What happened? I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.”

Almost as easy as breathing, Bucky spread his legs a little and helped you down onto the sofa with him until you were lying comfortably beside him. 

“We wrapped up early since we kinda got caught. Nothing’s broken, I promise.” Bucky’s hand softly rubbed at your arm as you got comfortable. He pressed a short kiss to your hairline. 

“Why didn’t somebody call-”

“I asked them not to.” You looked up at him. “You would have been worrying for nothing.”

Bucky just gave you the look of someone still should have called me. 

“I promise. I’m okay. I just want to sleep.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.” Then he kissed you. 

If his kiss couldn’t heal you, nothing could. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You graced him with a softened smile. “I am now.”

Bucky smiled down at you before kissing you slowly again, his hand softly wrapping around your wrist that lay on his chest. It was something he’d done since the beginning – counting the beats of your heart through your pulse. A reminder to him that you were real and not a figment of his imagination. 

“Want to tell me what happened?”

You were slow to nod. You’d already said everything on the video report on your way back home so it wasn’t like you needed to. But he was a worrier. And you found it easier talking to him than you did most people. 

“It was by complete accident. One of their new recruits didn’t know their way around the base so took a few wrong turns and ended up finding us. They did what they’d been told to do and pressed their button which alerted everyone else. From there, it was what you’d expect. Lots of noise, a lotta shouting and enough dust to give the desert a run for its money.”

Bucky chuckled and you felt the rumble in his chest under your ear. Softly, his fingers traced up and down your arm and side as you continued to explain. 

“We got what we went for. Though I paid a pretty good price for it.”

“How many?”

“Three. Bruised though, not broken. We landed this morning and I’ve already left everything for Hill on her desk.”

Bucky hummed. “You know she’s gonna be mad you broke into her office again.”

“Then she shouldn’t make it so easy for me to get in.”

Bucky chuckled again. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Came back here, took about an hour to get undressed and get into the shower.”

“Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

A small scoff came from the back of his throat. “I’d rather you come and wake me up than put yourself through more pain.”

You just looked up at him. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise. Besides, it probably would have taken longer for me to get in the shower with you there.”

You didn’t miss the way the blush dusted his cheeks and ears when he realised what you were talking about. Then he laughed. “Okay, maybe you’ve got a point.”

You just smiled and kissed him again. 

“Want me to get you anything?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I just need you and some sleep.”

With a soft smile, he kissed you again. “I think I can do that.”

Reaching to the back of the sofa, he pulled the thin blanket over you and him as you laid your head back on his chest. Within minutes you were fast asleep, his heartbeat beating steady in his chest helping you do so. 

[razorblade180]

Take it back

Jaune:*polishing sword*

Blake:Hey there, old timer.

Jaune:Heh, hello there. Is it time for us to vote on dinner?

Blake:Almost. I’m stopping by now since I’d probably have a hard time talking to you alone later.

Jaune:What’s up? Need help surprising Yang with something?

Blake:Nope. Remember back at Beacon when our two teams had to make schedules together because Weiss demanded joint training and team building?

Jaune:I remember getting yelled out for spilling the whiteout.

Blake:Yeah that was a rough day for you. Anyways, I remember having to be in charge of the schedule since some people would obsess over it while others forgot to bring or update it. I didn’t mind. Memorizing dates is easy for me. *pulls out box* Happy birthday.

Jaune:…Huh, imagine that. Thank you.

Blake:Don’t tell you forgot?

Jaune:No, I just…it hasn’t mattered for a long time. I didn’t bring it up today because honestly, it bothers me a little. Keeping track in the Ever After was hard; after a while it felt lonely. Is it weird I don’t like my birthday much?

Blake:No. I don’t care for mine either. I spent of couple of them protesting or hiding before.

Jaune:That seriously sucks.

Blake:It’s life. I let the others celebrate it cause it makes them happy. That’s enough for me, but I’ll keep yours quiet. Figure you had a reason.

Jaune:Thanks. This means a lot actually.

Blake:You haven’t even opened it yet. Anyways, I gotta go. Ruby has paid me off to help support her campaign for the seafood restaurant for their dessert. *walks away*

Jaune:Didn’t know you take bribes.

Blake:It’s a seafood restaurant. *closes door*

The boy let out a chuckle. He put his blade down and unwrapped the blue birthday paper to reveal the densest planner he’s ever seen. The cover revealed it could plan the next three years out. Who would’ve thought Blake could be so cheeky? Jaune opened it to find his birthday but instead found another surprise. The dates were crossed out.

He flipped the page. Again, all crossed out. Page after page showed each individual day crossed out well into the future. Jaune couldn’t make sense of it at first. He took another look at the gift box and found an additional items. Multiple bottles of whiteout alongside a written note.

“You’ve done your fair share of planning ahead. Now reclaim your time day by day. The Rusted Knight has had its time; it’s your turn now. May it be spontaneous and a splendid do over, dear friend.”

Jaune was absolutely speechless. All he could do was grab the whiteout and clear away today’s date, leaving it full of endless possibilities. He closed it slowly as he thought of all the ways he could really reclaim lost time. Sharpening his blade was not it. He got up and left to join his friends in living area where they were debating.

Nora:Ah! Perfect timing. Jaune, please tell these psychopaths why we should have breakfast for dinner tonig-

Jaune:I want steak.

Ruby and Nora:What!?

Yang and Weiss:*hi five*

Nora:But why steal of all things!?

Ruby:It’s boring!

Jaune:Maybe, but we’d get free desserts today if it’s a special occasion.

Blake:*smiles*

Ren:Special occasion?

Jaune:Yeah. *smiles* Today’s my birthday.

NRYRW:WHAT!?

Oscar:Oh, Happy Birthday.

[calypso-rt]

Rafe x  A sweet kind Pouge!Reader: Kind of s1, with his hate against Pouges/still fighting too see them as equals. Maybe a oneshot-two shot? Reader’s having bad mental health/depression at the moment and so she decides to head out into nature and camp somewhere for the night to escape. Rafe is fed up with Ward who is constantly belittling him, needing a break and heads to nature to do the same. They both end up getting lost, and losing some of their equipment. Reader is plain and simple not a wilderness person and Rafe has bad luck. Their paths end up crossing and they are forced to be there for each other for the night, or well Rafe is the only one complaining, she tries to be cordial and friendly. Maybe his annoyance for her further effects her depression since she’s already feeling like a burden for existing. And maaaaaybe……..they have to share a sleepingbag together in order to keep warm and Rafe is the one who takes that step, not wanting her to be cold and starts feeling protective over her

A/N: what a creative request, I'm so honored you trusted me to create a story out of this. i've fallen in love with sweet pogue reader and rafe thanks to YOUU <3

out of the woods

-> S1 Rafe x F!Sweet!Pogue!Reader

RAFE'S POV

Rafe tells himself he’s not running.

He’s just... getting space. That’s all.

A break.

A second to breathe before Ward’s voice drills another hole into his skull, reminding him that he’s a disappointment. That he needs to step up. That no matter what he does, it’s never enough.

So, yeah. Maybe driving out here, parking his car on the side of a dirt road, and hiking into the woods wasn’t the most well thought out plan. But what was the alternative? Sitting in that house, listening to Ward’s condescending remarks over dinner? Watching Rose pretend not to hear it?

He needed out. Just for a night.

The thing is, Rafe doesn’t actually like nature.

Not in the let’s go on an adventure way.

But right now, the silence is the only thing keeping him from snapping.

He walks aimlessly, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched so tight it aches. The sun is sinking behind the trees, shadows stretching longer across the ground, and he probably should’ve figured out where he was going before stomping off into the woods like an idiot.

He should go back.

But then he thinks about Ward, about the look on his face earlier, the disappointment etched into the syllable of his name, and Rafe keeps walking.

Because right now, being lost out here sounds a hell of a lot better than going home.

...

YOUR POV

You’re not sure when you got lost, but you’re here now.

And here is officially nowhere.

Like Rafe, you told yourself this would help. That getting away for a night, leaving everything behind, would give you the reset you needed. That if you could just be alone, away from the noise, the expectations, the constant weight pressing down on your chest, maybe, just maybe, you’d feel something again.

The forest is too quiet and your backpack is starting to feel heavier, pressing against your shoulders, and when you pull your phone out for the hundredth time, it’s the same thing: No Service.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.

It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Then, just as you’re debating whether to keep walking or set up camp, a branch snaps behind you.

You whip around so fast it makes you dizzy.

And standing there, looking equally displeased to see you, is Rafe Cameron.

You freeze.

He stares.

For a second, neither of you say anything, just blinking at each other like you’re both trying to process this nightmare.

Then Rafe exhales sharply, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "No fucking way."

You swallow, the immediate panic of being lost momentarily replaced with an entirely new kind of dread.

Because Rafe Cameron hates Pogues.

And now you’re stuck in the woods. With him.

You offer a nervous smile, shifting your weight. “Uh… hey?”

Rafe looks you up and down, his lips curling. "Of course it’s a damn Pogue." He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “This is just fucking great.”

Your stomach twists.

“I—um,” you clear your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm, “I think I might be lost.”

Rafe barks out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Shocker.”

You frown, fingers tightening around the straps of your backpack. “Are you lost?”

His jaw tics. “No.”

You glance pointedly at the overgrown path behind him. “Are you sure?”

Rafe glares. “I don’t need some Pogue thinking she’s smarter than me.”

Your face flushes. “That’s not what I—”

He lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “Out of all the people to run into, it had to be you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not take it personally. You know how Rafe is. How he sees you.

Still, it stings.

You shift uncomfortably. “Look, I know you hate me, but I—”

“Hate is a strong word,” Rafe interrupts flatly. Then, after a pause, he scoffs. “Actually, no. That’s accurate.”

You blink, throat tightening.

Okay. Ouch.

You try again, softer. “I didn’t plan on running into you, either. But maybe we should stick together? Just until we find a way back?”

Rafe lets out an incredulous laugh, stepping closer, his height suddenly a little more intimidating. “Yeah? And why the hell would I do that?”

You hesitate. “Because… being alone out here is dangerous?”

Rafe just snorts. “I think I’d take my chances.”

Your stomach twists again, but you push through it, offering him the smallest, most tentative smile. “I don’t want to be a bother, I promise. I just think we’d be safer if we—”

“Holy shit” Rafe groans, tilting his head back like you’re the most exhausting thing in the world. “You sound so fucking desperate.”

Your breath catches.

Something cold curls in your chest.

You look down, trying not to let it show, but Rafe is still staring at you, eyes sharp, waiting for you to fold.

And maybe a part of you wants to.

But instead, you inhale, steadying yourself, and lift your chin just slightly.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Well, I’ll just keep looking on my own then.”

You turn to leave, but something in Rafe’s expression flickers.

It’s quick. Barely there.

But when you take a step, he exhales sharply through his nose, muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

You hesitate.

"Fine."

Your lips part in surprise, but Rafe just glares at you again, like he’s already regretting it.

“But if you slow me down," he says sharply, "I’m leaving your ass behind.”

You nod quickly, relieved despite the venom in his voice.

“Got it.”

Rafe grumbles something under his breath and turns on his heel, marching through the trees like he knows exactly where he’s going.

You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’re stuck with him, or the fact that, despite everything, you still don’t totally hate the idea.

...

RAFE'S POV

This is a fucking disaster.

Not just being lost. Not just the dwindling daylight or the fact that his dad is going to lose his shit when he realizes Rafe never came home.

No.

The real disaster? The fact that he’s stuck out here with you.

A Pogue. A sweet one, which somehow makes it worse.

Because if you were loud, whiny, or even remotely annoying, he’d have no problem ditching you. But instead, you’re... nice. Soft-spoken. The kind of person who smiles too easily and looks at the world like it won’t chew you up and spit you out.

It’s infuriating.

Almost as infuriating as the goddamn raccoon currently running off with the last granola bar.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Rafe hisses, watching in pure horror as the little shit disappears into the underbrush.

You stifle a giggle.

Rafe whips around, glaring. ��Oh, you think this is funny?”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile. “It’s kind of funny.”

Rafe exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “This is unreal.”

It’s bad enough that he’s stuck out here, but now this? First, his phone battery dies, then he loses his flashlight in the river, and now a raccoon has robbed him.

At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if a bear showed up just to mock him.

You shift beside him, your small backpack looking laughably unhelpful in a survival situation. “Do you have anything else?”

“No, I don’t have anything else,” Rafe snaps, standing up so fast it makes him dizzy. “Unless you have some magic Pogue survival tricks up your sleeve, we’re screwed.”

You frown slightly, like his tone stings, but you don’t snap back. You just sigh, thoughtful.

“Well… we still have water,” you point out. “And I do know a few things.”

Rafe scoffs. “Yeah, sure.”

“I do!”

“Like what?”

You glance at the sky, then back at him. “Like how to navigate using the stars.”

Rafe blinks.

You cross your arms, lifting your chin just slightly. “If we can get to higher ground, I can figure out which direction is south. And if we follow that, we should eventually hit a road.”

Rafe stares at you.

Then, deadpan: “You read that in a book, didn’t you?”

You flush. “…Maybe.”

He groans.

“Hey!” you protest. “It’s better than nothing.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You really think some random survival tip is gonna get us out of this?”

You shrug. “Do you have a better idea?”

Rafe opens his mouth, then closes it.

Because no. He doesn’t.

And that pisses him off more than anything.

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate this.”

You smile, just a little. “You hate everything.”

Rafe glares.

But after a long pause, after another sharp exhale, another glance at the sky, he grits his teeth.

“Fine.”

Your eyes brighten slightly. “Fine?”

“We’ll do it your way,” he mutters. “But if this doesn’t work, I’m never letting you live it down.”

You smirk. “Deal.”

And just like that, you take the lead, heading toward the ridge in the distance.

Rafe follows, grumbling under his breath.

Because if there’s one thing worse than being lost in the woods it’s the fact that, just this once, a Pogue might actually be right.

...

YOUR POV

You two had stopped to camp for the night since it was far too dark to see much.

You really should have packed better.

The cold seeps into your bones, cruel and relentless, as the temperature drops lower than you ever could’ve anticipated. Your thin top does nothing to stop the shivers wracking your body. You curl in on yourself, trying to will warmth into your limbs, but it’s no use.

You’re freezing.

And Rafe notices.

Which is just great.

Because he’s already annoyed at being stuck with you, already made it painfully clear that you’re nothing but an inconvenience to him. And now you’re sitting here, shivering like an idiot, proving exactly what he already believes. That you’re a burden.

Like you don’t already feel that way every day. Like you haven’t spent the past few weeks drowning in that feeling, in the crushing weight of your own existence, in the nagging thought that everyone would be better off if you just disappeared for a while.

You left home to escape that. To be alone, to not feel like dead weight for once.

And yet, here you are, making things harder for someone else again.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your lips together as you try to control your breathing. You don’t want to cry in front of Rafe Cameron. He already thinks you’re pathetic.

A sharp sigh cuts through the silence.

Then:

“For fuck’s sake.”

You flinch slightly, curling in tighter, bracing for more. More grumbling, more complaints, more proof that you shouldn’t even be here.

Instead, Rafe moves.

There’s some rustling, a lot of grumbling, and then something drops into your lap.

You blink, looking down at the sleeping bag he’s just shoved toward you.

“I’m not letting you freeze to death,” he mutters.

You stare.

Then, hesitantly, “I—Rafe, this is yours.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he snaps, already looking irritated with himself. “But you clearly didn’t come prepared, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you turn into a fucking icicle.”

Your fingers clutch the fabric, hesitation curling in your chest.

You don’t deserve this. Not his warmth, not his help. You’re the reason he’s miserable, the reason everything always seems to go wrong.

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Bullshit,” he huffs. “You’re shaking so hard I can hear your teeth chattering.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe stills.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything.

Then, quietly, so quietly you almost miss it...

“You’re not.”

Your breath catches.

It doesn’t sound like a grand declaration. Doesn’t even sound particularly convincing. If anything, it sounds like he’s just as surprised by the words as you are.

But then he exhales sharply, like he’s pissed at the situation rather than at you, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Just—fuck, just get in the sleeping bag.”

You hesitate.

He glares.

“Now, Pogue.”

You huff but finally, reluctantly, do as he says, scooting into the sleeping bag. The fabric is still warm from his body heat, and you try not to shiver too obviously as it sinks into your skin.

It helps, but not enough.

Your body is still too cold, your fingers still too stiff, your breath still coming out in sharp, uneven puffs.

Rafe watches you for a second. Then curses under his breath.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Move over.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

Rafe doesn’t repeat himself. Just shoves his way into the sleeping bag beside you, and suddenly, it’s small. Too small.

Your heart lurches into your throat as his body presses against yours, heat radiating from him in a way that makes you go still, breath hitching.

It’s awkward. Stiff. Rafe keeps as much distance as possible, jaw clenched, muscles tight.

You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be stuck pressed against you either.

Minutes pass. The tension is thick, the silence heavier than the cold.

Then, gradually, Rafe shifts.

He exhales, like he’s battling something within himself. And then, with an irritated grumble, he moves closer, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his chest.

“Just shut up and go to sleep,” he mutters.

You don’t say anything.

Because, despite everything, despite the hostility, the insults, the fact that he hates Pogues, he’s holding you.

Keeping you warm.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel completely alone.

...

RAFE'S POV

The silence is... weird.

Not that he expects nonstop talking from you, but usually, you have something to say. Some little comment, some naive observation about the world that makes him roll his eyes. Usually, you're at least trying to be optimistic, to be annoying in that soft, persistent way.

But right now?

Right now, you're just quiet.

And he doesn’t like it.

Not that he cares.

Because he doesn’t.

It’s just that he’s used to you pushing back. Even when he insults you. Even when he makes it painfully clear that you have no business being stuck together out here.

He frowns, staring up at the sliver of sky visible through the trees. The stars are bright. Cold. Kind of like the way you feel curled up beside him: small, shivering, barely taking up any space at all.

He should probably say something.

Not something nice, obviously, but something.

"Didn’t think you could go this long without complaining," he mutters. "Almost impressive."

There’s a long pause.

Then, you speak quietly, barely more than a whisper:

"Didn’t want to be more of a burden than I already am."

Rafe freezes.

Something in his chest twists, sharp and sudden, like a knife slipping between his ribs.

He shouldn’t care.

You're a Pogue. You're not his problem.

And yet.

It’s a familiar feeling, isn’t it? The weight of being too much, of never measuring up, of being an inconvenience to the people who are supposed to care about you. He’s spent years swallowing down that same bitterness, hearing it from his dad’s mouth over and over until it sank into his bones.

But it’s different, hearing you say it about yourself.

Because you're—

You're just...

Fuck.

Rafe exhales sharply. He doesn’t know how to comfort people. Doesn’t even know why he wants to. But before he can think better of it, before he can convince himself to just shut up and let it go, the words slip out.

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

You stiffen slightly. He can feel it, the way your body tenses, like you had expected him to agree. Like you're used to people agreeing.

Rafe grits his teeth.

"You’re not a fucking burden."

You don't say anything.

Don't argue, don't push back, don't believe him.

And maybe that pisses him off more than it should.

He doesn’t let you respond. Just shifts slightly, his grip tightening around you, his arm pulling you a fraction closer. Like if he holds on tight enough, it’ll force you to understand.

You exhale softly, a small, exhausted breath. Then, finally, you relax against him.

Rafe stares up at the stars.

His usual frustration feels distant, drowned out by something heavier. Something he doesn’t know how to name.

All he knows is that he hates the way that sentence sounded coming from your lips.

And that if anyone ever made you feel that way, he might actually kill them.

...

YOUR POV

The first thing you register is warmth.

Not the biting cold from last night, not the shivers rattling your bones, but actual warmth, steady and solid against your back.

The second thing you register is movement.

A slow, deliberate shift, like someone trying not to wake you.

Your eyes blink open to the soft gold of early morning, sunlight filtering lazily through the trees. The sky is still streaked with traces of pink, and the forest hums with the sound of waking birds.

And then you realize...

Rafe is still holding you.

Not tightly. Not like last night, when his grip had been almost protective, but enough that when you shift, his arm instinctively tenses around you before he seems to catch himself and pulls away.

For a second, neither of you say anything.

Then...

"You drool in your sleep."

You blink, turning to squint up at him.

He’s already sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff. "Do not."

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at his shoulder. "Uh, yeah, you do."

Your cheeks heat as you sit up too, trying to gather the mess of your tangled blanket. "Well, you talk in your sleep."

Rafe snorts. "Bullshit."

"Swear on my life. You were mumbling about stocks or something." You bite back a grin, tilting your head. "Weirdly on brand, actually."

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Kill me."

"Not before breakfast."

That earns you an unimpressed side-eye, but there’s no real bite behind it.

And that’s when it really hits you.

Something is... different.

Rafe is still Rafe: gruff, impatient, rolling his eyes at every other thing you say, but there’s something softer now, something lingering just beneath the surface.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t snap at you when you try to help pack up.

Maybe it’s the way he hands you your stuff without a single sarcastic remark.

Or maybe it’s the fact that when you mention using a new strategy again to navigate back, he actually listens.

He still complains about it, obviously.

But when you point out the right direction, he follows without arguing.

Progress.

By the time you finally spot the road in the distance, your body aches, your hair is a mess, and you’re starving.

But you’re... weirdly okay.

And Rafe?

Well.

He doesn’t seem as eager to get rid of you as he did last night.

You glance at him as you both step onto solid ground again, brushing dirt off your clothes. He looks over at you at the same time, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he scoffs.

"You look like shit."

You sigh dramatically. "Wow, what a charmer."

He smirks, but it fades just as quickly. For a second, he hesitates, shifting his weight.

"Need a ride?"

You blink.

He nods toward the road, where his truck is parked just up the hill, miraculously not stolen or trashed. "Back to the Cut, or wherever the hell you came from."

Something in your chest flutters.

Not because of the offer itself, but because of him.

Because you’re pretty sure that last night, he would’ve left you to figure it out yourself.

But now?

Now, he’s offering.

You tuck your hands into your sleeves, biting back a small, knowing smile. "That depends," you tease. "Am I allowed to touch the aux?"

Rafe exhales sharply, shaking his head as he starts toward the truck. "Christ. I take it back."

You laugh, trailing after him.

Maybe you’re still just a Pogue to him.

But maybe Rafe is starting to realize it's not as black and white as it had seemed.

[rgwriteshockey]

lakehouse summer w/ will smith ⇒

will smith x hughes!reader

summary: will smith, dating y/n hughes, faces teasing from her protective brothers jack and quinn during a summer lake house visit.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: jack and quinn teasing

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it’s a blistering saturday afternoon in july, and will smith is sitting on the porch of the lake house, staring out at the water. the sun’s reflecting off the lake in a way that’s almost blinding, and the air is thick with the promise of humidity. he takes a sip of his iced coffee, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the heat wrapping around him, and tries to focus on the sound of the wind rustling the trees.

beside him, y/n is lounging, her feet dangling over the edge of the porch, her sunglasses perched atop her head. she's wearing a hot pink bikini with one of wills shirts on top of it. will’s not sure how they ended up here—just the two of them, on the porch at jack and quinn’s lake house—but it’s nice. it’s peaceful.

until, of course, jack and quinn show up.

"you guys need help with anything?" quinn calls from the yard, his voice loud and obnoxious as he jogs up to the porch, a grin plastered across his face. jack trails behind him, carrying a cooler and a six-pack of beer, looking far too relaxed for someone who’s apparently planning to ruin will’s afternoon.

will sighs. he’s used to this. jack and quinn have been friends with him for a while now, but that doesn’t mean they’ve ever been shy about teasing him. especially when it comes to y/n. and y/n, of course, being the youngest and slightly more innocent of the group, is always a target too.

“you two good out here?” jack asks, winking at y/n, and giving will a look that’s probably meant to be subtle, but it’s anything but.

y/n rolls her eyes, nudging will’s shoulder playfully. “don’t even start,” she says, the tone of her voice soft but knowing. she’s heard it all before.

“start?” quinn laughs, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “we’re just making sure you two aren’t... getting too comfortable out here. no need to rush it, huh?”

will immediately feels himself getting defensive. “we’re fine,” he says quickly, a little too quickly, but he’s not about to let them make it awkward. “just enjoying the day.”

jack drops the cooler onto the table and raises an eyebrow, looking between will and y/n. “enjoying the day, huh? is that what we’re calling it now?” he smirks at y/n. “are you sure about that?”

y/n laughs softly, her shoulders shaking as she tries to hide her amusement behind her sunglasses. “you guys are unbelievable,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“hey, we’re just making sure will’s treating you right,” quinn teases, his grin widening. “he’s a hockey player, y/n, you gotta keep your standards high.” he looks at will with a playful but pointed look, and will can’t help but feel a little hot under the collar. “can’t have you falling for a guy who might be too focused on pucks and not enough on... whatever else you’re into.”

“oh, god,” y/n groans, covering her face with her hands. “i didn’t sign up for this.”

“don’t worry, y/n,” jack says with a grin. “we’re just here to keep will on his toes. you know, make sure he doesn’t get too comfortable.”

will throws his head back, exasperated. “seriously? you guys can’t leave it alone for five minutes?”

“nah, we’re just having a little fun,” quinn says, throwing an arm around will’s shoulders in a way that’s way too casual. “besides, we all know how protective older brothers can be, right, jack?”

“hey, you think i’m bad?” jack laughs, shooting quinn a glance. “just wait until we get luke out here. he’s gonna have a lot to say about will.”

“don’t remind me,” will says, holding his hand up in mock surrender. “i’m gonna need a few beers before that conversation happens.”

y/n leans back, putting her feet up on the railing, clearly unbothered by the ongoing teasing. “you’re both insane,” she says. “but i’m used to it by now.”

“well, we’re not the ones dating will,” quinn says, waggling his eyebrows at y/n. “so, who’s the real crazy one?”

y/n shakes her head but can’t hold back her smile. “you two are ridiculous.”

“hey, we’re just looking out for our little sister,” jack says with a serious face, though it’s totally ruined by the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “wouldn’t want her to fall into the wrong hands.”

will narrows his eyes, though he’s trying not to laugh. “i’m sitting right here, you know?”

quinn snickers. “oh, we know. trust me, we know.”

“god, i swear,” will mutters, but he’s chuckling now, because despite the teasing, he’s not mad. he actually kind of likes it. it’s a little weird, a little annoying, but it’s also kind of... sweet. jack and quinn are just protective older brothers, and he gets that. it’s kind of endearing, even though it’s at his expense.

“you two can keep talking all you want,” y/n says, looking at will with a smile that makes him feel a little lighter. “but i’m gonna enjoy my summer. let’s just sit here and not let them ruin it for us.”

will grins. “that’s the spirit.”

the conversation shifts again as they start talking about the plan for the evening—something about a bonfire and marshmallows, and maybe some more teasing from jack and quinn. but for now, will’s content. they’re all together, and the sun’s starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the lake.

later that night, they’re sitting around the bonfire, the flames crackling and dancing in the cool evening air. everyone’s laughing and joking, the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore in the distance. will can feel the heat of the fire on his face, but it’s a welcome contrast to the chill in the air.

“you guys think you’ll make it to the lake next weekend?” quinn asks, taking a sip from his beer. “or are you both too busy being all coupley and stuff?” he gives a mocking sigh. “sooo romantic.”

y/n rolls her eyes. “we’re not that bad,” she protests, though her cheeks are a little flushed.

“nah, they’re totally a thing now,” jack says with a fake dramatic gasp. “i can already see it. you two, holding hands by the fire, watching the sunset, all that cheesy stuff.”

will feels himself blush but tries to brush it off. “you know, you guys are really starting to get on my nerves.”

“aw, poor will,” quinn teases, clearly enjoying himself. “don’t worry, we’re just making sure you’re up to snuff. y/n deserves the best.”

“well, i’m right here,” y/n says, looking amused, though a little embarrassed too. “and i don’t think i need you two to remind me every two seconds.”

“ah, but we do,” jack says, completely serious, and for a moment, will thinks jack’s not messing around. “you’re our little sister. we’ll never stop looking out for you.”

y/n gives him a fond but exasperated look. “okay, okay, i get it. you guys are protective.”

“only because we care,” quinn adds, grinning as he raises his bottle of beer. “now, where’s that marshmallow?”

they end up roasting marshmallows until they’re too full to eat any more, and the teasing dies down for a bit, the group settling into an easy rhythm as the night drifts on. will’s glad to have y/n here, to be part of this strange, welcoming family of hers. it’s funny—he never imagined that he’d be in a situation like this, where the teasing feels less like an attack and more like... a weird kind of affection.

but as the night goes on, with jack and quinn’s light-hearted banter and y/n’s quiet laughter beside him, he realizes that this is just how they show they care. and honestly, it’s not so bad. he can handle the teasing.

“hey,” y/n whispers to him as the fire burns down to embers. “don’t let them get to you too much.”

will smiles, feeling the warmth of the fire, of her, and the laughter of her brothers still floating in the air. “i think i can handle it.”

"good," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch the fire fade. "because they're never going to stop."

will laughs softly, wrapping an arm around her. "i’ll survive."

and in the end, he knows she’s right. jack and quinn will never stop teasing him, and he’s pretty sure that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

[wvffles]

ohhhhhhhhh goshhh 😩 the anticipation continuessss

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.” “She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

so real lmaoo

her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around

the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

i would get so violent are you kiddingg meeeee

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

mine’s breaking too dean 😔 i’m just glad he’s trying to ‘fix it’ somewhat immediately instead of just letting her leave like that.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

yeah my heart is definitely broken 🥺 i’m glad they didn’t end things off with hostility and got to have that bittersweet moment at least 😔

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

…

Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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No date for the bully pt.2?? I lowk wanna see the boys make fool of themselves lmao😭 bonus points if like he's trynna convince the reader and his friend group catches him in the act😨🫶

Dear anon, thanks for requesting. Sorry for making you wait a decade, but I did go for the bonus points. I hope you like it!

Happy readings!

No date for the bully?

A fluffy part 2 for Enzo and Mattheo.

Read part 1 here: No date for the bully.

You feel eyes following you when you enter the great hall for dinner, but decide to ignore the feeling. However, when you sit down you can’t help but get chills, making your head turn with a frown on your face. “What’s wrong?” George asks as he follows your wandering eyes. You shake your head and turn back to the plate in front of  you. “I have this feeling that someone’s watching me but I must be imagining it.” Fred chuckles and meets George’s eyes, but neither of them speak up. You narrow your eyes at both of them. “What?” You snap at them after several seconds of silence. George grins widely but keeps his mouth shut. So you decide to give Fred a dark glare, making him laugh. “I think it’s your slytherin lover over there.” You follow Fred’s eyes to the slytherin table. “Rumor has it that he might have a little crush on you.” George adds as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Ugh.” You make your disgust very clear to the amusement of everyone at the gryffindor table. “There’s lots of girls here that would love to go out with the slytherin heartthrob.” George sings and you roll your eyes. “He’s a bully. I’m not gonna waste my time on him. And it doesn’t matter, knowing him he’s probably playing some twisted game.”

After dinner you hang out with your friends in the courtyard. When it gets late you decide to say your goodbyes. You really need to be fresh for potions class tomorrow. You jawn as quietly walk to Hogwarts castle when suddenly you hear someone yell at you. “Watch it, slow girl!” You recognise Theodore Nott’s voice as he flies just above your head. You duck and avoid Draco crashing into you. Quickly Blaise, Enzo and Mattheo follow flying all the way up to the astronomy tower. There was really no purpose for them to fly near you other than to startle you and laugh at the terrified look on your face. Draco’s laughter echoes. “Did you see her ugly face!”

You roll your eyes and sigh in annoyance. Shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the nasty feeling. As soon as you enter the castle you feel more at ease and take a deep breath, enjoying the castle’s warmth. 

“Hey, wait up.” You hear a familiar voice and turn around. To your surprise it’s…

Enzo Berkshire.

“I want to apologise… for just now…and probably all other things.” You roll your eyes and turn back around to continue walking to your dorm. “I just realised that we were laughing and you… you weren’t laughing. We probably scared you.” You raise your eyebrows and ignore him, walking away from his apologetic figure. “I’m really sorry.” You stop and notice the undeniable sincerity in Enzo’s voice. You turn in the middle of the staircase to see Enzo staring up at you from below. He offers you a weak half smile, but he doesn’t hide the guilt he feels. You’re curious so you take a few steps down. 

“Actions speak louder than words, Berkshire. Prove you are sorry. No more bullying.” You demand, you try to sound stern but it comes out softer than you expected. Maybe you had a soft spot for Enzo Berkshire after all. The sheepish slytherin nods and his signature happy smile returns his lips. You catch yourself staring at his soft lips and shake off the feelings inside you. It’s all just words. Slytherin trademark sweet talk. You give Enzo a sweet smile and say goodnight. He’s obviously shocked that you can walk away from him so easily. Even though his apology was sincere, part of him had hoped that it would break down the wall between you two and give him a chance to charm you. 

Feeling a bit defeated that you hadn’t fallen into his arms just yet, Enzo nods and turns away from your figure moving up the stairs. But after two steps he can’t resist trying to win you over a little more. “How about a picnic by the Black Lake on sunday?” You bite your lip at his offer, but put on a poker face before turning towards Enzo. “No mockery from you or your friends.” You state your demand. A smirk instantly tugs on Enzo’s lips and you already regret agreeing after seeing the hint of arrogance flicker in his eyes. “Meet me in the courtyard at 4.” You roll your eyes as he offers you a cheeky wink before leaving.

***

Enzo’s week had been rather exhausting keeping his friends away from you so they wouldn’t do anything to ruin his chance with you. He had considered just asking them to leave you alone, but he just knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Months ago he had stood up for you once, when his friends were trash talking about you. It was Draco’s signature snort that started a long evening of his friends making fun of him for liking… sweet silly you. 

Enzo had noticed you glancing over at him from time to time. It had only made him more nervous. He probably only had one chance to make a good impression on you. The picnic had to be perfect! Staring at himself in the mirror Enzo moved the comb through his hair again. When suddenly a feeling of anxiety rushed through him. Fuck. I like her… I really, really like her! That’s why I’ve been so nervous. 

Enzo runs a hand through his hair, before giving himself a little pep-talk: “You got this Berky. You’re gonna charm her. You're gonna be funny and cool. She’s gonna love you… You’re gonna get married.” With a confident smile he grabs his jacket, sliding into it and grabbing a box of sweets he had bought for you as well as the picnic basket. “Let’s charm the future lady Berkshire.” 

As soon as Enzo closes the door behind him and heads for the courtyard, Draco speaks up from inside the closet in their dorm. “By Salazar! Get your foot off mine, Theo, you giant!” Mattheo opens the closet door feeling slightly claustrophobic, making Blaise stumble outside as well. Quickly followed by Draco and Theo. “So Enz’s is going on some secret date?” Theo questions not really believing what he had just overheard Enzo say. Mattheo grins. “With his future lady.” Blaise shakes his head in disapproval of Mattheo’s wiggling eyebrows. “Who do you think this girl is?” Draco says stretching his legs, very much bothered by the fact that he doesn’t know everything going on in his friend group. “As much as I am against this, we could always follow him.” Blaise suggests, not able to resist the curiosity within himself. His suggestion is met with eager grins from his friends.

You watch Enzo struggle with the picnic blanket and quickly cast a spell to make it settle down on the grass neatly as you casually walk over to him. You were worried that it might look like you tried too hard with your elegant spring dress and perfectly matching vest and shoes, but Enzo’s obvious staring tells you that he probably isn’t thinking too much about it and he’s simply enjoying the view. “I got you this.” Enzo coughs and diverts his eyes, embarrassed about his staring. Play it cool, don’t drool! Enzo quickly offers you the box of sweets he got you. “Another apology for my behaviour.” He says as he gives you a sheepish smile. You curiously open the box, peeking inside as Enzo continues to set up the picnic. 

“Thank you, Enzo. I love these.” You say, making the slytherin smile like a happy child. You’re surprised by his softness. You had never seen him like this. “I wasn’t sure what you would like so I got a plate with a bit of everything, so we can snack as long as we want.” Enzo presents a plate of all things delicious, but you’re startled by who you see approaching. Noticing the delight disappear from your eyes and turn to worry, Enzo spins his head around to meet who you were looking at. “Oi, mate, is she really your future lady Berkshire?” Mattheo spits out with no shame to reveal Enzo’s secret. 

“You were at Hogsmeade for the day.” Enzo argues as he jumps up, panic fills his eyes. “You were studying.” Draco counters, crossing his arms and frowning at his friend for lying. “Well for all we know he was planning on studying… anatomy.” Theo smirks, his intense eyes scanning your figure beautifully accentuated by your dress. Enzo turns back to see your discomfort under Theo’s gaze. “Back off.” Enzo  suddenly growls at Theo giving him a light shove, causing Mattheo to immediately intervene, pushing Enzo back before Theo gets any ideas and things escalate. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you were meeting her?” Blaise asks, silencing everyone with the seriousness and calmness in his voice. Enzo looks back at you with worried eyes, it was clear you were curious for the answer as well. Enzo opens his mouth but only some awkward sounds come out so you step in. “Let me answer that for him.” You say as you get up from the picnic blanket. “He’s embarrassed.” Enzo turns to you and your eyes lock with him. “He's embarrassed he is on a date with the slow girl.” Draco laughs and raises his eyebrows with a grin. When Enzo doesn’t speak up your turn away from him. 

Enzo’s face looks pained and Mattheo and Blaise start to feel a little sorry for their friend. “Pretty fast walking away from you, Berkshire.” Draco jokes as he raises his eyebrows and before anyone can interfere Enzo answers with a flick of his wand. You turn when you hear a cry from Draco and see him lying on the ground whining. Then your eyes land on Enzo yelling with his wand in hand. Blaise jumps in front of Enzo trying to calm an apparently very angry Enzo. 

Your eyebrows knit together as you watch the ordeal. What was Enzo’s deal… Does he like me or not? 

Your question, however, was quickly answered when you heard Enzo yell. “You morons ruined this for me! I had one chance, one chance, with this girl and you ruined this… and NO before any of you come with your lame arguments that there are other or better girls, there aren’t any I care about like I care about (y/n)! You guys are shite friends!” Mattheo sighs at Enzo’s speech and helps Draco up. “Could’ve just told us you like her.” Enzo shakes his head in confusion but lowers his wand a little. “Yeah, she’s a little slow sometimes but you don’t need a girl to be bright to have the bed creaking all night.” Enzo isn’t pleased with Theo’s comment. “She’s not slow! She’s intelligent and, and perfect. She got an A+ on Snape’s last test when you only got an A, Theo, so just shut up.” 

“Impossible!” Theodore snaps, disgusted by the idea. “No, not really. Ask Snape.” You smugly counter with arms crossed as you walk back to the group of Slytherins. Enzo’s surprised you were still there and walking towards him. Standing a few steps away from him you offer your hand. “Come on Enz, I know a spot.” Enzo's eyes widened with confusion and shock. “Really?” You nod. “You stood up for me. You deserve a second chance.” His eyes go all shiny and you smile at how lovestruck the slytherin is.

Draco’s wrinkles his nose in disgust as the two of you walk hand in hand.. “Ugh, we’re gonna have to be nice to her, aren’t we?” 

Mattheo Riddle.

“What do you want, Riddle?” You ask, faking a toughness that didn’t really fit you. “Honestly? You.” You groan in disgust at the arrogance of the Slytherin and turn to continue walking up the stairs. Mattheo’s confident smile drops and he chases after you, something he hates. He’s not one to run after girls. They either fall to his feet or they aren’t of any importance. “Okay, I’m a first class douche, I know. I’m sorry, alright?” Your eyebrows knit together at his pathetic excuse for an apology and you don’t even bother to turn to him. However, Mattheo is persistent and casts a quick spell to make you turn and stumble into him. You immediately give him a shove to put some distance between you two. “I mean it.” He says with a serious voice, but you're not convinced since Slytherins were known for their lies. 

“Riddle, you’re a good looking guy and you know it. I’m just not interested so go bother someone else.” You sigh and try to turn around. “You’re not interested in me because you have this wrong image of me, a bully and worse the son of…” His eyes turn farther away from you as he continues. But you don’t buy his pity act. “I’m not interested because you’ve never said a nice thing to me in your life.” You stare at him accusingly, hoping he will see he has no business with you.

“That’s not true.” He counters instantly, making your heart race with how sure he is of himself. “Remember last year when we had the assignment in the forbidden forest and the group split from the professor. I kept an eye on you the whole time to make sure you were safe. Or when your potion exploded last week I cast a spell protecting you so none of the boiling liquid would burn you. I watch out for yo-” You groan in disbelief, before yelling at him loudly. “YOU! It’s you and your friends! You fools ruined my potion! You were the reason the professor lost half of the students!” You sigh and cross your arms, trying to regain your cool. This guy wasn’t worth the air in your lungs. “Just earlier you startled me for no reason and if any of you had miscalculated I could’ve gotten hurt and-” “I know, I know. That’s why I came to apologise.” There’s something pleading in Mattheo’s eyes that keeps you from walking off.

Mattheo takes your silence and the fact that you haven’t run off yet as a good sign and takes a step closer to you. “Look, I know I’m gonna have to put in a lot of effort to convince you that I’m not a total piece of shit, but you have to give me a chance.” As you listen to Mattheo’s plea you spot Draco and Theo peaking around the corner, no doubt listening in to what’s happening. You suppress a smile as an idea pops up into your head. “So I have to believe that the Mattheo Riddle doesn’t think I’m a slow girl and instead… likes… me?” You look at Mattheo with innocent questioning eyes. “(y/n), you’re smart, beautiful and I believe kind enough to find it in your heart to give me a chance. Let me take you out… somewhere fancy, my treat. I’ll spoil you and you’ll forget all the stupid things I’ve done.” You shake your head and turn away, knowing that he won’t let you get very far. “You’re playing me, Riddle.”

You bite your lip when you feel a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. “No I’m not… Honestly I wish I was, but you live in my head rent free and I need you to give me a chance.” 

Mattheo’s heart cracks when he hears a familiar snicker and turns to see Draco and Theo’s head pop up from around a corner. When he turns to you again he spots a mean smile. He made a fool out of himself being this honest and his eyes go dark as he curses himself. He lets go of your wrist immediately. “I guess this is what revenge looks like.” He says between gritted teeth. You huff. “Don’t wallow in your own self pity, it’s not a good look, Riddle.” 

“You live in my head rent free” Draco mocks now standing at the foot of the stairs with Theo and Enzo, who had just joined. It’s when you see Mattheo watch his laughing friends that you spot the honest hurt in his expression. “Whatever.” Mattheo breathes out and takes a lazy step down to his friends. His dead eyes, his slumped shoulders and the crack in his voice. There was no way he was that good of a liar. “Hey.” You say with a shaky voice just above a whisper. Terrified of what you were about to do: give Mattheo Riddle of all people a chance. “I like to study near the willow on Tuesday afternoons, you should join me sometime.” You whisper and give him a sympathetic smile.

Mattheo stops in his tracks and watches you walk away. He can barely believe that he got an invitation to spend time with you. “You look like a fool, Matt.” Theo grins as he walks up to stand next to Mattheo. “Shut up, Nott.” Mattheo growls but there’s a sweet smile that he just can’t hide. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Enzo sings with an amused grin. “You’re not seeing anything.” Mattheo counters immediately, turning around to walk back to the courtyard, keeping his head low to avoid his grinning friends’. With Mattheo a few steps ahead, Draco turns to Theo and Enzo with a frown on his face. “Does that mean we have to be nice to her from now on?” Even though there’s quite some distance between you and the Slytherins, you can still hear Mattheo answer with a firm tone. “Yes.” You bite your lip to hide your smile from the curious looks of the paintings around you. Who would have thought, Mattheo Riddle…

Picture 1: https://pin.it/1zDoVgADf

Picture 2: https://pin.it/2EcRt844A

[bitingdrivers]

hi tysh <3 i'd like a 24. showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house for the fic game maybe?

hi esi!

so.. I kind of messed up. I meant to save the ask game post to my drafts for when I'm feeling like playing, but I posted it instead. oops!

But! I did write a little thing for you! it was actually kind of nice since I didn't write anything fic related this week.

I put a little spin on the prompt and made it bones au because I miss them. so, here. 500 words of bones au maxiel!

Max hears a muffled “Come in” from inside Daniel's apartment after knocking on the door. He slowly turns the doorknob and steps through. Max hasn't been here a lot, but Daniel's flat is easy to navigate – a short corridor that leads to the living room and the kitchen. 

On the big but worn out couch lies Daniel, still in his light blue work shirt and gray pants. His face is covered in abrasions and little cuts, and he's holding his left arm weirdly, laying it over his stomach, hiding it from Max’s view. 

“Bones!” Daniel exclaims, trying to get up from the couch, but wincing and gingerly laying back down. “To what do I owe this pleasure?"

“Just came to check on you,” Max answers, sitting on the arm of the couch, closer to Daniel's legs. 

A few hours ago Daniel went to the victim's place – a small house somewhere in a suburban area. Max wanted to go with him, but he still had work to do in the lab. He tried to convince Daniel to wait for him, Max needed half an hour at most to finish his notes, but Daniel was impatient, said it would be just a quick check, since the victim lived alone anyway, and left without Max. 

Two hours later, Max received a call from him, and had to listen to Daniel explain how when he entered the victim’s house, a man barreled into him, frantic and suspicious, trying to run away. And how Daniel heroically chased the man through the small backyards and spiky bushes, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car and tumbling to the rough asphalt. The guy ran into a dead end and surrounded, letting Daniel arrest him. 

Apparently they had quite a scuffle, judging by Daniel's beaten up form on the couch. 

Daniel is yet to tell Max who the guy is or why he was running, but it can wait.

“Nothing I can't sleep off,” Daniel grins, waving his good hand, the other still hidden. Max needs to check on that later. “They gave me the rest of the day off, might as well use that."

Max hums. “Are the wounds that bad? What did the doctor say?” he asks, standing up and moving closer to Daniel to inspect his face. 

“Uh. Nothing,” Daniel falters, following Max’s movements. “I went straight home,” he adds, looking away. 

Max furrows his eyebrows, looking at the scrapes on Daniel's cheekbone. “What? Why?” 

“It's just a few scratches, I'm fine,” Daniel replies, still looking somewhere behind Max. 

Max asks where Daniel's first aid kit is, thinking, What an idiot.  

Max could've probably stayed in the lab, there is no serious reason for him to be here, rooting through Daniel's bathroom cabinets, looking for something that might not be there. But learning that Daniel was injured – even if it's just a couple of scrapes and a bruised hand – still made Max worry. He could've been there, could've helped Daniel catch the guy, or at least make sure Daniel's wounds would be looked after. 

But he wasn't there. So now he has to gently angle Daniel's face and dab a cotton pad with iodine on the small scrapes. 

Daniel hisses from the sting and after lifting the pad, Max softly blows on the wounds, hoping it will help with the pain.

[puppysuke]

Ok well first, good morning, hope you have a good day and are doing alright! Uhm my request is SFW curly if reader had escaped a toxic relationship a d went to his house for comfort (the crash never happened in this AU and curly and reader are close friends) like you don’t have to specify what type of toxicity at all just reader coming to curlys house at night after just escaping a toxic relationship pretty pleaseeee☆

hi, good morning to you! it's actually night time for me, but i still appreciate the greeting! i really like this idea. i'm not going to do anything romantic with curly in this one, so it's probably all platonic. i'll maybe write curly to have a crush on reader, but that's about it. if you want something romantic at some point, i can def do a continuation. thank you so much for your request! gn reader, sfw! wc: 822. art by reiisin on pinterest, i think! continue reading below the cut!

the last thing curly expected at 10 pm as he was getting ready to go to bed was a knock at the door. and the last thing he expected after that knock at that door was to open it to you standing outside with tears drying on your cheeks. curly just stared at you for a moment, confusion evident in his features. after a second he pulled you inside and shut the door behind you, bringing you into his warm house.

curly knew about your relationship. he knew it was toxic, he knew you were unsafe, but there wasn't much he could do other than encourage you to get away when he could. as he helped you sit on the couch and made you a warm cup of tea, he hoped that the news would be something positive concerning the relationship, like you getting away.

he didn't make you talk, in fact he didn't say a word at first. he was worried him speaking would pressure you into speaking. so, as he made your tea, he stayed silent. he made sure to add the right amounts of milk and sugar to your cup and brought it over when he finished.

curly handed you the cup and sat by you, watching as you blew the steam off the top of the warm liquid. finally, he took a deep breath in and spoke.

"what happened, [name]?" he looked at you with a deeply concerned expression. after a second, he realized you might not want to talk about it, so he quickly tacked on: "if you want to talk about it. if not, that's okay too." you took a sip of your tea before setting it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"i left them." that's all you say for a moment, the silence tense yet comfortable with curly. you felt safe and sound with him, even in tense moments. you look at curly for a second before looking away, leaning back on the couch. "it was scary. so i came here."

curly let out a deep breath and nodded, leaning back on the couch too. he was a few inches away from you, not too close but not too far. usually, he'd pull you close and let you cuddle up close to him, but after what you went through, he didn't want to do something that might scare you. he cared about you too much to act so rash, so he put a lot of thought into his words and actions now.

"i'm proud of you." he smiled softly and looked at you. "i can't imagine how hard that must have been for you, but you did it. and i'm so proud of you. do you need a place to stay?" curly's hands rested on his thighs. he had on black sweatpants and a t-shirt and you were in similar attire.

"yeah, for a few days so i can get back on my feet. i'll probably go stay with my parents or something." curly frowned a little bit at your words and shook his head.

"you don't have to do that. you can stay here for now. stay as long as you need. your parents are pretty far away. if you want to be far away, i get that. but if you don't want to go through all of that, stay here. when you're ready, we can go pick up your stuff." he had a smile on his face, bigger than before, one that filled with pride. it was obvious how proud of you he was.

you sighed softly and leaned your head on his shoulder, staring at the steaming cup of tea. "yeah," you said, your voice just over a whisper, "yeah, i'd like that. they were super scared of you. still are, i'm sure. i don't think they'll bother me around you."

curly carefully wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. "good. you can sleep in my room. i've been sleeping on the couch anyway."

you knew he was lying to you, but you figured he wouldn't budge anyway. he often would make himself less comfortable to make you as comfortable as possible. you hummed and nodded.

"okay, curly. thank you." you closed your eyes as your head rested on his shoulder and your body slumped against his. you suddenly realized how tired you were. curly didn't say anything more, just rubbing circles into your shoulder and letting you doze on the couch, listening to his soft breathing and the sounds of the wind and the rain that had just started outside.

curly kissed the top of your head when you drifted off to sleep. "your safe now," he whispered to you. "no one can hurt you now. i've got you." he leaned his head on top of yours and closed his eyes. you were right where you needed to be; safe in curly's arms.

i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

[bethanydelleman]

People talk about Rent having problems, I'm sure it does, but rewatching it as an adult who has gotten much, much more accepting of it's content, I think it was absolutely brilliant for it's time. I grew up in a very conservative home, Rent was my first positive exposure to most of the pairings and expressions of queerness contained within and the way it exposed me was so smart.

What's amazing to me is that we have an avatar for the audience in Mark Cohen (like he's literally behind the camera), but unlike other media where he might have taken the audience by the hand and introduced them to all these people who are so different from the norm, he accepts all of them as normal without explanation. He's living with someone who has AIDS, he's friends with a gay man who is dating a drag queen, and his ex-girlfriend is bisexual, he doesn't blink at any of it. He treats his ex-girlfriend's girlfriend like any other ex's new partner, which may not seem radical now but my only other exposure to this situation was Ross on Friends and let me tell you it was not handled well.

I found the same-sex pairings uncomfortable at the time, but the writers gave me a great heterosexual couple to root for and root for them I did, even though they were a current and a former drug addict, both HIV positive, one was a sex worker (and everyone is just accepting of her being a sex worker!) Again, I was brought up very conservative, identifying with that couple was entirely new to me. These were people who I was supposed to accuse of moral failings but instead I just wanted them to find happiness. That is an accomplishment!

Also, the songs are just one banger after another. Honestly.

[crows-of-buckets]

I need to draw my rook bc I actually do have some ideas for them I just. Have NOT been in a creating mood idk I'm so tired... Aoughgggh

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)