#good to know I’m not completely dead inside

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Okay Cal I’ve taken some time and calmed down and now I’m so very normal about this news. Nico’s back well isn’t that nice. I feel so very casual about that. Just :) so :) normal :)

First theme this round is non-human Buddie!

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 (IM OBSESSED WITH THIS ONE!!!! Really loving Buck’s hearing loss story and can’t wait to see where you take it! And I’ve got Thoughts™️ about how it might play into the Diaz family magic… It seems like you’re doing the publish once it’s all written thing again - how many chapters are you planning on having?)

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️(IM INTRIGUED!! And lol this emoji has bracelets on the arm that totally reminded me of Buck’s line arm tattoo so it’s meant to be! There’s so many interesting directions I feel like this one could go and I’m very excited to watch it play out!)

-PCA <3

HI PCA! So happy you're so excited for Nico.

In the meantime, the creature fics!

96 for 🌲 (THANK YOU!!!!! That makes me so happy. I'm really pumped for this one. I want to hear your thoughts! Yes, publishing this once it's all done. I have a ten chapter outline!)

---

It’s not for very long. Buck said the appointment shouldn’t take more than an hour, plus driving. No biggie. Eddie can handle that. He’s an adult. 

He tells himself the fear is that when he’s alone, something will happen. He’ll cover his house in more leaves and turn more and more into an animal until he loses his human mind. His back will become completely hollow like in all his nightmares. He thinks his fears are rooted in pragmatism. But when Buck is actually gone, the truth of it becomes clear. 

It’s painful. 

Buck being gone is actually physically painful for Eddie. He doesn’t know why. He gets this ache all over his body. This gripping sense of panic and nausea combined. He can hardly function. He needs Buck to be back. He needs to not be alone. His brain sort of abandons reason and starts spiraling to some dark place where he’s forever shut out from any sort of human interaction forever. Where he is utterly isolated. 

He doesn’t just think of Buck. He thinks of Christopher, hating him. His team at work, thinking he abandoned them. Adriana, missing without a trace. Shannon, dead. He starts to shake. It feels like some sort of withdrawal; or at least what he imagines that would feel like. He needs some sort of company. Anyone. Anything. Most of all, he needs Buck to come home. 

There’s a knock on the door around the time Eddie is expecting Buck to get back. If Eddie was in his right mind, he would know it’s not Buck. He would know the door is unlocked, and Buck can walk in. He would know that Buck has keys, regardless. 

Throwing aside any sort of precaution or rational thought, Eddie hurries to open the door. He doesn’t have much in the way of a disguise to conceal himself. He’s still wearing Buck’s sweatpants. Nothing for his face. He doesn’t even think about it. What he must look like to someone who isn’t expecting to see it. 

He’s surprised to see that it’s Tommy at the door. Arms crossed, angry impatient look on his face. Tommy, Buck’s boyfriend. He’s probably here for Buck. But he’s Eddie’s friend, too. Maybe he can keep Eddie company until Buck gets back. 

Not single thought of his own protection in his head, Eddie throws open the door. 

“Hey, Tommy,” he says. “What’s up, man?”

Tommy looks furious and confused. He looks Eddie over, eyes scrunching with confusion. 

“Where’s Evan?” He demands. He blinks a few times. Rubs one of his ears. “I know he’s with you and… And I…”

“Buck isn’t here right now. Should be soon. Do you want to come inside?”

“Do I…” Tommy’s eyes sort of glaze over. It’s like watching drugs settle in. The anger all but evaporates from his face. “Yeah, Eddie. Of course I want to come in.”

Eddie is pleased. That’s good. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. He can already feel the pain in his body beginning to subside. 

“Come on, man. I’ll get you a beer,” Eddie says. No matter that it’s eleven in the morning. 

“I’d love that,” Tommy says. 

He leads Tommy inside towards the kitchen. He grabs two beers from the fridge. He doesn’t think about the tail creating a strange bulge in the back of his pants. He doesn’t think of the fact that he’s wearing Tommy’s boyfriend’s pants. He doesn’t think of anything and Tommy’s not reacting to anything. It all must be fine. 

When he turns around to hand Tommy the beer, Tommy takes a step towards him, leaving very little room between him and the fridge. Eddie feels a bit cornered. 

“Uh, hi?” Eddie asks. He tries to give Tommy the beer but Tommy doesn’t take it. Won’t even look at it. 

“Eddie, I think we should talk,” Tommy says.

Eddie gets a bad feeling. 

“Okay… Uh, sure. About what?”

“Us,” Tommy says. 

Eddie coughs a little. “Us?”

“You and me,” Tommy says. 

“What you and me?” Eddie asks.

Tommy smirks a little. “What we could be to each other.”

Eddie blinks. “Uh… Friends? Friends with someone very important  in common?”

Eddie might be feeling a little out of it lately, but he’s not insane. 

“Oh, come on, Eddie,” Tommy says. “You had to know there was something between us. If you hadn’t been seeing that woman. What was her name?”

“Marisol?” He asks. Or Kim? Both? Jesus, he’s a mess.

---

66 for 🧜‍♂️ (YAY! Thank you! I am excited to reveal my - and Annie's - plans):

---

He knows that it changes you. In lots of strange ways, some small and some large. 

“I’d had an accident not too long before that,” Chimney says. “Nearly died, myself. But… I don’t know. It’s different for Buck. Especially about Bobby. I think he’s just jealous you’re the new, shiny person on the team.”

Eddie is hardly new and shiny. Buck just doesn’t know that.

Eddie nods. “I’ll… Well, I’ll try I guess. To get on his good side or whatever.”

“I don’t think he has a bad side,” Hen says. “Just be patient. He’ll come around.” 

Eddie holds onto this promise. Hopes that it’s true. And really, really hopes his suspicions aren’t correct. 

🌻

Things get worse. 

There’s some downtime in the shift. Eddie decides to hit the station gym. Unfortunately, Buck is already there with Chimney. He considers turning around and walking away, not wanting to deal with the guy more than he needs to. But he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t want to be scared off in his own workplace. Not again. 

So Eddie starts on the other side of the equipment from Buck. The punching bag. He gets a conversation started up with Chimney. They talk about the firefighter calendar, which Chimney wants a spot in. Something Buck doesn’t seem thrilled about. It’s clear Buck wants to win, from all the absurd selfies he’s been snapping. 

“Are you gonna submit photos, Eddie?” Chim asks. “Be honest, you’ve probably got washboard abs under that shirt. You submit one of those classic shirtless suspenders photos and you’re a shoe in.”

Ha. No. Abs? Sure. A shirtless photo? No way. 

Across the gym, Buck makes a frustrated noise. Mutters something under his breath. Eddie doesn’t hear it, but he gets the tone. And all he can hear is the sound of someone suggesting he isn’t man enough for the competition. Whether or not it’s what Buck says, it’s what Eddie takes in. 

So he sort of snaps. 

“What’s your problem, man?” He demands, marching over to Buck at the weights. 

Buck looks up at him. He seems surprised to have been confronted. Surprised, but not unwilling to rise to the bait. He stands up, gets close to Eddie, peacocking his considerable height. He’s not that much taller than Eddie, but it sure feels like it, in this moment. 

“Okay. You.” Buck says, voice low and tight. “You’re my problem. Your comfort level.”

Eddie’s comfort level? Is he serious? He’s been doing everything he can to make Eddie uncomfortable. Is Eddie, what? Supposed to know his place? Stay silent and in the background because he’s different? How does Buck even know that he’s different? 

“You’re-you’re not supposed to walk in here like you’ve been here for years,” Buck keeps going. “It’s meant to be a getting-to-know-you period. You’re meant to respect your elders.”

“You’re not his elder, Buck,” Chimney interjects. 

“I don’t know how old you are,” Eddie replies. “But I’m not a probie. I’ve been a firefighter-paramedic for six years. But if you have some sort of prejudice that makes you think I’m not fit for the job-”

“Wait, what?” Buck interrupts. “Prejudice?”

[white-collar-cannibal]

@glsneeg-enthusiast when i say unedited. well folks many of these sentences are completely unconnected from each other or unfinished. line break with ellipsis for different scenes, ellipses inline for same scene but cut up lines. anyway have a Snack i'm never ever finishing this (it straight up has no plot.)

The first time he met Frank, Sneeg was dying, which was terribly usual. Niki was dead already, having crawled over to lay her head on his lap, and bled out from the throat and the chest and the stomach until she was still. 

[...]

He scoffed a little, and laughed a little, and he said, with half of a smile in his voice, “God.” 

He probably was making an expression of some kind, but Sneeg could not summon the energy or the will to look away from the knuckle of his hand. His face was probably doing the thing where his eyes got too big and he looked very strongly and scarily at something, because he was thinking too much to remember the rules about eye contact and about not staring. It was becoming a problem lately. 

[...]

Everyone made a big deal of Frank having quite a lot of tattoos, but Sneeg very rarely saw them at all. It had only really been one time. [...] It was a bit hard to tell, since it was said mostly for the enjoyment of saying it and not for other people to hear, but he thought it started out, “Motherfucking goddamn piece of shit capitalists can’t pay for air conditioning nasty bastards weren’t making enough already not paying their goddamn workers I swear,” 

With the jacket off, Sneeg could see that each of his arms were marked over with drawings which ran the gamut from crude drawings of various small animals and sigils and skulls, the lines bleeding out into the surrounding skin in inky aurora, to the fine scales of what seemed a very well done snake, which wrapped the circumference of a heavy arm before disappearing up the sleeve of the shirt.

Sneeg looked away a bit quickly — the back of his neck felt hot and red and embarrassed — but then Niki was looking at *him*, first with no expression at all, then at seeing him returning eye contact, she pinched her lips together slightly, and raised both eyebrows together in a movement that could have been categorized on the scale of glaciers. Her eyes, nearly gray as slate rock in the corridor dimness, were rimed with humor. Sneeg tried to pinch his eyebrows together in the same kind of miniature, dollhouse expression, to say *What? Huh?*, but all Niki did in return was a kind of U-turn of the eyebrows, up and down, back into her resting *a bit pissed off* aspect, and opened her hand outwards so that Sneeg could see the inside of her palm, then closed it again. 

From beside them, a thick voice said, “If you two have developed telepathy without me, I’m going to be so pissed.” The two withered slightly, like they had been caught eating worms or something equally difficult to explain, at the reminder that Frank was, in fact, still in the room with them. 

Niki blinked once. “Too late. We’ve already synched our mental illness frequencies.” Then she added, “*And* our cycles.”

Frank gave her a perfect jigsaw-puzzle smile, and went back to tying the jacket about his waist, which was good since Sneeg felt he might simply explode if anyone else acknowledged that he existed at the moment.

[...]

They sat in triangles, but when they walked Sneeg and Niki would stand on either side of Frank, which was half borne from respect and half to make sure that someone could always help him if his bad leg acted up again. He was always the center of both their orbits, because he was the only one who remembered anything.

Frank remembered because Austin remembered, and they had been Taken at the same time. Niki and Ethan remembered very little, and Sneeg and Charlie remembered nothing at all. He tried to hide this at first, but there was only so far you could really get with knowing when to nod your head, and when to go *mhmm* and *wow* conversationally before people started to notice that you did not know at all what they were talking about.

[...]

Niki liked *right hand* and *second-in-command* much more than she had liked *pumpkin*, but she still tolerated *string cheese* most days. When she was doing very badly, she would sit next to Frank, and lean her head on his shoulder, and he would put his arm around her, or in her hair, and go, *Aww, Kalashnikova, grenade, my favorite landmine, you’re okay* and she would feel better, even if it embarrassed her a bit afterwards. 

Sneeg loved *pumpkin* very much, and he extended the same affection to each and every other term his friends deigned upon him — even the ones in different languages, because he could trust that they meant something good and nice, and that was such a great relief.

Niki only ever called the two of them their names, or *boss*, which Frank had resented at first, but she said “If everyone calls everyone else boss, then it’s good and communist again,” and he relented. Sneeg had not processed enough about communism to argue, even though her maths didn’t seem to add up.

Frank talked a lot about communism, and Niki listened intently, but unless he was willing to sit down and really think about it, and interrupt way too often by asking about what *capital* was again, or *landlord*, or *materialism,* all Sneeg really got out of it was to hear the sound of Frank’s voice. It was a good voice though, which sounded a bit like he had eaten gravel, which was from the smoking, and forgot often that there were R’s in words, which was from the being raised in New York, so it was not a bad deal at all. 

All of Frank’s characters smoked, because Showfall thought it looked cool, so he did too. He’d toughed it out for two entire months, but they were still making him on set, so he couldn’t actually quit and then he got a migraine so bad he was worried he was going to go blind, and gave up.

“It’s not like they’re gonna let me get *lung cancer,*” he said, “I’m an *asset.*” He only did it once or twice a day, unless something exceptionally bad had happened, and Niki always took the opportunity to step away for five minutes, because the smell was intolerable to her, and look over her map, or lay on the ground like a starfish, and do her breathing exercises. She came up with long, prime number in-hold-out-hold sequences, because she had to be thinking about something at all times or she’d lose it. She said there was never any empty space in her mind, and if she didn’t fill it with something, the horrors would start crawling out of the little boxes she’d put them in.

Neither of them ever touched Niki without her asking anymore, since Frank had tapped her on the shoulder in passing and she worked herself up into such a fit that she spat up blood. 

Niki knew perfectly how to ask, though. She would tilt her head, very lightly, so the long strands of her uncut hair — often brown, sometimes blonde, rarely another color — would fall over her face, and either of the two could see this, and know to take the side of her head in their hand and to kiss the edge where the hair began on the forehead. 

[...]

Sneeg knew which of the cameras worked, and which didn’t, and which you could pass by if you walked by them at a calm pace with your face turned away, and he knew when the break rooms were full, and when you could pass through certain alley-paths. He had spent his entire childhood learning this, and now it made up for the fact that he was dreadfully, interminably, fucking stupid.

Sneeg did not know most of what an adult person was supposed to, on account of the everything, and he hadn’t even known it until he had began talking to the two of them. 

[...]

Frank and Niki were both pretty, but in different ways, like how a pretty painting might look nothing like a pretty tea kettle. No one else thought so, but Sneeg knew Frank was pretty. Showfall didn’t think so, because they only ever made him a side character, and none of those side characters ever had anyone kiss them. Austin said that he looked like a mobster, and Charlie had said that Frank had the face of a bulldog that had been at the business end of a sledgehammer, and Niki only said that he had a face that was perfectly adequate since it did all the things it needed to, but she was secretly jealous of him. 

Sneeg had eyes that worked though, and Frank had a face that was very nice to look at, with a big, crooked nose, and a lot of thin lines around the eyes and the mouth, and very interesting teeth. Everyone else only ever had teeth like white plastic ice trays, but his seemed to be arguing with each other about which should be where, in a way that made you want to put your hand in his mouth to figure out exactly what was going on three-dimensionally. 

[...] Her face did not find itself naturally upset, which made her near-permanent furrowed brow and curled lip intentional, a prolonged muscle contraction in service of worry and fury and disgust.

Everyone knew Niki was pretty. She loathed it. She treated pretty like an unfortunate congenital condition she was afflicted with, and only ever talked about other people in flat, neutral terms, like an anatomist. This hatred was not entirely unjustified, because Showfall loved you more if they thought you were pretty, and they cast you as love interests and romcom protagonists.

[...]

She had, nearly instantly, been sick on the tile.

He put his hand out, flat, eye-level, and she bit into where the meat of his thumb met the meat of his palm so hard she drew blood. The metacarpal made a bad noise, and she shook her head, side to side, very quickly, with instinctual zeal, and then let go. 

“Why did you do that?” she had asked, after a moment, and “Why did it *work?*” [...] She was worrying at her arm, and said, “Just tell me if it gets worse. I can live with this, just tell me if it’s going to get worse.”

“It’s not going to get worse. You know how they are with this.”

“You promise? On your life, you promise?”

“On my life, I’ve never seen them do worse, on set or in any of the tapes.” It had made her feel a little bit better, but not much.

[...] , and all she would say was “It’s *my* skin. It’s *my *fucking* skin.*”

[...]

...and, graciously, Niki had said, “Oh God, what’s *butch* again? It’s fallen out of my brain completely,” which was the euphemism she preferred for it.

Frank said, “Masc. Masculine. Like a guy.” and that was such an idea that Niki lit up, immediately. 

[...]

He’d found her once sitting at the edge of an unused fountain, staring into the green and chemical water.

“I got startled the first time they put a mirror on set,” she said, in lieu of a conversation opener, “I couldn’t recognize that it was me.”

He did not know how to answer this, and so didn’t, and in the silence, she turned, and went “When you get out, are you going to try and find your family? Your old family?”

“It would be nicer, neater, I think, if they just thought I died. If I didn’t have to tell them what I’d actually become.”

“You think letting them believe their kid got abducted and murdered is the best idea?”

“Probably. I mean, it’s been years, they’ve gotta be at least a little adjusted to it. The dead kid’s a better story than the miserable adult.” and then, “And why’d you ask? You’ve been thinking about it?”

“Yeah, well.” “Your family has to get that you’re not the seven-year-old they lost, like, in the slightest. But I was like, a *person* when they took me, no offense, and they’ll want me to be that.”

“Sometimes, all I can muster is *I just want to die where they can’t find me*. But I don’t really want to *die*, you know? I just don’t think I know how to live.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I just. I just can’t see it. Me. Having a real, actual life.”

“Then take it on faith. In yourself. In your own continuity.” and then, “You really don’t have to have it yet. Lord knows I don’t— Nick, I don’t remember what the Sun looks like, I have zero clue what I’m going to do. But I’ll find out, you know? I trust my future.”

“Just like that? Has anything good *ever* happened in your life?”

Sneeg thought a bit. “I used to have a dad. That was good. And I met you two, didn’t I?”

[...]

Niki wanted to be his sister very badly, but Sneeg couldn’t do that to anyone else.

[...]

Frank had called him a masochist, and Sneeg had to ask what it meant.

“Somebody who likes getting hurt,” Frank said, and then, in the interest of diligence, “Sometimes it’s a sex thing.” 

If Showfall was prudish otherwise, they were down-right puritanical when it came to sex things, so they always had to specify, even though Sneeg could catch a crass joke with 80% accuracy now, and could make one that was legible if the opportunity presented itself. It had been very embarrassing for all of them at first, but just like every other thing he was supposed to know and didn’t, Frank and Niki had gotten used to explaining things in clear, unfazed terms, and to pretend like it was fine that he didn’t know.

This was probably the best blessing of the manifold blessings that Niki and Frank had granted him: the simple fact that they had gotten quickly over that he did not know shit about fuck, and they explained things to him like he was an equal, instead of a kicked dog following them around. 

[...]

“Written messages. Very good sign” he had said, at about the second or third note they found “Means they’re not having regular meetings. Or casual meetings.”

“Not *that* good.” Niki said, “The ones in the masks have always been the big issue. Doesn’t really matter whether the real ones are walking around.”

“Yeah, right, but it means they’re not *talking.* Less minor information getting through, more arguments. More confusion.”

[...]

“- and, well, Marx thought,” and Sneeg wanted to groan, because Marx never thought anything that did not require at least fifteen minutes of explanation to understand.

[pegging-satan]

Brah I just saw a Ranpo and Fukuzawa edit to the song Mockingbird AND THEY PUT THAT SCENE WHERE RANPO STARTS CRYING SAYING IM SORRY AND HUGS FUKUZAWA TO daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird ima give you the world ima buy a diamond ring for you ima sing for you I’d do anything for you to see you smile IM ABSOLUTELY INCONSOLABLE RIGHT NOW bro I am in fucking hysterics I’m gonna start crying fr I keep replaying that part and it just makes me go

[monstersflashlight]

It’s finally here, I know I’ve been teasing with this story for weeks but life has been hectic and I wanted to do some requests, but here it is, the forest entity story. Hope y’all enjoy it!

The tree-hole debacle

Forest entity x fem!human || very light dub-con, tentacles (more like vines), bondage, squirting

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no... You kept chanting in your brain. You were trying to reach the fucking shiny thing you saw in the tree's hole and you got stuck. In the middle of the forest. All your torso inside a tree-hole and your legs kicking the air. You couldn't get out. You were stuck. You felt like you were living your own bad porno. Fuck.

You always knew your eagerness to pick stuff in the woods would bring you problems, but you never thought it would be in the shape of a tree. A fucking tree. You were just walking around the forest trying to find some good pieces to build some more fairy jewelry, who knew you could get stuck in a tree. And now you didn’t know what to do, how to get out. A spark of anxiety was creeping up your back. What if you died there? What if they found you dead in a tree-hole? They would think you are a weirdo. Well, in that they wouldn’t be wrong, but that would be so embarrassing. News would say something along the lines of “young girl found in a tree”, and that would be awful in so many levels. God damn it.

You tried crying for help, but you knew there wasn’t anyone coming, you never followed the path, confident you’d find your way back. And you always did, you have some kind of sixth sense about these woods, they called to you. And well, now you called whoever was listening to get you out of that damn tree-hole.

When you felt something creeping behind you, you started kicking your legs, trying to scare whatever animal was close. You didn’t want to be attacked by a random wolf or something. You didn’t even know what kind of animals could roam the forest, you were so careless in the way you explored the woods without thinking about it. You felt like a dummy now, a completely dumb woman who was now stuck in a fucking tree.

Something behind you let out a growl, you started to panic, moving your legs faster, making sounds to scare it away. A light caress to the back of your leg made you twitch, your whole body reacting with full on panic. But before you could scream, you were hanging out upside down, roots embracing your body. You were suspended in the middle of the woods, a weird creature made of leaves and some kind of mud in front of you. He slowly shook your body up and down, making you bounce in an uncomfortable way.

Your confusion, added to being upside down, made your head feel all kinds of dizzy. The roots around you seemed to come from everywhere, like he could control all the things around you. What was he? He answered you without having to verbalize your question: “I’m the spirit of these woods, and you, human, were asking for help. I came.” His voice sounded deep, like if he was talking from inside a cave, an echo of a real voice. Your body shivered.

“I- You- What?” Your confusion at everything happening was making your head spin. He turned you around, hanging you in an upright position this time, your feet still far away from the ground.

“You were screaming, the little creatures came to find me. And here I am,” he explained. His matter of fact statement made you think he was crazy. Maybe you were crazy. Maybe you did die inside that damn tree-hole and all of this was just an hallucination.

“Thanks?” You didn’t know if that was the correct answer, the vines and roots around your body wouldn’t stop twitching, touching, careful not to touch any of your most vulnerable parts. But hey were exploring everything else, caressing your hair, your cheeks, your legs… “Can you put me down?” You asked.

“No.” That instant denial should have scared you, but weirdly enough, you didn’t feel fear or panic anymore. Your body was calm, your mind completely quiet and relaxed. What kind of weird mojo was he doing to you? “You asked for the help of a forest spirit, you need to repay your debt now.” You looked at him expectantly, trying to convey you needed more explanation. He didn’t say anything.

“What the fuck does that mean?” You finally asked, a spark of anger rising inside your chest.

He nodded as if your question was answered like that and said: “I will take you now.” The vines around you started to pull at your clothes. You struggled against the hold, but they were so strong and tight that you could barely move some millimeters.

You struggled harder, screaming at him: “What? No!” You looked at him with all the fire inside of you. If looks could kill, he’d be killed right there, right now. But it wasn’t the case. He just looked amused at your struggles. But he stopped the vines from moving, some of them hovering over your tits and mouth, so close you could smell the petrichor smell they emanated. It was intoxicating.

“You have to pay, human. The balance must be restored.” That made no sense to you, he talked about restoring balance as if you had a debt with the forest or something. What?

“But I didn’t ask for your help.” He looked back at you skeptical, his dark eyes so expressive even though he didn’t have eyelids or brows. His face was so weird, but enthralling at the same time. “Okay, I did need help, but I don’t- I don’t want to have sex with you,” you lied through your teeth.

The truth was that you were aroused, the vines around your body were making you all kinds of horny. You always dreamed of being tied down, of being at the mercy of your partner as they took their fill off you. And without knowing it, he was restraining you, making all your fantasies come to the surface and making your pussy tingle. But you weren’t going to say that to him.

“What is sex, human?” The question caught you off guard, how could he not know what sex was?

“You… You said you’d take me.”

He was looking at you intently, like the answer to your unasked question was obvious and you were just dumb. Maybe you were. “I’ll give you pleasure so your juices can fertilize my forest,” he explained. You could what?

“You what? Fertilize? What?” And then it clicked. “You want to make me cum?” It seemed so random you couldn’t fully process what that meant.

“I believe that’s how humans call it, yes.”

You argued with the angel in your head, but the demon rapidly won the argument and before you could process it fully you were saying: “I- I- Okay.” Your voice was barely a whisper but he nodded and the vines around you closed more firmly against your body, making you shiver. It was weirdly comforting to be held so tightly.

You clothes were pushed away, thrown carelessly to the ground and you found yourself wrapped in vines and roots, suspended in the air. He opened your legs fully, exposing your holes to his eyes. He approached you then, his weird face close to your pussy, but not touching. The leaves around his head tickled the inside of your legs as he inspected you, his breath cold against your heated skin. You whimpered, being exposed to him so openly was embarrassing beyond belief, but the juices dripping off your cunt were even worse.

He reached around him and took some kind of leave, different to the ones covering his head. He squeezed it until a clear substance formed. He coated one of the vines with, the vine shifted into a wider form, cupping your whole pussy, coating it with the substance. At first, you felt nothing, but suddenly scolding heat ran through your body and you came. Just like that. You came faster than ever, he didn’t do anything, he didn’t touch your clit, your entrance… He just put some magical liquid over your cunt and made you cum. What the fuck?

You didn’t get to catch your breath before another vine was proving your entrance, making you moan loudly as it pushed inside. Two more vines appeared, framing your boobs and squeezing, some leaves playing with your nipples at the same time. The pleasure was maddening. The combined sensation of the vine entering you and the leaves was so overwhelming that you came again. This time your scream was cut short when another vine pushed against your asshole. Surprise and arousal made you arch your back, which was fruitless, the restrains on your body so tight you couldn’t move at all.

He was still close, observing the vines playing with your body, controlling everything but not touching you. You felt dehumanized, you were just a means to an end for him. And that made you hot. You could be anybody, everybody. He didn’t care. He just wanted your juices… And he was milking every drop off you.

The vine on your pussy pressed against your G-spot, the sensation too rough and raw. Some more juices gushed around it as you came again. He hit and probed and pushed and made your mind go blank as he transformed your body into a pleasure machine. You came, and came, and came. You were sure there was a river down your legs at that point. You were crying, tears running down your face as he assaulted all your sensitive areas at once. Your body felt like an exposed nerve.

When you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pushed a new vine in your already overflowing pussy. You saw stars as the vines inside of you intertwined. You were so full, so sensitive, you couldn’t stop crying in pleasure, your voice long gone.

And then something inside of you broke completely and you were peeing. Peeing? No, squirting. He made you squirt. Your juices flowed over him, showering his leaves like summer rain. You ascended to another plane, the pleasure beyond human realm, the orgasm so good your brain broke a bit.

He stopped abruptly, his leaves shiny and his face contorted in some sort of a grin. “That would be all, human. You paid the debt to the forest.” You blushed deeply as he lowered your naked body to the ground, a bed of moss forming under you. “I’ll see you soon,” he muttered as he disappeared before your eyes. The earth literally swallowed him.

[monstersholygrail]

Late to the Event

Bull Hybrid x fem!reader— fingering, rough sex, spanking, aftercare

Now it’s been proven myth that the color red makes a bull get riled up. But that doesn’t mean that seeing you all dolled up looking drop dead gorgeous in that deep red dress he bought for you doesn’t make your CEO Bull Hybrid bf feel nothing.

In fact, he can barely contain himself at the sight of you. And when you look up at him with those fuck me eyes, softly asking if you look alright he feels his restraint hanging on by a thread.

“You look like a million bucks, sugar,” he purrs. His nostrils flare as his tail flicks sharply behind him. Trying to keep his mind sharp and focused on the event tonight. But you are just so tempting.

Especially as you twirl around. Seemingly trying to get an even bigger rise out of him as you stop with your back to him, showing off your delicious curves.

“I don’t know, is the back too short?” You ask innocently. But he can hear the coy tone in your voice and his hands clench, a loud snort of breath leaving him.

Your bf is practically vibrating on the spot. His ears twitch and he leans forward, shaking his horns your way, completely unknown to you. The way you look in that dress has his cock straining against the seam of his slacks. He’s so fucking turned on by you that he can’t take it. He paws at the ground, subtly stomping down his hoof and pushing it back as if to charge.

A moment later with another rough snort he’s doing exactly that. Charging straight for you until he wraps his arms around your waist and pin your body against his, allowing no chance for escape. His massive bulge grinds into your back and you gasp, arching into it.

“What do you think you’re doing? Teasing me like this when you know we have to go to this event tonight,” he growls in your ear, his breath so hot and husky that it has chills rising up your arms.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t you lie to me, sweetheart. I think you need to be taught a lesson on what happens when you do,” he threatens you with a smirk on his lips. Not minding any consequences when it comes to you. Taking care of you, in any way, always comes first.

He shows you exactly what he means as he slips a hand under your dress, delving into your panties and checking to see how wet you are. Seeing just how much you were lying to him. His fingers slide through your folds and collect your slick, swirling his now soaked digits around your clit until you’re crying out.

“B-but we’ll be late to the event,” you try and rationalize. Not quite sure exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into. Your stomach a ball of nerves and undeniable arousal.

“They wouldn’t dare start until we’ve arrived now will you be a good girl and bend over for me or does your punishment need to include the rules on following orders?”

Without another word you bend over, resting your arms on your dresser. You whimper as his hands immediately drop from your clit. The clinking of a belt has you jumping out of your skin and you gasp as a moment later you feel your bf’s large tip nudging at your entrance.

“There’s a good girl,” your bf breathes as he slides his dick all the way inside your pussy with one solid stroke.

You moan loudly but before you can fully adjust to his size a hand cracks down on your ass and you yelp. It takes you a moment to realize your bf just spanked you but when you do your cunt immediately clenches down on his length and he growls. Knowing you’ll need a much firmer lesson.

With another slap to your ass right where he got you last that causes an even harsher sting, he starts up his pace, completely unrestrained as beast takes over man. His cock relentlessly pistoning in and out of you and his hand delivering in equal blows.

A symphony of pleasure rings throughout the room between the wet smack of your hips and his hand, the shaking of the dresser from the pure force of his thrusts, and the strangled moans ripped from your throat. His cock and his hand working in perfect harmony.

With every few brutal jerks of his dick comes a resounding blow to your aching bottom, and each time it sends you higher and higher. The pressure in your belly growing with every strike to your senses.

Your orgasm blows through you, taking you completely by surprise. A fierce shriek falls from your lips as your body seizes, desperately meeting his erratic thrusts and silently begging for his hand. Your bf roars, his hand swinging back and delivering a final thwack just as buries himself inside you to the hilt. He explodes inside you, filling your core with his hot semen till it overflows and begins dribbling down your thighs.

The two of you slowly rock, basking in the aftershocks as you work each other through your release. Your bf nuzzles into your neck, pressing affectionate kisses to your skin. But after a moment he gives your butt a playful pat and pulls out, his cum immediately gushing out of you. He’s right there to help you clean up without a word. When he’s done he kisses your cheek and gives your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Right then, now let’s get moving,” he rasps into your ear before turning and walking off to fix himself up as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just completely rock your world.

All while leaving you leaning heavily against the dresser and weak in the knees. Not knowing if you even can walk at the moment to get to the event. You stare after him like he’s officially gone insane.

“Baby!” You call out with a scolding tone.

Your bf chuckles boisterously and immediately swings around. A playful glint in his eye as he jogs back over to you.

“Yeah, I got you, love,” he rumbles in that sexy low voice of his as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder with ease given the huge monster he is. You shriek and scramble to hold onto him. He can’t help but laugh again before giving your bum a little bonus pat that has you squirming on his shoulder.

Luckily the limo ride to event is a long one…

[envy-of-the-apple]

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked

First, you saw a monster. 

It was big and horrible—nasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain. 

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky. 

The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night? 

"Hey, you good?" 

A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. A high schooler, judging by the uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot? 

When you don't respond, her eyes squint. 

"Suguru, are you okay?" 

That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.

"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice? 

The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger. 

And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror. 

Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces. 

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone. 

ⴵ

Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy. 

"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness." 

You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well. 

"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying." 

She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out. 

You were dreaming. 

You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you. 

An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes. 

“Excited?” 

“Hm?” You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes. 

“For the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.” She says, her sarcasm evident. 

Mission? Special grade? You don’t know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else. 

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.” 

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct. 

“I expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, he’s starting to rub off on you.”

You give a sheepish laugh, and it’s enough to quell her questions. 

She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldn’t be more grateful, it’s not like you would have known where to go. It’s a teachers room. Two people are already inside. 

“Wait, for once, I’m early?” The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. He’s leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. You’ve never seen someone with white hair before. It can’t be real. 

“He forgot.” Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles. 

“That’s hilarious. I’m starting to rub off on you.” Ah, this must be Satoru. 

You give a nervous smile. “Haha, yeah.” 

The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.

“Gojo, stop making such a ruckus.” The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again." 

Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly. 

Oh, you were supposed to follow him. 

Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros. 

"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up." 

What should you say? You clear your throat. 

"He just wants what's best for us." 

Wrong answer. 

"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old." 

Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway? 

Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already. 

On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?

Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this? 

The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans. 

Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you. 

"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should." 

You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say. 

"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time." 

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing." 

He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid. 

This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful. 

"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best." 

Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker. 

"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?" 

Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?

"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave. 

He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all." 

Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable. 

This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end. 

Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone. 

It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it. 

You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here? 

There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there. 

When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed. 

There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs? 

Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher. 

Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't. 

What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid. 

Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster. 

It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground. 

It hurts. 

Everything hurts. 

Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream. 

This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster. 

You were going to die. 

You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face. 

And then the creature explodes. 

An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place. 

After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse. 

"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then." 

He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky. 

"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

ⴵ

Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener. 

There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit. 

He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession." 

You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?" 

You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual. 

"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?

"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up." 

You blink, trying to remember the date. 

"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here." 

He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course. 

He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut. 

He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend? 

When you ask him, he just snorts. 

"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong." 

Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you. 

"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22." 

He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man." 

"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager." And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boy’s body. Of course.

"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you what—11 in 2006?" 

You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity. 

"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?" 

"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending? 

"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?" 

He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them." 

He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too. 

'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.' 

Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform. 

"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech." 

You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted. 

"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-" 

And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold. 

You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk. 

You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen. 

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back. 

Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back. 

Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.

For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink. 

You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today. 

Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar. 

It used to be your voice. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him. 

"Suguru...?" 

He halts in his tracks. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him. 

"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy." 

You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now. 

You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into. 

"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as. 

In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street. 

The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying." 

Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him. 

Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off. 

"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery." 

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die. 

ⴵ

Again. You died again. 

This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized. 

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks. 

He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same. 

Not again. 

"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?" 

Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award. 

"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player." 

You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.

The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body. 

At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer. 

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories. 

It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future. 

Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru. 

Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit. 

You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too. 

"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline." 

"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me." 

"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique. 

Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid. 

"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego." 

You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all. 

It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:

"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.

"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!" 

So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right? 

There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy. 

A blue ball drops into your hand. 

"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe. 

"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?" 

He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?" 

You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl. 

"Look away." 

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched." 

Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down. 

Instantly, you choke. 

It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. 

"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem." 

Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore. 

Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed. 

You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous. 

"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted. 

"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body." 

Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew." 

"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?" 

"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird." 

You perk up at that. "What did he say?" 

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs. 

"I forgot." Typical. 

You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?" You gesture to yourself. 

"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it." 

Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar. 

"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?" 

"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump. 

You know him—at least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.

He'll be dead within a year or so. 

Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body." 

"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!" 

"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan. 

"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?" 

"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record." 

"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me." 

"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up. 

"The name’s Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure. 

"So...do we fight Greeny?" 

"It's not my name." You get ignored. 

"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, don’t worry about it." Rude, but you don’t think you’d want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.

"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh? 

"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again. 

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat. 

"Give me your hand. I want to go home." 

Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?" 

"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything. 

"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?" 

No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug. 

"Haven't figured it out yet." 

Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know." 

Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.

You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again. 

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories. 

Exorcised. Ingested.  

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

You need to survive. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. 

You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it. 

If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future. 

But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you. 

At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more. 

ⴵ

For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isn’t there with you. 

You’re still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. It’s a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what you’re doing. 

You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. You’re playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen? 

 The worst part is that you can’t even think of the hypothetical because there’s no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now. 

Geto’s dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanai’s death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Geto’s true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.

You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldn’t swallow down himself. 

One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. It’ll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that. 

Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later. 

“Geto!” Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibara’s already poking his head around the wall. He grins. 

“Hey! Oh, you’re not Geto, aren’t you?” He tilts his head. “Greeny?” 

“Keep your voice down,” you whisper, “wait, you can recognize me?” 

He nods, after checking to make sure no one’s around, he says, “yeah, your eyes are different? It’s hard to explain.” He tells you. 

Huh. Interesting. 

“You’ve been gone a while.” Haibara beams. “It’s been a few weeks. I’m glad you’re back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.” 

It’s probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass. 

“I’m glad to return as his punching back.” You mutter. 

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet. 

“So, are you really from the future?” He asks. “Was Gojo telling the truth?” 

You nod. “Haibara, you haven’t told anyone, right?” 

“Of course not!” He instantly says. “Not a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“And Gojo, too! I know he doesn’t look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.” 

Reluctantly, you can’t help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasn’t done anything super harmful. 

“So anyway, Greeny.” He clears his throat. “Considering you’re from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?” 

You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Nothing much! I just wanna know what I’ll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?” 

You think of Geto’s final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child. 

“Sorry,” you lie through your teeth, “but I didn’t know you in my future. Again, I’m not really a sorcerer.” 

Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you can’t shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue. 

“Another thing, we should have a code word.” Haibara exclaims. 

You blink. “A code word?” 

“If we ever meet in the future,” he explains, “y’know, in 'Groundhog’s day', he has to keep explaining what’s happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.” 

Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway. 

“Okay, what did you have in mind?” 

“Well, it can’t be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.” Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile. 

“Got it! If you ever see me, just yell ‘brocolli head’ really really loudly. Then I’ll know.” Haibara chirps. 

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

“Because broccoli heads are green!” Haibara chirps happily.

You’re starting to learn it’s best not to question his logic.

You nod, very amused. “Sure thing, Haibara.”  

Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you can’t hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death. 

Gojo finds you eventually. You can’t hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. He’d ran there. His breath was slightly ragged. 

“Greeny, couldn’t get enough last time, huh?” You shoot him a look. 

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.” 

Gojo’s smile dips ever so slightly. “How’d you know about that?” 

It’s probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that you’re possessing that you’ve unlocked his memories. 

“Haibara told me.” 

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.” 

The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You aren’t as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words. 

“Figured it out yet?” He asks. “Your technique.” 

He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongests’ bad side. 

“Oh, not really, but I think it’s random. I can’t seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?” 

“Maybe.” Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach. 

“You’re different this time around,” Gojo says. 

“Am I?” You ask. “I guess I’m just more determined today.” 

He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?" 

"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today." 

You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window. 

"Do whatever, Greeny." 

In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time. 

It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda. 

Gojo only watches with a tilted head. 

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin. 

"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?" 

He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression. 

"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back." 

His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru. 

A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?

"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state. 

You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole. 

"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks. 

"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time. 

Another beat of silence.

Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?" 

You give a sheepish laugh.

"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny." His tone isn't mean. 

"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him. 

"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath. 

So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous. 

"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better." 

"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues. 

"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"

"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.

“I can still taste it.” You complain. “I’d kill for a cigarette right now.”

“I caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,” Satoru suggests. “Maybe you could go and beg him for one.”

You toss him a look. “Suguru doesn’t smoke, and I’m not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.” You have found lighters inside Suguru’s pockets, but you have a feeling it isn’t for his own cravings.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" 

He gives a wordless hum.

"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down." 

Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two. 

When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed. 

"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand. 

Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you." 

You blink at that. "What?" 

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body. 

Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before you’re killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette you’ve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.

You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru. 

And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko. 

Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that. 

But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again? 

"Hungry?" 

Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips. 

"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?" 

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.

A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp. 

It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this. 

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly. 

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful. 

It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late. 

"Something wrong?" Riko asks. 

You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived. 

In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji. 

But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens. 

You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased. 

What do you do?

"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too. 

"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him." 

You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor. 

Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat. 

"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning. 

You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter. 

You were wasting time. 

"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name." 

Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying. 

It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away. 

"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two. 

You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything. 

But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened. 

It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro. 

But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off. 

Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades. 

You release all 368 of them. 

In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target. 

It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time. 

Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead. 

"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo." 

Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past. 

"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi." 

His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."

 Nothing happens. 

Everything happens. 

The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing. 

Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore. 

You're sitting in front of God. 

"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late." 

You manage to smile.

"Sorry." 

You’ve seen Satoru fight before. He’s always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguru’s memories—post Satoru’s awakening. There’s always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.

But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguru’s heightened senses, you still can’t follow him. He’s barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.

It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over. 

Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way. 

Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death. 

Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go. 

"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier." 

He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words. 

"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear." 

Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore. 

You clear your throat. 

"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her." 

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high. 

"Oh," he says after a moment, "right." 

You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand. 

"You and Suguru." 

For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer. 

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold. 

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now. 

You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief. 

Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other. 

You did it. You actually managed to pull it off. 

But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual. 

It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days. 

Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall. 

You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru. 

Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit. 

It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters. 

Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way. 

Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red. 

Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers. 

"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.

Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one. 

"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out. 

"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?" 

You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused. 

"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs. 

"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"

"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone. 

"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness. 

"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again." 

"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression. 

Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her. 

"Your hair's nice." You tell her. 

She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems. 

"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response. 

"Where are you going?" You ask. 

"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork." 

You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company. 

"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat." 

She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color. 

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then." 

You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done. 

Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru. 

"That hurt." Haibara whines. 

Good, you inwardly think. 

"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like. 

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly. 

"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?" 

You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall. 

"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain." He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.

"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again." 

In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has. 

“He should be getting back later this evening.” Haibara muses. “But I’ll be happy to keep you company!”

It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, she’s also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.

"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you. 

“Do you have anyone in your family who can see curses?” Haibaracasks.

“No,” you answer honestly, “at least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.”

You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.

“Maybe you’re one of a kind,” Haibara suggests.

You agree with him.

Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.

“Hey, long time.”

His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. They’ve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. You’re relieved at that. You still can’t shake off that strange thing he said to you.

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

“You wanna leave so soon? You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for hours,” you tell him, “also, you aren’t very concerned that someone is using your best friend’s body as a puppet.”

“He’s been through worse,” Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.

“Let’s go to the arcade,” he suggests.

“Do that with Suguru.” You tell him. “I’m not hanging out with a high schooler.”

“Right right, my bad. I keep forgetting you’re an old man, Greeny.”

“22 is not old,” you say with exasperation, “didn’t your birthday just pass? You’re just five years away. I’ll see your attitude change, then.”

He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.

“How did you know about my birthday?”

Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguru’s memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.

“Haibara told me,” you say, “blabbermouth. You know him.”

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.

“How did your mission go?”

“Horrible,” he’s instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, “and the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.”

You frown. “Sounds gross. But you won, right?”

He doesn’t even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly weren’t that when you were at his age.

“How’s Amanai and Miss Kuroi?” You ask.

“Safe.” He tells you. “The higher-ups weren’t really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.” He frowns. “But they’re fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so she’s a Kuroi now, too.”

You smiled. You already knew all that, but it’s nice to hear it.

“You saved them,” he says.

You laugh, “I didn’t do a thing.” You tell him. “You and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.”

“You did.” He replies. “I don’t know how, but things always manage to work out whenever you’re around.”

You don’t like how he phrases that, but you don’t react.

“You think so? Maybe I’m lucky.” It’s supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.

“You really don’t know us in the future?” He asks.

Maybe you should’ve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.

“I really didn't,” you say, “Honest, I—I have no idea what’s happening. I’m just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you won’t have to see me again.”

You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But you’re so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, you’ll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.

Satoru’s fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.

“That’s not what I—” He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.

“You’re annoying.” He tells you in the end. It’s clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. “And stupid too.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?” He grumbles, holding up his hand.

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

You look through Geto’s memories. There’s nothing. Everything’s going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?

Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like it’s a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isn’t enough to wash away the feeling of dread.

The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?

You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.

“The curse was exorcised.” Suguru tells them. “It wasn’t first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.”

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“The wrong information again.” He hisses to himself. “If we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, we’re way too stretched out.”

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

“Wait, what day is it?” You ask the frazzled-looking manager.

Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.

No. You should have had more time. Why weren’t you given more time?

Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguru’s phone, finding Haibara’s contact. It doesn’t go through. Nanami doesn’t pick up either.

You won’t make it in time. Even using Suguru’s curses, you won’t be able to reach them until it’s too late. Suguru’s memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibara’s dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

“It’s Haibara.” You spit the words out as fast as you can. “Satoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isn’t going to make it—”

“—Greeny?” The exhaustion in Gojo’s voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.

“Satoru, listen to me.” You beg. “Haibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isn’t going to survive it. It wasn’t a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.”

It’s silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know it’s just three seconds.

“We’ll talk later, Greeny.” The line clicks.

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibara’s status is still alive. Barely. But he’s still there. Shoko’s currently taking care of him.

Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibara’s battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. It’s more for you than for him. You’re self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you don’t have to recognize your own panic.

If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you can’t even think of him right now.

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not you’re in Suguru’s body. It’s not like that hasn’t stopped him before.

Gojo Satoru is selfless. He’s selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.

But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?

You’d lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguru’s body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. You’ll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.

Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.

It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.

Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. She’s only 17.

“He’s still alive.” Nanami sags. “But he isn’t responsive. I’ve done all that I can.”

She looks at Nanami, and then she can’t anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Nanami rasps, the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “don’t apologize. It was my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him.”

You swallow. It wasn’t his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.

You wonder what Haibara’s younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when she’s told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?

You can’t do that to her. You can’t be the reason she loses her brother the second time.

You’re not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibara’s body lay, and you pray for a God.

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

It’s hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, he’s regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.

Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.

Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.

“Not here.” You say.

Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibara’s fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.

It shouldn’t be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.

“I figured out your technique a while ago, y’know.” You don’t look at him. You can’t. “Dying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, you’re sent back 12 years in the past.”

You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoru’s cruel enough to continue.

“But I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguru’s body. It always felt kinda’ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.”

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

“That’s how your CT works. Every time you’re murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. It’s a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.

But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I can’t get why you did that.”

He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.

“Let’s cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad you’re willing to die over and over again to prevent it.”

The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

You’re taking in a shaky breath. It’s not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldn’t breathe.

“There’s nothing to know.” You try. “There’s nothing, I’m fixing it—”

“—by Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?”

“You don’t understand.” Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguru’s vocal cords can’t keep up. “You don’t get it. You can’t.”

“Then help me understand.” His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. “Tell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.”

It clicks right then. Satoru’s anger isn’t directed at you.

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

“He—he was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can but—but I can see the proof right here in front of me. And—And I don’t—” His voice breaks too much to continue. 

You’re breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.

The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. It’d be so easy to tell Satoru everything.

And maybe you would’ve, but then you looked at him.

Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person you’ve ever met. He’d sit there and listen, and he’d break every bone in his body to help. That’s just how he was.

Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant he’d save the millions in Tokyo.

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

“It—it isn’t him.” You manage to spit out. “He isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s not his fault.

It’s the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldn’t control them anymore.”

He says nothing. It’s like you’ve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru can’t do anything but stare at the talking puppet that’s his best friend.

“He lost so many people.” You continue. “Riko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. That’s how I keep...”

It’s okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you know—the one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expression—isn’t the one that Satoru knows. They’re two completely different people. Years—timelines—apart from each other. They aren’t the same.

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

You’d get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. You’d plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me.” You whisper. “Believe that I’m making this right. Please, Satoru?”

His eyes. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.

“You’ll save him, right?” He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. He’s nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguru’s uniform, you say nothing about it.

You smile anyway.

“I will.” You tell the truth. “I will save him.”

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind that’s wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.

“That’s fucked up, Greeny.” He whispers.

You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.

“Haibara will be okay.” He says with such conviction. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of Suguru, too.”

He doesn’t get it, not yet. He doesn’t understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. He’ll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.

For now, it’s all you can do. 

“I know you will.” 

He scoffs, right then. 

“You’re really annoying, you know that? Next time, don’t piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.” 

Rely on me. Lean on me.

“I’m sorry,” you say and you truly are, “I won’t leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.” 

His eyes get a little brighter. “It’s actually 2007—” 

“Shut up.” He laughs and it sounds like him again. 

You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless. 

This time, you hesitate.

“You should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.” You tell him. “I won’t fault you if you’re selfish. I don’t think anyone will.

He doesn’t answer that, but his touch is finally warm.

ⴵ

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It’s today. 

You can feel it. You don’t even have to look at the date to know.

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

Suguru’s already dressed. You’re currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.

He looks tired. His smile’s a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadn’t seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguru’s memory gives.

He’s different from when you saw him a year ago, but there’s still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.

You step out of the room. It isn’t Suguru’s. He’d rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.

She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. You’ll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.

“Mr. Geto.” She chirps. “I’m so glad you’re awake! Would you like anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine.” Better get this done sooner than later. “I should be heading back now, anyways.”

Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.

Now, it’s obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.

Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.

“If it isn't too much.” She starts. “The head of our village asked if you could look at something.” Her eyes darken into disgust.

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

You’ve seen this play out so many times in Suguru’s memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.

And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.

The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you can’t hear any of that.

Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadn’t eaten for days. Himiko’s eye looks swollen.

The twins.

The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. There’s something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.

They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguru’s here to kill them.

They’re too young to think like that. They’re too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.

It’s a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.

How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?

You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like there’s lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.

There’s more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.

‘Suguru,’ you think to your companion, your tormentor, ‘I think I’m starting to get it now.’

You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.

“Ah! Mr. Geto, you musn’t get too close to them—”

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

“The children.” You straighten yourself up. “I’ll take them off your hands.”

It’s pointless to do anything to these people. They’re delusional enough to think that they’re in the right. By torturing these children, they’re protecting their own. It’s fear. That’s all it ever was. Even without a curse, it’ll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. There’s no point to punish these people any further.

If you look at the adults a bit too long, you’re afraid of what you’d do, even without Suguru’s interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.

When you got out of this backward village, you’d find them something to eat.

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

She looks surprised to see the twins. You can’t imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.

A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. He’s the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but he’s oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.

You can’t escape the ‘we’ll talk later’ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.

He hasn’t come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.

Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. It’s summer again. You’ve met so many colorful characters since your time here. You’ve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.

He’s sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.

“Hey.” You say first.

“Heard you adopted two kids,” Satoru says, “Never thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.”

You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.

“I don’t think he’d have it any other way, personally.” You respond.

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.

“Yeah,” you say regardless, “he took good care of them last time. He’ll do the same in this timeline too. I’m sure of it.”

And this time, he’d have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. They’d all be there for him. Suguru’s memories haven’t changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.

“In any case, I’m glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. It’s a beautiful campus.”

“You act like you’re leaving,” Satoru says, uncaring. “You’ll just come back again next month. Or next year.”

You play with your fingers.

“I...won’t be doing that from now on.”

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

You can’t gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.

“I fixed the future.” You smile at him. “I finally did it. Suguru won’t break. Himiko and Nanako won’t lose their father. You won’t lose a friend, anymore. There’s no reason for me to keep coming back. You’re all free.”

You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isn’t laughing.

“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re...leaving leaving.”

You nod. “I can’t believe it either.” You still can’t believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now you’re standing on the other side of it.

It wasn’t truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like he’ll do to them.

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

“Well, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.”

For a moment, you want to ask if it’ll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldn’t want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.

This, was more than enough.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Satoru asks.

“You know I can’t do that.” You tell him with a smile.

“Right right.” He laughs, it sounds hollow. “Time travel, bullshit. Makes sense.”

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

“I’ll miss you too, old man.” He responds. “You were a lotta’ fun to mess with.”

For once, you aren’t offended by the old man’, comment. If anything, it feels somber.

“Can I ask for some advice?” He suddenly asks. “Y’know what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.” Okay, now he was starting to push it.

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

“What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it?”

You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?

“Something I can’t catch up to?” You ponder out loud. “I guess I’d have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.”

He frowns. “That makes no sense. You’re growing senile.”

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.

Suguru’s getting impatient.

“Bye, Satoru.” You reach out your hand.

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

Within a blink, you’re back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.

It’s the same as always. People bustle around you. Children’s laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you don’t think you can ever get sick of it. You’ll savor this peace for as long as you can.

You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You don’t know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps it’s within human nature to follow what’s written stone.

You’ve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.

You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.

Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.

The clock clicks to 8:07.

You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.

None of that comes. There’s just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.

It was over.

It was finally over.

How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, it’s only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.

You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.

Honestly, you’d stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through that ever again.

Tomorrow, you’ll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.

You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. You’ve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times you’ve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.

Mentally, you’re in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.

The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You don’t see the curse until you’re right before it.

Distantly, you wonder how often you’ve passed a curse and didn’t even realize it. It’s almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.

Nothing happens. You remember you aren’t Suguru anymore.

It’s a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.

Strange. Its’ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.

Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. You’re stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.

It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.

You’ve died before. You’ve been skinned alive before. You’ve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.

It can’t have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you weren’t, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant there’d be fewer casualties. But it didn’t make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.

Your brain isn’t working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. You’re reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.

The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldn’t assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.

Again.

It might kill you, if it’s feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if it’s a decent curse.

It shouldn’t be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you alone—

You don’t see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isn’t.

“Those things are so annoying.” The newcomer complains.

No, not new. You know him.

You blink. He grins. It’s kind. A toothy smile that warms.

“You alright?” He asks in sympathy. “Curses are pretty scary, aren’t they? Are you hurt?”

It’s him. You weren’t in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

It wasn’t intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.

“Um, broccoli head...?” And then you instantly regret it.

Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.

“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again ‘cuz Gojo said you weren’t gonna be around anymore, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

“—Haibara.” You interrupt. “Please, slow down.”

He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then he’s back on you.

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I got a little excited. And nervous. It’s just...well, I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”

That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.

“So, how you’ve been? A whole decade...” You murmur to yourself.

“Fine! But what about you?” Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. “Where’d you go?”

Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguru’s body, you didn’t really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didn’t belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know one person missed you.

“This might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.”

Haibara gapes.

“Wait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?” You nod. He leans back in his chair.

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way.” You change the topic. “From the curse.”

He waves it off. “I was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.”

Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldn’t exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.

He’s different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they haven’t lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but he’s all in one piece.

You weren’t able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguru’s memories, he’d never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.

“Haibara—”

“Yu—” He says seriously. “My friends call me Yu.”

A smile twitches on your lips.

“Tell me about everyone.” You scoot your chair closer. “You, Suguru. How is everyone doing?”

He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.

“Great! Everyone’s doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. They’d love to see you. Uh, even if they don’t technically know you, but I’m sure they’ll love to meet you!” He rambles, and it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed from his younger self.

“Let’s see, Kento’s teaching the first years. I teach the second years—”

“—You’re a teacher?”

He nods. “We all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isn’t that incredible? I’m just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasn’t surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?”

You nod. Even if you hadn’t done anything, you don’t think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.

“He’s a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yaga’s been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. You’ll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, and—”

It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanami’s recent baking addiction, Shoko’s new office cat, Suguru’s favorite tea pot. It’s a never-ending surge of information.

Eventually, you catch on to the fact that he’s deliberately leaving someone out.

"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?" 

Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk. 

"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists. 

No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone? 

A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking. 

Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you. 

"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away. 

"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is." 

What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.

But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything. 

"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere." 

Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense. 

"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?" 

Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive." 

Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.

"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since he’s been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible." 

It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.

But maybe you could. 

You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldn’t. You can’t do that another time.

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?

You hate that brat so much. 

You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them. 

"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?" 

He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.

"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”

You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.

It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.

“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”

“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”

“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”

That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.

“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”

For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.

“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”

You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.

“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.

“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”

What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.

What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.

“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”

“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”

It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?

You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.

Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.

But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.

Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.

You forgive Satoru.

“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.

It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.

“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”

“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.

“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”

For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.

You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”

“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”

‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.

“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”

He shakes his head.

“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.

ⴵ

December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.

It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.

It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.

At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.

It’s closed.

Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.

Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.

Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.

With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.

The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.

You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.

It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?

Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.

You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.

You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.

Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?

But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.

A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.

That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.

That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.

If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?

What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?

Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.

It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.

But the view. Oh, what a view.

The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.

You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.

And then, you can feel hands.

Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.

His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.

"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."

Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."

'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'

They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.

"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."

"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."

So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-

"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.

[not-neverland06]

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 4

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: JMKink is nothing and everything that you need and want it to be. Meanwhile, you are nothing and everything that Joel imagines you to be.

WC: 13.8k

TW: Warnings are below the cut in small red, feel free to skip them if you want to avoid chapter spoilers, but there are some descriptions of reader so I would classify this as more of an original character versus a blank canvas female reader.

AN: I actually cannot believe how many of you reached out all excited about September 1st approaching. From the bottom of my cold dead heart, thank you!! The more I write this, the more I picture video game Joel, so do with that what you will haha. Thanks so @ak-vintage and @lotusbxtch for beta reading for me. Support banners and dividers by @saradika-graphics. I recently got promoted at work (yay me), but the job is now waaaaaay more work than before, so enjoy this chapter slowly because I am not sure when I will be writing chapter 5.

Series Masterlist || My Masterlist

TW: p in v, dirty talk, sub dom relationships, age gap, alcohol consumption, flirting, voyeurism, description of a threesome and other sexual acts, use of sex toys, nipple clamps, female orgasm, talks of neglectful parents during childhood and loss of a spouse. Mutual pining.

“Hnnng, fuck yes, daddy.” He’s rutting into you deeper than anyone else ever has. Long, slow strokes of his heavy cock sending you into a spiral of white hot, sparkling nirvana. 

“So fuckin’ wet n’ tight. Fuck, sweet girl.” His deep voice devours you - rattling around your skull, echoing slightly as if you’re in a large, empty room. 

Everything is black; darker than the onyx pits of his eyes. You’re not sure if you’re up or down, and you’re either blindfolded or have your face buried in a pillow as he fucks into you from behind. All you can feel is the pleasurable push and pull of his thick, vein lined cock slamming in and out of you. The vast darkness and the feeling of him filling you so full is overwhelming

“Please, daddy. Please. I’m so close.”

The soft mushroom head of his cock is kissing right where he taught you to crave it, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that spongy spot had ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on it by now. Within seconds of him pressing inside of you tonight you had completely submitted to him; surrendering to the darkness, the sensation, the exquisite pleasure. This is exactly where you were meant to be, and he’s the only one you’d want to be here with. It has never been this good, and even with your limited experience you know that it will probably never be this good with anyone else. 

“Don’t stop this time. Please don’t stop this time.” You’re an aching, crying, desperate crumb of yourself; wholly at his mercy.  

“No coming until I say.” His voice seems further away with every word and dread settles in your stomach as it all starts to fade.

“No! Nonono. Please no.” You feel a hot tear run down your face as the euphoria fades. You can barely feel or hear him anymore as little slits of yellow light appear. You blink once, twice. After a third long blink your bedroom comes into view.

Fuck. 

This has been the start of your new three part morning routine for the last few nights, since that kiss with Joel, since filling out your preferences and signing all the waivers. Since being asked to submit test results and proof of birth control. Since Joel Miller became your Dom. Night after night you dream of him fucking you, and night after night, right as you’re about to fall over the edge, he tells you not to come until he says and you wake up.

The second part of your morning routine is a lot more cathartic and vocal - very vocal. Your newly painted cotton candy pink nails (anything to stay distracted and busy) dig into the soft cotton of your pillow as you pull it out from behind your head, pressing it to your face and screaming until your throat feels raw.

Fuck.

When all the breath is pushed from your lungs, you put your pillow back and kick off the blanket. Your bare feet drag along the worn down carpet of your bedroom to the cold and cheap linoleum of your bathroom. You pee, avoiding your clit at all costs when you clean up. You know you’re down fucking bad when even the scratchy 1-ply toilet paper is enough to make you almost crumble. 

Part three of your new morning ritual is probably the part that shocks you the most. You change into leggings and a tank top, slipping a ten dollar bill and your house key into the side of your sports bra. The old springs of your mattress creak as you sit to slip on socks and your lavender colored runners, that you honestly forgot you owned until the morning after your twenty second birthday. You sneak out of your apartment, careful not to wake your roommate and jog down the stairs from your fourth floor suite to step into the cool March morning air.

Fuck. 

After shaking out each leg, you start to run. There’s no technique to your form or a planned out route. You leave your phone behind, only sounds are the morning traffic and your struggling breath to keep you company. It's just you, pushing your body to forget how badly you’re throbbing between your thighs and trying to erase the feeling of him. As you turn the corner at the end of your block you can see the bright green grass and leafy trees of the park. Your calf muscles burn with every step, but it’s not enough; you can still feel him. As you reach the park your lungs start to burn; they feel like they’re filling with fluid. Your ankles protest with every strike of your feet against the concrete. Finally, just as you swear you’re about to meet your maker it happens, the sweet release you’re pushing for. Finally every trace of the ghost of Joel Miller disappears. 

Your legs slow below you and you clutch your side, wandering lazily around the park. The rush of blood through your ears is nearly deafening, almost completely drowning out the chirping of the birds and the trickling of the water in the large stone fountain. You suck in quick, deep breaths, essentially doing everything and anything not to pass out. You’re free from him, if only for a little bit, as you fight against what feels like death knocking on your door. 

As you walk home you grab a coffee - black with just a splash of almond milk, apologizing to the barista as you hand her the sweaty ten dollar bill that was tucked into your bra and begin mentally scheduling your day. It’s Monday, which means you don’t work today and you can focus on studying and laundry. Your LSAT retake is just a few days away, today is your last full free day, and you have to get as much studying and practicing done as possible. The dread of taking that test again has your hot coffee doing flips in your stomach. Getting some college letters would really help put you at ease. You know you applied early but it would be nice to know if you need to continue to push or if you can finally rest. 

When you get back to your apartment your roommate has already left for her classes. You check your phone and your heart lurches in your chest at Joel’s name across your cracked lock screen. There’s been no contact between the two of you since Friday night. You slide open the text with shaky fingers

Good Morning, sweet girl. Are you ready to learn? 

You bite your lip as you respond. 

Yes, please, Mr Miller. 

You stare at the text thread for a while. Although you aren’t sure if a total of three texts can be considered a thread, but you stare anyway trying to will more messages into existence. After a few minutes you give up, locking your phone and stripping your bedsheets. The trek to the laundry in the building feels like it takes forever and you rush back to check your phone. There’s no response but you do have a little red bubble on your JMK app. You excitedly tap on the app to see a new menu titled ‘Dominant Preferences’ added at the top. When you click it, everything from your Reddit wormholes is revealed.

 ‘Joel Miller likes to participate in bondage play, nipple play, toy play, dirty talk, oral sex (both giving and receiving), and fingering. He doesn’t like brat taming, but is willing to participate in scenes where his submissive needs to be put in her place occasionally. He never has sexual intercourse - vaginal or anal, this is a hard limit for him and his submissives need to understand that there is zero room for negotiation on this matter. He’s very open to impact play, but believes that only good girls should get spankings.’

You click off the little ‘Read and Accepted’ box at the bottom without hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to accept, he texts you seconds after your finger has made contact with the screen. 

8pm tomorrow. I’m sending a car for you. You should dress comfortably.

The same kind faced man from your birthday waits for you outside your apartment at 7:30 the next night. He opens the door, smiling gently at you as you hop in; leather and new car smell wafting around you. During the drive to the club you learn his name is Arthur, but my friends call me Cap. 

“Can I ask you a question, Cap?” You ask as downtown comes into view.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you drive all of Joel’s, umm, do you drive lots of women around for Joel?”

He chuckles knowingly from the driver's seat, glancing into the rearview mirror at you. “No ma’am. Joel is a pretty secretive man. I have driven him places when he’s alone, or I drive Tommy’s subs, but never Joels.”

You nod and look out the window. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you.

Cap rushes to open the door when he pulls up to JMKink. The club is in a different building than Joel’s office; that was in the tall building across the street. Three bright and expansive floors of that red stone faced building belonged to JM Inc. Assumingly, the home base for all the businesses he has his hands in. This building, however, is smaller amongst the tall skyscrapers of the Austin skyline. The entire building is coated in a shiny black chrome, from the steel framing to the windows, except for the golden JMK logo on the front door. You take a calming breath before heading up the steps, the blacked out glass door slides open automatically.

Your dark high heeled boots click on the black and honey flecked marble, the floor reminding you of Joel’s eyes. You wish the marble would suck you into it so you could live in that feeling you get when Joel looks at you. Where it might be seen as cold and intimidating to others, to you it feels warm and inviting, almost familiar, and that little box of feelings in the back of your mind stirs a little bit. 

He told you to dress comfortably tonight, and you felt most at ease in a deep green sweater dress and knee high heeled boots. The dress just barely skims your thighs, making your legs look long and toned. You could use a tan, but it’s only March, everyone in Texas could use a tan at this point. You left your hair down in loose curls and kept your makeup minimal, as always. 

There are three people in the small foyer. Two stunning women stand behind the hostesses desk in matching black dresses and collars. To the right of them stands a man who looks like he could kill you with his pinkie. He’s also dressed in all black, and stands in front of a large door. Everything here seems like it’s meant to intimidate but all you can see and feel is the safety that comes with knowing Joel Miller. 

One of the women looks up at you, smiling comfortingly and asks for your name. Before you can respond, Joel's honey lined voice answers her. The sound of your name on his tongue feels like taking a breath of fresh winter air. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your own breath leaping in your throat as you spin slowly to meet his gaze. There’s no other way to around it, Joel Miller is fucking exquisite. His slightly outgrown curls are pushed back, silver reflecting off his temples and throughout his beard. Tonight he’s wearing a deep midnight blue Tom Ford suit with one jacket button done up, underneath he’s wearing a crisp white t-shirt, paired with brown dress shoes and what you assume will be a matching belt. One of his hands is tucked in the pocket of pants that literally look like they weren’t made for him, the other hangs loose at his side and you catch that gold ring again.  

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he speaks to everyone in the lobby, “You’re all to remember her name. She is my guest, my only guest, and as far as you’re all concerned she’s the most important person in this club. Understand?”

The little box of feelings lifts its lid a little. No, you say to the box, banishing it back to its dark corner.

A jumbled mess of ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ fills the lobby but the only thing that’s clear to you is Joel as he wanders over, placing his hand on the small of your back, and leading you towards the large black door that the lethal looking man is guarding. As he pulls you into his side his voice quiets, his words a low growl meant only for you. “Hi, sweetheart.” When he sponges a soft kiss to your temple you press your lips together to stop the giggle that’s trying to burst out of you. Joel Miller makes you giddy in a way that you haven’t felt since you were much younger and saw a One Direction music video for the first time. 

This afternoon, you had your easily predicted moment of panic. As with every decision you’ve ever made, you started to think that this wasn’t the right one. Maybe Tommy was the safer choice. Maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew, or girlbossed too close to the proverbial sun. Or in kink terms, flirted too closely with the St Andews Cross. But now, being here tucked tightly against Joel's side as he guides you into your first experience with the world of kink you couldn’t feel any more sure of your decision. 

You hold your breath as the shiny black marble door opens, this feels like one of those big climatic moments you see in the movies, like you know the main character's life is about to change, and a nervous excitement buzzes through your veins. As the club comes into view it’s nothing like you thought. For starters, there aren’t cages or naked people around, and at first glance it looks just like a lounge in a high end hotel or restaurant. JMKink is beautiful, breathtaking.

 Light pine flooring is set in a herringbone pattern across the entire club. Directly in front of you are a few tall tables and then, situated in the middle of the space, is a large black marble bar. The bartender is surrounded by a halo of soft chiffon light that casts down from a brushed gold chandelier. The tables and bar top have tealight candles on them, making the entire thing feel sensual and soft. It’s just dimly lit enough that you can’t see beyond the bar from here. Joel guides you gently to the right. The booths that line the wall are only illuminated by the flickering candle on the table. Three of the booths are roped off, guarded by a tank of a man in a black suit. As Joel leads you towards them, you notice each of those tables have a gold plated reserved sign along with a name; Joel, Tommy and Tess. 

Confusion swirls in your brain at the romantic feeling the club gives off. Part of you expected to walk into a sex dungeon or that red room that Christian took Anastasia to, but you definitely weren’t expecting this. If this place was just a bit brighter you could imagine studying here on weekends. 

This isn’t a sex club, there’s no way.

As you slide into the furthest booth you’re able to see a small stage on the back wall and empty dance floor looking area on the other side of the bar. You can feel Joel’s warm gaze on you as you look around with wide eyes. Right when you’re almost convinced that you interpreted the information you found on Reddit wrong, your eyes land on the far left side of the room.

No, now that you see if from this angle, you are indeed in a kink club; a well stocked kink club based on the entire sex shop in the corner. You feel your cheeks flush and you dart your eyes towards Joel, pushing at your cuticle under the table, smiling shyly at him.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is syrupy and warm as two drinks land on the table. Whiskey neat for him and some sort of pink martini for you.

“Nothing..I just, it’s not what I expected,” you swallow the sand that’s found its way into your throat at seeing all those sex toys just out on display in the corner and flick your eyes towards your drink.

“That's a cosmopolitan. I can get you something else if you want, sweetheart. The female staff here seems to love them.”

“No, I should have said thank you. I’m sorry.” His hand comes to meet yours as it’s picking furiously at the non-existent skin of your nail bed. He wraps his hand tightly around yours, and brings them to rest on the top of the table together.

“Take a breath, sweet girl. You’re ok.” His words wrap around you tightly, calming you. You’re ok. Your heart rate slows and you relax into the plush velvet lined booth a little bit, smiling sheepishly up at Joel. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your free hand grabs the martini glass and you bring it to your nose, it smells like cranberry and lime.

As you take a small sip Joel says, “You really don’t have to drink it, baby girl. I can get you whatever.”

The vodka burns away any sand that remains in your throat. It’s tart, and dangerously delicious. You can see yourself getting very fucked up these with your girlfriends one day soon. “No, I like it. Thank you.”

After putting the glass safely on the table, Joel lets go of your hand, wraps his arm around your waist and slides you across the seat, pressing you to his side. “Is this ok?”

JOEL

His cock twitches at the little hum you make in agreement. You lift your leg closest to him and rest it over his under the table. He squeezes your side gently, sinking into the comfort of you and grabs his whiskey. “So if this isn’t what you thought, what were you expecting?”

He loves the way you blush a little before answering him. “People just, you know, it’s a sex club, so just having sex here.”

He lowers his head to yours and whispers just for you, “There are people having sex here, sweet girl.”

He laughs to himself as your eyes narrow and you look around at the other people in the bar. “Not out here, just because you’re in a sex club doesn’t mean you have to consent to seeing or hearing people fuck. Or to be having sex yourself, really.” He loves the way you look at him with surprise at his boldness. He cocks his head towards a guarded door between the stage and booths along the wall, “But behind that door - well, people are indulging as we speak.”

He watches the small shiver of your spine, pulling back to take a sip of his whiskey, allowing you time to look around and become comfortable in your surroundings. He watches your perfect lips part, finding himself jealous of the rim of the glass as you take another sip. Great, first spoons and now glasses. As he watches your neck work to liquid down he says, “So did you leave that little pussy alone like I asked?”

Your head whips to face him, he can’t quite place your facial expression. It’s a twisted  mix of fear, shyness and embarrassment, like you’re worried that someone may have heard him say pussy; but if you only knew the kinds of things happening in this club right now.

“What?” you ask shakily.

“Did you come? Or did you listen?”

“Umm…I,” he can tell that you’re flustered, and he finds you nearly irresistible like this.

“Are you nervous, sweet girl?”

He’s not sure if you realize it, but when you’re tense and he calls you by that nickname you relax a little. Your shoulders lower, the little crease in between your eyebrows softens. “No,” you say, and he’s not convinced.

Joel deepens his voice, a voice he only intends to use when you’re at the club together. Or when she’s in my bedroom. He pushes any thoughts of you outside of the confines of this space away, “Lesson number one, don’t lie to your Dom. We have to be able to trust each other.”

You look up at him through your lashes and it damn near kills him. You’re so beautiful, absolutely glowing against all the black in the room. The soft golden light bounces off of every little perfect piece of you; from the deep cupid's bow above your top lip, to the caramel highlights in your hair. He can tell by the long breath you suck in that you’re about to do that adorable thing where you ramble. “I’m nervous, but it’s an excited kind of nervous. And no, I didn’t…that thing.” 

He can’t fight the smile at your shyness, “Lesson number two, If you can’t say it then you shouldn’t be here. What thing, sweet girl?”

You close your eyes and say, “Come,” and then open your eyes to look at him again. 

So shy. So cute. I’m fucked, so very fucked, he thinks. He takes another pull of his whiskey if only to keep his hands and lips busy and to himself. He usually enjoys the burn but with you beside him it tastes sweeter.

As you bring your martini glass to your lips he commands, “One more time, this time look at me when you say it.”

Over your glass, sparkling eyes locked on him you mumble, “I didn’t come, Joel.”

“That reminds me. Lesson number three, as soon as we cross the threshold into my private room, you will refer to me as Mister Miller only. Out here, and anywhere else, I can be Joel, but in there,” he tilts his head towards a door on the other side of the stage, this one isn’t guarded, instead there’s a security pad that you need to have a microchip to unlock, “In there, I’m Mister Miller. Understand?”

He watches your throat again as you swallow, the palm of his hand tingles at the thought of wrapping his hand around it again. One of your eyebrows raises just a touch and he knows that cheeky little line of your lips. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

Your voice is husky as you say it and this time it’s him who has to fight the goosebumps rising on his skin and the icy shiver trailing down his spine. So perfect. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You don’t make eye contact with him when you say it, like you fear he might say no and he has a feeling that whoever made you feel that you needed to make plans A through Z also told you are a burden for asking questions. Joel isn’t a violent man, but would happily ring whoever’s neck did this to you.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

You turn to face him, taking a sip of your martini before you say, “Why did you send me into your basement that day?”

Joel clears his throat, weighing how transparent he wants to be in his answer, but there’s no hiding it after what he said to you in his office last week. “I’m not always going to be nice to you here, sweet girl. I’m going to push you, I might even hurt you. Yes, it’s all consensual, but I didn’t want you thinkin’ I’m some sort of monster.”

He watches as you take a long pull of the pink liquid from your glass. You set it back on the table, the earlier tremble of your hand gone as you reply, “Thank you for being honest with me. I don’t think I could ever see you as a monster, Mister Miller. I need this.”

The devious smile you give him has his cock come to life. He doesn’t fuck his subs, but he would take you right here in this booth if he could. “Would you like a tour of the club?”

Your eyes light up, “Can I bring my drink?”

“Anywhere out here, yes. But not behind those two doors.” He takes the last drink from his whiskey and then watches as you take two big gulps to finish your Cosmopolitan. Your nose crinkles at what he assumes is the burn of the vodka.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Joel says quietly, and hopefully just to himself, as he slides out of the booth.

No, you say to the little box of feelings when you overhear his whispered words, don’t start with me right now.

You follow him as he heads towards the store in the corner. Even with the condoms, dildos, plugs, gags, whips, lube and all sorts of other things on display it’s somehow still classy and beautiful. Lots of these things you’ve never seen before, or had any desire to play with, but you’re pretty sure you’d try almost anything with Joel. 

He nods at the man working the store counter and then walks you around the main area, his voice thick with passion as he speaks. “Usually on Friday and Saturday nights there's more of a nightclub feel, couples who like to swap partners can mingle with the room. This is a safe space, monogamous couples aren’t offended by the attention and everyone stays very respectful of others wishes and limits. There’s a drink limit of course, keeping things safe and consensual is my utmost priority.”  

You walk slowly, crossing the middle of the currently unoccupied dance floor, “That stage is often used for workshops or shows. This is a place to learn just as much as it’s a place to enjoy sex and kink. We have a new workshop coming up next week actually.”

The two of you stop beside the guarded door - the door Joel said people were indulging behind. You can’t help but be curious about what's happening back there, but you’re also desperately horny and unsure how you might react to whatever is unfolding in the dark. The man standing in front of the door is also dressed in a black suit, this seems to be the uniform of those who work at JM Kink, he says a cordial, “Good Evening, Joel.” Then nods at you and adds, “Miss.”

You jump as Joel’s hand connects with yours, his strong fingers linking with your slender ones. He spins you to face him. His freehand cups your chin, the band of his ring cold against your pink flushed skin. He tilts your face up to meet his, seriousness etched across his face. “My sweet girl, behind that door can be a bit intense at first. You’re an adult, but you shouldn’t have to see anything you don’t want to see. So you’re in charge in there. If you want to leave, we leave. If you want to cover your eyes, do it and I’ll lead you away. On the contrary, if you see something you like and want to get closer, then get closer. If you have questions, just ask. Ok?”

You nod, and Joel leads you through what you hope is the second life changing door of the night. The air feels different on this side of the threshold, something about it makes you feel like you’ve been plugged into a low voltage socket, you’re buzzing in an exciting and dangerous way. It’s dark enough in here that you can’t see your black boots as they click quietly against the hardwood. Joel's strong hand comes around your waist, tucking you into the side of his body protectively. After taking a deep breath, the familiar ash and leather scent of Joel intoxicating and calming your senses, you look up.

You and Joel stand intertwined at one end of a long rectangular room. Across from where you stand and down to your left and right the wall is lined with large windows. On the side of the hallway where you stand are plush chairs and couches, some of which are occupied by singles or couples as they watch what’s happening beyond the windows. 

You wonder if it gets easier, standing in a dark hall where you can watch people fucking. Joel is so calm, like a still glassy sea, meanwhile you are fighting against the tides. He stands almost statuesque, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your hip, while keeping you tucked safely into him. He has made it clear that you’re in charge here, so staying in the shadows as much as possible, you wander towards the first window. As if he’s another limb on your body, Joel follows you effortlessly. 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you approach the first window. The room has a large bed that remains untouched. A man is tied to a chair at the end of the bed with black silk ties, and you stifle a gasp at the painful looking device he has clamped around his hard cock. You can hear his whines through the ball gag, and the moans of pleasure from the woman spread eagle on the floor in front of him as she fucks herself with a large dildo.

Joel’s soft stubble brushes against your ear as he whispers, “We won’t be doing that.”

“Looks fun for me,” you giggle and he lightly pinches your hip.

The next window has the blinds drawn, little slits of light illuminating the edges is the only sign that someone is in the room. “You can choose to let people watch or not watch, as well as how much you want those in the voyeur area to hear when you rent the rooms,” Joel explains softly as you approach the next open window.

The bed in this room is occupied by three people. A curvy woman is lying down on her back, a copper skinned man with a shaved head has his face buried in her pussy while a fully tattoed beefcake of man fucks his ass. The look of pure pleasure on all their faces has your clit twitching and aching. And when Joel lowers himself to your ear the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“We also won’t be doing that,” Joel’s voice is so light and carefree. For a second you forget that any minute now he’s going to use that deep baritone voice to boss you around while you’re completely naked.

“Again, it also looks fun for me,” you joke, and a small smile crosses your lips as you feel Joel’s body shake with silent laughter beside yours. There’s about ten windows in this room from what you can see, most are closed or dark, probably since it’s a weekday. You lead the two of you down the room to the next open window. “Can they see us?”

“Not unless you get close to the glass,” he instructs. You stop in your tracks at the next window. Despite your teasing with Joel the last two were not your thing, but this window you could easily watch for a while. A man and a woman lay on the large red silk sheeted bed while hundreds of battery operated candles flicker around them. He’s on top of her, one of her legs slung over his shoulder, the other around his waist. As you step closer you can see a sparkly, thin layer of sweat coating both their bodies as they slowly grind together, kissing passionately. You take another step closer, if they want to be seen then it shouldn’t matter if they see you. Once you’re close enough you can hear the gentle moans she’s making as he thrusts slowly in and out of her. 

“Well,” you say softly, leaning into Joel’s side and looking up into his warm chocolate eyes, “That doesn’t look so bad.”

He cranes his neck and places a lingering kiss on your forehead and as your eyelids flutter closed you can no longer deny just how turned on you are. He pulls back to look at you, smiling slightly before saying, “When I first got here he had her hogtied and was paddling her.”

“Like I said,” you say while giggling softly, “That doesn’t look so bad.” 

The two of you watch them for a while as they fuck languidly. This should feel wrong, watching something so personal, but the beauty of them together like this is comforting and almost inviting. Her cries grow louder and as she starts to shake he pauses his hips, fully seated inside of her while whispering and smiling down at her, pushing her sweat soaked hair off her forehead. The love behind the glass is so palpable that you feel yourself getting choked up a little. 

Just as you’re about to ask Joel to take you to his room, you notice another window with about five people lined up along the glass. Curiosity gets the better of you and you lead Joel the few steps to see what’s going on. No longer feeling nervous or shy, you step right up to the glass. This time, Joel moves his body to be behind yours, pulling your back against his strong body. One of his arms wraps around your middle, the other sweeps your hair to one side and then rests gently on your shoulder. 

The set up of this room is similar to the others you’ve seen: a large bed to the right, a chair to the left, and a chest of drawers to the back. There’s a woman strapped face up on the bed, wrists and ankles bound to the four posts of the frame. Her perky breasts rise and fall rapidly with her breathing. At the back of the room, a broad tanned man faces away from you, looking through a drawer for something. As your eyes travel up his back from his hard, round ass cheeks he spins to face the window. You step back into Joel as Tommy Miller’s gaze flicks to the people along the window and then to the sub he’s chosen for the night. 

In your sane mind you tell yourself that you should look away. It's one thing to watch strangers but watching someone you sort of know feels like an invasion of their privacy. Plus, there’s no way Joel wants to see his brother like this. As if he can read your mind, Joel's lips brush against your neck, “I’m right here, sweet girl. Tommy likes an audience, he’s an exhibitionist, and lots of members come just to watch him.” 

You glance up at Joel and he smiles softly. Your voice is just above a whisper, “Can we watch for a bit?” 

“You’re in charge, sweetheart.” He patiently reminds you as you nod and look back towards the room.

The horny demon that seems to have taken over your body since catching Joel in his office has you dying to see more: more sex, more kink, more Tommy. Without consciously controlling it, your eyes travel down his tanned chest, to the hair around his belly button and then down to his fully erect cock. You can’t help but appreciate the beauty of his body, he looks like he’s carved out of stone, and that includes his cock. He’s decently long, but thick, a prominent vein running along one side of it. It’s slightly upturned and the head is smooth and glistening with precome. He looks so powerful and the small fire that’s been building in your stomach grows.  

You bite at your bottom lip nervously, crossing your arms to rest on top of the one Joel has wrapped around you. Tommy walks over to the bed; grasped in one of his large hands is a black vibrator, his other holds a small glass jar housing a lit candle. He climbs onto the bed, then drizzles hot wax along the woman's thighs. Her back arches off the bed and through the speakers along the glass you hear her pained moans. Tommy watches her intently, his lips moving but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Once she’s settled back on the bed, Tommy places the vibrator on her clit.

She writhes and pulls at the velvety cuffs holding her to the bed. “Sir, oh god, I’m - I’m gonna - Sir, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

When she calls him sir you see the dark flash of obsidian across his eyes, the same look when you called him that at the poker game. Through your research, you know that doms have preferred names and your cheeks flush a little at the thought of accidentally using his with him. 

Tommy pulls the vibrator away right before she falls over the edge and drizzles wax on her stomach. She cries out with more desperation this time, and then again, once she’s calm Tommy places the vibrator between her thighs. It’s suddenly hard to breathe and when you step back into Joel you feel his cock is hard against your back and a fresh wave of arousal coats the lace of your panties. 

Tommy takes the vibrator away as she starts shaking and moaning, then hot wax splashes down her sternum. You feel antsy, like little pins and needles are pricking along your entire body. You squeeze your thighs together, Joel's warm breath against your neck causes you to shudder. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums.

“N-nothing.”

“You sure? You’re squirmin’.” His hand runs slowly down your arm, your hands moving on their own so he can wrap you in his muscle lined arms. A light kiss lands just below your ear and you bite back a moan.  

The combination of not being allowed to have an orgasm, the feeling of Joel’s warm body pressed against you, and the erotic scenes you’ve witnessed tonight is almost too much. It’s also not lost on you that that could have been you in there with Tommy right now. Your clit is throbbing between your legs, and you aren’t sure if you have ever been this turned on. 

Joel smiles into your skin as you watch Tommy tease his sub with the vibrator again, “Do you like what you’re seein’?”

You nod, trying to calm your breathing. It hitches as he adds, “Would you like to try that one day?”

Wax hits one of her nipples, the beads hardening along the peak of her perky, round breast. You adjust your stance to cross your legs together, squeezing hard to ease the almost painful ache at the apex of your thighs. Her and Tommy speak softly to one another, he smiles down at her, puts the candle down and then adjusts himself between her legs, spreading the lips of her puffy pussy with two fingers and putting the vibrator right where you know it would ruin you. 

“Would you?” Joel repeats.

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say, your voice shaky, almost like it’s impossible to form words as you look up at him. He’s so beautiful in the shadowy light, his tanned skin almost seems to glow against the darkness.  

His eyes dance around your face, his voice comes out soft and sensual, quiet enough for just you to hear, “Do you want to go play now, sweet girl?”

You bite your cheek to try to fight the smile, but as Joel’s eyes flick to your lips it’s no use. A shy smile tugs at the corners of your soft pink lips. “Are you going to let me come?”

He looks at you the same way he did when you drank the water and ate that toast. Pride. He’s proud of you for asking for what you want, and you can almost feel your insecurity and fear around asking for things starting to shrink. 

The softness in his voice morphs into a growl, “If you’re a good girl.”

You spin your body towards him, determination lacing your face. “I can be your good girl, Mister Miller.”

Joel’s strong fingers link with yours and a quiet giggle passes your lips as he hauls you towards a door in the shadows close to where you two entered. Truthfully, if it wasn't for the little red light on the security pad, you wouldn’t have even known there was a door there. He waves his ring past the device and after a quiet beep sounds the light flashes green and the door clicks open. He pulls you through and as soon as Joel hears the final click of the door closing he hauls you over his shoulder. Your squeal at your world literally turning upside down with his brute strength melts into an aroused moan as his strong hands grasp the back of your bare thighs.

When Joel stops walking, you tear your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted ass, like these pants must be stuffed, there’s no way this man has a better ass than me. You glance up to see two other doors; assumingly belonging to Tommy and Tess. A familiar beep sounds in the quiet hall and your throat goes dry as he steps into his room. He takes a few long strides before sliding you down his muscle lined chest and placing you at the foot of the bed. He stays close, your breasts just barely grazing his warm body. Your gazes are locked, and even though you’ve grown comfortable with his intense need for eye contact your breathing still goes shaky and uneven. 

Oh fuck, this is it. 

His hand cradles your cheek, “You read and signed off on everything in the app, but I want to reiterate a few things, baby girl.”

You swallow hard, his finger now tracing down your throat and you swear you can feel every whorl of his fingertips as they trail along your soft skin. 

“From now on, you belong to me and I belong to you. No one else. You are not allowed to come unless I say.” 

His hand continues its road trip of your body, settling to wrap around the nape of your neck. “Y-Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“I have a no sex rule. I’ll give you orgasms, I’ll fuck you with my fingers and toys, even my tongue, but not my cock. I need you to understand that my rule is nothing against you, sweetheart. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Miller,” you coo. The nervous excitement from early has returned, every bit of skin that he’s touching is almost humming, butterflies with sharp wings scrape at your stomach. You bring your hands to the lapels of his expensive blue suit, fisting the soft fabric.  

“Fuuck,” he moans, “That sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth, sweet girl.” 

You smile up at him. He squeezes the back of your neck gently, his other hand cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The rough pad of his thumb caresses your chin. “Nothin’ tonight that will require a safeword-”

“Stegosaurus,” you say eagerly, cutting him off. It’s silly really, but that little dinosaur on top of his coffee machine is what first intrigued you about the anonymous millionaire whose home had been assigned to you to clean. It also has some sort of meaning to him, so it seemed only natural for that to be your safeword. 

He smiles, laughing gently, “Not tonight, baby. If you want to stop tonight, just say so and I’ll stop. Ok?” 

Your pussy flutters at the unexpected moments to come, but a gnawing anxiety starts to claw at your chest. You’re not sure what causes the shift, but suddenly you go from excited nervous to just plain nervous. Am I ready to give up control? What if he sees me naked and doesn’t like it. He said it was only me, what if he regrets that decision? 

Your chest tightens, the knife-winged butterflies multiplying and traveling up your throat. Joel must sense a shift in you, he steps closer to you and softens his eyes as they dance around your face, a silent sign that he’s patiently waiting for you. If you said you wanted to go home you know he would kiss you softly and call your new friend Cap, but you don’t want that. You want this, you want whatever is about to happen; you just need to let go.

Vulnerability is thick in your voice as you break one of his rules and murmur, “J-Joel?” 

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice waivers, making you feel a little bit better. 

“I’m nervous.” 

He lowers his head towards yours, running the tip of his hooked nose down the slender bridge of yours. You close your eyes and take him all in. He’s warm and hard, yet somehow so soft. His familiar ash and leather scent is mixed with the expensive whiskey he drank earlier. 

“So am I, sweet girl,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you softly. You melt into him, his hands moving to cup your face. His soft lips sponge against yours and everything quiets. You’re not sure how he does it, but kissing him feels like dunking your head under water, everything silences, all the nervousness dissipates. It’s just the two of you, floating in tandem in an endless void. 

He’s nervous too? Because of me? I make this strong, successful, brooding man nervous? Your inner voice of anxiety starts to settle. I’m safe here.

The comfort of your thoughts is enough to have you pulling yourself into Joel more. You increase the intensity of your kiss, turning your head and parting your lips slightly. He follows suit, running his soft tongue along yours. The air in the room has morphed, it’s saturated with passion and arousal. With just one kiss he’s managed to erase all your fears and worries, your mind is silent and ready for whatever instructions he’s going to give you. When he pulls away your both panting for breath.

He turns his back to you, sliding his dark blue suit jacket down, the white t-shirt underneath clinging with perfection to the muscle and sinew that pack on top of each other along his back. He drapes his jacket over a padded bench about five feet away from you; you know from your extensive research that that’s a spanking bench. He spins to face you, slipping his gold and black ring off his hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he drops it in a dish on top of a low chest of drawers on his left. You can’t describe it, but the sound of the gold clashing with the ceramic dish puts you in a trance. Like a ritualistic symbol that you are his now.

His hands slip into his pockets, his voice taking on its deep dominant tone, “We are going to start now. You can stay fully clothed or you can get as undressed as you feel comfortable being. I’m serious here, sweet girl. Leave on as little or as much as you want. When you’re done, lay face up on the bed.”

Without thinking your hands fly back to the zipper on your boots, you unzip them and toe them off. You don’t break eye contact as you grab the hem of your sweater dress and pull it up and over your body. As your vision is temporarily blocked by the knitted fabric you can feel his eyes on your bare skin. You’re left in just a matching nude bra and panty set. He’s already seen your tits so you don’t hesitate to unclasp your bra and let it fall away from your body. 

Joel swallows hard and licks his lips. “Beautiful,” he mumbles appreciatively and it coats your skin in warmth. 

You hesitate for a moment with your thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties. You know they’re soaked through, and you’re sure he can see that from where he’s standing. He’s so fucking good at reading you, so you’re not surprised when he says, “Only take off what you feel comfortable with, my sweet girl.” 

“I do…I am…I w-want to…I just,” you fiddle with the band a bit. 

“You can say it.” He nods encouragingly.

“I like having them taken off me. I - I want to see your face up close when you…when you see it for the first time.” 

Joel smirks, popping his hip out to lean on the spanking bench. “See what the first time?” 

“Don’t make me say it, Mister Miller.” 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Mmm, but I love hearing that pretty little mouth say dirty words.” You stay silent, chewing your cheek as he continues. “Come on…say it. Say, I want to see your face up close when you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.”

You feel your cheeks flush. Earlier tonight he asked you to look at him when you say it, so you roll your shoulders back and hold your head high. As confidently as possible you say, “I want to see your face up close when..” you take a shaky inhale, “When you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.” 

Before the last syllable has left your lips he’s across the room, lifting you off the ground by the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around him and gasp at the sudden pressure right where you’re aching for him. 

“I have memorized every answer from your preferences,” he growls into your collar bone, walking you around the bed. “I have strategically planned what I’m going to teach you and then you say stuff like that and fuck. I have to fight every sick and twisted thought I have, sweet girl.” He climbs onto the bed, laying you down just how he wants you, “You have no idea what you do to me. How out of control you make me feel.” 

Joel shuffles his body down, kissing down your sternum before cupping your tits. Pushing them together and sucking one of your nipples into his hot mouth. This is exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about since that moment in his office. His tongue is warm and soft as it flicks across your hardening nipple. He lightly rolls the other one between his fingers.  

“Please - oh god - please Mister Miller.” You moan needily. You try to arch into him, but his large body holds you down. 

He grazes his teeth along your nipple then looks up at you, “I’m gonna take care of you. Just relax.” 

You can’t take your eyes off him as he dives back in. Sucking and biting at your other nipple. You plant your feet on the mattress, hands tangling into his hair, as you try to grind your aching clit into his warm, hard stomach. 

“Stay still sweetheart,” He says between suckles. 

“I c-can’t. Please.”

He pinches both nipples hard, harder than you’re used to, and you whimper, freezing your hips. His voice is as deep as the obsidian in his gaze, “Stay still. I’m going to make you come. I promise. You need to trust me, relax.” 

The pressure on your nipples eases and you pout before letting yourself melt back into the mattress. He smirks, a dimple carving itself in the patchy scruff of his cheek. “That’s my girl. You like your nipples being played with?” 

The pad of his thumb ghosts over the tops of them, you shiver and moan, “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Then you’re going to enjoy what I have planned tonight.” He kisses your forehead and then climbs off the bed. You rise on your elbows, watching him as he pads across the room to a chest of drawers. He toes off his brown dress shoes and removes his belt before digging through a drawer. The actions were so simple, yet the domesticity of them has you fighting with your little box of feelings again.

No, you tell it silently as it inches out of the darkness. I am his sub and nothing more. The box seems to have grown a very annoying and persistent personality and it almost says, ‘but he’s nervous too’ back at you. 

He turns back to face you, snapping you out of your fight with the imaginary box in your brain. The same vibrator Tommy had is clasped in one hand, his other is palm up, cupping something that he’s shaking much like a gambler does with dice. 

“My sweet girl, you put a five for nipple clamps. Remind me, have you ever used them before?”

“No, Mister Miller.” 

He wanders lazily back over to the bed, and if he was anyone else you’d tell him to hurry up, but you never want to rush a single moment with Joel Miller. On top of that, you need to let him take control; he said he was going to make you come if you just relax and trust him, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. He places the vibrator on the small table beside the bed and then sits beside you, holding out his free hand to help you sit up. 

He holds the clamps out to you and explains softly, “These are beginner clamps. See this little dial? I can control how tight they are.”

You watch his thick fingers along the dainty metal of the clamps, he’s so soft yet could have you crying with the snap of his fingers if he wanted. A fresh wave of arousal floods between your thighs completely ruining the panties he still hasn’t taken off your body. You nod and whisper, “Ok.”

“You control what happens here tonight. If you tell me that it hurts too much or to stop, I will.”

It’s time to show Joel just how good of a girl you can be, you look at him through your eyelash and sweetly coo, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, “Fuck. Lay down..now.” 

You lay back, hair fanning around you. Joel stays seated on the edge of the bed beside you and lightly places the first clamp on your right nipple. It’s a light pinching pressure and it feels so good that your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the bed. He puts the next clamp on and you whimper. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, his strong hands gripping your hips, pushing you into the mattress and grounding you in the warm pleasure that floods your stiff nipples.  

“S-so good Mister Miller,” you groan. You’re almost convinced this is another dream, he’s doing almost exactly what you have imagined countless times. You open your eyes to watch him, determined to visually take in every single thing he gives you. 

“Good, baby. I want you to feel good. I’m gonna tighten them now, jus’ a little.” He twists the little knob. You start breathing heavily, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You bring your hands to his strong, warm forearms as you suck in air.

“Too much?”

Your chest heaves at the delicious feeling flooding your tits. “No, no. More. P-Please, more. More.”

“Good girl,” he hums deeply, the words settling right behind your clit as he tightens the tiny clamps more. The warmth around your nipples spreads to your arms and down your sides. When you cry out he asks, “Pain or pleasure, sweet girl?”

At this point you aren’t sure, it definitely hurts, but it also feels good, and his deep brown eyes are looking at you the same way they always do, full of concern and care, almost like he’s assessing you. 

“Both. Both, oh fuck. More, Mister Miller.” He kisses the left one gently and you arch into him, “More, more, please.”

“That’s as tight as they go, are you sure you want more?”

You keep your eyes on him, nodding fervently, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He pops them off and you gasp out in pain, heat rushes to both your nipples and it burns in white hot passion. Joel blows cool air along both of them and you can’t seem to stop your mumbling begging, “More. I need more. Please!”

“I know, baby. I got you.” He opens the drawer on the bedside table and takes out two gold plated clamps. You look down, your nipples already look sore, tinged slightly purple. “I’m so fucking proud of you already. Askin’ so nicely like the good girl I know you are. Goddamn, look at these stiff, perky, perfect little nipples. I love seeing you like this, seeing them like this. Are you wet for me? Are those flimsy lace panties soaked through?”

He places one of the new clamps and you cry out a ‘yes’. 

“Ya? Just dripping and desperate for me?” He puts the other clamp on as you chant a chorus of yes’s and oh god’s. 

Joel

Joel knew that tonight would either make or break him. As his name spills sweetly from your perfect pouty lips he feels it, the same tug behind his belly button that he felt with Tiffany, that his grandpa said was how he’d know when he found something special; something to hold onto. 

“Please, Mister Miller,” you murmur. He doesn’t know what it is you’re asking for, and he’s sure you don’t know either. What is it about you saying those three little words that gets him so rattled? Countless subs have called him that in the past and it never made his cock swell this painfully behind his zipper.

He taps at your nipples lightly and watches your body shudder and arch off the bed. You aren’t even fully naked and he’s fighting the urge to come right there in his pants. He loves the way your body reacts, he can already tell you’re going to look stunning as you come. 

“That feel good?” He asks, his voice deep and husky. 

“Yes. Oh god, yes!” You haven’t taken your eyes off him and he loves how your eyelids have become hooded from the pleasure while your brows furrow with the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Your cheeks are flushed pink making the colour of your eyes pop.

“Yes,” just as he’s convincing himself to remove the clamps you moan, “Please don’t stop.” 

Joel grabs the vibrator from the bedside table before sliding his body down the bed. He starts kissing at your hip bone before wrapping his teeth around the slender band of your panties. Your eyes dart down to him, this is what you asked for; to his face the first time he sees your cunt. He pulls your panties with his teeth, smiling against your soft upper thigh when you instinctively lift your hips to help him. As he shimmies down the bed his eyes stay on your face.

He gets to the end of the bed, standing with your soaked through thong still between his teeth. He relaxes his jaw, dropping the panties in his hand and bringing them to his face. “God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl. You smell so fuckin’ sweet. Imma crave that smell when you aren’t around.” He tucks your panties into the pocket of his four thousand dollar, custom made Tom Ford suit. As far as he’s concerned, that drenched thong is the most expensive and important thing he now owns. 

He trails his eyes down your sternum, your legs are straight out in front of you, not parted, but he can see your puffy pink clit pushing through the soft looking outer lips. He feels himself switching into full dom mode. The room around him fades away, everything outside of you and this room doesn’t matter anymore.

“Show me,” he growls. “Spread those gorgeous legs and show me that perfect little cunt.”

He crawls up the bed, following the path you make as you bend both knees up. He feels like a starved dog who’s about to get a meal. Your feet stop, and as he hovers above you, gaze wholly fixated on your core, you relax your legs and your knees butterfly open. God he loves how eager you are, how good of a listener you can be. He licks his lips as your outer thighs finally meet the soft sheets, baring yourself for him completely. He stops breathing as your lips part, sticky with arousal. Your pussy is swollen and glistening, your needy clit puffy and pink. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as he lowers himself to the be, his face between your legs. Once he’s close enough he can see the tight little hole he’s vowed not to fuck. “Shit, sweetheart. This is goin’ to be so much harder than I thought.”

Your cries wash over him; he’s experienced enough to know that it’s from your nipples hardening under the clamps at his words. He smirks up at you, “How are you so wet already?”

“You, Mister Miller.”

“That right? Me playin’ with those nipples get you all turned on?”

“Uh-huh, and you said I couldn’t touch myself. I’ve been like this for days.” Your bottom lip pokes out and it absolutely ruins him, but he pushes down the overwhelming need to fix it and give you exactly what you need. No, you want to experience being a submissive, and that’s what he’s going to do. 

“Poor baby,” he mocks, tsking at you. He kisses right above your clit and you gasp. He’s close enough to know the heat of his breath is going to have you squirming and he can’t wait to watch how beautiful you’ll look doing it. “So wet. Smells so good. Fuck, She’s right in front of me but I already miss her. You look so soft and tight. Goddamn, you’re gonna have me breakin’ all my rules, sweet girl.”

“Please touch me. Please.”

“Mmmm, such a good girl for asking so nicely. I can’t say no when you beg like that, baby, makes me weak.” He kisses the crook of your inner thigh, he knows how much he’s teasing you right now, he watches you get wetter by the second, the beautiful folds of your pussy opening like a flower in the sun for him and flushing a deeper pink and the blood courses to your most sensitive parts.  

“I need you Mister Miller,” your voice waivers as you say his name, and you blink a little harder, he knows you’re fighting back the tears and it makes his cock throb harder, the teeth of his zipper practically digging into him.

After what feels like hours, he finally brings a thick finger to tease at your entrance. You buck into him, desperate for the friction.  

“Don’t make me tie you up. Stay still for me, please.” Even with the please at the end, it’s a command - deep and serious, and you don’t dare test him. Your nipples stiffen every time he speaks, and they ache under the clamps, it’s the perfect twinge of pain to heighten the bits of pleasure he’s giving you. 

You press your lips in a tight line, hands grounding you as they ball the sheets, focusing on keeping still. You want to shamelessly fuck yourself with his fingers; meanwhile, he’s being slow and calculated. Joel torturously draws slow little circles along the waiting hole with just the tip of his finger. He watches as your sticky white arousal coats his fingertip, then groans as he slowly pushes his middle finger all the way inside of you. You gasp at the welcome stretch and fight like hell to stay still.

“Look at you, fuck. So warm and inviting.” He slips his finger out slowly and lets out an exasperated sigh. Your heart falls into your stomach.

“Mister Miller, no. Please, it felt so good,” you practically cry at the loss at the feeling of him finally inside of you, finally giving you a taste of what you need the most.

“I know,” he shushes, “But that’s not what I have planned, not yet at least. My sweet girl, I need ya to be loud for me. I’ve been wanting this for so long. Need to hear you. Understand?”

The distinct sound of the vibrator you forgot he had comes to life and you squirm with anticipation. “Yes, Mister Miller. I will, just please, please make me feel good.” 

He reaches up, the black vibrator makes contact with your nipple and an intense pain shoots to your core before it blooms into pleasure. One of your hands leaves the sheets, fingernails digging into the forearms of the hand he has holding the vibrator and you sob out. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groans before moving the vibrator to the other nipple, circling it around this time instead of holding it flush. “Jus’ tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Don’t, please don’t. Oh god, yes.” You know you’re screaming, you doubt anyone can hear you, but at this point you don’t care if they can. The pleasure becomes overwhelming, you slam your eyes shut and arch your back. Joel’s strong chest is warm in between your thighs, he’s so broad that he’s keeping you spread open. You grind into the soft white cotton of his t-shirt.

“Look at me. Focus, sweet girl,” you peel your eyes open to meet his gaze. Warm coffee and hazel eyes stare down at you. “Stay still, please.”

“I can’t - aah!” He presses hard on your sore nipple and it brings you back into your own body. You manage to still your hips and release your grip, leaving behind little crescent shaped indents in his muscle lined forearm.

“Good girl,” he praises and then pulls the vibrator away from your breasts. His free hand comes to your mound, he swallows hard before breaking eye contact, pulling his hand back and looking at your puffy, and completely exposed bundle of nerves. A devious uptick of the right side of the mouth sets your blood on fire before he taps lightly at your clit once with the soft head of vibrator.

You cry out in pleasure. 

He taps again and you gasp out loudly.

He taps a third time and you’re almost certain that this is how you’re going to die. No man has ever teased you like this. You’re desperate to come, your body breaking out in sweat, but you never want Joel to stop. Moans and whines are pouring out of you without you even realizing it, he looks so fucking beautiful between your thighs, staring at your pussy like it’s the sunrise over the ocean, like he’s never seen anything as beautiful or fascinating and it makes your feel unstoppable. You make him look like that. Him. A man who could have anyone in the world, but here he is, looking at you like you’re his whole world.

“Let me hear you, show me how you can be a good girl,” he clicks the vibrator up and holds it tightly to your clit. The sensation is almost too much and your nipples ache under the little gold clamps.

Your body starts to shake involuntarily and your moans become longer and huskier, you’re going to come any second now. You squeeze your eyes shut and Joel pulls the vibrator away.

“No,” you gasp. “More. Please, I need more. Please.” The fear of him leaving you like this has the back of your eyes burning. Was there a time limit you weren’t aware of with the room? No, this is his private room. Right? Didn’t he say that he has a private room? And it shouldn’t matter if the club is open or closed, he’s the owner.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You blink your eyes open, trying to focus on his face, but you’re so turned on that the edges of him seem fuzzy. “That feel good? The vibrator teasing your desperately swollen clit?”

You nod your head, “Yes, again. Please, Mister Miller.”

“Tell me what you want?”

Historically, situations like this have riddled you with insecurity. You’ve never been a talker in the bedroom and as a textbook people pleaser you never, like NEVER, ask for what you want. Yes, being here fully naked with a fully clothed Joel makes you feel safer and more understood than you have ever been. You know that if you ask for anything in this room and beyond, he’d do it. 

The words leave your mouth without you even thinking about it, without second guessing or carefully planning what it is you’re going to say. “Please make me come. I’ll be so loud for you. I’ll scream and moan until I have no voice. I’ve been such a good girl and I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please make me come.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and his voice washes over you like honey, “Good fuckin’ girl. Eyes on me and hold on.”

It happens in an instant, the vibrator flicks to the highest setting as he adjusts his body to hold you firmly against the mattress with this forearm, your hands grab onto his shoulders as he presses the soft, thick head of the sex toy right onto your clit. 

You scream and squeeze at the strong muscles of his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your system, you tense under his touch. The build of your orgasm somehow too much and not enough all at once.

“Oh god. Oh god. Yes, I’m - Mist - fuuuck.”

“I know, I’m right here.” He says darkly.

“Gonna come,” you sputter between your cries of ecstasy. You can feel that familiar tightness building.

“Relax and let go for me. Come for me, sweet girl. Let me see this beautiful little cunt twitch.”

His words send you over the edge and your orgasm rocks through you violently. You convulse with so much force that Joel grunts as he holds you down. You’re nothing but what Joel is giving you, not a single thought or insecurity, not a single worry about studying or school, you’re just what Joel has made you and it feels fucking fantastic. His dark onyx eyes swallow you whole. 

The pleasure of your orgasm, mixed with the pain in your nipples is so much more than you’ve ever known, and Joel’s deep gravel filled voice praises you the whole time.

‘There’s my girl.’

‘Sooo good for me.’

‘Fuck, that’s it my sweet girl.’ 

‘Beautiful when you scream for me.’

It starts to become too much. Your throat is hoarse from screaming. As your nails start to dig deep into his shoulders Joel slows the vibrator down and holds it lightly to your twitching clit as the aftershocks course through you. He releases your body from his and kisses your hip bone before shutting the vibrator off completely. 

He’s stills between your thighs, your hands resting on his shoulders. Joel smiles up at you sweetly and you pull at his t shirt to encourage him to crawl on top of you. He doesn’t hesitate, bringing his stong body on top of yours, resting his forearms on each side of your head. 

“Do I have your consent to kiss you?” He whispers.

“Yes,” you coo. His mouth meets yours similar to how it did when you both confessed to being nervous. It’s soft and lingering as you take shaky, calming breaths through your nose. That annoying little box of feelings shivers in the corner of your mind and you mentally put a piece of packing tape over the lid. 

You end this kiss this time, pushing your head into the pillow. “I’m gonna grab some cooling spray and take those clamps off now, is that okay?”

You nod and hum in agreement. Your eyelids and muscles feel heavy and sated. Joel's warm body parts from yours and a chill runs up your spine. When he releases the first clamp you whimper, the burning ache goes away as soon as he sprays it with a cooling coconut scented mist. When he removes the second one, your pussy clenches around nothing, a small but powerful orgasm waves through you as the cool droplets of the aftercare spray land on your pebbled breast.

“Did you just come?” Joel questions proudly.

Your hands cover your face as you blush harder than you have in years, “Yeah.”

Joel’s warmth encompasses you again as he climbs back on top of you, he gently pulls your hands away by your wrists. “Fuck, baby. I think I’m addicted to you.” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Such a good girl.”

You shiver underneath him and he rolls the two of you so he can wrap the blanket around you, your head rests on his chest, your body half on him and half on the soft bed. He holds you tightly, his meaty hands rubbing any place they can over the fluffy down filled cocoon he’s got you in. 

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, your breaths in sync with one another. Your eyelids flutter closed, and that little voice starts to come back, lacing you with insecurity. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. You clear your throat quietly and ask, “Are you seeing any other subs?”

“No,” he replies softly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “But I haven’t told all of them yet. The dom/sub relationship is a delicate one. I can’t exactly just message them on the app that it’s over.”

You settle deeper into him. “What else do you have planned for us?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’m going to show you everything you want to know.”

A fire burns in your stomach, “When?”

Joel lets out a small laugh, then tilts your chin up, pulling back a little so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re eager. I have to go out of town tomorrow, but we’ll make sure to find time when I’m back this weekend.”

Him leaving is a bit of a blessing in disguise for you. “I take the LSAT again on Friday, so I guess this gives me lots of study time.”

He cranes his neck to sponge his lips to yours, the scruff of his mustache tickles a little and you giggle into his kiss. “How long have you owned the club?”

“Almost five years,” he replies.

You let an impressed hum, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds are your mixed breathing and his calloused hand along the blanket. You remember all the times tonight that he called you ‘my sweet girl’ and you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, or if he’s so used to all of this that it’s just second nature to him. The packing tape on that fucking box starts to peels as if to say ‘he was nervous too and it’s only you’.

After a while Joel breaks the silence. “Becoming a lawyer is a pretty intense process. Your family must be really proud of you.”

“Umm, well, I actually don’t really know,” you say.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Joel says lightly and you know he means it. You know he would never push you to give him something you didn’t want to, he might push your sexual limits, but never your personal ones, and for whatever reason that almost makes it easier to tell him.

You roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your forearms on his chest. For a second you let your eyes look around the room. You were so focused on Joel earlier that you didn’t notice the rings and hooks along the black steel bed frame; or the paddles and ropes hanging on the wall next to a ladder and St Andrews Cross. In classic Joel fashion, everything is black and softly lit. Everything but the bed sheets which are plush and white. 

You take a deep breath, resting your chin on your hands, and start, “I don’t want pity for this, truthfully I’m grateful that this is my reality, but my parents had me when they were very young and they were both very selfish when I was growing up. Never abusive or anything, and not neglectful in a physical way, but emotionally I was left alone a lot. I realized early on that if I excelled in something they would show up, and for a long time that felt really fucking good. But as soon as I hit high school I realized they were showing up for themselves. They’d brag about me to other adults, but not actually congratulate me. They’d show up to honour roll ceremonies, but not with me or for me, it was so they could say I was their daughter. They didn’t help me get those grades, I did that on my own. And I’m still doing that on my own.”

Joel’s eyes soften, those two permanent lines between his eyebrows disappearing. “That explains so much, my sweet girl. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

The tape on the box of feelings snaps as the lid flies off. Not now, you scold.

“I know, but honestly, I don’t really need anyone to take care of me. I’ve made it this far and I plan on making it the rest of the way the only way I know how.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” He asks.

“Doesn’t this?” you say gently, gesturing to the room.

“No,” he blinks at you a few times. “I was in my early twenties when my wife died. I needed to focus on raising Sarah, but I’m still an adult male with needs, so I found the world of BDSM and kink. It allowed me to get what I wanted, and what my partner wanted, without the attachment of a relationship.” His words are so real and honest and in just those few sentences you feel like you know Joel Miller more deeply than you know anyone else.

“My way doesn’t get lonely either,” you say with a smile, tucking your head back into his chest.

Joel

Your breathing is calm and heavy, it kills him that he’s going to have to wake you up. Usually his aftercare doesn’t involve opening up about his past like this. He’s not a monster, but he is very strict about keeping his kink life and his real life separate. Something about you though has him opening up about Tiffany and Sarah.

“Baby,” he whispers into the crown of your head, shaking you a little. “We can’t sleep here, I’m sorry.”

You blink up at him and his heart ceases at how beautiful you look all sleepy and supple. He finds himself unconsciously memorizing the little details of your face. Your lips are puffy from his kisses and you have a little mascara smudge under your eye. He thumbs the black make up away gently and says, “Let me help you get dressed and then Cap will take you home, ok?”

You nod lazily and he helps you gently roll off him. He stands and starts to gather your clothing. After a few minutes of looking around he huffs, “Where are your panties?”

A tiny giggle sounds from the cloud of white blankets, the sound shooting straight through his belly button, “Check your pockets.”

He laughs at himself, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out your lacy nude thong. He helps you sit up, “I’m keeping these, by the way.”

“Should I be expecting my panties to go missing every time?” You say jokingly as you take your bra from him and put it on. 

He nods and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, really good actually,” After you put your bra on he pulls your dress over your head and then kneels to help you with your boots. “I - umm - I was hoping that this would help turn my brain off for a while and it did. I feel, I don’t know. Recharged almost?”

This is exactly why he loves kink, it’s an escape from the world for him and his sub. He kisses your knee and moves to the other boot. “Good, that’s what is supposed to happen.”

He pulls you to your feet and allows you to steady yourself before pulling you in for a hug. “Thank you for tonight,” he whispers. He hopes you know that he needs this as much as you do, how much this helps him clear his mind and reground himself.

After closing the door to the town car and sending you home he goes back into the club, waving for a whiskey and joining Tommy at the bar top.

“She was pretty,” Tommy says, clinking his glass against Joel’s.

“Yep,” he swirls the amber liquid in the cup.

“New?” Tommy asks.

“Yep,” Joel repeats and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m fucked, Tommy.”

Tommy puts his glass down and turns to face Joel, gripping his shoulder. “Are you ending it with all your other subs for this girl?”

Joel takes a long sip from his crystal highball glass. Repeating the only word he seems to know lately, “Yep.”

Tommy lets out a breath, “Shit. Ya, you’re definitely fucked.”

“Tiff told me to find someone who scares me. This fucking scares me, man.” Joel finishes off his whiskey, and even though there’s a drink limit, the glass is refilled before it’s even hit the table. “This is - I just - I ain’t felt like this in a long time.”

Tommy smiles at Joel, “I’m happy for ya, man. And look, as long as you aren’t keepin’ her panties then it’s probably not as bad as you think.” 

Joel pulls that nude thong from his pocket and puts it on the bar top as he finishes off his second glass of whiskey and then waves the bartender off, silently signaling that he’s done. 

“Shit, so you are fucked then?” Tommy laughs. 

“We didn’t,” Joel says defensively, brows pulling together.  

“I didn’t ask if you fucked. I said you are fucked.” Tommy shakes his head at his older brother. 

Joel runs a hand down his face and through his scruff. “Look, you gonna be ok this week while I’m in Paris?”

“Ya, me and Tess got it.” He claps Joel’s back roughly as he stands. “Safe travels, hey?”

Joel nods and waves over his head at his brother. He hasn’t fucked you or let you suck his cock yet and he’s already feeling all turned around. But god, the way your body twitched in response to him, the way you melt into his arms every time he kisses you. How brave and confident you were after overcoming the shyness of asking for what you want. He can’t wait to teach you more, but he’s going to have to find a way to not let whatever feelings he might be having get in the way. 

Next chapter

[deputyrook]

In Her Absence: Lucanis/Rook/Spite.

A03 link! Female Crow Rook x Lucanis. Lucanis POV.

Takes place when Rook is in the fade prison, because 1) I love angst and am a big softie; and 2) I wanted to try to work out the logistics of what the team did in Rook's absence, and how they managed to reach her.

---

In the four days that Rook’s been gone, the Veilguard has devolved completely into infighting.

Taash wants to know why they can’t just “break into the fade and pull her out.” And no one really wants to hear Emmrich’s overly technical explanation as to why that’s not feasible, least of all Taash, who’s grieving and angry. Davrin keeps saying that it should have been him instead, which isn’t helping, and no one even wants to think about what’s happening to Bellara right now. 

Harding is dead. Bellara is kidnapped by Elgar’nan and Maker knows where. They’re a mess as a group, angry and hurting. And Rook...

Rook’s gone.

Neve is the only person who remotely has their shit still together, and for that at least, Lucanis is thankful. 

Because he absolutely does not have his shit together. Maybe the others can’t tell, since he’s not arguing or yelling or breaking down, but his thoughts are spiralling so badly that he’s barely said a word in three days. All he can think about is Rook.

He loves her. He loves her. And she’s lost somewhere, trapped and alone, and they have no plan whatsoever on how they’re going to get her back. 

He never told her. It’s tearing him up inside. The thought that he might never hear her voice again. Never hear her make some stupid pun, or hear her teasing, or hear her give them all one of her legendary pep talks. Never hear her laugh again-

“Lucanis,” Neve’s voice is firm, dragging him out of his despondency, “You need to focus.” 

How can he possibly focus? “You’re right,” he says instead, voice tight, because Neve is right. Standing around brooding isn’t getting them any closer to getting Rook back. What he needs to do is act- but how?

Solas is a God, and even he couldn’t break out of that prison. This isn’t the kind of problem Lucanis can solve with a dagger. He can’t stab at the prison walls until they crumble away- but Maker knows if that could work, he would stab until his daggers shattered and his body collapsed. 

What is he supposed to do? What can he do? How can he help them, when all he knows how to do is kill things?

No. Spite says to his left, his voice hard and determined, No! We will find Rook. Won’t leave them there. 

Neve puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. 

“When has Rook ever been content to sit and wait to be rescued?” Neve says, and he lets out a long, even exhale, because it’s exactly what he needs to hear. “I’m worried too. But Rook would chew off her own leg to escape a trap. If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it. Have some faith in her. In all of us- and in yourself.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quiet. After a moment, he adds, “…Someone should let Viago and Teia know.”

That, at least, is a burden he can bear. 

But the days stretch into weeks. Elgar’nan seizes control of an already broken Minrathous, and even Neve has a hard time keeping herself together after that one. 

Lucanis is in no place to offer comfort. Without Rook’s leadership and steadfast optimism, the lighthouse has gone dark, leaving them all ships to smash into a rocky coast. He won’t soon forget the way Viago’s eyes widened when he told him what had happened to Rook, nor the look of horror that flashed across his face before his expression settled into stony devastation. 

Strangely, it’s Spite that keeps him from falling apart completely. He refuses to accept that Rook is gone. Every time that Lucanis’ mind whispers to him that this happened because he wasn’t good enough, and that he’ll never see Rook smile at him again- Spite cuts him off with an angry, defiant hiss of NO. 

Rook is strong. Rook is smart! Rook will not allow herself to die in a prison. She would not let you die in prison, either. We will not let her. We will find her. We will find her!

He repeats the words in his own head, holding onto them like a buoy. Right, yeah. She’s good at prison breaks. It’s enough to make it through the day.

Sometimes- although Lucanis would never admit it to the others- he realizes that Spite is the one who has been moving his body,  keeping him working while he’s been stuck in his mind, ruminating and aching with missing her. It’s been Spite that’s forcing him to eat, to bathe, to sleep. Spite is keeping him alive. 

Will not let you do this to us. Rook needs us.

It’s that thought that ultimately gets Lucanis to snap out of his despair. 

It’s not over yet. He agrees, finally. Rook needs us. 

Finally! Spite snaps back.

---

First, they try to make a copy of the dagger. Something that will be able to slice through the fade prison, so that they can cut Rook out of it. That’s how Solas left, after all- by tricking her, and stealing the dagger to cut himself free. 

But a dagger of pure lyrium isn’t exactly easy to replicate. Brilliant as they are, Emmrich and Neve can only do so much. So after days of meticulous work, they end up with a dagger that looks identical to the real thing, but doesn’t actually work. Great.

Next, Emmrich hypothesizes that in order to get to Rook in the fade, they’ll not only need to figure out how to access the fade prison, but also to figure out where the prison actually is, physically within the fade.

It is, apparently, not as simple as yelling out “ROOK? CAN YOU HEAR US?” from the top of the Lighthouse, which has been Taash’s strategy. Spite, too, is ready to start just travelling through the fade, for as long and as far as he needs to until he finds her. Lucanis is doing what he can to support the group, cooking the meals and making sure Emmrich and Neve are able to stay on their feet.

Word gets to them that Solas is in Minrathous, keeping the rebellion alive. The news poisons Lucanis so thoroughly with hate that he nearly can’t stomach it. Spite has been so determined to save Rook that Lucanis almost forgot how it felt when he was really, truly spiteful. 

Hearing Solas is pretending to be a hero in Tevinter, after consigning Rook to take his place in a prison? Yeah. That’ll do it. The things he’d wanted to do to Illario after his betrayal had left him conflicted. He is not remotely conflicted about what he wants to do about Solas.

What they want to do. Spite agrees with him on this one. He hurt our Rook.

Finally, Emmrich and Neve work out a real plan, with the help of the Veil Jumpers. It’s based largely on luck, but it’s something. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s enough to keep them all going.

First, they need to find a spot where the veil is particularly thin, where the fade peaks through the seams of reality. Then, they need to use an artifact of the Veil Jumper’s to do… magical, fade, location-y… stuff. Emmrich actually uses a bit of Rook’s blood for this part, located on some stained clothes that Assan had dug out in her room. 

Blood magic. Ordinarily, Lucanis would be opposed. But no one says a word against it. They are all desperate for this to work. 

The first day they try it, it doesn’t work. They make some adjustments, and try again.

The second day, it doesn’t work. They make some more adjustments, and they try again.

On the fifth day, Spite says it in his ear, voice sharp with excitement.

I can smell her- I can smell Rook!

Lucanis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. He’s yelling, “Rook?” into the rift before he can stop himself, but the team’s caught on already that this isn't like the other times they’ve failed to make their plan work. The rift is spitting and spasming sparks of magic, and they can see through it in a way they’d never been able to before. They can see a light in the rift.

Emmrich seems to throw caution entirely to the wind, rolling up his sleeve and plunging his arm into the rift. The energy is wild, unrestrained, and they’re all calling out to Rook, reaching and trying to get to her.

“I’ve- I’ve got her!” Emmrich yells out, and Lucanis swears he can see Rook’s wavy form on the other side of the rift. Like looking through a fishbowl, or the walls of the Ossuary.

He reaches in too and grabs her hand with Emmrich, and they yank. Rook stumbles out, collapsing onto the ground.

“Varric’s dead,” she says, voice hollow and wobbly.

Neve shoots Lucanis a confused, concerned look, but he’s too relieved to care. He’s grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace, and his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. Tears prick at his vision. She’s safe. She’s alive, she’s free, and she’s safe. She’s back with them.

They all want to hug her, and make sure she’s actually, really okay. But Lucanis gets to first.

Told you. Told you, told you! Spite repeats, ecstatic, She’s back!

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, pulling back and looking her over critically, trying to see if she’s been hurt or if anything has changed. But no. It’s just her. Like not a day has passed.

Rook nods slowly, and Lucanis smooths a hand down her hair, before cupping her cheek in his hand. All he wants to do is hold her, but he can’t be that selfish and drag her away from the others. Not yet, anyway. 

Pulling back, the others take the moment to rush in, making similar careful assessments and doting over Rook. The last few weeks have been almost unbearably difficult. There’s been little to celebrate. But this is joy again. Hope. With Rook back, not everything is completely fucked.

Davrin pulls her into a crushing hug, and Taash joins in, and they’re all hugging and crying a little. The trip back to the Lighthouse is a blur, with Rook thanking the Veil Jumpers and swearing to them she’ll get Bellara back.

How she can already be so determined, so ready to act, Lucanis will never know. He is, as he has so often found himself, in awe of her ability to forge forward, the light cutting through the swathes of dark that seem to surround them.

Spite is just about ready to try to crawl out of their skin in impatience, but they have work to do first. They all brief Rook on what has happened in her absence, and learn- horrifically- that she’s somehow been brainwashed into believing Varric has been alive, for months, by Solas.

Not for the first time, Lucanis feels anger and spite bubbling in his veins and vows to himself that he will not let Solas get away with hurting Rook. God or not. He finds it hard to fathom why he would mess with her head like that, if he wanted her to succeed in at least stopping Ghilan’nain. It reminds him too much of the mind games that his captors would play on him when he was in the Ossuary, tormenting and confusing him for no other reason than to break him down. Was that what Solas had tried to do to Rook, too? To break her down mentally, so she’d be easier to manipulate and trick?

It seems to take forever, but finally, Lucanis gets to see her alone. She’s lying down when he enters her quarters, her eyes closed, but the words spill out of him before he can even consider leaving her to rest.

“I cannot believe we found you,” he says, voice soft. All of the fear he’s felt for weeks, the doubt and the despair that Spite had helped him just barely keep at bay… the relief, now, is making him lightheaded. 

“I’m a little surprised too, honestly.” It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that she’s not trying to make light of things. The words aren’t meant as a joke. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Rook tells him in turn. It leaves him cold, to think of her there, alone and believing she might never be found. “How do I know if I really did? This could be... more of the fade.”

Lucanis realizes then, that he’s never seen her vulnerable like this before. Emotional, yes, but lost? Frightened? Rook has always been the solid centre of the group. Unmoving, unyielding, steady. Utterly dependable. 

It’s almost surprising that she’s not actually invincible. She’s so consistently been their guiding light. But more than shock, more than anything else-

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her until her worries melt away, to chase away the horrible memories of the last several weeks and see her smile at him. He wants her to know that he won’t let anything hurt her. He wants to kiss her until she feels safe and warm again. 

So he does. Kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands in his own, Lucanis reassures her she is real. There’s so much he wants to tell her, that he’s been praying he’ll get the chance to say. But now that Rook’s in front of him again, he can’t seem to find the words for everything he’s been feeling.

So he kisses her. So, so gently. And when he keeps kissing her, pressing her back against the chaise as she wraps her arms around his neck? It seems Spite is right there with him, because the wings unfurl right in that moment, curling around them both protectively, like he wants to help shield them from anyone in the world who might try to hurt them.

[lexirosewrites]

as much as I enjoy “instant love,” I also think that maybe omega Steve would be a little freaked out by finding out his alpha friend, Eddie, wants to court him

Steve’s only ever dated women before (of all designations— but still) and he doesn’t know how he feels about this

but Eddie’s his friend

and if there’s one thing Steve does know, it’s that he can’t afford to lose any more of those in his life

so maybe he’s not super excited when he hears Eddie’s courting offer…

maybe he’s hiding his shaking hands in his pockets and choking back a lot of panic and anxiety when he’s asked

Steve’s ready to puke and run away without answering in order to escape the conversation, completely, but Eddie’s expression alone keeps him planted

because it’s the first time anyone has looked at him with so much open happiness, like Steve could be the best thing in the world

sure, he looks nervous too, but that’s a given for this sort of thing

and there’s no denying it

for whatever reason, Eddie is in love with him. he even says as much

“I know we had a bumpy start, Stevie. you never would’ve given a guy like me the time of day back in school—”

Steve interjects

“you don’t know that”

Eddie smiling, but his eyes look sad

the alpha shakes his head slightly. not condescending per se, but a little amused

“trust me. I wouldn’t have even made it this close before one of your lackeys would’ve been threatening to shove me into a locker”

his heart aches at that. it’s a little more true than he wants to admit

“well then… I guess it’s a good thing we’re not in high school anymore,” Steve concedes

Eddie nods, exhaling with a shaky laugh

god he looks so nervous

“guess so”

Steve still hasn’t answered him. they’re both acutely aware of that

his tongue feels too big for his mouth

“so you want to court me”

it’s less of a question, more of a stated summary of the confession Eddie had opened this conversation with

still Eddie nods once more, confirming

“yeah. I- I really do, Steve. more than anything I’ve ever wanted and I know how crazy that makes me sound”

“not crazy,” Steve squeaks out, “I just didn’t know you felt that way about… me”

Eddie takes a moment to process that, looking up at the sky as if his next words might be written up there

“of course i do. you’re the most beautiful omega I’ve ever met”

he’s sure that his surprise is all over his face

“beautiful?” Steve questions

he’s been called a lot of things in his life, but that’s not a word he’s ever associated with himself. maybe handsome, rugged, strong? but beautiful is reserved for omegas who don’t look like him

the pretty ones

the dainty, feminine, demure ones

Eddie looks so earnest when he states, “you’re drop dead gorgeous, sweetheart. inside and out. I mean, your face is perfect, but you have the biggest heart too. how could I not fall for you?”

Steve lets out his own nervous laugh. the air feels thin. maybe he cares about this more than he thought

“I’m really nothing special,” he protests

Eddie must be mistaken. there are so many other omegas that fit the mold much better than him

the alpha frowns, looking more than a little displeased at his response

“you’re wrong about that. in fact, I think I’d be the luckiest guy alive if— well, if…”

if Steve accepts Eddie’s courting offer

if Steve accepts that someone might actually want him for more than what he can give or do for them

…if Steve accepts the fact that Eddie’s been in the back of his mind since the boathouse and never quite left afterwards

his hands are still shaking

“you really want to court me?” Steve asks, his voice small. smaller than it should be

Eddie takes a step forward, hand extended towards Steve. he pauses before making contact, seeming to realize he should ask first

Steve nods, holding his breath

the gentle hand that touches his cheek, feather light and shaking as much as Steve’s own, grounds him to the earth and the moment

this is actually happening

“I realize you have no reason to believe me right now because I’ve not always been straightforward, but I love you, sweetheart”

his stomach is full of butterflies

Eddie’s telling the truth. it’s written all over his face and all over his alluring scent that has Steve wanting to lean in a little more every second that they’re this close

“you love me?”

he realizes he sounds like a broken record, just repeating Eddie

Eddie’s chuckles, seeming to notice the same thing

instead of affirming once more that Steve’s hearing is intact, Eddie just asks “can I kiss you?”

he’s nodding before he has a chance to doubt himself— to doubt this or doubt Eddie’s intentions

it’s soft

it’s light

it’s sweet

the kiss leaves him floating

the entire world could be split open again and Steve wouldn’t notice because he’s in Eddie’s arms and they might be courting now

he’s not head-over-heels in love quite yet, but it won’t take long to fall

now he knows Eddie will catch him when he does

[kissitbttr]

miguel with a jealous fiance

-

“stare a little longer and you might actually kill her, y/n” jess chuckles as she follows your eyesight, spotting miguel being flirted by a woman whom you’ve never seen before.

you and miguel are attending a gala fundraiser. run by some rich bastard named ‘bruce wayne’. he didn’t want to go at first, but because mr. wayne had sent the invitations to you both himself, it would be rude not to attend. plus, it’s best if he’s out and try to socialize, make some new friends instead.

but now you’re starting to regret the decision when you see some red haired getting cozy with your man. she keeps touching his arm, giggling obnoxiously at something he said. which pisses you off because your fiancé is not that funny.

Ignoring jess’s comment, you twirl the wine glass softly, emerald green manicured nails clicking against it. you bite the inside of your cheek with cold eyes dead set on the girl. you wanted to laugh at how that woman had been trying too hard to catch his attention.

miguel isn’t doing anything rather than answering without holding an eye contact, casually sipping his whiskey on rock as he searches through the crowd. you could tell he’s annoyed. but it wouldn’t be polite for him to tell her to fuck off, would it?

god, you wish he had the balls to actually do it.

“you know he wouldn’t do such thing right?”

scoffing as if it’s the most stupid question ever, you nod. of course he wouldn’t. he’s too damn crazy about you.

“i know. it’s her i don’t trust” you mutter, almost growling. “that bitch could clearly see he has a ring on his finger. she fucking blind or something?!”

jess could only laugh while shaking her head. she thinks you and miguel are too much alike. a perfect pair. “then show her who’s the boss.”

“oh i will” you respond with hesitation, gulping down every last drop of your drink before setting the glass down on the table. “be right back”

with that, you flick your hair over your shoulder, adjusting the straps of your silky emerald green dress and begin walking towards your fiancé’. jess’s commentary about ‘try not to kill her’ from behind fall deaf upon your ears.

sorry, jess. no promises.

you could feel all eyes on you as you walk. it’s hard not to. men and women craning their shoulders to get a better look at the beautiful woman who looks like she’s invented class and beauty herself. the world completely stop when you walk through the crowd.

and not to be cocky or anything, but you’re fully aware of how gorgeous you are. with curves that look like built by the gods themselves, full plump soft lips and long, beautiful thick hair that cascade down to your back and eyes sharp enough to draw sailors if you were ever a siren.

it’s like looking at freyja the goddess whom paid a visit on earth.

as miguel’s eyes continues to scan through the busy evening filled with mindless chatters, his dark red irises then stop at you. a small grin creeps to his face when he sees you walking towards him with your head held up high.

but your eyes aren’t on him, it’s on the woman.

“i just think, that you are sooo-“

“so what?” you cut her off with a fake smile and arms crossed over your chest. standing beside your soon to be husband, you watch how the woman’s eyes then flicker to your figure. “making friends without me, my love? how impolite”

miguel shakes his head, his hand quick enough to snake around your waist pulling you close. “of course not, mi vida. this is—“

“not interested. so, you wanna fuck my husband?” your voice coming off venomous, glaring at the woman who seems to be shocked at your question.

a sigh escape from miguel’s mouth, one that implies ‘this is not going to be good’

the woman has her mouth hang wide open as she struggles to respond. she can’t exactly decide whether she’s intimidated by you or attracted to you.

“i—i’m so sorry… I didn’t know he had a wife—“

with a scoff, you roll your eyes. “you’ve been eyeing and talking to my man for at least twenty minutes. you’re saying that your eyesight is so fucking jacked you couldn’t even see the ring on his finger?!”

miguel could only stand there and listening to you scold the woman. because if there’s one thing he learned being with you? is that to not meddle or interrupt.

she shakes her head rapidly, stuttering out a nervous response, “n-no! i—i—I did see it, i j-just thought—“

“oh you did see it!” you exhale a sarcastic laugh. “and what, you think it’s okay to flirt with someone else’s husband when clearly he has no interest?! you really think he’s gonna go for you, sweetheart?”

the tone of your voice is far from polite. miguel could sense that, and he squeezes your waist in attempt for you to take it easy on the girl but you only shrug it off and pay no mind to it.

the woman look like she’s about to cry by how you’re scolding her. shaking quiet a bit and embarrassed that her flirty gesture had failed to steal someone else’s man.

“i’m s-sorry… I’m—i—“

“you” your raise your finger at her face. “need to get the fuck out of my sight before i drag you by the hair and beat your ass hard that no one will ever recognize that pretty face of yours again.”

she nods quickly at that, taking her champagne flute before walking away quickly. you’re still fuming on the inside. glaring at the back of that girl’s head until she’s fully disappears.

“damn, mami” miguel lowly whistles, a dark chuckle follows after as he moves to stand in front of you. hand around your waist still attached, pulling you close to him. “you’re so sexy when you get jealous.”

jealous. you hate that word.

everyone needs to know that you don’t take it lightly when it comes to miguel. he belongs to you and vice versa. and if you have to beat a bitch up to get your point across, then so be it.

“let’s get one thing straight, miguel. I don’t get jealous” You emphasize the word as you turn your focus on Miguel, giving him a stern look. “I get territorial. they need to know that you’re my man. I see a girl trying to take over my territory, then consider her fucking finished. you got that?”

miguel can’t argue with the fact that you just turned him on just by saying that. especially when you come off as demanding like this. It’s one of the reason why he fell in love with you.

bossy. ambitious. confident. and Independent. traits that miguel loves in a woman.

he smirks, looking down at you as he clicks his tongue against his bottom teeth. “yes, ma’am” he replies with a nod.

you nod back, crossing your arms. “good.”

“and just when i thought you couldn’t get any sexier” he shakes his head, squeezing your ass before leaning down a bit to give you a kiss on your cheek. “you do”

rolling your eyes, you lightly shove his shoulder. yet you can’t help but blush at the gesture. “easy there… we’re in public.”

he cocks an eyebrow, palm not leaving your ass. “and when has that ever stopped you before, mi amor?”

you bite your lower lip softly, remembering the times when you and miguel had done it over and over outside the comfort of your home.

yeah, both of you are pretty experimental.

“bathroom in 5. don’t keep me waiting”

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |10|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Attempted Murder, Stabbing, Strangling

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You sat on the back of an ambulance as one of the medics checked you out. You didn’t get hurt in the fight, but you didn’t realize you had ripped open your stitches until a medic was running over to you, asking if you were okay and pointing at the drops of blood. You denied them when they asked if you wanted to go to the hospital, you didn’t have time for all that, so they just stitched you up there and gave you a disapproving look.

“Gone up against Ghostface twice and game come out on top both times,” someone said. You looked up to see Kirby walking over to you. “Not many can say they’ve done that.”

“Seems like plenty have survived Ghostface,” you mumbled. Your eyes moved to focus on the figures behind Kirby. Sam was next to Tara as they were checked out by a medic and gave their statement to an officer. You took notice that the detective who was apparently on the case was the one person yet to be on the scene.

Kirby bobbed her head back and forth. “Not usually on their first encounter, unless they were running away or someone else showed up.”

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Bailey shouted as he stormed up to you and Kirby. “You had a gun?”

“It’s licensed,” you snapped. “And it came in handy, would you like me to not have a weapon when a psycho is attacking us?”

Bailey scoffed and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe you dared argue with him. “Lot of good that did, he got away,” he gestured to the store.

“I got him, it’s not my fault you didn’t arrive in time.”

“Well, you didn’t finish the job,” Bailey snapped, as if it were your fault Ghostface got away. “Thought you were supposed to be special forces,” he scoffed.

You slowly rose from the ambulance until you were standing tall, staring Bailey down. “I’m a soldier, not an executioner,” you kept your voice steady but there was an edge to your tone, one daring Bailey to cross the invisible line.

Bailey let out a chuckle, as if he were truly amused you said that. “Your file isn’t even legible with how much is redacted,” Bailey stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “How many missions have you had involved you getting your hands dirty?” You clenched your jaw, he was trying to compare your missions to Ghostface, they were completely different, as a cop he should know that. “How many people have you executed without them even knowing you were there?”

“It’s different,” you said, your tone quiet as you tried to contain the rage underneath. You were aware of Sam’s eyes on you from where she still stood next to Tara, though she moved forward a few steps, as if she were going to come intervene between you and Bailey.

“Why?” Bailey chuckled. “Because those were your orders?”

You stepped forward, ready to give Bailey a piece of your mind when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked to the side to see Kirby, silently asking you to let it go. “Let’s all just take a breath,” she said, looking between you and Bailey.

“I got civilians dead because-”

“Because we haven’t got this guy,” Kirby snapped. She positioned herself in front of you, so she was now standing between you and Bailey. “So, why don’t we stop placing blame and catch this fucker.”

Bailey gave a little snarl but finally backed away. “I have a crime scene to work,” he mumbled as he turned and walked towards the store.

“When did you get the call?” You asked, your eyes tracking Bailey as he crouched down at the body of the store owner just inside the door.

“A thank you would suffice,” Kirby said when she turned around. The amused smirk on her face told you she wasn’t actually mad at you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely anyway. “When did the call come in?”

“About twenty minutes ago. Someone saw Ghostface chasing after some people down the street,” Kirby looked back at the bodega. “Then several calls about shots fired came in a minute later.”

“Response was quick,” your eyes scanned all the cops working the scene. There was more than what would usually be considered necessary, but most of the officers were being used to hold back random people trying to get a look and the media.

“I was at the station.” Your eyes instantly snapped to Kirby. “I actually thought we might get here in time,” she let out a humorless chuckle. When she looked back at you, she furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Where was Bailey?” If Kirby was at the station, then there was no reason for Bailey to arrive as late as he did. All the other cops and Kirby arrived well before the detective who was supposed to be working the case, who claimed to care so much about the innocent lives being lost.

“I’m not sure,” Kirby shook her head. “Wait, you don’t actually think…” her voice got quieter with each word. “But you hit Ghostface.”

“Only in the chest,” your tone dropped to barely above a whisper. You didn’t know who to trust, you couldn’t risk anyone over hearing you. On top of that, just because you had your suspicions you didn’t have proof, you couldn’t be spreading rumors about Bailey if he wasn’t actually guilty, it could ruin his career. As much as you hated the guy you weren’t about to destroy a man’s career without evidence that he was dirty. “Whoever it was, was wearing Kevlar.”

Kirby followed your gaze and watched Bailey with the same kind of gaze as you. “They could have just seen the movies, learned to always wear a vest.” You nodded, that was likely, based on what little you heard it seemed like these psychos studied each other, trying to learn where the previous incarnation went wrong.

“Everything in me is telling me not to trust him,” you said.

“Better safe than sorry if you trust no one.” You looked at Kirby, watching as her eyes scanned the crowd, memorizing every face, just in case someone stood out or someone popped up again.

“Even you?” You raised an eyebrow.

You liked Kirby a lot more than Bailey. She’d done nothing but treat you with respect so far and you’d return the courtesy. At the end of the day though, you didn’t know her, you didn’t know any of them. Kirby hadn’t given you a reason to be suspicious of her but that didn’t mean she couldn’t possibly be involved. It was hell of a coincidence for Kirby to show up right after Ghostface attacked Sam, but she said she investigated Ghostface attacks, she knew Sam, they had a shared history, it was clear Kirby had a history with at least one of the previous Ghostface’s, like Sam and her friends did.

Kirby turned her head and looked at you, her eyes seemed to analyze you. She gave a little shrug. “Can never be too careful,” she said, nodding her head. “How much do you know about Ghostface, the attacks?”

You shrugged. “Not much,” you said. Of course, you knew the stories, everyone did, but you didn’t know the details. “I know the rumors whispered about Sam,” you looked across the way where Sam still stood with Tara.

“Well, I won’t say anything about Sam, that’s her story to tell.” You gave a ghost of a smile at that, you didn’t believe the rumors, you wanted to hear Sam’s story from herself. “But Ghostface is usually connected to the group of friends he’s going after. The first attacks were done by Billy Loomis and his best friend Stu Macher all to get back at Sidney Prescott, who Billy was dating.” You nodded, you were aware of that much of the story. “Me and my friends were attacked in 2011.” You furrowed your brow, you had been a freshman in high school, you probably heard people talking about the attacks in school but didn’t know any details.

You looked at Kirby when she didn’t immediately continue. She was clearly trying to remain composed but there were tears in her eyes, and rage underneath. “My best friend and the guy I liked were the ones behind the attacks. All because Jill wanted to be famous,” she shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Of my friends, I was the only one to survive.”

You looked at Kirby in a new light, you understood now where all her pain and motivation came from. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Those words wouldn’t do anything, but they were the only thing you could offer. It wasn’t easy being the only survivor, it was lonely, no one could quite understand it, you knew that all too well.

Kirby gave you a thankful smile. “I know why you didn’t finish the job,” she whispered. “But this kind of thing,” she shook her head. “It only ends in two ways, kill or be killed.”

You looked down, taking in Kirby’s words. You had done a lot of terrible things, things you never talked about. You did all of them for the greater good though, at least that’s what you told yourself, you were following orders, trying to stop someone bad from doing something worse. Killing Ghostface in self-defense was one thing but executing him when he was already down was another. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, but those were always terrible people, terrorists, crime lords, people who did unspeakable things. You knew Ghostface wasn’t good but in your head, there was a separation, that being in New York, being home, it made things different, war was one thing, this was another altogether.

“Are you okay?” Kirby asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Sam and Tara had approached.

“Now that we’re done with the endless questioning,” Sam grumbled.

“It’s just protocol,” Kirby gave her an apologetic smile.

“Are we free to go?”

“Of course.” Kirby looked back at you, “I just need your gun.” You let out a displeased sigh. “Protocol.”

“I know,” you said, still clearly displeased. You pulled out your gun, releasing the magazine and making sure there wasn’t one in the chamber before dropping it into the evidence bag Kirby held out.

You fired your gun, it was an active crime scene, and that meant your gun was evidence. Even though you didn’t kill anyone they still needed your gun to at least know which bullets were from you and which ones were from Ghostface, even though your 9mm was completely different than the shotgun Ghostface was using.

“Don’t worry, I will personally make sure the lab gets this,” Kirby said.

You watched her walk off. “Are you okay?” Sam asked, making you look at her. “Things with Bailey seemed tense.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around until you found Bailey across the way talking to one of the other officers. “Apparently he wasn’t satisfied with the way I handled things,” you said, glaring at Bailey.

“You saved our lives,” Sam said softly, you stopped glaring at Bailey to give Sam a grateful smile.

“Did you have a gun this whole time?” Tara asked, speaking for the first time since the attack happened. She was looking at you suspiciously, trying to appear strong with her arms crossed, but you could see the fear behind her eyes.

“Yes,” you answered honestly, you knew it would do no good to lie to Tara.

“Did you know?” she looked at her sister.

“Yes,” Sam said. Tara’s face morphed into one of hurt. “I thought it was better if no one knew, we don’t know who to trust.”

Tara clenched her jaw as she wordlessly nodded. “You could have told me.” Sam guiltily looked down as Tara stormed off.

You gently tapped Sam’s shoulder and offered her a small smile. She returned your smile and the two of you followed after Tara. You understood why Tara was upset, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably feel the same. On the other hand, the only reason you were able to get the upper hand on Ghostface was because no one else knew you had the gun on you.

The three of you walked back to the apartment without another incident. You noticed how Sam shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket as you passed people, keeping her head down, probably hoping none of them recognized her. Three of you trekked up the various sets of stairs until you finally got back to the sister’s apartment.

“Where is everyone?” Sam asked as soon as she stepped through the door.

You came up behind her, peeking around her to see Ethan and Quinn were nowhere in sight. “Quinn is with a gentleman caller,” Mindy said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Ethan left a little bit after you,” Chad said, not even bothering to look up as he mindless flipped through channels on the TV. “Said he had Econ.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Tara flopped down in the chair next to the couch and you made your way to the far end of the couch, taking a seat next to Chad. A moment later Chad furrowed his brow and sat up straighter. You looked up to see he had stopped flipping through the channels and had stopped on the news. You furrowed your brow as well when you saw a picture of Sam pop up on the screen. Mindy plucked the remote out of Chad’s hand and turned up the volume.

“Ghostface is taking on New York,” the report said. “And the prime suspect seems to be Samantha Carpenter, daughter of the original Ghostface killer, Billy Loomis.” You looked to the side to see Sam standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the TV, trying to remain strong. “She is rumored to have setup her boyfriend, Richie Kirsch, in the killings last year.” Your ears instantly perked up at the name, it was the same name that popped up on Sam’s phone before the recent attack. “Right before killing him herself. Now-”

“Bullshit!” Chad snapped, aggressively pressing the power button. “They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.” He slammed down the remote on the coffee table.

Chad jumped up from the couch and stormed over to the dining table where Tara was sitting next to Sam, Mindy following close behind. You watched as Sam curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible as Tara tried to comfort her. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, and you didn’t feel right about eavesdropping, they deserved their privacy. You decided to focus on your feet, as Sam’s friends tried to comfort her. You tried not to let what the reporter said invade your mind, you learned a little more about Sam, but you didn’t want to take the media’s word for it. Sam wasn’t a suspect, they already got that wrong, she was the victim.

You heard loud banging coming from Quinn’s room but didn’t think much of it as everyone laughed it off, seeming to go on as if this was regular occurrence. Everyone’s phones, besides yours, went off, shifting the energy in the room. You slid next to Anika, looking over her shoulder as she opened a message on her phone, showing a picture of Quinn being stabbed by Ghostface.

Everyone shot to their feet, the yelling from Quinn’s room got louder then suddenly stopped. Everyone gathered in the middle of the living room as they stared at Quinn’s door, waiting to for what would happen next. Before you knew it the door flung open and Ghostface tossed Quinn’s body out, which landed on Anakin, sending her to the ground.

“Go!” you shouted, pointing at the front door.

Chad grabbed Tara and yanked her out the front door. When Mindy tried to follow Ghostface slashed her across the arm and sent her to the ground.

Anika pushed Quinn’s body off herself and pulled herself to her feet. Ghostface was right there though, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her into the wall. He raised his knife, twirling it back and forth as he got ready to stab Anika. Without thinking you rushed forward and tackled him to the ground before he could stab Anika.

You punched Ghostface in the face, ignoring the pain that radiated through your knuckles with each hit to the mask. You grabbed his hand that was holding the knife and slammed it on the ground until he dropped it. You pushed the knife away before trying to stand up. As soon as you started to get off Ghostface he swung his legs around, tripping you and sending you back to the floor. He scrambled away from you as he grabbed his knife again.

He jumped back to his feet and stood over you, tilting his head as he waved the knife back and forth. You smirked when you saw Sam come up from behind him and hit him on the back of the head with a wood block of some sort. When Ghostface stumbled forward you kicked out your foot, tripping him and sending him tumbling to the floor.

Sam held out a hand to you and as soon as you took it, she yanked you up. While Sam was helping you, Anika helped Mindy up, then Sam ushered the three of you into the bedroom. She ran across the room and into the bathroom to lock a door while you slammed the door closed as soon as you got inside. Everyone rushed around the room, knocking over furniture and using anything to try and barricade the doors.

“Danny?” Sam asked, furrowing her brow as she looked out the window. You followed her gaze to see her neighbor waving his arms out his window as he tried to get someone’s attention.

Sam opened the window. “Are you crazy?” she called out. You made your way next to her to see Danny pushing a ladder out of his window. You helped Sam grab the ladder and stabilize it so everyone could crawl across.

“Go,” you said, nodding at Sam.

Sam looked back at Mindy and Anika as they tried to hold the door closed as Ghostface attempted to shove his way in. “But-” she looked back at you.

“Go,” you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Sam reluctantly got on the ladder and began making her way across. You ran to Mindy and Anakin, falling into place right beside them as you helped hold the door. “Your turn,” you nodded at Anika.

Anika shook her head, there were tears streaming down her face. You looked at Mindy for a little help and when she looked back at the door you assured her you had it. Mindy grabbed Anika and dragged her over to the window. Anika’s crying only got louder as she convinced Mindy to go first. Once Mindy was out the window and making her way across Anika turned back to you.

“Go!” you ordered again. “Go,” you gestured with your hand. “I’ll be fine.”

With shaky hands Anika lifted herself out of the window and began making her way across the ladder. Almost as soon as you loosened your hold on the door Ghostface plowed through, sending you falling to the ground. You recovered almost instantly and jumped across the bed when you saw he was making his way for the window, to Anika.

You grabbed the curtains and wrapped them around Ghostface’s neck before he could get his hands on the ladder. You pulled the curtain tighter, feeling his body spasm and kicked as he clawed at the fabric, but you were stronger than him. You caught a glance out the window, seeing Anika be pulled to safety. It wasn’t until you had him so close that you were confident this Ghostface was one of the ones from the gym, not the one from the bodega.

Ghostface stopped pulling at the cloth, but a second later you felt a sharp pain in your thigh. You gritted your teeth, suppressing a scream as best as you could. You looked down to see a knife sticking out of your leg before Ghostface ripped it out. You let go of the curtain, releasing Ghostface as you brought a hand to the wound.

You tried to stand up as straight as you could, but blood was gushing between your fingers. Ghostface recovered quicker as he whipped around and swung his knife down. You raised your hand, making sure the knife only sliced your forearm.

Your hand shot out, catching Ghostface’s arm before he could bring the knife down again. You ignored the blood running down your arm, you didn’t have time to worry about stopping the bleeding. While your other hand was still pressing against the wound on your thigh, Ghostface took his free hand and punched you in the side, right where your stitches were.

You let go of his hand as you brought your hand to your side, surely having ripped your stitches again. You ignored the others yelling for you as Ghostface brought down his knife again, this time when you blocked his arm with yours and brought your knee up, nailing him in the stomach. While he was doubled over you brought your good leg up and kicked him square in the chest, sending him tumbling over the side of the bed.

As much as you wanted to finish the fight you knew you were in no condition to do so. You limped over to the window and climbed out onto the ladder. When you looked ahead you could see Sam and Danny gesturing at you to hurry. You crawled as best as you could with one good leg and one good arm, ignoring the way the blood dripped down your hand, making the ladder and your hand slippery with each movement.

“Hurry!” Sam yelled; her voice strained. You looked up to see her eyes wide and not focused on you but something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Ghostface standing at the window. He impaled the knife in the windowsill before using both hands to grab the end of the ladder.

You gritted your teeth; you were really starting to hate this guy. You continued to crawl, your grip tightening as Ghostface lifted the ladder, jostling it back and forth to try and get you to fall. You nearly lost your grip once, having to wrap your arm under the rungs and keep your body low so you didn’t go over the side.

You looked up, judging the distance from where you were to the window. You let out a shaky breath as you slowly loosened your grip, despite Ghostface still shaking the ladder with all his strength. You got into a crouch position and kicked off, ungracefully launching yourself off the ladder and at the window. You reached out, catching on the windowsill with one hand. You brought up your bloody hand, which instantly found the home of someone else’s. You looked up to see Sam holding onto you as Danny held your other hand and began to pull you up.

You made it through the window, instantly collapsing on the ground next to Danny. You looked back at him as he moved out from underneath you, his hands instantly going to your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. You couldn’t help but groan at the pressure. Sam helped drag you against the wall to prop you up. You let your head flop against the wall, you strained to stay conscious, focusing on Mindy’s voice as she called for an ambulance, and on Sam’s hands as they wrapped a scratchy cloth around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423

[asceluffy]

MONSTER TRIO when they’re in the mood

Luffy

When he’s in the mood, he’d make it obvious for not only you, but the whole crew.

He’s definitely more touchy, wrapping his stretchy hands around your waist, subtly feeling up your breasts as he does so.

“I wanna fuck ‘ya.” He’s blunt about it. Always is.

When you’re casually strolling on the deck of the Sunny, he’ll pull you to him while he’s sat on his favorite spot of the ship.

Once you’re situated on his lap, he’d let you feel the bulge on his pants, grinding it against the flesh of your ass.

“Please, please, please,” He’d let out pleas when you turn him down, all while his hands roam inside your shirt.

And when the reason for turning him down is because you’re busy chatting with a crewmate, he’d hold your wrist and say: “I’m horny so I’m gonna fuck y/n.” While looking at the crewmate you’re talking to dead in the eye.

He won’t give the other person a chance to say anything before he’s pulling you on his quarters.

Zoro

He’s the complete opposite of Luffy. In fact, he’s not a man of his words when it comes to wanting to have sex with you.

When you bend over to pick up something from the floor, he’d brush his bulge on your ass, hoping that you take the hint.

He’s more cranky when he’s in the mood, it pisses me off when you’re so oblivious to his hints.

He’d flex his muscles ‘subtly’ when you walk past him, because he knows how much it turns you on.

But the second you compliment him instead of dragging him to the quarters, HE’D ROLL HIS EYES!!! and walk away.

“Wow, your biceps have grown even more!” You’d say with innocent amusement, and he’ll walk off! You can even hear him stomp his feet.

And after spending the whole day trying to give you hints, he’d push you against the wall, whispering: “My dick’s been aching the whole day, take care of it for me, would ya?”

Sanji

You’d find him cooking up dessert for you more, circling you with that heart eyes of his before placing down a plate of cheesecake “he made with love.”

Like Zoro, he’d refuse to tell it directly because he’d probably faint from nosebleed before he can ask you for it.

As a cook, he has an advantage when it comes to being in the mood, because he’d feed you food that spike up your sexual urges, hoping you get hot and bothered and ask him for it.

Then, you’d notice how he’d make you sweet alcoholic drinks, leaving you wondering what the hell he’s up to.

The last straw was when he gave you a huge bowl of sliced up pineapples and a pitcher of cranberry juice, leading you to going up to him in the kitchen.

“What the hell am I gonna do with this much pineapples and cranberry juice?!”

He’ll get startled, scrambling to close off a book with seemingly sexual innuendos in its cover.

“Uhm—Haha, I’ve read it’s good for you health, y/n-chan!” He’d say sheepishly, crossing his legs so you don’t see his bulging cock.

“Sanji.” You gave him a look, and he knew all too well to not mess up his next words.

“I’ve read…that it makes your pussy taste good and—“ Before he can even finish, you already pushed him on the kitchen table, lowering your panties.

“No need for that, because I know how much you love this pussy even if I don’t eat or drink those.”

And when you position your dripping cunt near his face, he knew it was a mission success.

a/n: too lazy to proofread so I apologize for the errors.

I also wonder if it’s true that cranberries and pineapples make your cum/pussy taste good. Is it true? tell me your experiences 🤪

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

im here

summary: you’re having a bad day so you call paige to come over so you’re not alone

content warnings: talks of depression

Most of your days were good now. You could get up in the morning, make breakfast, go to classes, study, eat and shower without any problems. But every now and then your brain reminds you that it has a chemical imbalance and you feel paralysed. Today was one of those days. Everything felt like a task that you couldn’t bring yourself to complete and that’s why it was 3PM and you still hadn’t moved from your bed.

You had woken up this morning with a familiar sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew immediately that today was not going to be a good day. You had tried to get up and push through but you physically couldn’t, it was as if you were chained in place.

Your thoughts were dark and overwhelming and you didn’t know how to handle them. You’re mind was telling you the most evil things and you believed it. You believed no one cared about you, you believed you were a burden, you believed you were better off dead. Even after years of battling with depression it was so hard for you to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Your friends knew that you struggled and they always said you could go to them when things got bad, talk them, you weren’t alone, but you hated admitting defeat, you hated putting your problems on them. It made you feel weak, like a baby but you needed someone right now, you needed to be held and told everything was going to be OK so you called the one person you knew would be here in a heartbeat.

No less than fifteen minutes after the phone call, there was a knock at your door and it took everything inside of you to peel yourself out of bed to answer it.

“Bad day?” Paige asks emphatically as you opened the door to her. It looked like she had just come from a workout, clad in her UConn gear, hair bundled into a low bun at the base of her neck.

“Something like that.” You mummble in response as she steps into your apartment.

“Did something happen?” She makes herself comfortable on your couch which wasn’t out of the ordinary, Paige was a regular visitor to your place and had been since you first met in your freshman year.

“Just my stupid brain. I can’t take it anymore, it’s never ending.” You huff, feeling your eyes prickle with tears, “It’s exhausting.” You add and the tears begin to spill out.

“Y/N, come here.” Paige beckoned, tapping the space beside her.

Your steps towards her are small and slow, it’s all you can manage, if you moved any faster you might just drop to the ground and never get up.

You sit beside Paige and her arm immediately wraps around you in a warm embrace, whenever she hugged you, you felt safe and today was no different. She held you for a few moments in silence just letting you cry into her shoulder.

“I hate seeing you cry. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’re going to be OK, Y/N. You’re the strongest girl I know and you’ll get through this. These feelings are just temporary.” She consoles softly and you look up at her and even through your teary gaze, her face is radiant and glowing and her eyes are soft and comforting as they look back at you.

“Thank you for coming.” You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, “I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I’m here and I’ll always be here, whenever you need me.” She tells you and her hand comes up to wipe a stray tear and it lingers on your cheekbone for longer than usual and your stomach flutters at the feeling.

Nothing had ever happened between you and Paige, you were just friends, really good friends and you didn’t want anything to ruin that.

Paige clears her throat as her hand drops to her lap, “How about a movie?” She suggests giving you a small smile, “I’ll even watch Harry Potter.” She says knowing that it’s your all time favourite film. She usually refuses to watch it, claiming she ‘hates’ it but you’re starting to think different.

“Really?” You ask taken aback at her suggestion.

“Yes, come on.” She stands up and holds out her hand for you to take and you hesitate a little because you never held hands but something felt different today and as you slip you hand into hers, she squeezed it slightly and your stomach flutters for the second time at your friends touch.

You get comfortable on your bed, gathering blankets and pillows while Paige flicks through Netflix in seach of the movie. You watch her intently from behind, her tall frame stood in front of you, toned legs slightly apart, her arms are crossed in front of her so her biceps are flexed perfectly and maybe it’s the low lighting of your room and the way it makes her skin look soft and smooth or maybe it’s your sadness induced state but you want to touch her, you want to feel your skin on hers.

“Paige…” You break the silence nervously considering your next words.

“Uh huh.” She responds turning her to look at you over her shoulder.

“Come here for a second.” You say shuffling yourself to the edge of the bed.

“What’s up?” She asks, coming over and sitting beside you, the bed sinking down under her weight.

You don’t actually know why you called her over and you couldn’t exactly say ‘I just wanted you close’, she’d think you were crazy so you wrap your arms around her in a tight hug and she doesn’t question it, she just hugs you back, her head falling into the crook of your neck. Her scent is sweet and vanilla-y and her arms are strong around your torso and your head begins to spin, “Kiss me.” You blurt out without thinking and you feel Paige tense around you.

“What?” She stutters, pulling away to look into your eyes.

You refuse to look at her, embarrassed at your desperation, “Um- nothing. Sorry, just put the movie on.” You say trying to move away from her but she still has her arms around you and she doesn’t let go.

“No, Y/N. Don’t apologise. I’m just- I don’t know, shocked.” She admits and you could be sick there and then, you’ve ruined everything with someone who cared about you deeply.

“I don’t know why I said that. Ignore me.” You mutter, eyes focused on your lap.

“Please look at me.” Paige urged, bringing one of her hands to lift your face.

Her blue eyes were beautiful and you felt stupid as you looked into them, someone like Paige wouldn’t dream of kissing you.

“I never imagined this was how it would go.” Paige utters, both hands now on your face, holding you delicately.

“What?” You ask stunned.

Paige had imagined you kissing?

“I always imagined I would initiate our first kiss.” She admits, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink.

“You want to kiss me?”

“Y/N, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while.” Your heart skips a beat at her confession.

“What’s stopping you.” You whisper, leaning your face closer to Paiges and that does it, in a flash her lips are on yours and yours eyes flutter shut at the feeling you’ve unconsciously craved for so long.

Her lips are soft and subtle just as you imagined, she tasted like fresh mint and as one hand stayed on your face, the other explored your body, trailing down your arm and then your back, you felt like you were floating.

Your hands did some exploring of their own, starting at Paiges waist and making their way up to her chest where they rested for a moment before sliding onto her arms, your fingers finally getting a touch of her skin.

The smile on both your faces was cheesy to say the least as you both pulled away, slightly breathless.

“That was…” She begins but trails off.

“Yeah…” You reply, equally as lost for words as the blonde girl in front of you.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i love soft paige 🥺🥺

[emphistic]

Forget-me-nots

A/N: call me Nick Cannon the way im out here rawdogging this fever

<- Series m.list

“Hey, babe,” you said, catching Sukuna by surprise. You placed your hands on the back of his gaming chair, “I’m gonna go on a walk. D’you wanna come with?”

“I’d rather go for a run, but God knows your slow ass wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Sukuna removed his headset and placed it on his desk, before following you out of the room.

If he had kept his headset on for just a little longer, Sukuna would’ve heard the protests and complaints of Gojo. The white-haired man was utterly disappointed at Sukuna for leaving in the middle of a game, who was going to carry him now that Sukuna was gone?

Sukuna looked you up and down, watching you as you put on your shoes, and let out a scoff, getting your attention. “You’re forgetting something.”

You met his gaze, “Uh huh, go on.”

“A jacket, dumbass. A jacket.”

You waved your hand around, dismissing his suggestion. “Don’t be silly, Sukuna. It doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“That so?” He raised a brow.

“Mhm.”

“It’s literally dark out, babe. Who are you trying to impress?”

The two of you continued on your way out of the complex without putting an end to your usual lighthearted banter. The sky was clear of clouds when you made it past the front doors; and cool air immediately hit your skin. Okay, maybe Sukuna wasn’t wrong in reminding you to layer up.

But, despite his demeanor on the exterior, Sukuna was far from cloud nine. Was that selfish of him? To truly have everything, and yet, still want more? He managed to get himself a loving girlfriend, not to mention, one that was exceptionally beautiful, both on the inside and outside. He should be content; he should be satisfied. But how could he? When guilt gnawed at him every second, every minute, every hour?

Sukuna was afraid, deathly. 

He could tell you about the bet, but it was inevitable that you would leave him right after. Or, he could choose to keep silent about the bet for the rest of his life. But that would mean Naoya Zen’in having a leg up on him, and that was no good.

Sukuna couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at your face, admiring your elated expression. He liked the sound of your voice, and hearing you laugh. The thought of you being gone plagued his mind, and he knew he would be a dead man walking if that nightmare became true.

Things truly could not be worse for the pink-haired man, who felt utterly pathetic. He felt vulnerable, and weak. Completely opposite of the image most people portrayed him as. Which is quite amusing, to say the least.

Sukuna was at a crossroad, but it was clear he wasn’t choosing either path. Maybe it was the worst choice, maybe it was the best choice, but Sukuna knew that doing nothing was probably the most impactful choice, and so he decided to let God play out his fate, leaving him to wait day and night, never knowing when you would find out and his world would flip upside down.

To bet something is to “risk something, usually a sum of money, against someone else’s on the basis of the outcome of a future event, such as the result of a race or game.” Sukuna knew that, when he was drunk at that damned party. Sukuna knew that, when he signed up for this. Sukuna knew; he wasn’t stupid; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

“—Nobara was telling me, after the party, about my . . . complexion, or, I don’t know. My skin was apparently glowing—”

“Are you a virgin or something?” Sukuna cut you off with a laugh, turning to look at you. And, not that he had any knowledge in the field, but, with the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the wind, and with the way the moonlight casted upon your face, illuminating your best features, you looked just like a cinematic masterpiece.

You gave him a pointed look, as if to say, You would know, and again, Sukuna laughed.

“It’s called afterglow, babe. Science-y stuff, I figured you would already know, but I guess not.”

“Can you go one second without being rude?”

“You’re funny; don’t get your hopes up too high,” Sukuna ruffled your hair as you both continued down the dimly lit street.

It was a quiet, peaceful night. There would usually be something happening a block away, maybe sirens in the distance, kids playing around and screaming, but there was not. Maybe that was a blessing, maybe that was a curse, but it left you and Sukuna both to your own thoughts, and that was comforting enough.

“Is everything okay? Did you have a long day?” you asked, breaking the overwhelming silence. You turned to look at Sukuna with worry written all over your expression.

Sukuna had been tense ever since he got home, like a heavy weight had been placed upon his shoulders. You thought it strange; your boyfriend was a carefree man. He was easygoing and laid back; he knew how to start up a conversation, get everyone’s mood up, but this. . . This wasn’t Sukuna.

Whenever you two went on walks or runs together, sure, there’s a silence, but it was never like. . . Like something was wrong. It was never like this.

“Hm? No, I’m fine. I just have a lot to think about, that’s all. Don’t worry for me, ‘kay?” Sukuna gave you a smile, but it only tightened the knot in your chest, your concern doing the opposite of diminishing.

Truth was, you didn’t know what to think. And if you had to be honest, you couldn’t say your mind hadn’t wandered to the idea of Sukuna being unsatisfied with your relationship. Was he upset with you? Did he think you too much? You shuddered just thinking about it.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna watched as your eyebrows furrowed, and you chewed at your bottom lip. It was a habit of yours — the latter, and Sukuna noticed you only gave in to it whenever you were anxious or deep in thought.

“Hey, I was thinking, how about we go out sometime?” asked Sukuna, out of the blue. 

You two hadn’t been on a date since the baseball game, and that was a while ago. Sukuna missed spending an entire day with you, and was desperate for something fun to take his mind off of the bet.

“You make it sound like we haven’t even kissed yet,” you covered your mouth, trying, but failing, to stifle a giggle.

“What else did you want me to say, huh?” Sukuna humored you, mentally patting himself on the back for managing to lift the tension.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like, ‘Do you want to—,’ actually, I have no idea. How do you ask someone on a not-first date?”

“That’s a good question,” Sukuna added. “Now that I think of it, I’m not sure.”

“Eh, whatever. Any other way is totally better than yours.”

“Now who’s the rude one, hm? Do you want to go on that date or what?”

You laughed, “I’m only teasing, ‘Kuna. Of course I do; I don’t even know why you’re asking.”

“It’s polite.”

“You? Polite? Hilarious.” You placed a hand on Sukuna’s arm, but he pulled away, feigning to be hurt by your words. But you knew he was just trying to joke around.

“Awh, baby, don’t be sad. How can I make it up to my handsome, handsome boyfriend?”

“You can’t.” Sukuna turned his head away from you, hiding his grin.

You didn’t take no for an answer, and stood on your tiptoes in order to plant a wet kiss on Sukuna’s cheek, even going as far to voice a Mwah! sound.

When Sukuna still didn’t look at you, you started to wonder if he was genuinely upset. But when he abruptly turned around to smash his lips on yours, all other thoughts in your head completely vanished and you melted in his arms. Placing your hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist, you kissed him back just as fervently.

One of Sukuna’s hands wandered down your middle to the small of your back and rested just above your behind.

With your boyfriend’s lips on yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and his murmuring of sweet nothings every now and then, all previous worries and concerns of yours were no match. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

-

“You look good,” Sukuna said, a sultry look in his eyes as he shamelessly checked you out.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks, “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He shrugged, “I try.”

“So, where are we headed?” You asked, immediately after entering your boyfriend’s car.

Sukuna hadn’t told you anything since he asked you out. Only thing he said was, “Look pretty for me, like you always do, and bring a jacket or something.” But since he knew there was no way in hell you were going to listen to that last bit, he already knew he was giving you his hoodie if you needed it.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know,” said Sukuna, as he started driving down the road.

“Oh, yeah? What, you gonna drive me to a secluded area and chop off my head or something? Is that why you’re being so lowkey about all of this?”

“Would you like that?” Sukuna quipped, turning to look at you as he pulled up to a red light.

You laughed, “I don’t know; I haven’t tried it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It wasn’t long till Sukuna and you arrived at a crowded space overshadowed by the large buildings beside it. Said space was filled from corner to corner with food vendors and other small shops selling trinkets, clothes, toys, et cetera. There was music booming from speakers located all around, and the air smelled like a variety of food that had you salivating on the spot. Not to mention, the beautiful array of string lights above all the stalls, giving an authentic sense and feel to things.

Families, friends, couples, and individuals walked through the streets of the area. Carrying toys that lit up or made music with a simple click of a button, holding small paper plates stacked with food, bargaining prices of intricate garments, or simply conversing with their companions. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, gossip, jokes, whispers.

The exciting, fun-filled atmosphere of the place was surely popular among its customers. And, even taking one look at it all, you knew you were bound to have endless entertainment and enjoyment here, tonight.

“What do you think?” Sukuna asked, noticing you had gone quiet. His voice was barely above a whisper, saddened by the idea of you hating it. He thought you might’ve liked something like this, that’s why he picked this place. But maybe his judgment was—

“It’s—I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful, and the food smells amazing,” you smiled, looking at Sukuna.

Unbeknownst to you, the pink-haired man let out a sigh of relief upon hearing your answer.

“I used to go here all the time with Yuuji back when we were little; he loved the oyakodon. I don’t know if they still have the same one he preferred.”

“We should take a picture, babe. Make him jealous that we’re having a better dinner than him.”

Sukuna laughed, “You’re starting to sound like me. I think I’m rubbing off on you, squirt.”

“It’s only payback since he ate the last of my Häagen-Dazs. I was saving it,” you grumbled, still holding a grudge about the distant memory.

“Sure, sure.”

Sukuna snaked an arm around your waist, directing you to a red, striped stall. Smoke flying from the back of it as people fried and cooked and did whatever. “Jakoten?” he suggested.

“Obviously.”

If there was one thing you learned while being with Sukuna, it was that he was an eater. He wasn’t picky, no, quite the opposite, really. He could eat literally anything he got his hands on. Sukuna had a strict diet — being an athlete and all that — but he had his off days, where he could eat anything he pleased.

And, although you are a little less “wild” compared to him, you two often shared interest in the same dishes. Like jakoten, for example. But that’s a simple one, most people like it, so that’s not much good of an instance.

Sukuna and you waited near the front of the food stand, and when it was time and your order came out, Sukuna helped put a cupped hand under your chin, catching all of the tiny crumbs in his palm.

“Good, right?”

Your reply came muffled, as you chewed on the fried fish paste. “Mhm.”

“Where do you want to go next?” Jakoten was delicious, Sukuna couldn’t deny it, but you would be wrong if you thought that was enough to satisfy his hunger.

“Hm, we should go and see if they have tonkatsu. I’m kinda hungry for a main dish now.”

Together, you and Sukuna walked hand in hand around the people-filled space, seeking out different meals to try. Contrary to your main mission — finding a filling dish, you and Sukuna both had your fair share of small appetizers and sweet treats. When you two decided unanimously to find a table to sit down at and enjoy your dinner, you weren’t aware of how difficult of a journey that was.

To say the place was packed was an understatement, and most people didn’t even try to find seats, instead opting to stand and walk the whole time. After getting hundreds of steps in just to come out fruitless, you and Sukuna gave up on even the idea of sitting down.

“You know, I was thinking,” you began, while picking at the greens on your plate, “we should totally get a bowl of noodles, and recreate that scene from Lady and the Tramp.”

“We totally should not.” Sukuna shook his head, an unamused look on his face as he bit into a Japanese type of skewered chicken.

“C’mon, it’ll be cute. And, and, we would get to kiss,” you pursued.

“Is kissing you supposed to tempt me?”

“I—How dare you; you know what, don’t talk to me.” You turned away from a laughing Sukuna.

“Aw, sweetheart, I was just joking. ‘sides, who would pay for your food if you walked away from me?”

You turned back around.

Pleased with himself — having gotten your attention back, Sukuna gave a boyish smile, “That’s more like it,” before swinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling, “Don’t, ‘Kuna. You’re going to make me drop my food.”

“So cold. Your boyfriend’s giving you kisses and you tell him to stop? That’s a new low, even for you,” Sukuna feigned a hurt tone, but remained smiling all the while.

“Mm, yeah. Sulk all you want, you were the one who refused my kisses first. Don’t you dare forget.”

“You’re really never going to let that go, are you? Ah, I know, would this,” he pulled out a wad of cash, “change your mind?”

Sukuna had seen you eyeing a ramune-selling vendor ever since the both of you arrived. Of course, after being around you for so long, he was quick to learn that ramune was one of your weak spots. You were a fiend for anything sweet, after all. And the popular carbonated drink was perfect for the current weather.

Seeing your eyes widen to saucers, Sukuna knew he had won you over.

“Just, get me one, too, alright? You’re not the only thirsty person here.”

As you began to walk in the direction of the stand, Sukuna abruptly pulled you back, “Actually . . . they might have soju, so get me a cup of that instead. You know the kind I like.” And with that — and a final kiss to your cheek, Sukuna sent you off.

It didn’t take very long to acquire your drinks, as the line was pretty short seeing as most people were starting to leave the area considering the late time. On the other hand, it did take you a fairly drawn-out amount of time to find Sukuna. For he wasn’t in the same place he was before; Sukuna was now standing in a much more secluded area. And, he wasn’t alone, either.

The blond dude, who hosted that party, was standing in front of a very tense-looking Sukuna. To passersby and the naked eye, the two men might look like they were simply a pair of friends conversing. But to you, you noticed Sukuna’s clenched jaw. You noticed his arms, crossed over his chest. You noticed his eyes, usually holding a light to them, were dark, and Sukuna was glowering.

You assumed they started talking a little while after you left Sukuna to go shopping, and, as strong as your morals were, you couldn’t help but listen in to their conversation.

“—I’m surprised, I didn’t foresee a chance to meet you tonight, captain. And, another date? You’re really scoring, aren’t you? Though, I can’t say I expected less from the Ryomen.”

“Look, Zen’in, I told you — a million times, actually, I’m done playing this stupid game of yours. Grow up, or, better yet, find something else to entertain your fucked up brain.”

“Woah, didn’t mean to hit a nerve there. I was just about to ask — since we’re already here — if you wanted your cash now, or later. Wouldn’t want to intrude on your little date.” Naoya let out a low laugh, “You know, you’re really starting to drain my bank account. First kiss, two dates, and you fucked her? Man, you’ve outdone yourself.”

With each sentence that man spoke, your jaw only dropped lower and lower. Your chest tightened, and it felt unbearably suffocating to breathe. Tears threatened to spill at any second, but you still weren’t sure if Naoya was lying, and making all of this up. 

God, let this be just a nightmare.

Sukuna couldn’t have. . . Sukuna wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do something like that to you, right? He wouldn’t use someone, all for a silly bet.

Heat rose to your face, as emotions bottled up inside of you. You didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Sad? Betrayed?

When the blond noticed you standing only a few feet away, and snickered, “Whoops, looks like I am interrupting something.”

Naoya flashed you a fake smile, before turning back to Sukuna, “Take care, Ryomen.” He pressed multiple hundred dollar bills onto the pink-haired man’s hand, and took his leave.

Sukuna hadn’t noticed you before Naoya said something, and when he saw your face, hurt written all over your features, his eyes softened. He tried to take a step forward, but with every step he took, you took two backwards.

“Sukuna, I—I don’t even know what to say to you,” your voice cracked, and Sukuna swore his heart shattered right then and there at the look on your face. “Is it true? — the things he said?”

It pained Sukuna, to see you hold out hope. Hope for him. Hope for your relationship. He was undeserving of such grace to be bestowed upon him, and couldn’t say anything but, “I’m sorry.”

Your expression morphed into that of confusion, and then into one of frustration and anger. You couldn’t believe Sukuna just threw away everything you two had, shared, dreamed of, all for some money and a stupid bet.

“Was nothing we had real to you? Was everything just a big ole lie you fed me so that you could see some more zeros at the end of your already large enough fortune? . . .Sukuna, answer me.”

Your voice got softer as you spoke, till it was just above a whisper. Your breathing was uneven, and came in gasps. This was all too much for you to wrap your head around. 

“I trusted you, I gave you everything. You saw me vulnerable, you saw me naked, you . . . you—” You weren’t even aware when it started, but tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, and even wiping them away with your sleeve didn’t help.

All the while, the man who brought you so much joy, and now, so much pain, could do nothing but stare back at you in silence. His eyes were empty, the light gone. The man you loved, gone. Sukuna didn’t try and defend his stupidity, he had no reason to. He was in the wrong, and was — rightfully so — being berated for his doings. Sukuna loved you, but pride was a much stronger feeling than love.

“I thought you changed, Sukuna. I thought you matured, and grew up, and learned, but . . . God, I was so wrong. You’re nothing different than the boy who tormented me in high school, aren’t you. But, I don’t understand. . . What did I do to you? What did I do for you to—to treat me like this? You willingly accepted to be paid to take me out?”

“Was I not enough for you, Ryomen? That you felt the need to be rewarded for staying with me?” Your voice was so, so soft; it sent a pang through Sukuna’s heart.

In your eyes, Sukuna now looked so different, after having learned what you did. He was really nothing but a man. A man whose pride and dignity and ego took the best, and worst, of him.

“I can’t believe I even trusted you. But, you know what, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. It doesn’t matter what I did. Anything regarding you doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

You’re not sure what took over you at that very moment, but you do know that throwing a drink at a man does contribute to getting your emotions out. “There, you can have your soju, you can have your money, you can have whatever you want. Good bye, Ryomen. And good fucking night.”

You had no way home; Sukuna was the one who drove you two here, and you both knew that. But you didn’t care. As long as you got away from that man you would be okay. You would be okay. . .

At that very moment, after seeing you storm away from him, and into the crowds of people — who appeared shocked to see a woman with mascara running down her cheeks, — Sukuna understood the term ‘significant other’. He realized you were his other half. You completed him. But now. . . You were gone, disappeared, left — forever, if he didn’t do something about it. Sukuna wasn’t whole. Hell, he wasn’t even half. He was nothing, nothing without you.

It wasn’t like Sukuna to cry; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

As the days went on, Sukuna couldn’t have been more stupid as to think you would talk with him after a week’s time, and that everything would go back to normal. He wanted this to be a nightmare. But oh, how wrong he was. For days upon days upon days, you greeted him with nothing but silence.

You blocked him on all social media, you premeditated routes to avoid him on campus, you deleted his number, you did everything to erase the face of the man whom you called the love of your life from your mind. The both of you went from texting or calling each other almost every night to complete radio silence. It drove Sukuna to the brink of insanity.

-

“—I’m just saying, you should go tell her you’re sorry. I mean, that was a really fucked up thing to do. And, even coming from you, I’m surprised.” Yuuji popped another potato chip into his mouth as he lounged on his older brother’s sofa.

“Don’t you think I’ve done that already? She hates my guts, Yuuji, and—and I don’t blame her but. . . Right now, she thinks I’m a dickhead who just used her for money. But that’s totally not true.”

Yuuji raised a brow, as if to say, Are you sure about that? And Sukuna sighed, plopping down beside his brother.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I technically was using her, but only at the very beginning, but everything after our first phone call was real, genuine. I didn’t get into this whole bet thing to hurt her, I was just trying to prove Naoya’s bitchass wrong and maybe make his wallet lighter at the same time. . . I really, really love her, Yuu—”

“Y’know, I’m not a big fan of listening to your drama-filled life, but I’m also not very keen on hearing you be a sap.”

Sukuna, outright ignoring his brother, continued on with his speech anyway, “God, this might be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done.” He ran a hand down his face, exasperated.

“It is.”

Sukuna shot him a pointed look, and the younger boy only shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude, I’m pretty sure your girl broke things off permanently. Besides, there’s not much you can do to redeem yourself, anyway. Betting on a relationship is a pretty shitty move.”

“Do I look like I don’t know that?” Sukuna grumbled, stealing a handful of chips from Yuuji’s bowl.

“Well, you could’ve at least explained yourself while you had the chance, instead of just saying you’re sorry. I mean, poor girl, you faked a relationship with her and that’s all she knows.”

Sukuna — deep in thought, held his head in his hands.

“I’m sure if you tried to give an explanation she would at least hear you out. Eh, it might not even be too late to get her a bouquet or something. Whaddya know, I heard girls liked those kinds of things, when you get them their favorite flower and stuff.”

Yuuji paused, “You do know her favorite flower, right?”

“. . .”

“Man, I’m an optimistic person at heart, but this is just. . . You might be a lost cause, ‘Kuna.”

-

Sukuna had a lot of hope. Key word: had. As in, used to have.

Attempt no1:

They say Forget-me-nots (also referred to as Scorpion Grasses) represent true love, and respect or, at least, something of the like. But, the flower also — when gifted to someone — symbolizes that you’ll always hold them in your heart and in your thoughts and in your mind. The flower could additionally be interpreted to suggest fidelity, and being truthful, genuine, to someone you love. 

Now, Sukuna knew you were smart. And he never doubted that fact, despite all of his previous teasing and joking of that. But he had never wished for someone to have knowledge about the meanings of flowers more than he has at this very moment.

It’s funny, one can laugh, but it’s true that Sukuna spent countless hours researching different flowers and their archaic all the way to their modern meanings just so he could prove maybe he wasn’t that much of a dick, after all.

But maybe, he should’ve put a little more effort into the planning of his execution rather than the organizing part of it.

Sukuna knew you were avoiding him, even going as far as changing your daily routes to classes even if it meant walking farther distances. He was more impressed than offended at how dedicated you were to the whole “Never-Seeing-His-Face-Again” bit.

There really wasn’t much he could do to be able to see you in person, since you blocked all contact with him, but . . . Sukuna did happen to think of one way he could meet up with you.

While he may not have been the best boyfriend, Sukuna was still . . . decent, sorta, if you put aside the whole bet crisis. And, even if he couldn’t remember the purpose of your Student Council meetings, he did remember the directions to where your briefings took place. Call him a stalker or serial killer or whatever, it doesn’t change the fact he drove you to and from those damned meetings.

Pacing to and fro outside of a library was already strange enough; being covered in tattoos and having pink hair did not help with the amount of stares Sukuna received, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Sukuna gripped the bouquet of Forget-me-nots — and other flowers, but it was mainly filled with Forget-me-nots, like his life depended on it.

He went over his speech — that he had previously practiced with Yuuji the night before — over a hundred times in his head. But when he suddenly heard you call out his name out of confusion, all that he managed out was a plethora of garbled “I’m sorry’s” and “Please’s.”

“Sukuna? What—what are you doing here?” you asked, bewilderment written all over your features as your eyes wandered down to the enormous bouquet in his hands. Being greeted by your ex-boyfriend right after finishing a meeting was not on today’s Bingo card for you.

“I—I know the other night was . . . a mess,” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, “but I didn’t get to explain myself and—”

“No, it’s okay, you have nothing to explain. Everything was a lie; everything you said was a lie; everything we did was a lie. See? I get it; no need for your clarification.” You shook your head, and began walking down the street to your next destination.

Even after knowing Sukuna for so long, you were a fool for thinking you could “outwalk” him. The male had no intention of letting you leave without you hearing him out first, and he was able to catch up to you within just a few strides.

“Can you just let me talk? For a second?”

You quickened your pace, trying your hardest to get him off your tail, but he just wouldn’t budge. Doesn’t this count as harassment?

“There’s nothing for you to say, Sukuna; I’m not wasting my time with you on this.”

Sukuna murmured your name, “Please, there’s more to the story than you think. I didn’t accept the bet to hurt you, I. . .” His voice trailed off as he wondered what to do next, but he suddenly remembered the bouquet and shoved it into your arms.

“What is this?” Your face morphed into one of incertitude, your voice softening as you examined the bouquet, but still, your pace never slowed.

“Special flowers, for a special girl.”

You rolled your eyes, again, quickening your pace; you were now speed walking while holding a comically large bouquet. Sukuna was finally not the only one being stared at, though he didn’t revel much in that fact.

“Don’t say that. You know we’re not together anymore; we’re over. Are you ever going to get that through your skull?” You finally stopped in your tracks, and turned to look at Sukuna — half because you were out of breath from walking so fast and half because you wanted to see the expression on his face.

“We don’t have to be; c’mon, I want to make things right—”

“Sukuna! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” A high pitched voice called out, out of the blue.

You both turned your heads to see who it came from.

“You never texted me after I gave you my number last week. Don’t tell me you’re shy; there’s nothing scary about this girl,” the short brunette giggled.

In truth, Sukuna had no idea who this was. Probably just some rando who hit on him after seeing him play basketball.

“Lady, I don’t even remember your name—”

But the girl had already caught up with Sukuna and looped her arm around his, acting all friendly and whatnot. Sukuna looked at you for help, but you merely scoffed, amused with the sight, “You shouldn’t have to make things right in the first place. You chose this, don’t you remember?”

Exhaling, you turned on your heel and walked away.

-

 “Nobs, I think I might take a break from the dating scene, for a while. I mean, I’ve only recently begun to be able to look at Sukuna’s face without breaking down in tears.” While you tried to appear better off, your voice gave it all away. You weren’t completely over him yet.

“But, you’re hot; you’re young. This could be the perfect opportunity for you to make Sukuna regret losing you.” Nobara tried her hardest to get you to go to this party with her; she knew about your recent breakup, of course, but she was apparently too scared to go on her own, since Maki was unavailable.

“If Sukuna’s going that just gives me all the more reason to not go,” you stopped shoving ice cream in your mouth for a second to really get your point across.

Nobara sprawled across your bedroom floor, miserable, but not as miserable as you. She started thinking about not going to the party after all, but she had been looking forward to it all week! Ugh, going alone is the most “Loser thing” ever.

You paused your eating, and thought to yourself, If Sukuna’s really desperate to explain to me and apologize, he must be in his feelings, so he probably won’t go to the party.

“Ah, you know what, maybe I can go to that party, after all—”

“Really? Oh, my God! Yes!” Nobara immediately jumped up from the floor and threw her arms around you, trapping you in a hug.

“I’m still stuck on why you’re so happy. I seriously do not get what’s so great about this party.”

“Everything, duh.”

“Whose house is this, again?” you asked, once you and Nobara pulled up at the address you put into the GPS.

“Uh, dunno. I’m pretty sure Yuuji does, though; he got me the invite.”

At the mention of his name, your mind immediately went to his brother. Which was your first mistake, since tonight was supposed to be fun, and help you forget about everything that went down.

“Oh, so they’re in the same year as us, then?”

“Mm, probably. C’mon, what are you stalling for, let’s party!” Nobara dragged you out of the car and continued dragging you until you both arrived in front of the door.

Upon entering, you noticed the house was . . . nice — definitely not a mansion, unlike someone else’s, but it was the size of a typical “party house”. It looked sorta old, but it wasn’t rundown, so maybe people just used it a lot for large gatherings like this.

Did you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven? No. Were your protests overlooked? Of course. Did you sit down in the circle? Yes. Yes, you did. This was now your second time playing the game, and your opinion of it hadn’t changed at all. Being surrounded by drunk or high college kids instantly soured your mood, and you almost regretted agreeing to join Nobara.

A brunette girl, whom you recognized as the girl from yesterday, spun the bottle first, and the game commenced. What’s different about this house is that it has multiple closets, so the game progressed pretty quickly, with several couples being in their  respective closets at once.

When it came down to your turn, you spun the bottle, though, not without some hesitancy, at first.

1 . . .

2 . . .

3 . . .

The empty bottle went around the circle three times before it landed on . . . Sukuna? What the fuck? You hadn’t even noticed he was here. This happened last time, too. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this game? Is it cursed or something? God.

There was visible and audible shock amongst the crowd.

“Didn’t this happen at Naoya’s party?”

“Yeah, it did!”

“That’s crazy.”

-

“Look, I know this might not be the best situation to say this but—”

Despite your misgivings about doing so, you went in the closet with Sukuna anyway. And after locking the door behind him, Sukuna turned to you with a desperate look on his face.

Attempt no2:

“I’m giving you seven minutes, because that’s all the time we have in here anyway and also because I’m bored and curious as to what you think is a valid apology.”

“Okay, that’s—that’s enough for me. . . I know — that from the moment we met, it started off bad. Beyond bad. Horrible, even. But I want to make things right between us. Because, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And, I fucked things up. I followed through with Naoya’s bet when I was drunk and out of my mind. I should’ve ended it the next day but I didn’t; I wanted to prove to Naoya I could take you out. Because . . . I’ve liked you for a long time, probably since high school, even. And I know I never expressed that in a good way, but that’s only because I never realized it myself. So, seeing him just dangle the money in front of me, I just—I just thought of the money as a nice ‘incentive’ or something.”

“That’s a weird thing to think.”

“Yeah, I know. And I was stupid to think that that justified what I was doing. But, everything after our first phone call was real, I swear. Nothing we did together was fake or me just using you to get money. But, I won’t deny that that doesn’t change the fact I was an asshole—”

“You are an asshole.”

“Okay, that I will admit. Yes, I’m an asshole. But, I’m sorry. I’m a sorry asshole. Heh.”

“Did you just laugh at your own joke?”

“I—uh—” Sukuna took in a deep breath, “I know you could have as many me’s in your life, and hate them all the same. But I’ll only ever have one you. And that’s all I need. So please, I won’t ask for you to take me back; I don’t deserve that, but please, I just want you to hear me out. 

“You can punch me, kick me, block my number and delete it, but please, don’t ignore what I’m saying to you right now. Know that I’m sorry — though sorry doesn’t quite cut it, but please know. Know that I love you. Know that I’m completely devoted to you. Know that I will kiss the ground with which you walk upon. Know that I love you, for fuck’s sake, and will wait for you to accept that — you don’t have to love me too, just accept that I love you. Please, know.”

Sukuna’s voice was soft as he spoke with such earnestness you almost wanted to feel guilty. You knew what he did was unforgivable. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if you wanted to just forget all that had happened and go back to how things used to be between you two.

You would be a terrible liar to say you hadn’t missed Sukuna, and although he was a stupid asshole, his words proved he did nothing with ill intention. He agreed to the bet because that was the extra push he needed to be able to ask you out. He couldn’t have done it by himself, out of fear or anxiety or whatever. It was an impossible thought — the idea of Ryomen Sukuna being scared of rejection, but nobody was superhuman. Everyone has emotions.

Speaking of which, maybe it was an emotional choice to take a step forward. Maybe it was an illogical choice to finally meet Sukuna’s eyes since you two entered the closet. Maybe it was an impulsive choice to wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug, with your head resting on his chest. But, either way, you felt it was the right choice.

At first, Sukuna was tense, surprised at the sudden embrace. But, he remembered it was one he longed for, ever since that fateful night, and it didn’t take long for him to return the hug, wrapping his arms around your torso.

Through silent, unspoken words only the both of you shared and understood, you two basked in the moment of finally getting your love back. Sukuna had more words to say than he could speak. You had more feelings to share than you could show. The time you two spent apart was excruciatingly and regretfully (on your part) long.

On both sides there was an absence of something fundamental; whatever you two built while together was gone. But now? There’s not much to be said except for the light returning to those crimson eyes that you so loved.

It’s enigmatic; you don’t know what possessed you to speak up — your voice muffled due to burying your face in Sukuna’s chest. But you knew it was partially because of how long you spent bottling up your emotions: anger, sadness, regret, longing. All for one man, and one man only.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your stupid brain, that managed to apologize whilst using math as metaphors. I hate your dumb smile, which still stuns me even after everything. I hate your annoying voice, which is the only thing I can fall asleep to. I hate your hair, which stands out in every crowd I enter to avoid you. 

“I hate your motorcycle, which even the rational part of my mind still imagines hearing the engine of. I hate your hands, which I undeniably long to feel in my hair. I hate your way of talking to me, which I can never get bored of, no matter how hard I try. I hate when you lie your way out of the littlest of things. I hate when you’re not around, and I have no one to tell me jokes that don’t even make sense. I hate that you think you can just win me over because you got me flowers knowing they have a specific meaning. 

“I hate that I hate you. I hate that I still love you.”

Hearing you sob your heart out while laying everything bare for him, Sukuna couldn’t help but place a kiss on your crown, burying his nose in your hair. After all, Sukuna had a feeling you were just listing parts of him you loved. But either way, he didn’t mind. This was simply the start of everything reverting back to normal, something both you and Sukuna longed for. And, —

In the end,

Sukuna didn’t want anything. He wanted everything. He wanted you. (you were his everything.)

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒

A/N: Thanks for all the love and support I’ve received on this series!!, it was definitely a pain to finish and every one of your comments and reblogs and likes definitely helped me get through writing this <3

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