#i have such an impulse to start over. say fuck it and move away and start from scratch

[rispwr]

“3 words, 8 letters. I mean it” - J.JK - Mini (M)

Pairings : j.jk x fem! Reader

Genre : situationship, smut, slight fluff.

Contents : chuckblair inspired, limo sx, gossip girl parties setting, unprotected sex (yk what to do babes), riding, praisekink, comparing, big c!jk, slight public sex, not proofread, lemme know what i missed!

Notes : don’t expect too much yall. I’m trying a new writing style. The one that’s not too detailed that i write about everything but the character😭 tell me what you think about this? Should i make more smut? Idk i think i’m bad at smut, i’m more better at fluff and romantic stuff but i just wanted to try this. Xoxo gossip girl💋💋 Ive been watching the show and i love itt!! I love chuck and blair and i think i will def write more inspired by them. I loved the “3 words, 8 letters” line. It’s my favourite tbh.

“I knew you had a type…” his voice trails behind me. I didn’t bother to move or to face him but to just stay still and silent, silently enjoying his touch, the way his touch felt like warmth to my cold like skin, the way the world stops, and everythingstops once he touches me.

“I missed you.”

After Jungkook suddenly left me in Paris without saying a word during our vacation together, I was shattered. One minute, everything felt perfect. the Eiffel Tower lighting up the night sky, his laughter filling my heart with happiness as we explored and the next, the right side of my bed was gone . Broken, sad, left, and helpless. I spent the four remaining days locked away in the hotel room we had booked together.

At the airport, sitting alone in business class, I tried to distract myself, to feel anything other than the suffocating pain that clung to me. That’s when a man approached me. At first, I didn’t want to look at him, but when I did, I felt a sharp ache in my chest. His sleeve tattoos, the undercut, the piercings. it all felt too familiar, too much like him.

When I learned he lived in the same city as me, I impulsively invited him to my upcoming party. I told myself it was a distraction, a way to move on. Maybe even a chance to prove to myself that I didn’t need Jungkook anymore.

I thought that was the end of us. I truly did.

Until now.

“You left me… alone in a country whose people I don’t even know,” my eyes keep shut, trying hard not to let a tear out.

“I’m sorry, honey… let me make it up to you?”

“I have Ian now, Jungkook,” I try to keep my tone straight.

“No, you won’t,” he chuckles deeply. “You’re only with him to replace the missing presence that you can’t live without.” His hands trail around my jawline. “And that is me”

“Three words, eight letters. I mean it,” his tone changes into a soft one, one that I only hear when he wakes up to me wrapped up in his arms, one when he starts talking about our future together, together.

“Three words, eight letters. Let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing his hand, intertwining with mine, his smile widening.

—-

The limo driver’s voice, distant and polite, asked, “Your place, Ms.?”

“Mhm,” I hummed, breathless already, my response barely audible as Jungkook’s lips crashed into mine. The kiss was firm yet full of emotion, like he’d been starving for days…… He starved for my taste

My breath hitched as Jungkook pulled me into his lap, his large hands gripping my waist. all I could manage was a soft hum, barely audible, as I reached blindly for the button to raise the divider.

The divider hummed as it rises, It being the only thing keeping the driver from seeing us do the deed in the back of the limo, leaving only us in the together in the backseat. His tongue parted my lips, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed over my thighs, hiking my dress higher until it was bunched around my hips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against my lips, his voice low and strained. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl”

I gasped as he tugged my panties aside, his fingers grazing the slick heat of my core. “You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his fingers teased me, gathering the wetness and spreading it over my entrance. “You’ve been missing me too huh?”

“Jungkook,” I whimpered, unable to answer him as my hips bucked against his hand.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his lips curving into a small, cocky smirk. His hands gripped my hips as he leaned back slightly, guiding me to straddle him completely. “Come here, baby. Let me feel you.”

I reached between us, freeing him from his pants. He was already hard, his cock thick and pulsing in my hand, and the deep groan that rumbled in his chest as I stroked him sent a wave of heat coursing through me.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, his hands tightening on my thighs. “You know I can’t wait.”

I positioned myself over him, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and slowly sank down, taking him inch by inch. The stretch was overwhelming, my body trembling as he filled me completely.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the seat as his hands gripped my waist. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. You feel so good.”

I braced my hands on his shoulders, rocking my hips slightly to adjust to the fullness. “Jungkook,” I gasped, my voice shaking. “You’re so deep.”

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands moving to guide me as I began to move. “Good girl. Take me just like that. You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent a shiver down my spine, and I picked up the pace, bouncing on his lap, riding him with a desperation that matched his own. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, mingling with our moans and the occasional broken gasp of my name from his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained as his hands gripped my hips tightly, helping me move faster. “You’re gonna make me lose it. You’re so fucking perfect. So good to me.”

“Jungkook,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure built low in my belly. “I-I’m close.”

“Me too,” he growled, his hips thrusting up to meet mine as his pace turned erratic. His dark eyes locked on mine, his voice soft but commanding. “Milk me, baby. Let me feel you. I’ll fill you up, yeah?”

“Yes,” I cried out, my voice desperate. “Fill me up, Jungkook. Please. I want it. I want all of you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his grip on me tightening as he slammed into me one last time, holding me down as his release hit. “That’s it, baby. Milk me. Fuck, you’re so good.”

The sensation of him filling me sent me over the edge, my body clenching around him as my orgasm crashed over me in waves. I cried out his name, my movements faltering as he held me close, his lips pressing against my neck as we both trembled through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our breaths mingling as we clung to each other. His hands stroked my back, his lips brushing softly against my shoulder as he whispered, “three words, eight letters. I mean it.”

“Three words, eight letters. I mean it more.” I murmured, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him, my heart racing as the limo drove us to my house.

[quietblissxx]

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[cozzyplace]

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[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

[pyfsan]

Your taste on my lips

pairing: bf!jake x fem!reader

genre: smut (minors DNI)

synopsis: no plot, just reader and her bf jake fucking and being dirty

wc: 1k

warnings: rough sex (just at the beginning) mention of bruises, cum eating, oral (m receiving), face fucking, fingering, a bit of dirty talk (jake is chalant), also jake is a whimper. i think that's everything

☆

note: this is the first time I'm writing in English and I'm not a native speaker so there will be grammar mistakes so just read past it..... and be patient

smut under the cut

The thing is... jake doesn't know the time to stop. To the point you have to yell at him that you need to breathe a little, or even that it's hurting. He gets so drunk in the feeling that his senses become nothing and he can't hear for shit. But once your voice comes tearing through his ears he just completely freezes in place, looking at you with both eyes wide open.

"I'm sorry babe, did i hurt you?" He asks, soft voice as he runs his hands on the skin your legs, soothing you down.

"Just... go less rough, it'll bruise me later" you say back, trying to recover your breath.

"I'll kiss the bruise away, don't worry" he says cockingly and you slap his arm

"I'm being serious, your cock will tear me apart if you don't slow down" you hiss back and he kisses your neck picking up his pace again, but being much more gentle.

He buries his face in the curve of your neck, licking and sucking your skin just to compensate the steady pace he set himself, almost like to control his impulses. It makes you moan as his mouth keeps working on your sensitive skin and it gets even harder when jake goes down to bite and suck your nipples. He's actually unable to keep his pretty mouth empty, always having his puffy lips on your breasts, neck, pussy or even ass. He doesn't care as longs as his tongue is busy with your body.

Jake ends up caught in the heat all over again but now it doesn't hurt anymore so when his pace increases crazy hard all you manage to do is moan and dig your nails on his arms. You feel the moment he can't control his mouth around your nipple anymore, leaving his lips parted over your skin as he drools, feeling dizzy from how your pussy clenchs around his cock, milking him until he is moaning nonstop. He cannot cum inside you, you have agreed to don't do that so jake is almost fainting trying to hold his orgasm as long as he can. But he's losing this time so he pulls out of you to cum over your belly, dropping the most pornographic whimpers to your ears. You don't think for even a second before leading your hand to the mess he's made on you and picking his cum with your fingers. Jake watches you with his face high as you sink your dirty fingers into your mouth to taste him.

"Now you'll have to do that to my cock" he says, picking your cheeks with one of his hands to bring your face to his, kissing your wet lips.

"But will you let me fuck myself while i suck you off?" you plea, dolled eyes shining under your dark lashes, jake almost let out a moan as he hear you say those words. He can't believe you're so dirty like this for him.

"I can do that for you, babe" he'll say back, with his fingers running down to your wet core. You sigh when he finds your clit and presses it, rubbing gently first.

His cock starting to get hard again by the feeling of you under his fingers, so wet for him. Even thou he loves you so much and find it so endearing the way you cannot take your eyes away from his face while you fuck, jake himself likes to spend time looking over your body and the way it moves under his touch. So as he rubs your pussy, he watches the way you lift your leg a bit more, the way your stomach moves faster as your breathe gets faster and how your tits bounces a little when he starts fingering you. The whole thing is just pure magic for him. When jake notice, he's hard as fuck again, rocking his hips on your leg to get some release before sitting above your stomach to put it in your mouth.

You part your lips open, receiving his weight on your tongue and then swallowing as much as possible. Jake is no monster cock but he's no near little either, so you find yourself fighting for air anyways everytime you give him head. To your liking, jake already knows how you prefer doing it so he just starts fucking your mouth immediately, getting a little sloppy with his fingers on your pussy but you don't even mind it. Seeing the way he loses himself inside your mouth little by little is the best part. He grabs you neck using his free hand and just rolls his hips into your face nonstop, causing wet sounds to scape your mouth which is full of him. Once again he's whimpering and sighing, closing his eyes so tight he starts seeing white spots.

"Oh my god, i want to fuck that pretty mouth everyday" he starts babbling, head thrown back and eyes shut and you watch as he does his best to continue to massage your clit "I'm gonna fill your mouth with my cum, do you like it?" he says now looking back at you seeing you blink as an answer since you cannot talk right now. "you're so hot, fuck" he just goes back to babbling before he cums deep in your throat. He stops his hands on your pussy for a moment, lost in his senses, holding your head with both hands to keep you in place through his orgasm.

You do your best to breath by your nose, focusing to not choke on his sensitive cock. Jake pulls out and sits back on your lap eyes glued on your face.

"Let me see it" he asks touching your chin with his index finger so you open your mouth enough for him to see his cum all over your tongue and throat. Your boyfriend smiles with pride and closes your mouth "now swallow it for me, babe" he tells you and so you do, then he leans in to lend a kiss on your lips.

"I'm gonna make you cum now" he just says, brushing his nose over yours.

[carnations-fixations]

God, listened to something the other night and I can't stop thinking about like, working a terrible office job an just totally zoning out for an hour, playing solitaire or tetris on your computer until your boss calls you into her office

And you're just like oh fuck oh fuck she's gonna fire me oh shit oh shit-

Then you finally get into her office and she's sitting at her desk, rubbing her temple and staring at her computer with pure fucking disdain

You manage to squeak out a small "You wanted to see me?" And she looks up, her face relaxing almost imperceptibly. She tells you to sit and you do, not giving your obedience a second thought. You're still terrified you'll be out of a job.

"This meeting is killing me, and I know you're not doing any work in there, so you're going to stay here with me until it's over."

You look at her confused.

"I've seen you check me out more than enough times by now, love. Now, you can absolutely walk back out that door and keep not-working, I assure you no one's stopping you, or you can stay here and earn a little bonus."

Now you understand what's happening. She points to the floor next to her and you stand, walking over and kneeling. You think about leaving. You think about quitting. But she's right, you've been very attracted to her since the moment you saw her, and you struggle to keep your eyes off her body. So maybe this isn't so bad

She starts by just petting your hair as you sit there, staring forward and feeling a cocktail of anxiety, fear, and excitement bubbling in your chest. Then she gets even more bored, and slowly turns her chair so that you're facing each other instead of being side by side

"Last chance," She says, staring lasers into your skull. You can't bring yourself to meet her gaze, but you stay right where you are, obediently making your allegiance clear.

"Good girl," She says, opening her legs. She puts your head between her thighs, not taking off her pants, at least not yet. You finally look up at her, and she's staring at you with the most intense adoration you've ever been subject to. She's surprisingly gentle, simply petting your hair and looking down at you. Her pants are starting to bulge, the sight of you between her legs enough to get her aroused.

You feel daring enough to, while keeping eye contact, kiss her inner thigh. She grins and nods.

"Go on, doll."

Your chest feels like it's wrapped around a nuclear core. Jesus Christ this is hot- you look away, blushing profusely, and she slaps you. Not exceedingly hard, but it stings and sends a message.

"Eyes up here, doll."

You nod again, looking back up at her and placing gentle kisses on her thighs, moving higher... higher... until her grip on your hair becomes somewhat sadistic, pushing you closer to her now-prominent bulge.

You kiss and nuzzle and- god she smells fucking good- it's already enough to get you feeling high off her scent. She nods and pets you, pushing you down, although you don't need it. You'd already be grinding your face against her regardless.

Finally, you get brave, and reach up to her belt.

"That's it, dolly, go ahead- You know how to please Mommy, don't you~?"

God- No one's really talked to you like this before, and it makes your head swim, forgetting the inappropriate nature of all of this. All you want is to make her happy- You undo her belt with shaking hands and unzip her pants, just pulling them apart enough to get to what you need-

She's nice enough to help you pull her panties down, and you finally have access to her long, throbbing cock. A sound escapes you, like an excited squeak.

"Aww, little puppy wants a treat?"

You feel hot and fuzzy and strange and all you can think about is sucking Mommy's cock like a good little whore- you don't even know where these impulses come from. At this point, you don't care. You just inhale and let the scent of her musk erase all your thoughts.

"Open."

You obey.

She lowers herself onto your tongue.

"Suck."

You obey.

She pushes your head down, lower, until you're gagging harshly.

"Good fuckin' girl- Mnh--fuck, you're not too bad at this, I should keep you around-- nnNNgh-"

Hearing her voice break only makes your mind break double, looking up at her and sucking like your life is on the line, She bites back loud moans, dictating your pace with a hand in your hair. As she starts to get rougher and rougher, you can't help but feel so, so needy- hitting your uvula and making you gag, something you never thought you'd like, is like heaven in her hands.

"Mmn-- God you're such a good little whore for Mommy- NHfh--"

The praise only makes you more excited, and you find yourself starting to grind on her wing-tip Oxford's, whining on her cock. She doesn't notice, too distracted by your mouth, she starts to roughly fuck your face, hold you steady as she bucks her hips.

You feel her tense, and you whine, pushing yourself down all the way as she cums down your throat. The noise you make is depraved, and she responds with a low, gutteral groan, holding you down and breathing heavily.

Finally, she let's you up, her seed dripping down your chin from what you couldn't swallow. She takes her finger and runs it up your chin, gathering up the string that's fallen out, and shoves it in your mouth.

"Good fucking girl, perfect for Mommy... Now, clean her off."

You lick and suck at the tip of her limp cock, cleaning off all of the cum you can before putting her dick away. You're still grinding on her shoe, not even really thinking about it, but you're making noises that tip her off, and now that you're not choking on her cock you notice how close you are.

"Aww, little slut got so worked up she couldn't help herself, huh?"

You nod, whining and holding onto her leg.

"Are you close, doll?"

You nod again.

"Go ahead baby, keep going. I want you to cum for Mommy, okay? Just keep going and say Mommy's name when you cum, doll"

You nod again, quickly and appreciatively, grinding and whimpering as you feel your orgasm flood closer. You manage to whine out a single word as you cum, ruining yourself in her office.

"Mnhhh- Mm-Monmy--!!"

She pets your hair and smiles down at you, clearly pleased at your obedience as you ruin yourself on her shoe.

Well, now there's a problem. You're panting and shaking on the floor, covered in her cum and your own, and you still have another 3 hours of work.

"You can clean up in my office's bathroom, darling, take your time. I want you to finish out the day in that skirt, though. Some people have been getting a little too friendly with my doll, and they need to be reminded who you belong to."

You mumble out a slurred "Yes Mommy" as you sit limp against her leg, catching your breath.

Something tells you this isn't a one time deal.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

happy birthday, baby (part two: birthday boy)

(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot) (18+ only)

summary When Rafe's birthday finally rolls around, it's your turn to show him just how much he deserves to be celebrated. you never expected to be the one whose deepest wish comes true...

content dirty filthy birthday sex, pinv, light bondage, m recieving oral, use of ‘daddy’ sorry, 18+ minors do not interact!

(part 2 to this fic, but can be read separately)

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

“Tastes so good, baby.”

Little crumbs of red velvet cake collect at the corners of Rafe’s mouth. You laugh and brush them off with the pad of your thumb. 

He’d made you swear not to buy him anything for his birthday, “‘s just another day…” he’d say. But it wasn’t just another day, not to you. Today was the day your universe began, all those years ago. So you’d made all his favorites, a five-course meal with a big finish: a triple layer red velvet cake, extra frosting.

“What did you wish for?” You ask hopefully, plucking the blown-out candles from the cake, licking the frosting off. A little dab of red frosting lingers on your cheek, making Rafe smile, but he doesn’t wipe it off, not yet.

“Nothin’,” he shrugs.

Your brows furrow in disappointment, you were trying so hard to get him to buy into the celebration of his birthday, to make him feel as special as he made you feel, and his answer seemed to confirm he wasn’t, “Oh. Okay.”

You step away from his hold and start to gather the dishes, failing miserably at hiding your disappointment. Rafe just smiles up at you, grabbing your wrist as you reach out to grab his empty dinner plate, pushing it out of the way with his other hand as he pulls you forward to sit on his lap.

Perched on his thighs, you avoid eye contact, feeling silly for being so emotionally invested in this. His grin never falling, he places two fingers under your chin, pulling your face to look at him. 

“I didn’t make a wish,” he begins, using his thumb to pull at your pouty lower lip, “because I already have everything I could ever want right here in my lap.”

A blush tickles the apples of your cheeks, warming at his pretty words. You smile big, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his firm shoulder.

“Oh,” you laugh softly into the warm skin of his neck.

“Yeah, oh,” he teases you, his hand rubbing loving strokes on your thigh.

“Wait a minute,” you pull back suddenly, brow furrowed. “I’m supposed to be saying nice things to you!”

“No one’s stopping you,” he chuckles, lifting your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he can kiss around the strap of your dress.

You pause him, hand on either side of his face to reclaim the moment. You lean forward so you’re the one kissing him, starting gently with his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper to him.

“You do?” He teases, as if you don’t already tell him twenty times a day and every single night.

“You know that I do,” you roll your eyes, reuniting your lips with his, then moving your kisses over to his cheeks and across his jaw, whispering sweet nothings the whole way.

When you pull back, his eyes are half closed, chest rising and falling heavily. He’s right where you want him, but tonight, the goal is to push him over the edge. You ponder what you can do to get him to let go completely, to give you the raw energy you know he’s been holding back. 

Impulsively, you dip your finger into the thick icing on the edge of the cake, coating your fingertip in red frosting, and bring it to his lips. An incredulous smirk painted on his lips, his eyes narrow at you; the look a mix of what’s your game? and do you know how fucking hot that is? 

After a beat, he draws your finger between his lips with a swirl of his tongue, the movement so sweet and so sexy you nearly swoon.

His hands grip your waist and he pulls you in closer, and you feel his hardness bury itself into the soft underside of your thigh. He has that familiar mischief in his eyes, like he’s scheming. 

Then he leans forward suddenly, warm tongue licking the frosting off your cheek. You gasp and giggle, laughing loudly until your silenced by his tongue dragging its way across your cheek and into your mouth, kissing you slow and sloppy.

The two of you are always like this, all over each other, addicted. But something about tonight feels different. You couldn’t give him any presents, but you were ready to give him everything else you had. Everything you’d been too nervous to ask for, hoping he’d say it first.

He squeezes your waist, grinding you into him, and you know it’s time.

“I know you said you didn’t want any presents, but I got you a little something anyway,” you scrunch your nose with feigned guilt, though you weren’t actually sorry at all.

“Oh did you?” He tightens his grip on your hips, but you manage to wriggle away from him with some difficulty.

He scoffs in annoyance when he’s alone in the chair again, so you lean down and leave a peck on his pink lips, “I’ll be right back. Wait for me on the couch, yeah?”

“You’re real bossy for someone who was not born today,” he quips, not rising from the chair as instructed.

“And you’re very unspoiled for someone who was,” you explain, “I think we need to fix that.”

Rafe falls back onto the plush couch with a sigh as you disappear into the bedroom. The long, heavy day wears on him, his head falling back to stretch the tightness in his neck. He wishes he didn’t always feel so intensely, wishes a day could just be a day and not a weighted reminder of his messy past. He wishes, desperately, something could just drown out the noise, that someone could come take the weight of his shoulders.

Like an answer to his prayer, you appear in front of him. 

You lean on the doorframe seductively, one arm up against the wood, popping out your hip, a silhouette he wishes he could bottle up and consume whole.

You’re wearing a silky, red lingerie set, the bra featuring a big bow tied in the middle, pushing your breasts together and begging to be untied. You do a little spin so he can see the similar bow tied over your ass, cheeks perked up nicely by the sky high heels you’ve added to the ensemble, clicking on the hardwood floor as you twirl for him.

“Holy shit,” he stammers, adjusting himself on the couch, already straining against his slacks just at the sight of you, all done up for him.

Rafe leans back on the couch, He raising both arms, fingers laced behind his head, doing everything he can to stifle the impulse to jump up and untie those fucking bows. He does that a lot, holds himself back, afraid to show you all of his fire and find out it’s too much for you.

“You,” he chuckles darkly, eyes twinkling with lust and impatience, “are unbelievable.”

“D’ya like it?” You bite your lip, fingertips twirling the ends of the ribbon innocently.

“Come here,” he raises his eyebrows incredulously, motioning for you, “come see just how much I like it.”

An excited giggle rises from your throat, your heels tapping as you hurry towards him. He opens his legs for you to stand between, rubbing your hands over his shoulders. The ridges of his taut muscles are visible under his black button down, still in his suit and tie from his long day at work. He turns his head to kiss the inside of your forearms, smirking knowingly as he snaps the silky pink scrunchie on your wrist, “what’s this for?”

“You know what it’s for,” you smirk, running your hands up the side of his neck and onto either side of his face, “gonna give you everything you like.”

“Yeah?” He asks in a low grumble, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he examines the bow over your tits, now resting perfectly in front of his face.

One hand playing with the cartilage of his ear, the other runs up to the top of his head, lacing into his messy hair, tugging gently to lift his gaze to your eyes.

“Is that what you want? You want me on my knees for you, birthday boy?”

Steadying himself, he places his hands on your waist, the bob of his Adam’s apple prominent with the way you’ve got his head pushed back. He swallows, something holding back his answer. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you reassure him, “you can ask for what you want.”

This is one of the many things you love about him, he’s so aggressive and demanding with everyone else in his life, but still hesitant to be too rough with you. Today, though, you wanted all his fire, craved that fury, determined to snap his restraint.

You tug a little harder on his hair, “I’m your present, Rafe. I want you to open me up and do whatever you want with me.”

His nostrils flare, sparks flickering in his eyes. His hands slip down to your barely covered ass, squeezing the soft flesh so hard in his broad palms you gasp and stumble forward slightly. He takes advantage of your body coming closer to his face, leans forward and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your hip, right above the line of your panties.

A high pitched gasp leaves you, picking up into an involuntary squeak as his teeth mark your skin. He pulls back and licks over the bite mark he’s left, blowing on it gently, lighting up your body with chills.

“Mine?” He double checks.

“All yours, always,” you nod, still breathless from his possessive display. “Tell me what you want, I’ll give you anything.”

“Get on your knees,” he finally demands.

“Yes sir,” you nod, unable to hide your giddy smile, releasing his hair from your hand and lowering to the ground.

“Wait, wait,” he says, and you almost let out a frustrated sigh, assuming he was changing his mind. Before you could remind him that you wanted this, he grabbed a pillow off the couch, placing it down for you to rest your knees on, still loving on you even when he was about to do filthy things to you.

Your eyes are full of hearts as you kneel down on the pillow, gazing up at him lovingly once you’re settled between his legs. You pull your hair up, putting the scrunchie to good use, and sit back on your heels to take him in.

The sight of you, perched for him, eyes full of lust as your chest rises and falls with arousal, is all the gift he needed. But you’re nowhere near done spoiling him yet.

Once he’s settled back on the couch, you sit up, running a hand up each of his thighs, stroking slowly as you near his belt buckle. His abs tighten as the tips of your fingers brush against his stomach. Your eyes go wide at the large indentation of his cock against his pants, thrilled that he’s so hard already, the thought of his perfect dick sending butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

“Got me so wet thinking about taking you in my mouth,” you confess.

“You don’t have to-”

“Shhh,” you shake your head slowly, not even entertaining the thought.

After pulling the button from its loop, you unzip his slacks slowly, Rafe lifting his hips from the couch so you can pull them down just enough to reveal the outline of his pulsing cock straining against his briefs.

Focused, you lean over him, fingertips teasing the waistband of his Calvin’s, and place the gentlest of kisses on his clothed dick.

“Just wanna be your dirty girl tonight,” you say before dropping another kiss to the very tip, savoring the salty taste of his precome seeping through his boxers. “You gonna let me?”

Rafe nods obediently, eyes wide with amazement that you’re this good to him, “yes baby, give it to me.”

With that request, you pull the band of his briefs down, allowing his cock to finally spring free, humming contentedly at the sight. Before palming it, you pull his hand from your throat and move it to your hair. He catches on and wraps his fingers around your ponytail.

You wrap your fingers around his base, dribbling a glob of spit slowly from your lips onto the head, using it to ready him with a pump of your fist.

Rafe’s eyebrows knit together, in awe of you as he always is.

“Such a pretty cock,” you hum, “been waiting all day to taste you. I think about this dick all the time.”

It isn’t just for show, though you are speaking a little filthier than usual to add spice to his birthday gift, you really do think about him so often. He’s given you so much, the life changing sex just one piece of the puzzle he’s assembled for you through his love and care.

Eyes darting up to lock onto his, you flatten your tongue and run a single stripe up the column of his shaft, finishing with a playful flick at the tip.

His whole body shudders, the fingers wrapped in your hair tugging so gently you wonder if you’re imagining it, his other hand balled in a restrained fist on the top of his thigh.

“You know I love you, yeah?” Rafe whispers, soft like a prayer, like they’re the last words he wants to say before his soul leaves his body.

“I love you more,” your lips curl into a smile, punctuating the statement with a swirl of your tongue over his now throbbing head.

“Not fucking possible.”

You slip the hand not holding his cock to your lips over his clenched fist, guiding him to unravel it and laces his fingers with yours. You finally hollow your cheeks and sink your head down on him, softly gagging as your jaw goes to slack to welcome all of him into your warm, wet mouth.

When he’s all the way in, you gag again, the motion of your throat clenching around him mixed with the pornographic sound forcing his eyes shut as he grits his teeth at the intense pleasure. You lift up slowly then bob at a steady pace, slurping and gagging as you go, making the prettiest sounds for him.

You pop off of him momentarily to catch your breath, “you’re so big, love. ‘M gonna have to go slow.”

“T-a-ake your time,” he stammers out, hips jerking up unintentionally as you wrap both hands around his shaft and begin twisting your strokes at a steady pace.

As you stroke him, you rise up on your knees so your tied up tits move with each stroke of his cock.

“You haven’t opened your present yet,” you angle forward, eyes drifting to your barely covered chest until he catches on.

Rafe pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers twitching with every stroke of your hand on his cock as he tugs at the edge of the ribbon covering your chest.

Pulling the bow apart, your tits bounce slightly, spilling out for him, and he nearly busts at the sight.

“Fuck,” he moans out. “I swear to god, baby, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time every time. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Still stroking him, you stretch up to kiss him, the soft skin of your nipple brushing against his leaking tip. Rafe gasps into your mouth at the sensation, and you look at him with wide, mischievous eyes.

“Did you like that?” 

You let your hardened nipple just barely brush against his overly sensitive tip again, and he’s nodding his head rapidly, “ye-yeah, yeah, yes…”

Lip between your teeth, you drag your nipple across his tip a few more times, collecting his precum on the hard bud. He’s nearly crushing your hand, biting back whimpers. You’re gasping again and again as your sensitive skin makes contact with his, surprised at how good it feels for you, too.

“This shit making you wet, baby?” He asks, eyeing the way your thighs squeeze together, body rolling desperately.

With a wicked grin you drag his hands to either side of your breasts, guiding him to squeeze them around himself. He lets out an immediate groan when you hinge your hips to raise and lower your torso, dragging his cock, sloppy from your spit, between your tits.

“Yes, so wet, Rafe. I love watching you fuck my tits, it’s so fucking hot,” you choke out between strokes.

He’s never seen you like this, so filthy and forward. But the beaming grin on your face as you watch him panting for your touch tells him you’re doing just fine, enjoying it even. He wants nothing more than to keep you looking like that, to keep making you feel good.

“What’d you wish for?” He asks impulsively.

“What?” You’re pulled from your focus on his pleasure at the unexpected question.

“On your birthday, what’d you want me to do to you?”

Your blush is immediate, shame swirling in your belly at the filthy fantasies that flash through your mind. You’re supposed to be making him feel good, but it’s these kinds of gentle reminders that he’s still in control that make your thoughts spiral to the dirtiest places.

When you don’t answer, Rafe leans forward, grabbing your hair again and tugging your head back just slightly, making you gasp at the pull. He kisses you hard and fast, a string of your mixed saliva hanging between your lips when he pulls back, just barely, to whisper, “said you were gonna be my dirty girl, yeah? Tell me what you really want, and I might just give it to you.”

The whimper that slips between your spit-slick lips is involuntary, and tells him exactly what he needs to know - that there’s more you’ve been waiting for, that you want him to be rough. Your next statement seals the deal.

“I wa…I wished you would tie me up,” you confess, voice so wispy and hesitant he can barely hear it. “I wished for you to tie my hands and fuck me ‘til I scream.”

For a second, you think he didn’t hear it, until he rises from the couch, forcing you to sit back on your heels. Rafe towers over you, his still-hard cock angry in your face. You look up at him from your spot on your knees, perched before him, gazing at your man with wide eyes. 

You gulp down the nervousness in your throat, knowing you and Rafe were about to enter territory you’d flirted with but never fully crossed over into before. 

He looks down at you, tilting his head. You’re so fucking pretty, perched for him, glassy eyes trained on him expectantly. He reaches behind your head and pulls the scrunchie out slowly, tossing it aside so your hair falls around your face. Hand returning to cradle your head, he thumbs your bottom lip gently, dragging it down with the pad of his large finger.

“Is that still what you want?” He breathes.

“Yes,” you nod.

“Good,” Rafe grabs both sides of his tie loop, pulling hard, exposed forearms under his rolled sleeves flexing as he tears the luxury fabric from his neck with ease like it’s some flimsy knock-off.

You’re practically drooling for him at this point. He rips his shirt open, revealing the sculpted chest and rigid abs you’ve been thinking about all day. He looks so fucking strong and powerful above you, it’s thrilling - the man everyone is scared of, you’d trust with your life. With your body. Giving it to him tonight, along with your whole heart, is the best present you can think of.

“Stand up,” he instructs.

You rise slowly, knees suddenly weak, trembling under his frame. He notices.

“You know I love you right?” He repeats his earlier words, but there’s something different about the question now. It’s a confirmation, and a warning. The subtext is clear in his low tone: ‘cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.

You nod slowly, grabbing the hand that’s not holding his tie, “Mhm, I love you too.”

“Good.”

He takes over your hand, pulling so you’re forced to spin, facing away from him. He holds your hand behind you, leaning low to drop a kiss over the racing pulse point on your wrist, another reassurance that this was all done in love.

Holding the tie between his teeth, he draws your other wrist back. Swift hands twist the tie around your wrists to hold them together tightly. 

“Lay down,” he instructs with a final tug of the tie that makes you gasp, making moving your hands impossible.

Your knees sink into the plush fabric of the couch, turned head resting against the throw pillows as you arch your back up, ready and waiting for him. 

The rest of his clothes torn off and strewn about the room, Rafe approaches, one knee in the cushions behind you. It’s just now that he notices your panties are crotchless, untying the bow over your ass with a smirk. Fuck does he love you.

His large palms glide over your ass, stopping to squeeze hard, “goddamn, I love this ass,” one hand wanders down, sliding through your slick folds without warning, making you suck in a sharp breath. “And I love this fucking pussy.”

One finger slips in, access to your core easy as ever with how drenched you are.

“You this wet from sucking my cock? Of course you are because you’re always such a good girl for me.”

“I love when you call me that,” you whine out.

“I know you do. Keep being good for me and I’ll say it again,” he adds a second finger, pumping harder than before, preparing you.

You whine and writhe below him, your wrists already straining against the restraint of his tie, desperate for more, “please, fuck me, Rafe. Please don’t make me wait.”

“What happened to ‘it’s your birthday, Rafe. I’m your present, Rafe’ huh?” He mimics your earlier words with a chuckle. He’s never talked to you like this, but you love it, knowing it’s all per your request he goes rough this time.

“But, y’know what?” Rafe wraps his hand in the tie around your wrists, tugging you toward him and making you squeak out a strained groan. “You’ve been so good to me all night, so I’ll give you what you want.”

He fists his cock, still wet from your mouth, in the hand not gripping the tie, guiding it toward your entrance. He starts with just the tip, making you arch your back to take more of him, confused as he holds still behind you. Just as you open your lips to question him, he tugs on the tie, pulling your body back so your pussy swallows his cock whole.

“Gah, fuck! Ohmygod, ohmygod do that again, please.” This position is everything you’d hoped it would be, and he knows it, grinning like a mad man as you babble below him. 

Rafe braces himself, one foot still on the ground for leverage, his other hand gripping your hip so hard the imprint of his hand is surely permanent. He slides back out slow before pulling you back again. And again. And again. 

Skin is slapping skin, and you’re barely coherent, a string of praises for him that he can hardly make out. He’s panting like a dog, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as he memorizes the sight of your hands tied over your lower back as your ass ripples with each smack of his hips.

“So good…b-baby,” you croak out, the edge of something unfinished in your words.

He knew you were holding back one last thing, one last fantasy that you were denying yourself for fear of being too much for him. He needed to hear you say it, to know you gave him absolutely everything.

“Say it. Call me what you really want to call me. Let me hear it, angel.”

“Feels so good…d-daddy.”

You worried it’d be too far, but it felt so good, like honey dripping from your tongue, and it sounded like music to his ears.

“Ahhh, yeah, shit. That’s my good girl,” he drawls, dropping forward to sprinkle kisses over your spine. “How long you been waiting to say that?”

“Since the day I met you,” you admit, your brain is too high off of him to filter your thoughts.

Rafe chuckles darkly behind you, picking up speed as he snakes his arm around your waist, fingers dropping low to run over your clit. And just like that, your wish comes true - he has you screaming for him now.

“Ohhh fuck me too, baby,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “Thought I’d met a goddamn angel when I first laid eyes on you, looking so good in that little skirt, I knew I needed to have you. I knew you’d be mine. But I never could have imagined it’d be like this. That you’d be my slut and the love of my life? I’m the luckiest fucking guy on earth.”

Tears slip from the corner of your eyes, a swirl of the overwhelming pleasure and the immense love you have for him. He’s still pistoning into you, lips dragging up and down your spine, hand around the tie securing your wrists.

Your orgasm is building like a tidal wave, growing impossibly large and looming over you with the promise of destructive impact. The pleasure he’s giving you is building so intensely, you wonder if you’ll be able to handle it when it crashes on your shore.

Rafe knows it’s coming, knows you like the back of his fucking hand.

“Come for me,” he asks with another pull of the tie, fucking himself into you so deep you feel like you’re one body. “Be my good girl and come.”

“Yes daddy,” is the last thing you say before it hits you, soaking his cock and forcing him to empty himself into you, groaning your name like a gospel song into your ear.

He unties you almost immediately, and you know as much as he enjoyed having you like that, he’s still worried. 

You twist under him so you’re chest to chest, his face wrinkled with concern as he pants above you. 

Resting on one arm, he grabs your wrist, pulling it toward him to examine it closely. There’s a slight red mark where the tie was tightest, but they don’t hurt and you know they’ll fade within the hour. His face, however, is twisted in worry like you’re terminally ill. He kisses over the red marks soft and slow, as if he can heal them with just his lips.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, your chest still rising and falling as you return to earth from the heaven he gave you.

“I- I just…” you lay silent while he searches for his words. “I’ve hurt people before, I never want to hurt you.”

You pull your wrist from his grasp so you can cup his face in your hands, pulling his forehead to yours, “you didn’t, you couldn’t. I wanted it, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“You don’t have to do things like that for me,” he shakes his head, eyes closed with worry.

“You’re not listening to me,” you say a little louder, causing him to open his eyes into yours. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to do something like that. I’ve never felt safe enough with somebody to ask for it. But I’d trust you with my life.”

“Really?” He mutters, jaw clenched tight, though his body starting to sink into yours is a telltale sign that he’s finally relaxing.

“I’m like over the top, disgustingly in love with you, actually,” you smile.

His lips quirk to the side, eyes twinkling with relief, “Oh yeah?”

Your eyes soften, arms wrapping around his neck to draw him closer, “I adore you, Rafe.”

“Babygirl, I adore you too, you have no idea how much,” he promises before dropping his lips onto yours, his kiss slow and unhurried, like he plans to stay here for hours. “And I think I’m starting to like my birthday.”

“Really?!” Your eyebrows shoot up in excitement, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Really,” he smiles. “As long as I always get to spend it with you.”

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

november 4th december 4th same difference. happy birthday, sluts.

remember! writers live off of reblogs and replies, don't forget to feed your faves <3

[moonalumi]

getting caught with ellie

[nsfw 18+]

—this is rrly short i’m sorry guys 😔 i’m working on a farm ellie fic WHICH YALL ARE FINNA DEVOUR

warnings- starts off with smut, scissoring, getting caught ofc,

your gasps fill the room each time ellie moves her hips. both your wetness clashing together and each time your clit hits hers, you claw at her back. bringing her closer to you.

“ellie ellie…oh fuck” you whimper out as ellie spreads your legs wider with her strong grip and fucks herself onto you. the bed creaking louder and louder.

“fuck baby your so wet…keep- slipping” ellie stutters, her eyes focused on where your pussy gushes onto hers so she can get the angle just right.

one hard jut of your girlfriends hips and you choke out a loud moan, pulling her impossibly more closer to you and impulsively bitting on her shoulder. ellie lets out a groan and grinds into you faster, this time the beds headboard bangs against the wall, covering the filthy sounds of your pussys wetness mixing together.

“oh fuck fuck ellie ellie!” you frantically chant as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. your hands moving all over her before landing on her forearms and digging your nails into them.

“nghnn baby i’m gonna cum all over that pussy” she breathlessly whispers. her hips stutter and her hands grip your thighs harshly.

“ellie ellie yes please please!” you whine, not breaking eye contact with her as you let out a high pitched moan and cum on her pussy.

ellie’s eyes rolls back after hearing you repeat her name over and over again. both of you making a mess between each others thighs. both of you wet and glistening with each others cum.

the bed creaking stops as ellie falls down on top of you due to her exhaustion. you pull a blanket over your sweaty bodies and catch your breaths together. that is until you hear a loud knock on the door and the sound of a throat clearing behind it.

“uh ellie, maria and tommy really need you for something right now, are you uh- busy?” you hear the voice of joel’s usually deep voice turn timid and shaky.

you both freeze and ellie lifts her head off your chest to speak, “uh um yeah i’ll go there in a bit.”

you hear footsteps walking away the door and you both let out a sigh. ellie looks at you, hiding a smirk and you smack her, hiding your face in your hands.

“ellie stopppp! how am i ever gonna face him ever again after-“

“after he heard you moan my name a hundred times?” ellie teases.

you groan and push her face away from yours after she tries kissing you.

“el this is so embarrassing, how are you not embarrassed your practically his daughter”

“i’m just never going to talk to him again” ellie jokes and wraps her arms around you, trapping you in her hold.

“baby cmon let’s go take a shower you have stuff you need to do” you say ushering her up.

ellie groans and pouts, desperately trying to hold you still and keep you in bed “i’ll get up only if we can have a round 2 in the shower.”

this girl rrly can’t ever get enough

[chimielie]

cw: and they were roommates

oikawa has another date tonight.

you’re well used to it, the parade of people who he’s gone out with blurring together after years of friendship. especially now that you’ve moved in together and he bothers you every time someone says yes, like an excited puppy with a bone. and who wouldn’t say yes?

you’re lying on your bed, idly scrolling past cat pictures and outfit inspiration, while he blows in and out of your room, begging your opinion on every item in his closet. you don’t know why; you’ve gone through the whole thing a million times at this point and he always chooses just-slightly-too-tight jeans and a button-up open one button too far.

you’ve had nightmares about his collection of silky shirts. nightmares. only occasionally featuring the triangle of exposed chest.

“what about this one?” you roll to your side, blinking.

“i haven’t seen this one before,” you say thoughtfully. “do you still have enough money for rent? i swear you cycle through more clothes than i do in a year in a week.”

“shut up, do you like it?” his ears are burning red, and you smile. you like making him blush.

that’s a dangerous thought, so you turn your attention to his outfit, and—oh.

the new shirt is a cool, pale blue, complimenting the pink hues of his skin perfectly, looking like ice caps on winter waves. it’s tucked loosely into black pants, followed by black boots, laced up and tied with a perfect knot.

he looks like a million bucks.

“it’s perfect,” you say, after a beat too long of drymouthed silence. “um—when do you leave?”

he shoves the sleeve of the shirt up and checks his watch in one smooth motion, and you’ve seen his forearms a billion times, but encased in blue silk you kind of want to bite them? what a bizarre impulse.

“now,” he says, tone rising in panic. “shoot, i was gonna brush my teeth—how’s my breath?”

“how am i supposed to—” you start, but then he’s crossing the room, and you’re sitting up, spine straightening in confusion, and then he kisses you.

one long, hot press of the mouth over yours, his lips soft and open but claiming in a way that sucks every thought out of your head.

the silk of his shirt is cool in contrast to the heat of his skin, too.

“it’s—still fine,” you stammer when he pulls away. “minty. um.”

“perfect,” he says, adjusting his collar like he hasn’t just thrown your world off its axis. “see you later!”

you wave vaguely at his back, still scrambled as he exits your room, though not without turning to shoot you a cheeky wink and a peace sign. once you hear the front door slam shut behind him, you jolt out of your frozen state to fall back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, just one thought running through your mind.

“what the fuck?”

part 2 here.

[revelboo]

Everyone else: yearning, hating, yearning, pining, yearning and pining.

Rumble: DAY ONE MAKEOUT BABYYYYY

And then some 😆 18+ 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 3

Rumble x Reader

• Venting raggedly against your throat, he doesn’t want to move. Especially feeling the way your thighs are trembling under him and the way you smile lazily at him, your cheek resting on an outstretched arm. Lips mouthing your skin, tasting salt, he listens to that warm, throaty laugh. “Careful. I might just take you home with me if you keep that up.” Is that an option? And why would you think he doesn’t want to continue whatever this is? “You alone, Rumble?”

• You feel like you can almost see the guy’s eyes through that red visor. With how dim the store room is, it’s hard to be sure. He’ll probably think you were joking, but really? Your new friend fucks like an animal. Definitely not a quickie one and done like your ex. And taking him home? Keeping him at least a few days to get him out of your system by getting him into your bed? Oh, so tempting an idea. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, hips rocking against you. Ready to go again already? This guy isn’t human.

• Groaning as he grips your hips and begins lazily thrusting again, he watches you shiver and close your eyes with a low, needy sound. It’s the sound of the doorknob rattling that makes his movements falter, lip lifting to bare denta as someone bangs on the door. “You better have fucking clothes on by the time I get this door open,” someone’s yelling and your human starts laughing, reaching back to push against his shoulder. “Party’s over, champ.” Over?

• Pushing a little more firmly, Rumble finally slides out of you, turning away as you shove off of the container you’d been using. You can’t make out the writing on it, but sincerely hope it’s not foodstuffs, because you both made a mess. Hurriedly righting your clothes and trying to ignore his excess running down the inside of your thighs, you glance at him. He’s already fixed his costume, hiding your new favorite part of him. “Ready for the walk of shame?” You ask, offering him a hand. Because awkward is easiest when you pretend you don’t care at all and it warms you when he plays along, seizing your hand like he’s afraid you’re going to bolt and leave him.

• Apparently whoever had yelled at them and banged on the door had made enough noise to draw a curious crowd. Walk of shame? Grinning crookedly, he pointedly stares down the gawking organics, because why should he care that they know you’re his? Until he spots Frenzy, his twin’s mouth hanging open. That sours his amusement some, especially as Frenzy stalks over. “What are you doing?”

• There’s two of them, attention sliding from their matching costumes to their similar, gray painted faces, you decide they must be brothers and the thought sends your deviant brain spinning with the impulse to invite them both home. Especially when you notice your ex in the crowd of onlookers whispering and snickering at you both. He’s not laughing, though as his hands work at his sides like he’s itching to get them on you. Like he thinks you’re still his. And you lift your chin, even as you shift closer to Rumble. Because he’s never putting his hands on you ever again. “He’s coming home with me,” you tell his brother, seeing Rumble grin from the corner of his eye. “I’m borrowing him for the night. Maybe all week.” That part you say louder just for your ex, flashing him a sweet smile as he glares at you, that look promising you’ll have new scars the minute he gets you alone again. And Rumble’s fingers tighten on yours, that grin of his just like a kid turned loose in a candy store as his brother stares between you two in almost comical disbelief.

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

for ask-travaganza, (still patiently waiting on) free ride part 3?

So sorry it has taken 25 years!

Steven Grant x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo • ko-fi •

• Free Ride Masterlist •

Summary: You recognised Steven, and Jake had no choice but to play along and give in to some impulses of his own. Now Steven has woken right after the act and doesn't know how he got here.

A/N: I'm so sorry this has taken so long, honestly I'm not 100% with this one.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, Steven waking up and being like oooohhh okkkayy what?, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, dirty talk Steven kind of just saying whatever is in his mind, cream pie, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3513

Steven freezes, unable to hide his very obvious deer caught in the headlights expression. He swallows and the audible gulp makes him wince. 

A small frown of worry begins to deepen on your forehead. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, good, great even, the best, I…” The words just tumble out like acid, burning his throat as they form. “Erm, I should…” He moves away from you quickly, standing up and then nearly tripping over the trousers and belt on the floor that he doesn’t recognise.

You kneel quickly to help him without thinking, grabbing hold of his forearms to steady his balance. 

Despite how he automatically wraps his fingers around your arms, he flinches ever so slightly at the touch, trying his best to hide it. But it was undeniably there. 

Something deep and sickening settles in your chest. The pressure of tears starts to form behind your eyes. You didn’t think he was the kind of person who just threw people aside after he’d fucked them. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Steven keeps his eyes trained on your jaw, not high enough to have to look into your eyes and not low enough to see anything. But… well, if he’d slept walked here and, he must of, so… he must sort of have seen everything, right? 

His thoughts ricochet around in his head, bouncing off his skull with a ferocious impact. He absentmindedly strokes the inside of your arms with his thumbs. 

There’s a little bruising on your neck, love bites he quickly realises. Fresh and still forming. He must have…

“You, erm,” you pause, you want to run. Hide. Leave. But you couldn’t exactly dart out of your own flat now, could you? “I-”

“I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, closing his eyes. God the pain in your voice was like a knife forced under his ribs. You obviously didn’t know he’d been sleepwalking. He’d read about cases like this, sexsomnia, had he done it before? Is that where he wandered off to? Had he been fucking you for months and just not realised?

“I know it was a bit fast,” you swallow, trying not to let your panic overtake you, “I don’t usually, you know… jump into bed with people like that.”

Well, that answered that question, didn’t it? 

You breathe in deeply, “I hope you don’t-”

“Love, no, no, no,” he looks up at you quickly, finally taking in your expression. The worry, the apprehension. Part of him screams to just tell you the truth. But what would he look like? A complete idiot. Or you just wouldn’t believe him, would think he was trying to fob you off. Steven couldn’t have that. 

“I, I, sorry, I zoned out and sort of-” He started, giving you his best reassuring smile. 

“Did you nod off?” You hate how shy you sound, naive and hopeful. “I thought you did, for a second?”

“Yes!” He says, a little too loudly and with a touch too much enthusiasm. “I fell asleep for a second, didn’t I? God,” he lightly bumps his forehead with the palm of his hand as he repeats your words. “Got all… startled for a second, I do that. Sorry. What a man I am? Yeah? Falls asleep straight away after…” His mouth flounders for a second, his mind stalling. It wasn’t like he was a child, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had sex before. It wasn’t like he was even embarrassed by the act. It was just that straight away after fucking sounded so impersonal. Especially when he didn’t even remember the fucking part. 

“It’s okay.” You smile warmly, relief washing over you. You lightly touch his cheek and he leans into you instantly. 

He must have got so worked up, you reason, self-conscious. 

“Thanks love, I…” He pauses and raises his finger, suddenly very aware of his nakedness and that he still had a condom on. “You know what? I’m gonna take this… off. Yeah.” He gestures, trying to be a little bit over the top and lighthearted. And to his absolute relief, you giggle. 

“Sure, let me grab you a tissue.” You grin and climb back on the bed to grab some from the bedside table. 

“Thanks, I…” He trails off as he can’t help but watch, mesmerised by your bare skin and the curve of your ass. He swallows as you turn back to him, handing over a few tissues. 

You pause a little at the look he gives you, his eyes dark. 

“Steven?” You say softly, about to inwardly curse yourself at using his name again when he’d acted a little unfavourably to it before, but instead, his breathing hitches ever so slightly. His throat bobs. 

“Sorry love,” he takes the tissues, wrapping the condom inside and throwing it into the bin when you gesture to where it is. He pauses again for a second. “You’re so pretty.” 

You laugh bashfully, “I… Thank you. So are you.” 

“No,” he touches your biceps, feather light in his caress. “I mean it, honestly, truly, so beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” You say softly, your voice coming out barely above a whisper. You hold your breath as he leans in and just faintly runs the bridge of his nose against yours while he lightly touches your neck. 

You shiver.

“Did I leave these marks?” He asks, his voice low and teasing as he strokes the love bites. 

You nod, heat starting to pool in your belly. 

“Did you like it?” He brushes his lips against your cheek, moving closer to your ear. 

“Yes.” You manage to mutter, your mouth dry.

“Good.” He mutters, placing the softest kiss to your jaw. 

You lean closer, biting your lip to keep down the shaky little sigh that wants so desperately to escape. It feels… different, him being so close. It’s strange, it’s like you weren’t just wrapped around each other minutes before. It’s like you’re here with a completely different person. 

He darts out his tongue, running the tip over a love bite just along your pulse point and groans when he feels you arch into him. 

Steven sucks at the bite, laps at it, sending a spiral of sensation along your nerves as he leans closer, as if he was trying to cover up the marks anew. 

He wraps his arms around you, gently urging you back down onto the mattress as he lightly presses his own legs between yours. 

By the time your back hits the sheets and his tongue slips past your lips you’re gone. Lightheaded and aching for every touch he’ll grace you with. 

He moans into your mouth, his touch light but quickly becoming more demanding as he feels you arching up to him. He moves against you languidly, grinding his hips ever so slightly as they come to rest against yours. 

The heat of your core just brushes his semi hard cock and he hisses, shivering as he flinches back a fraction of a centimetre before he pushes closer, greedily drinking down your little moans as he rubs himself against your wetness.

He hums happily, running his right hand along your skin to your chest. He squeezes your breast softly, kneads in between his fingers until your nipples have pebbled as you let out a desperate whimper. 

“Fuck yes,” He whispers, pulling his lips back a fraction so he can watch your face. He’s dizzy, his vision dreamlike. So sure that he’ll wake up any minute. He pinches your nipple, delighting in the little whine you grace him with, how your eyes snap open and you give him a look.

“Sorry, love,” He chuckles softly, “Don’t mean to tease.” He leans closer again before he trails kisses down your neck, nipping slightly at your collarbone in a rushed frenzy. Like you could push him away at any moment.

You shiver, digging your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as he licks between your breasts slowly, looking up at you with his large doe eyes. 

“Can I…?” He bites his lip a little shyly, letting the question hang. 

You nod and he groans. 

Steven bends his neck so that he can lap slowly at your nipples, lavishing one with attention before moving to the other. He moans when you squirm and buck, pressing your skin further into his mouth. 

He pushes his heavy cock against your pussy so that he can rub his length along your clit and folds, shivering with how your hot, wet slick coats him. It’s only then that he sucks at your beast, flicking the tip of his tongue as he rocks his hips eagerly. 

You moan loudly, your back arching as you hold onto him, pulling him closer. Pleasure twists and churns in your belly, little jolts of electricity running along your nerves as he presses and rolls against your clit in a mesmerising rhythm.

He whimpers as your cries grow in pitch, his hips bucking faster against you as weight settles at the base of his cock. 

You pull his hair, a little harshly and he whines, nearly coming undone on the spot, “Fuck love, keep doing that.” He manages to stammer out, gasping when you pull again. “Fucking hell.”

He rocks faster, spurred on by your whimpers and how desperately you cling to him. You want him. You need him. 

Your legs hook around his waist as he laps at your breasts, he rolls his hips, the very tip of his cock just catching at your entrance. 

His body almost betrays him, moving practically of its own accord. Steven just manages to stop himself from pushing in completely, instead, he pulls back and continues to rub against you. Just the right pressure, the right rock and push.

You moan loudly, practically sobbing. 

“Say my name, love, please?” 

“Steven,” You whine, and oh god he wants you to say it again, scream it. The way it falls from your lips. How worked up you look as you clutch yourself to him. He can’t control himself. 

He groans and pinches your nipples as he covers your neck and jaw with kisses, continuously rolling his hips into yours. It’s so wet and warm between you both, your slick covering him and dripping onto the bed sheets. His mouth waters. 

“Steven,” You gasp, your thighs are tensing, shaking around his waist. 

“Fuck,” He pulls himself back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I got to,” he kneels up, muttering rushes apologies as you whine at the loss of his warmth and pressure. 

He practically throws himself further down the bed, grabbing hold of your thighs with shaking hands as he buries his face between your legs. 

Your back arches, spine bending as you cry out. His warm, thick tongue drags through your folds, laps at your clit until you're screaming. He moans, long and low, his eyes closed in bliss as he drinks down your wetness and then swirls around your bundle of nerves before he sucks it into his mouth. 

You grab at his hair, your body moving under its own will. Pleasure builds and builds and builds, so dizzyingly high and quick. Pulled taught until you can’t do anything but snap. “Steven, I’m gonna come.” You whine, bucking up as he sucks and lets out a small accompanying cry. 

His eyes practically roll back as you gasp, your cum hitting his mouth like ambrosia. You shake in his grip, his hands firm on your inner thighs to keep you open and spread as he works you through it. He sucks like his life depends on it, like your pleasure is his only reason for breathing. 

When you start to relax he moves back a fraction, lightly licking through your folds to collect and drink down all of your release. 

You whine a little softly, shivering from the after effects. But his tongue is so gentle, the touch so light, it doesn’t overstimulate you as you expect. Instead, the warmth is welcome as he laps, occasionally breaking his rhythm to press soft kisses to your legs. 

“Steven,” you whisper, your muscles are jelly, weak and boneless. But still you reach out and stroke his cheek. 

He looks up at you happily. “Thank you, love…” He smiles dreamily, “Was that okay?” 

You can’t help but laugh as you push his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “More than.” 

His smile widens and he sits up a little so he can kiss your wrist. His cock bobs between his legs, heavy and red. Practically straining with need. 

“Would you… like to?” You nod at his erection and smile. 

A little hint of red colours his cheeks, “Well, I mean, erm… no pressure of course, only if you want to, I don’t want to pres-”

You sit up quickly and kiss him, sliding your tongue past his lips and licking into his hot mouth. He whimpers, pushing closer.

“Of course I want to.” You nip his bottom lip lightly and he groans. 

“Do you… do you have another condom?” He swallows and you shake your head. 

“I… I’m on birth control… I don’t, I don’t have any STDs or anything?” You pause, suddenly a little embarrassed at your bluntness. God, he must think you’re so desperate. 

He groans again, pressing closer and shuddering. “I don’t either, have any, I mean.” He smiles and the knot of worry in your stomach dissolves. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I want to.” You whisper. 

“Oh fuck,” He swallows quickly, “You’re gonna make me come on the spot, sound too fucking sexy love.” He kisses your cheek and jaw. “Here,” he gently manoeuvres you onto your hands and knees, constantly kissing and checking in. 

You expect him to kneel behind you straight away and sink inside, but instead he dips his head down and runs his tongue only your folds once more, smiling as you jump. 

“Taste so good, love.” He mutters, repeating the movement. “I could stay here all night.” He kneads your ass with his large hands as he licks, revelling in your little shakes and moans as he flicks his tongue over your clit before dipping inside ever so slightly. He repeats the movement again and again and again, until you’re digging your hands into the duvet cover and thrusting back to meet his mouth. 

“Steven,” you gasp, your back arching. “Please, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to stay upright if you make me come again.” 

He groans and grins, moving away slowly after one last lick. “Alright, love, alright.” His hands are warm on the small of your back as he strokes your skin, rubs your hips. The bed dips slightly as he repositions himself, his heart hammering in his chest as he takes himself in hand and notches his tip at your pussy. 

“Tell me if something doesn’t feel right, okay love?” 

You nod. 

“Please?”

“I will, I promise, I-” You moan deeply as he starts to push inside, stretching you so wonderfully. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he moans headily, “Can’t bare the thought of you, oh fuck, of you not having a good time.” He gasps, halfway in. He pulls back slightly before pushing forward again, slowly easing further with every slow thrust. 

He tries to swallow down a sob, but you just feel too good. “Taking me so well,” he moans, all high pitched. He can’t tear his eyes away from how he sinks inside, how you’re stretched so wide around him. Your walls squeeze and throb, pulling him deeper. 

“You feel amazing.” He manages to stammer out as he pushes all the way inside at last. 

You moan, rocking back lightly. Even though you’d already felt him splitting you open, he feels even larger at the angle, pushing every thought out of your head to make room for more of him. 

He whimpers as you move, his muscles flexing as he bucks shallowly to meet you. 

“Steven,” you swallow. “Ah, please!” 

He smiles, holding onto your hips with one hand as he picks up the pace, pulling you back to meet every single one of his deep, powerful thrusts. He rolls his hips, changing the angle ever so slightly with each buck, your moans music to his ears and only fulling him further. 

When you cry out particularly loudly he groans. 

“Oh, fuck love, there?” You nod your head rapidly, pleasure spurting up your spine. “Yes!”

He sobs as he looks down, watching himself disappear inside of you, the heavy sound echoing. Your wetness has dripped down his balls, sunk into the dark curls between his legs. He can see a white ring forming around the base of his cock, growing thick with every buck as the liquid leaks out of your pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, his voice low and desperate. “So fucking good for me, taking me and letting me fuck you and, ugh, feeling so good!” He gasps, his hips smacking into yours, jolting your forwards as he bullies his cock in and out of you. 

You moan, thrusting back with all your might and sobbing when he reaches around and rubs at your clit with his left hand. 

Pleasure sparks deep, twisting and growing and leaving you powerless to how he plays your body. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, his fingers slippery on your pussy as he rubs. He presses his fore and middle finger to your clit while he feels his cock pumping in and out of you with his ring and little finger. The sound of your wetness is making him lightheaded, how you push back and take him so greedily, you want him. The thought echoes with the rapid beating of his heart. You want him, you want him, you want him.

“You’d, you’d,” he swallows, his head too blissed out to know or control what his mouth is saying. “You’d let me come in you, wouldn’t you? Let me fill you up?” 

You whine, nodding desperately.

“Oh shit, what, what about if I pull out and come all over your back? Can I? Can I make a fucking mess all over you?” 

“Yes,” You manage to whimper. 

“Oh god, love,” he whines, “I’m so close, I want you to have it all, all of me. You’re gonna make me come so hard, I can feel it. Shit. I used to, I used to fuck myself and think- think about you,” his voice raises as you buck back against him, “I used to come all over himself thinking about… you!” He gasps, his balls tightening. 

“Love, please,” Steven sobs, “I’m gonna come,” he sounds so weak, robbed of strength even though he is pounding into you like a man possessed. “Want to feel you squeeze me, please?” He shivers. “Want to feel you come on my cock, please? Can you? How, how can I help make you?” 

You moan low, his sweet needy words twist in your stomach. “Please, just a little bit more, I’m,” you swallow, “I’m nearly there.” 

He whimpers. “Love, oh god, thank you, thank you.” He rolls your clit, kissing your shoulder blades as he ruts against you. “Thank you so much for letting me fuck you, thank you so much. Can, can you say my name, can you scream it when you come? I want to hear you say it all the time, every day, want to fuck you every fucking second, I’ll just stay here and be ready for you whenever you want and, oh!”

You squeal, your muscles spasming as you come hard. Pleasure rushes along your veins as your thrust back against his thick cock, keeping him fully inside as your walls pulse and squeeze. Your orgasm burns, leaving only ashes in its wake. 

Steven stammers, his whole body freezing except for his hips. He bucks rapidly, practically screaming your name as he finally reaches his peak. He spurts deep inside of you, pumping hot and thick. He shivers, shakes and groans thankfully as you (as gently as you can) collapse onto the bed and pull him down on top of you. 

He nuzzles into your neck, his cock spasming with aftershocks. He can’t believe this is real. 

“I’m sorry.” You breathe hard, your skin sweaty.

“Hmm?” Steven lifts his head ever so slightly, confused.

“I didn’t say your name.” 

“Oh,” he chuckles, about to reassure you that he very, very much doesn’t care at this moment. That you are wonderful, perfect even, and that he thinks that was the hardest he’d ever come in his whole life. And maybe, perhaps he should say sorry for running his mouth like that. But you don’t give him a chance. 

“I guess I’ll have to try again the next time you fuck my brains out.” You giggle, angling your arm back so that you can awkwardly stroke his hair. 

Steven shivers, next time. Next. Time. His softening cock twitches in your heat. 

He wants to answer, but for once his brain is lost for words. Instead, he moans and buries his face into your shoulder, kissing and sucking as he cuddles you tight. 

Thank you so much for reading!

[elihermit]

let’s ruin the friendship

— part two (part one here)

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after a wonderful weekend in Malibu, you and Evan finally confessed feelings for each other. But after a while you realized that building a relationship is not so easy, especially when your partner has an avoidant attachment.

word count: 1,6k

author’s note: I’m so happy to make a 2nd part of this fic. With this fic, I want to say that no relationship is perfect, every couple goes through difficulties, but this is temporary. Always focus on your mental health🩶

p.s. feel free to drop your requests🫧

It's past midnight, but you can't get away from each other. That's why you and Buck are sitting in the kitchen of this rented house and talking about everything in the world. Your hand touches are no longer accidental and you don't have to look away when one of you catches the other staring.

Conversations now seem a hundred times more important and meaningful, because you get to know each other and build a future out of it. It is no longer so scary to reveal the deepest secrets of your life, because there is no condemnation and misunderstanding between you two, you are a safe place for each other.

You get up from the couch and go to the kitchen table to pour water. You liked how open your conversations had become, but your mouth was dry from talking incessantly. But you don't mind at all.

“Should we go to bed?” — you felt Buck's hands on your waist and how he pressed his torso against your back.

It sent goosebumps down your spine, and his breath on your neck made you feel hot.

“Are you coming with me?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It is, Buckley.”

You get out of his arms and take his hand, hinting that it's time for you to go to the room. You lead him and open the door to the room.

The door closes and you are pressed against the wall, he kisses you passionately on the lips. You won't even lie, you've often thought about Buck becoming your boyfriend, but just as often you've thought about how good he'll make you feel at night.

You deepened the kiss and surrendered to this impulse. Evan grabbed you by the hips, and you wrapped your legs around his torso, so that in a matter of seconds you would be pressed against the mattress.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” — his lips caressing your neck and you can’t help, but roll your eyes to the back.

“You.”

“Be more specific, babygirl.”

“I want you to take off my panties and have your tongue between my legs.”

Buck froze for a second and looked into your eyes. A woman who didn't beat around the bush and knew what she wanted? He really found the perfect partner. And secretly he liked it when you gave him "commands."

“Yes ma’am.”

In one quick second, your panties were on the other side of the room, and his lips were kissing the inside of your thigh. You arched your back and ran your fingers through his curls.

“Don’t tease me, I want to feel you.”

Buck didn't need to be told twice and you felt his tongue on your clit. You gasped and your lips let out a moan. The way he ran his tongue over your wet entrance and the way he grunted with excitation sent electric shocks all over your body.

You pressed his head against your cunt. Buck started eating you faster and slid two fingers inside you to stimulate you even better. You didn't know how he did it, but he was hitting all the right spots, which quickly made you feel your climax coming. Your moans and sloppy sounds filled the room, your toes began to curl and your back arched to feel his tongue even more.

“Don’t fucking stop, Evan. Please keep going.”

You felt his moan in your clit and he started fucking you with his fingers even faster. Your moans became screams, you repeated his name over and over until you felt the release. You came with a scream on your lips and with your fingers clenching in his hair.

Buck moved away from your cunt and loomed over you. Your juices were all over his face and it made you crave him even more.

“Are you ready to scream for me one more time? Because my plan is to make you not be able to walk in the morning.”

“(Y/N), hello. Are you on Earth?” — Hen waves her hand in front of your eyes and you “wake up” from the memories.

“Oh yes, sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts.”

“Are you okay?”

“Totally, don’t worry. What were you asking?”

The truth is, you're not okay. You often thought about the first months of your relationship with Buck. Everything was easy and simple, you didn't feel like you needed to worry about anything, he was your best support and pain pill.

But you've been together for over two years now and everything has changed dramatically. He started avoiding you, took shifts when you didn't have them, came home when you were already asleep, and left before you woke up. Dates were no longer your tradition every weekend, it was biweekly and always in crowded places so as not to be alone for too long.

And you didn't understand why. You talked about buying a shared house, you both wanted children and even discussed that the house should be big enough for the children to have separate rooms. He often talked about getting married and how much he wanted to call you his wife. But these are all words, when it came to actions, Buck came up with excuses so that everything could be postponed.

And it made you think — does he want all this with you or does he just want it in general? Are all these signs meant that he is gradually falling out of love with you? Or maybe he's got someone else at all?

These thoughts were eating you up inside and you couldn't even talk to him about it because he was never fucking here.

“Actually, Hen, I really need to ask you something.”

“Of course, shoot.”

“Why were all Buck's relationships short? They didn’t last even a year, right?”

You walk up the stairs to your shared apartment, your shift is over and you knew that Buck didn't have a night shift for the first time in months. You were glad to have some alone time with him, you missed it badly.

You open the door to the apartment and see Evan on the couch. He turns at the sound.

“Hi baby, how was your shift?”

You go to the living room and put the bag on the floor. Evan was in street clothes and was obviously going somewhere.

“It was okay, nothing out of the ordinary. Are you going somewhere?”

He got up from the couch and headed out into the hallway.

“Yeah, I’m meeting my friends at the bar.”

“You’re fucking not. You’re not coming.”

He froze and looked at you. You had enough and you’re tired of trying to catch him.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that maybe it’s time to stop avoiding me and pay attention to you girlfriend for once.” — your voice turned into a scream.

All the anger, resentment and disappointment burst out in a second and you couldn't control it. How dare he treat you like some kind of roommate?

“You’re acting crazy, (Y/N).”

“Am I really? Well, because I’m tired of your bullshit and running away so you won’t have to spend even one minute alone with me. You can go to your friends, but you should know I won’t be here when you come back.”

You quickly went to your bedroom and pulled the suitcase out from under the bed. You've eaten enough of his behavior and didn't want to be alone with him for even a second. You used to beg for free time, just the two of you, now you're sick of the thought of being alone with him.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?”

Buck ran up to you and turned you around to face him. You saw the intense concern in his eyes and the way he was worried. His eyes got bigger and his breathing became faster.

“I’m doing what you can’t do, Evan. Leaving. I'm not your roommate to put up with you running away from me and being afraid to show any emotion towards me. You fucked it all up, with your own hands.”

“I-I… It’s not on purpose, (Y/N), please.” — you can hear his voice breaking, but you don't care at this point.

You go to the closet, pull out your clothes and throw them into the suitcase. Just quickly put down any clothes and get out of here. That’s all you cared about.

“Baby, please, let me explain.”

“Don’t baby me!” — you point your finger at him. “You get scared when things are getting serious. So when you understood that there’s marriage and kids on the horizon, you started doing everything in your power to get rid of me. I can see right through you, are you happy with the result?”

Your face turns red and tears gush from your eyes. You spent two years trying to build something real with Buck.

“I know I do that, but I don’t want to. Let me fix it, I can’t lose you.” — he’s crying too, you have never seen a man cry this hard.

“Don’t you think you had to work on your avoidant attachment before making me fall for you? I fell so hard, Evan, it physically hurts.”

“(Y/N), please, I can go to therapy, I promise it’ll change.” — Buck took a step towards you, but you stuck out your hand. You don't want any touching.

“You do that on your own and then come find me. I need actions, not words. Words mean nothing anymore.”

You take your suitcase and run out of the bedroom. Next thing you know — you run down the stairs to the car, leaving Buck behind.

He was left standing alone, tears pouring from his eyes, burning his cheeks. He knew it would end there, he had done it so many times, but why did it hurt so much this time?

Part 3 — coming soon🤫

[star-suh]

Don't Chew More Than You Can Swallow

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: top johnny, pseudo-incest, underwear kink, musk kink, degradation, praising, breeding, hickeys, blowjob, deepthroat, manhandling, implied size kink, snowballing, age gap (yn is 20 and johnny is 25).

an: this is the other idea from @ldrei

also i was lazy to think about names for the mom and the stepfather so yuh.

—

“ok yn, i want you to put on a smile on that face we're almost near the house” yn's mom said while driving towards their new home.

some years ago yn was part of a loving and happy family until one day his father, an honorable police officer, died during a raid against a gang. yn and his mother were devastated, mourning his death for the next couple of months. but life goes on and we have to let go and move on, right? after like a year yn's mother started dating another police officer, months later they made their relationship official and decided to get married, which brings us to the beginning of the story, yn and his mother would move to their new home, where yn's new father and new brother, a 25 years old guy, live already.

“hello we're home” yn's mom greeted, “hey honey” yn's stepdad appeared and kissed her, “hey yn, how are you?”; “i'm good.. thanks” he replied, “glad to know that” the older man said with a smile on his face.

yn walked towards the kitchen searching for a glass to drink some water, “the cups are up there” someone said, yn turned around and there he was his new stepbrother “the name's johnny” he extended his hand and yn grabbed it to shake it, his hand was way bigger than yn's, “i'm yn.. n-nice to meet you” he laughed nervously, “i say the same, see you later then” johnny said winking at him and waving a goodbye.

a couple of months have passed, everything was going good for everyone except for yn. he was thirsting over johnny 24/7, when he walked around the house with just a short on and no underwear because he can clearly see his bulge swing around everytime he walks, his body is to die for ‘god i wish i could lick those abs right now’ thought yn. it was even more harder for yn to not think about johnny fucking him when he was on the room next to him rearranging some woman's insides, the banging sounds going straight to yn's ears, ‘i wish that was me’ he thought. and that's the only thing yn can do, fantasize about him because well… his stepbrother is straight.

johnny sent yn to search something in his room, he did as he was told but something catches his attention, a pair of underwears resting on a pile of clothes. driven by his impulses, he grabbed one and began to sniff it, his face immediately turning red and a bulge growing in his pants "johnny~" he moaned softly.

he went quickly to his room, locked the door and began to jerk off, wrapping the underwear around his cock sliding it up and down while biting a pillow to suppress the moans.

the weeks passed and yn's desire for johnny only increased. every time johnny brought someone home to fuck, while his parents were away, yn always masturbated listening to their moans.

one day yn was masturbating again with his the underwear until a voice interrupted him, "hey yn!" a shirtless johnny called opening the door with a bang "what the hell were you doing? i've been calling you for a while" he asked with a somewhat angry tone. "sorry johnny, what do you want?" yn questioned, "these last few months you have been the one picking the dirty clothes to take them to the laundry room, have you by any chance seen my underwear? they have been missing” he scratches his head. “i have no idea johnny” yn replied with a nervous laugh. “hmm… it's okay” and just like that, johnny left.

worried that johnny would find out, he grabbed all the dirty clothes and ran down to the laundry room. there he turned on the washing machine and placed the underwear there and just when he was going to press the button to start the washing cycle a big hand stopped him, a low and very deep voice whispered in his ear "i thought you didn't know where my fucking underwear was" the warm breath sending shivers down his spine, “you're such a dirty pervert yn” he laugh was deep and sexy.

“j-johnny i-i” yn didn't know what to do, “you thought you were slick with it but no, did you think i didn't notice how you stared at me every time i walked around the house shirtless, how your eyes went from my abs to my bulge, shit i even could feel how you fucked me with your eyes”. johnny positioned himself behind yn, his huge bulge rubbing against yn's ass, "even every night i fucked someone i could hear your slutty moans on the other side of the wall, how you moaned my name was… so sexy... now i kinda want to hear them again" the taller was leaving small kisses on yn's neck, he then took out his huge cock from his shorts and rubbed it on yn's clothed ass “do you want to taste my cock, yn?", his sexy low voice doing things down there on yn's crotch area.

“j-johnny” yn stuttered “i-i'm sorry” a little moan escaping his mouth. “if you want to apologize you have to take responsibility about this” he slams his thick heavy cock against yn's ass again. “y-yes” yn fell to his knees and started kissing the tip, using one hand to stroke the rest of the shaft while the other was stroking his own.

“you're so nasty yn, look at you sucking at your brother's cock. aren't you such a nasty slut huh?” johnny grabs his head and starts to mouthfuck him, forcing yn to deepthroat him, “come on you can do more than that, it's barely halfway in”, little by little yn swallowed it all, johnny locked his head with his arms. the gagging sounds being like music to his ears. “there you go, you're doing so good for me”.

johnny lifted yn and fold him against the washing machine, rubbing the tip of his cock in the other's hole “want me to destroy you, cockwhore?” he says once again using that sexy low voice that drives yn crazy “p-please~ do it”.

johnny was slamming so hard that the washing machine was moving too, yn's legs were shaking due to how good johnny was fucking him, "how does my little fucktoy feel.. is this what you wanted? my thick, heavy cock opening your ass?"; “yes johnny please wreck me” yn replied withiut thinking, “so desperate”.

johnny lifted yn and carried him from the laundry room to his bedroom but without stopping fucking him. the thrusts were slow but as powerful as the harsh ones because he always manages to brush yn's prostate with the tip of his cock, drawing whimpers out of his mouth that made johnny chuckle, ‘so cute’ he thinks.

they're finally on the bedroom, johnny throw yn towards his bed, attacking his neck with kisses and leaving some bruises here and there. his big, tall body towering over yn's. “i have a deal for you” the taller comments, “if you can take me without cumming you'll be my little fucktoy boyfriend. what do you think?” he keeps on kissing yn's body until he reaches the nipples and suck on them. “hngh i really w-want that” the bottom squirmed.

the fat cock went in and out, going in even harder than the last time, johnny's balls slapping against yn's ass “who's being a good cockwhore?” the top asks, “m-... me” yn struggles to answer due to the harsh thrusts “i'm johnny's g-good cockwhore”.

“but you're only mine right?”.

“yeah i'm only yours…”.

both sealed the deal with a gentle kiss, contrasting with the rough thrusts. “fuck i'm gonna cum” johnny growls, he took advantage of the fact that his cock reached so deep inside yn to make him cum, however he let himself be carried away by the moment and filled yn's ass up with that warm sperm.

yn barely managed to hold off his cumming so johnny now has to fulfill the deal they just made. "it seems like i'm your little fucktoy boyfriend now"; "i think so," johnny adds, “and a cute one”.

“you took me so well pretty boy, i think you deserve a threat” and as he said that he went down and started to suck yn's cock “j-johnny you don't have to~”; “mmm mmm, i want to, prince” the sweet name embarrasing yn so much that he covered his face with his arms, feeling the little chuckle the taller let out. with a few more strokes yn came inside johnny's mouth, “shit that's some good blowjob johnny” yn rode his high while johnny crawls up until he is face to face with yn, with one hand he opens the bottom's mouth and spits the sperm in there, then kisses and plays with it between their mouths.

johnny carries yn to the bathroom where they both take a bath, then get dressed and fall asleep in the bed.

“look at them, aren't they cute” yn's mom said watching them both sleeping while hugging, “yeah i think they're gonna be good brothers” the stepdad adds with a huge smile in his face.

[gohyuck]

you&i

image from user themightyjen on twitter

pairing: jeno x reader and they are exes but they get back together sort of (i mistakenly used a previous work of mine’s earlier pairing when i first posted this!)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: right under 1.5k, this was a quickwrite

notes: liam payne died so i started listening to one direction again and you & i just had me Thinking long and hard... also f1 mentions lol

It is a bizarre cliché, really, and you wish you could laugh at Jeno’s outstretched hand as he wordlessly begs you to follow him out onto the fire escape. Your building is not at all up to code, and you have to force yourself through one hardly-cracked open window to make it out to where he is, having climbed up from the outside. In a completely unsurprising move, he has an overloose black leather jacket on, though it doesn’t stay that way for long — he ignores you ignoring the hand he’d put out to help you through the window and instead puts it to use shirking the leather off and throwing it over his shoulder like some two-bit greaser. 

He dangles a Corona bottle — yeuch — from his other hand, and he treats it quite gingerly. Jeno’s projecting his feelings onto the delicate glass, because of course he is. He’s a shrink’s wet dream. Not too troubled, not too troubling, but still itching to hurt and be hurt. You expect that Jeno’s “fixable,” but neither you nor him expect you to be the one to go about doing any fixing. 

“Want some?” He anticipates that you’ll shake your head, can visualize the peach moscato in your fridge door at this very moment, practically tastes how too-sweet it is. You so badly want to grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig of what really is dry bready water just to spite him, but you can’t justify the assault on your taste buds. 

You shake your head, already dreaming of the peach moscato in your fridge door. That’ll be a treat after this whole thing. You, of course, are pushing your emotions away — your psychiatrist will love and hate the debrief that’s coming to her within the next 24 hours. 

“We’re like day and night.” You want to expand on your thought, but it seems impossible to verbalize beyond this vague utterance. Fuck your life. Jeno nods, bites down on a corner of his mouth before taking the kind of swig you’d briefly daydreamed of. When he puts his other hand down right by yours, your breath catches on impulse, but only for a second. 

“They bleed into each other sometimes.” He tells you this as if you’ve never experienced the sunset. You wish you could laugh at him, but that would be cruel, unusual, and untrue. Jeno, for all his pompous exterior, is the day in this make-believe situation. Of course, the two of you are more similar than you are different. Of course, if one of you actually acknowledges this fact, the other will refute it. Maybe you’re projecting now. His leather jacket and building climbing and Corona drinking self is such a caricature that he circles back to being unequivocally real to you. Unequivocally yours. 

“They’re broken up in the same way we’re broken up.” You try your resolve. 

“Are we broken up?”

“We could probably make it if we try.” You fold a corner of your lower lip into your mouth, tucking it gently between the harsh rows of your teeth. This is a tell, though of what, you remain unsure. Jeno thinks you’re being honest when you say this, but there’s something inherently duplicitous to even having thought it. Do you mean ‘making it’ as in ‘making it as a pair of exes’ or in some other more ephemeral way? He tries his luck. 

“Do you think they ever fight like us?” 

The reason for your most recent break up is, of course, some fight over something that must have been extremely important to both of you in completely separate ways, but neither of you can genuinely recollect the entire experience. For one, he’d been high, and you’d been drunk. Neither of your problems are too far gone to kick, but everyone relies on something or the other to get them through particularly rough weeks. It was rare that your vice intersected with his; it was rare either got out of hand. 

And yet. A joint may be the only thing conspicuously missing from him at this very moment, actually, but you don’t doubt that he has rolling papers in his back left pocket even now as he leans his ass against your building’s run-down brick walls. 

“The day and the night? I think they can’t stand each other.” You reach for his beer, and he gives it up with ease. He’s nothing if not giving. Your chest hurts, there’s a reason you don’t smoke. Jeno reaches around and puts his jacket over your shoulders as you take the tiniest of sips, and you settle into it like you’d slip into conversation with an old friend. Jeno’s pinky finger extends, and you feel the dull coolness of his faux silver ring press almost imperceptibly at the bottom of your own fifth finger’s second knuckle. 

He pulls a pack of Golds from his back pocket — you’d been wrong about the weed stuff, it seems — and you pull a cigarette out when he flips it open. Jeno’s eyebrows pull together, but every feature of his drops simultaneously when you simply turn it upside down and put it back in. The designated final smoke, for good luck. Your ex — ex? — pulls it together quickly enough, and you do him the service of pretending. 

“You can’t stand me?”

The defiance mingled with disbelief, confusion, genuine apprehension all come together into the kind of cocktail that can only break your heart. Jeno hasn’t even fished out a cigarette yet, his brilliantly red lighter undoubtedly still in his jacket. He really wants a straight answer from you. 

“Two Ferrari wins in a row, in the double header,” You just say, every other word tamped down on by an impenetrable force. “I still haven’t canceled my F1 TV subscription.”

“You’re really into it, no matter what you say.” He’s certainly right, but you refuse to let him know just how often Forza Ferrari Siempre really comes into play for you. Jeno, with his head in your lap as you take a swig of absolutely horrendous Big Red from a mug he’d made on a pottery date (“it’s good luck” your ass). Jeno, pacing around his dining table while he mutters about how Charles Leclerc suffers more than Jesus. Jeno, pulling you into his arms after you give him a Ferrari-red lighter on a whim. 

“I just like watching car crashes.”

“I still have the lighter you gave me.”

Both of you speak at once, stunned immediately into confused silence. A sob gets caught in your throat early enough to where it becomes a snicker, and Jeno sniffles into a snort of laughter, and suddenly you’re face-first in his chest and he’s giggling into your hair. He says something about being incapable of remembering what your fight was about, and you whisper that you know he’s smoking cigarettes so he stays off of weed and off of paranoia. You appreciate him. 

“We could switch vices,” He gestures towards the beer that’s in your hand. “Ever think about lighting up?”

“I’d rather die.” Your eyes turn up with the corners of your lips.

“We could make it if we tried.” Jeno shrugs, and his hand finally settles onto yours, a weight you’d sorely missed. Stupid, stupid argument with very real implications. 

“You and I?

“I can more than stand you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone of voice is jovial but his gaze is steady. His implicit question hangs in the air, the begging of reciprocity only unbecoming if verbalized. You turn your hand over under his and lace your fingers together, jagged and messy. 

“With all this teen angst in our twenties, we should probably start sitting down instead.” Jeno isn’t going to get too far through your general sense of levity, but he knows that you’ll murmur apologies and promises to him later tonight. You’ll make good this time, and so will he. 

“I’ll pour out your moscato if you put on the highlights from last week’s race.” He tilts his head towards your open window, and you set the Corona down at your feet, knowing full and well that neither of you are finishing that now. He’s made some amends though — you’ll work on the cigarette smoking, but at least it doesn’t affect how he treats you — and you recognize that you need to do the same. Jeno is sound to your silence. 

“Pour it into the sink, if you can.” 

Your boyfriend seems stunned, comically so as he pauses to look back at you while only halfway into your apartment. You follow up with some rib about how you still have Big Red in your fridge, stifling a laugh at his own wince, but his overarching surprise reigns supreme. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re sure — his eyebrows do it for him. You nod, knowing all kinds of questions deserve answers.

“We can make it if we try.”

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [THE INBETWEEN] - P4L

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[3k] Two weeks since John B and Sarah have been gone and the pogues decide it's time for a proper memorial to say goodbye, but an impulsive gesture leaves two of the four remaining pogues heads spinning.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, unestablished relationship/unrequited love (Pope x Kiara), mentions of child abuse/neglect, general angst

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ This is where things get a little tricky. Also, tumblr decided to kick me out of my mf account so thats why this is like 2 days late instead of one, I DID NOT LIE TO YALL😭 and sorry if this chapter moves a little fast

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“RISE AND SHINE, BLONDIE.” You whispered in the sleeping boy’s ear. JJ immediately slapped a harsh palm over his ear, effectively slapping himself and waking himself up, groaning in pain as you stood by giggling. 

“Fuck you.” He mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, Marley emerging next to him from under the covers. You tilted your head at the dog, scoffing.

“You do know that is my dog, right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at a sleepy-eyed JJ who simply looked at the animal over his shoulder before turning back to you and shrugging with a sly smile on his face.

“Not anymore. Her real owner gives her bacon and she loves it.” He retorted, throwing an arm over Marley and pulling her into his side as he rubbed the top of her head. “Ain’t that right, girl?”

You rolled your eyes, your bare feet patting against the hardwood floors of The Chateau as you left the room, calling over your shoulder. “Then her real owner can clean up the aftermath when she vomits it out because she refuses to chew.” You reprimanded playfully, sliding your slippers onto your feet that were sat by the front door. “I’m gonna clean up a bit. Pope and Kie should be here soon. And I bought more cereal, it’s above the fridge.” You called out before going out onto the porch, letting the door shut behind you, the screen rattling. 

Today marked two weeks since John B and Sarah disappeared.

Pope and Kiara had finally made time in their schedules to do a proper send off. Not that you blamed them — Kiara’s parents wanted her as far away from the pogues as possible, with you being a semi-exception. They’d swamped her with work after school at The Wreck, working from the time school ended until the street lights came on. The weekends were no different, with the addition of taking the car away, only allowing her to drive it on the weekdays to and from school.

Heyward had Pope doing grocery run after grocery run, as well catching some of the seafood supply himself. Pope didn’t mind though, he was working on repairing his relationship with his parents after everything that happened. Things seemed to be looking up, Heyward didn’t scowl when you all came around anymore and his mother started to greet you all again. They were easing up on the restrictions, too — allowing Pope to drive the car again and be out past ten.

You and JJ had been managing — he was taking small, odd jobs here and there. Mowing lawns, fixing cars just to keep the lights on and the water running. You did what you could — sneaking into your house, only once or twice, to take some necessities and things to sell. You’d managed to pawn off a good chunk of your mother’s jewelry and some things you didn’t need anymore. It was enough to keep you both fed and clean.

Life was starting to seem okay again. It didn’t seem like there was such a large storm cloud over you and your friends anymore. Now, you just all felt an emptiness when you were together, which was probably why you weren’t together as much anymore.

School was…well, school. You and JJ hadn’t been since it happened. No adults to force you to go, right? Pope and Kie had been a few times, but their parents allowed them some time to themselves occasionally. 

Despite everything, today was the first day you all would be hanging out as a full group again. The Chateau always looked a mess but admittedly, you and JJ hadn’t been helping the place to look any better. The porch was littered with beer bottles, soda cans, snack wrappers. Things that had been piling up from your late night talks. 

Grabbing a plastic bag, you started gathering all of the trash and throwing it inside, the space already looking better.

“SO, HOW ARE WE DOING THIS EXACTLY?” Kiara asked, hands in her pockets as she stood in front of the big tree, next to Pope. The sun was starting to set, casting a low, orange hue over the backyard.

She and Pope had arrived not too long ago, the gathering not being as lively as it used to be. Less smiles, less laughs. There was small talk and a few jokes here and there but it just seemed so forced, as if no one wanted to say “let’s just get this over with”.

The group had been divided, although none of you would admit it aloud. It seemed as if Pope and Kiara did their thing, while you and JJ did yours. 

“We could just carve it. Might take a while, though…” Pope pitched, rubbing his hands over the top of his head and shifting his weight. 

“I mean, we got all day.” JJ shrugged simply, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. “I say we carve this baby up.” He shrugged, hiking up the toolbox in his hand, the metal objects inside rattling, and walking to the forefront of the group. You walked up beside him, looking up with your hands in your back pockets. “Care to do the honors?” He smiled down at you, flicking out a pocket knife in your direction.

Taking the object from his hand, you faced the large, loud live oak tree and began carving the initials of your fallen friend into the wood.

THREE HOURS AND TWO BEERS LATER AND THE TREE WAS CARVED AND BRANDED. A tan-colored, heart-shaped splotch in the center.

2003   2020

JOHN B ROUTLEDGE

P4L

After you’d finished carving, JJ had done the honors of engraving the words with a heated piece of metal, burning the words forever into the oak. The four of you raised a beer to John B, hoping that he could feel you wherever he was.

You’d branched off afterwards, something that never happened before but you’d grown accustomed to the odd dynamic between the group now. You all tried your hardest to ignore it or remedy it but it was useless. 

Pope was sitting on a log, staring at the fire JJ had started. JJ was swinging in the hammock as you made your way over to Kiara, who was sitting on the steps of The Chateau.

“Hey. You alright?” You asked, sitting down next to the girl as she took a sip of her beer, humming in response.

“As alright as I can be, I guess.” She replied almost despondently. You were all grieving in your own ways but something about Kiara’s grief didn’t seem like grief. It was like she was dealing with some other conflicting emotions on top of it all. “You and JJ have been keeping this place up, huh? I can actually see wood on the floor.” She joked lightly.

You chuckled in response. “Yeah... yeah, we’re trying. The place is one kick away from collapsing but it’s a home, nonetheless.”

“Have you been home? Since…” You nodded your head at the girl’s question, staring down at your sneakers.

“...Once or twice just to steal some shit to pawn off. I don’t really care for anything in that house anymore. Or anyone…” Kiara simply drew her lips into a thin line, nodding silently with no clue as to how to continue the conversation. So, you took the initiative for her. “How’ve you been? With your parents? Pope?”

She just grimaced and shrugged, playing with the rim of the open beer bottle. “They’re... going, I suppose. My parents don’t even know I’m here right now. If they did…” She trailed off, scoffing. “And Pope, I don’t know. He’s sweet, he’s just not…” She trailed off once again, but this time it was like she knew what she wanted to say but it was almost as if she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She seemed weary, hesitant — eyes fleeting between your own and the blades of grass beneath her feet. “Whatever. Forget it. Me and Pope are figuring it out, I guess. I’m trying to give it a chance.”

“That’s good.” You smiled smally, nodding absentmindedly. “If it helps, he really does like you. So, even if you two don’t work out, just let him down easy. He’s our friend and a really good guy.” She simply nodded, taking another swig of her beverage and looking out into the distance. Suddenly, she was standing from the steps, hands on her knees.

“I’m gonna go get another beer...” She sighed before walking back inside.

Maybe you were reading too much into it but Kiara’s grief was seeming more like a cold shoulder...

“YOU WARM ENOUGH, POPE?” You inquired, sitting next to the boy on the log, him shooting you a small smile before returning his gaze to the flames in front of him. The fire casting an amber glow over his skin, making his eyes seem browner, almost softer. 

“Yeah, a little too hot.” He chuckled lightly, leaning back further onto the wooden seat, placing his hands behind him for support. “...I meant to ask, is JJ okay? Like, actually?” He asked with a bit of hesitance, eyeing the blonde swaying calmly on the hammock. You followed his sights, spotting JJ swaying lowly before turning back to Pope.

“He’s…doing better than I expected. But that goes for all of us, I suppose.” You offered honestly. “Why’d you ask?” You questioned, to which Pope shrugged one shoulder before replying.

“I know John B was a really big part of his life. If I was as close as those two, I don’t know how I’d feel. I know we haven’t been around much, Kie and I, but he just seems…too calm.” You didn’t know how to tell Pope that JJ was far from fine. That you’d hear him crying at night, muffled as he tried to wake you not knowing that you couldn’t sleep knowing he was outside the door crying and you couldn’t do anything to comfort him.

You’d tried asking him about it yourself. He simply acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about and you weren't one to push him. Not now, at least.

“He’s handling it all in his own way.” You reassured with mild uncertainty. “But I’ll keep an eye on him. How are you, though?”

The boy drew his lips into a thin line, tilting his head to the side in thought before shrugging and looking out at the fire in front of him. “I…don’t know.” He struggled out, almost as if he wasn’t completely sure of the words but also unsure if he was truly unsure. His brown eyes met yours, slightly glassed over with frustrated tears. “I really just don’t know.”

You gave him a pitiful smile before scooting closer and throwing your arm over his shoulders. The two of you sat in warm, content silence. In all your time of knowing Pope, he was never either fully closed off or openly emotional. He was the definition of a ticking time bomb — bottling everything up until he reached a certain breaking point. But this time, you’d figured he’d had all the meltdowns he could. 

AS YOU APPROACHED THE HAMMOCK, another figure became clear next to JJ’s — Marley curled up in a sleeping ball of fur next to the blonde. You chuckled under your breath at the sight, nudging the swing with your knee to prompt JJ to open his eyes. The boy peeked one eye open before the other, eyes fleeting the yard at Pope and Kiara’s frames talking at the bonfire before returning to yours. 

You took a seat on the grass in front of the hammock, looking up at JJ as he made the small effort to turn on his side to look down at you without disturbing the peaceful animal beside him. 

“Done being the group therapist?” He yawned, pushing the blonde locs of hair out of his face. You simply shrugged, rubbing a hand across your forehead. 

“Yeah, my office is closed.” You sighed, leaning back on your palms — small pebbles and mulch chips digging into them but you were too tired to care. “But you know I’m always willing to listen for you.” You said playfully, shooting the blonde a wink. He giggled in response, leaning forward in the hammock with one hand clutching it for support.

“You promised no pushing.” He mumbled sleepily.

“I’m not pushing.” You assured, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I’m just... politely suggesting that you open up to your best friend, is all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to pick at your nails. 

“Right...how about we do a little switch-a-roo then, hm?” He threw out, shifting around once more in the hammock, eyes piercing yours. “How have you been? With everything. Bree, your mom…” He trailed off, eyes never leaving yours even though you avoided eye contact the moment he started listing issues. “I mean, The Chateau is nothing compared to your beachfront palace in Kooklandia. You gotta miss it sometimes. You’re telling me you never think about goin' home?”

You snarled, shrugging off his statement. “This is my home.” You declared, drifting your eyes upwards to connect with his, the amber glow of the bonfire making his eyes appear more green-toned than blue. “I never wanted to move to Figure Eight in the first place. I didn’t care about the ocean view or the fact that our living room and kitchen didn’t have to be one room anymore.” You explained, drawing shapes into the dirt. “I feel safe here.” You muttered. “I feel safer with you guys...”

He simply hummed and nodded in agreement. “I get that.” He sighed. “I feel the same about my house. I don’t really care that all my shit is there and that I have to sneak back and forth to get what I need. My dad… he makes me hate that house. And I hate myself for being able to hate the house because of him but not being able to hate him.”

“He’s your dad, though. It’s understandable. You feel like you should love him no matter what.”

“...Do you hate your mom?” You paused your drawing in the dirt to peer up at JJ through your lashes, his eyes wide and wondering. The question caused you to feel a way you’d never felt before. It was such a loaded question and even with everything that happened, you figured the answer should be easy but...it wasn’t. Saying that you hated your mother felt like venom on your tongue. Even if you knew you had every right to say that you did.

“No.” You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ears. “But, it’s like, I don’t love her either. I just…don’t recognize her anymore. In my eyes, she’s not my mother. But in my heart, she is and always will be. And I hate that.”

The two of you fell into silence after that, the only sound being cicadas and crickets. You directed your gaze up to the sky, counting the stars and silently acknowledging constellations while JJ kicked one leg out to swing the hammock gently as he stared up as well.

You figured the conversation ended there. It was getting late and you’d scored a babysitting gig for tomorrow that was paying good money. So, you figured heading to bed now was ideal because being late wasn't. You sighed, hands slapping your knees as you stood up with a groan, stretching as JJ’s eyes drifted to your frame.

“Well, I think my social battery has officially died.” You yawned, stepping closer to the blonde to ruffle his fluffy head of hair. “Night, blond-” You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence before JJ’s hand was wrapping itself around your wrist, pulling you down until your faces were just centimeters apart, him taking the opportunity to connect your lips with his, placing his free hand on the nape of your neck.

Your eyes went impossibly wide as the blonde pressed his lips to yours firmly, his eyes closed blissfully. A normal, friendly reaction would be to push him away, to say that you shouldn’t be doing this. But the way he was kissing you..

It was like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

From the way his fingers dug into your skin to the amount of force he was using to hold you in place.

Something in you suddenly relaxed, allowing you to close your own eyes and move your lips to kiss him back. Your lips moved in perfect sync with his for the moment. But you figured it would be nothing but. This was JJ, your best friend. He knew you like the back of his-

Oh. Oh, God. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing JJ. 

You pulled back so fast you nearly stumbled over your own feet, head whipping around in panic to find Kie and Pope still engulfed in their own conversation before turning back to the starstruck blonde in front you. His hair was messy and his lips were swollen with a deep shade of red blooming within the lower one. His own blue eyes were wide but you didn’t know for what reason. 

You just looked at each other with an unknown expression. Terror? Confusion?

Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other, panting in panic. Your heart was beating wildly out of your chest prompting you to adjust the neckline of your top away from your throat, the material suddenly feeling constricting.

You didn’t know what else to do so you did the only thing you could do.

Swallowing harshly and touching your aching, wet lips, you swiftly walked off in the direction of The Chateau. The last thing you heard was JJ call out your name one, heart aching time before the door of The Chateau closed behind you.

next chapter>

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[diazsdimples]

I am just as devastated as the next person about Bobby and Athena’s house being burned down but think about the possibilities! Walk with me here. Bobby spending 90% of his time on Real Estate websites when he’s not plotting how to get the 118 back from Gerrard. Athena noticing that his searches get gradually further away from metropolitan LA until one day, Bobby very happily shoves the laptop in front of her face and there’s a listing for a very cute looking ranch-style property. “And it’s only an hours drive on the freeway, Athena!” Athena’s initially resistant because since when has Bobby ever expressed interest in living on a ranch and also she is a city girl through and through, but Bobby finally convinces her to come view the property with him and fuck, it’s actually kinda perfect. It’s in their price range, with a lovely big house that’s got 4 bedrooms (one for them, one for Harry, one for May, and a guest room/ office), the kitchen is massive and rustic and Bobby’s like a kid in a candy shop the whole time, just bouncing around this place like an energised toddler (“it has a walk in pantry, Athena!”) and Athena starts unconsciously planning the furniture layout and some renovations. And then, and then, Bobby takes her outside and the back yard is absolutely gorgeous; there’s a patio that’s got a barbecue, a stone pizza oven, a fire pit (one outside this time), there’s so much room and space and Athena can feel herself gradually falling in love. And it’s got TWO WHOLE PADDOCKS! The opportunities are endless! They go home and she tries to act indifferent but Bobby finds her looking at the listing again and going through their finances, scoping out the local area, checking her commute time into work. They talk about it a couple more times, during which Bobby mentions the fact that he’s always wanted to own horses and he misses having chickens like he did when he was little in Minnesota, and honestly it’s her husband’s insistence and pure joy that ends up convincing her. She’s got one condition though: she gets a bunny rabbit. It’s a non-negotiable. If Bobby wants the house, Athena gets a rabbit. Bobby agrees, so they end up putting in a tentative offer, slightly under what they think it could go for, but miracle upon miracles, it gets accepted!! They finally tell the 118 (who respond with a variety of reactions, most of which being “you bought a what??”) and a few weekends later, they’re moving in their few worldly possessions, as well as setting up all the furniture Bobby impulsively ordered one night when Buck was over and pulled up a few furniture stores. Athena starts building a rabbit hutch, which turns into something more like a rabbit castle cause she’ll only have the best for her baby, and she gets her rabbit, who she names Hercules. He spends a fair chunk of time inside, on her lap as she rubs his ears. Bobby ends up buying a whole flock of hens, and a rooster that he names Maurice (and he’s never seen Tommy back up quite as quickly as he did when Buck showed him the chickens with a shit eating grin on his face). Eddie and Buck help to build a massive vegetable garden which Bobby fills with herbs and vegetables and flowers. He wants a dog, but Athena won’t allow it cause 1. She’s allergic and 2. Hercules doesn’t like dogs apparently. So he gets two horses instead, a mare and a gentle old gelding and spends his days off riding the horses (he does hire someone to care for the horses when he can’t) and tending to his garden and cooking and he’s never felt quite so happy in his life. A lot of plaid begins to work it’s way into his wardrobe and when he gets the horses, Eddie brings him back a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson from Texas, which he initially doesn’t wear but then Athena says he looks hot in them so he brings them out when he’s riding the horses. And no one minds the long drive to their new place cause it’s so perfect, they have the best cookout there and it’s clear that Athena and Bobby are the happiest they’ve been in years.