#it makes you too uncomfortable to think that the shit you say and do actually has an affect on others

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 4

Bucky x reader

Warnings: ok now they really hate each other, really angsty part and a lot of swearing (again)

Summary: A not so nice morning in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky

A/N: I couldn’t wait any longer haha so enjoy this part :)

Masterlist

Five months. Five months of avoiding each other like the plague. And when we do run into each other? Jesus Christ, even Captain America himself would bolt from the room.

Barnes has gotten a little more… how do I put it? Confident. In the wrong way. About three months ago, he was still trying to talk to me, still trying to convince me—just like everyone else. But I wouldn’t give in. I would never forgive him. Maybe after all this time, it seems childish, but I didn’t care. I stood firmly on my ground.

And once everyone realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, that’s when things started heating up. Barnes was starting to get so cocky. The worse my remarks got, the more he started snapping back at me. I could see I was driving him insane—not that it was my intention. I just didn’t want to see him. But since he was already there, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing sharp comments his way. Until, finally, he had enough and started fighting back.

“Fuck, Sam, I swear I tried everything. But she wouldn’t even let me get a word in. I’m so done with this. Guess some amends just can’t be made.”

I walked into the kitchen with every intention of ignoring Barnes and making myself a great breakfast.
“Morning, Wilson.”
“Hey, Y/L/N.”

I could tell Sam was uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop him from asking a stupid question.
“So, Bucky and I were about to go for a run. Do you wanna join us?”

Oh God. Pathetic.

Barnes practically choked on his coffee, barely stopping himself from suffocating (what a shame that would be).

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let him outside. He might ‘accidentally’ run over someone and then claim he was forced to do it.”

Oh, I knew that one was going to hurt. But it rolled off my tongue so sweetly that I couldn’t stop myself.

Barnes threw his cup against the wall. Sam flinched slightly.

“You are a cunt, you know that?”

Bucky stepped closer like he was about to throw hands. I got up immediately.

“What? You gonna kill me too now? Finally finish collecting the whole family, asshole?”

And he just stared.

Nothingness in his eyes.

I wanted it to hurt. I wanted him to feel exactly the way I did. But strangely, there was no satisfaction in seeing him suffer. It wasn’t as enjoyable as I had imagined. So much time had passed, my rage had only grown, and yet… I couldn’t put a name to that stupid feeling inside me. Oh no, it definitely wasn’t sympathy or guilt—it was just exhausting.

For the first time, I saw something in his eyes. Fear?

I didn’t care to figure it out. Not at that moment.

“Fuck you,” was all he said before leaving the kitchen.

I sat down with a small smirk but also with a hint of uncertainty (hopefully, it didn’t show).

“Um, so that went well?”

Sam, not knowing what else to do, sat down with me.

“Y/N, aren’t you tired of this?”

The bastard could actually read my mind sometimes.

“Despite everything, you two have a lot in common. He was under HYDRA, you had NEXUS. You really should—”

I couldn’t listen to him any longer.

“Despite everything? You mean the fact that he killed my sister? And HYDRA? NEXUS? We have nothing in common. I never killed anyone for someone else. No one ever controlled me like some brainless puppet!”

“Because Fury saved you! You little brat! You think you wouldn’t have done the same as him if Nick hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence.

A long, awkward silence.

I had no idea how to respond. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was right—even if he was.

“I wonder if you’d say the same thing about him if Fury hadn’t shown up back then. You need to get it together, Y/N, because everyone is tired of your shit.”

Sam stood up, looked at me, and walked out.

I couldn’t admit he was right. I couldn’t get rid of the fog in my head. That horrible memory.

I refused to back down.

The kitchen felt emptier than before.

Sam’s words hung in the air like a goddamn storm cloud, suffocating me, pressing against my chest. "Everyone is tired of your shit."

I clenched my fists. Fuck him. Fuck them all. They didn’t get it. They weren’t the ones who had to wake up every morning and remember that someone ripped their soul apart like it was nothing. They weren’t the ones who had to stand in the same room as the murderer and pretend like he was just another member of the goddamn team.

I grabbed a piece of toast and took a slow bite, staring at the shattered ceramic from Bucky’s cup still lying on the floor. Someone else could clean it up. I wasn’t going to.

The compound was quiet now, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic outside. I let myself breathe. But my hands were still shaking.

Then I heard it—the door slamming shut.

I exhaled through my nose, already knowing who it was.

“What the fuck do you want now, Barnes?”

Silence.

I turned my head slightly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked like he hadn’t cooled down one bit since storming out of here a few minutes ago.

“I’m not done talking.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn you told Sam you were done trying.”

His nostrils flared. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to feel something.

He took a step forward. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Y/N.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t? Enlighten me. Please.”

His eyes darkened. “You think you’re the only one who lost someone? You think you’re the only one who wakes up every day hating the person in the mirror?”

That caught me off guard. For a second. But I didn’t let it show.

“The difference between us, Winter Soldier?” I stood up, stepping closer until there were just inches between us. “I lost my family. You were the one pulling the goddamn trigger.”

He swallowed hard. I saw his fingers twitch—just slightly. Like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or grab something. Maybe grab me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a bitter chuckle and looked down.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was lower now. Tighter. “Every goddamn day, I think about the people I killed. I hear them screaming in my fucking head. And you?” He shook his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “You don’t even want revenge anymore. You just want something to be angry at.”

I stiffened.

He saw it. He fucking saw it, and I hated him for it.

“Go to hell, Barnes.”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Already been there, sweetheart.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, pulse racing, and for the first time in a long time—completely speechless.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #04 死

† forest rendezvous †

"They say the most dangerous predators are the ones that make you feel safe before they strike. But watching him calculate each shot with deadly precision, you realize there might be something even more dangerous - the ones who warn you exactly what they are, and still make you want to stay."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6k

rating: mature

content: forced proximity, piggyback, sniping, ominous threats, badmouthing, hinting at deeper wounds

☠ author's note ☠

A/N: Oh wow, apparently I even had author's notes saved in my drafts when I started writing this back in 2020? Past!me had *thoughts* and present!me is just here like (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

So I'm basically taking those written thoughts and rechanneling them through my 2025 brain. And let me tell you, the cognitive dissonance is REAL. Like past!me was all "but it's a slow burn!" and current!me is just cackling in the corner because honey... you have no idea what's coming ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д

I really debated on whether to include the piggyback scene or not. Had the whole thing pictured out a LONG time ago (we're talking pre-pandemic long, yes I am ancient, no I don't want to talk about it), but wasn't sure if I should add it here... you know, being a slow burn and all that jazz. But I think it works? They're both so against it that it's basically negative development at this point lmao.

Also, FORCED PROXIMITY MY BELOVEDS. If you think I'm not going to milk every single trope in existence, you clearly don't know me well enough yet. Just wait until we get to- *gets tackled by the spoiler police*

As always, thank you for reading! Your comments give me life and serotonin, which I desperately need because my caffeine addiction can only do so much. Stay tuned! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧​​​​​​​

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

"Shit—"

The word slips out as you struggle to your feet, using Jeon's hand like some kind of reluctant lifeline.

That's when your ankle decides to remind you exactly how badly you messed up trying to ambush him earlier. The adrenaline's wearing off, leaving behind nothing but raw, throbbing pain that makes you want to scream. Or cry. Maybe both.

"I think I twisted my ankle."

Jeon drops your hand like it's burning him, his expression morphing into pure exasperation. 

"You must be kidding me." 

"Yeah, because I love pretending to be injured during paintball." The pain makes your words sharper than intended. "It's my favorite hobby, actually."

He presses his hand against his face and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. His expression shifts from annoyed to something more complex—like a storm trying to decide which direction to blow.

The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable. You lean against the rock, trying to take weight off your ankle, but it just keeps t̶h̶r̶o̶b̶b̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ hurting worse with each passing second.

Finally, Jeon clicks his tongue and strides over to you. Then he just... turns around. Stands there. Like you're supposed to know what that means.

When you don't move, he adds, "Hop on," in a voice that somehow manages to sound both annoyed and urgent at the same time. 

Like he's throwing commands to a dog.

You stare at his back, brain struggling to process what's happening. This is Jeon—Mr. Ice Prince himself—offering you a piggyback ride. The same guy who can barely stand being in the same room as you most days.

He glances over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting yours. "I said, hop on. We don't have all day."

"No way." Pride makes you lift your chin despite the pain. "I'm not getting a piggyback from you. I'll just... wait here."

His patience visibly snaps. He turns to face you fully. "You can't walk, and you'll be a liability." The words come out sharp and cold. "If someone from his team finds you, you're out. And now, you're on my team."

"What do you mean I'm on your team?"

"You ask too many questions." He bites the inside of his cheek, clearly t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶'̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶n̶o̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ done with your attitude. "Were you or were you not with my team when shit went down?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"It's an improvisation game. It's V's thing, stealth. Remember?" His voice cuts through yours like a knife. "Whoever's with me when V strikes is on my team. Same goes for him. It's really not that complicated."

He takes a deep breath, face muscles shifting to something more controlled. When he looks at you again, he seems determined. 

"I'm not losing to V, especially not because of you. So either hop on," the gentleness in his voice has an edge that makes you tense, "or I'll pull rank and make it an order."

Your blood boils at that. The audacity of this man, threatening to pull rank just because you don't want to get a piggyback ride like some kid. But he's right, and that just pisses you off more. Your ankle's screaming, and you're basically a sitting duck out here.

Fuck. 

You hobble closer, swallowing your pride along with a string of curses. The warmth oozing off his body envelops you swiftly, making your heart do weird things in your chest.

Getting on his back is awkward and t̶h̶o̶r̶o̶u̶g̶h̶l̶y̶ ̶h̶u̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ uncomfortable, but he lifts you like you weigh nothing. His body is all lean muscle under your hands, which is just... t̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶g̶o̶n̶e̶ not something you need to think about right now. You kind of want to knee him in the ribs, just because you can.

You don't, though. Your ankle's already betrayed you once tonight—no need to make things worse.

He starts moving with careful, measured steps. Neither of you speaks. If he's as annoyed as you are about this whole situation, he doesn't show it anymore. His focus is entirely on the game now, eyes scanning the darkness, body tense and ready. Like a storm gathering strength.

And that just pisses you off more. Here you are, swallowing your pride with every step he takes, while he acts like carrying you is just another mission parameter to execute. The quiet forest floor suddenly seems way more appealing than being trapped in his personal weather system.

His breathing is steady, a rhythm that somehow makes the tension worse. Because yeah, he's helping you, but it feels like being rescued by a particularly moody thundercloud. The fact that you need him right now doesn't make you like him any better—it just makes everything more complicated.

Your eyes are dragged to the edges of his tattoos where they disappear under his shirt. Each one probably has a story, but good luck getting those out of Mr. Storm-and-Silence here. 

Still, you're curious. 

Are they about pain? Strength? Or maybe he just likes sitting through hours of needles because he's t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶ that dedicated to his aesthetic.

The silence starts to feel heavy, pressing down like gathering clouds. All you can see is his back, and the closeness makes your skin buzz like it's charged with static.

"So where exactly are we going?" You break the silence because honestly, anything's better than drowning in his suffocating presence.

"Paintball weapon cache."

"Wait, what?" You can't keep the disbelief out of your voice. "I thought we were getting my ankle checked out—"

"This is a simulation." He cuts off. "V's games are unpredictable, but they mirror real scenarios. We adapt. We deal."

There's something under that icy tone—a competitiveness that makes you think this is more than just training to him. Your fingers twitch against his shoulders, and you try not to think about the muscle shifting under your hands.

"You do this often?" You find yourself asking, curiosity winning over irritation.

"Unfortunately." The word carries a gust of dry humor. "V likes his... creative training methods. Paintball, surprise drills, mock raids. He's impulsive, but effective."

"Sounds... fun?" The word tastes weird in your mouth.

"If you enjoy being perpetually ambushed." His dry tone makes your lips twitch despite yourself.

You fall quiet, thinking about these two forces of nature—Jeon's storms and V's thorny garden. Different kinds of dangerous, but both leaving destruction in their wake (duh, they're assassins?). One's all calculated precision, the other pure chaos—yet somehow they both keep the gang's deadliest division running. 

"So what's the plan now?" You try to keep your voice neutral. If you're stuck being his human backpack, might as well try to be useful.

"We arm ourselves." His voice gains a strategizing color. "It's not about having the most firepower. Real situations never go according to plan."

Something about his tone piques your curiosity even further. "Has he always been like this? V? With the whole paintball ambush thing?"

Jeon lets out a sound that's caught between amusement and irritation. "Yeah. You never know what to expect with that psycho. There was this one time when he—"

He cuts himself off abruptly. You can feel how his muscles tense against your legs, probably kicking himself for almost sharing something personal.

"When he what?" You can't help pushing. The rare glimpse behind his walls is too tempting to ignore.

"Never mind." His voice goes flat, that familiar coldness sliding back into place.

The silence stretches again, pregnant with all the things he won't say. It's strange, catching these tiny cracks in his perfect ice-prince facade. Makes you wonder what other stories he's keeping locked away.

As you move deeper into the forest, his competitive side starts showing through. He explains the rules like he's briefing for a real mission, all strategy and tactics.

"...And the objective?" You ask, trying to piece it all together.

"Last team standing wins." His voice rumbles through his back against your chest. "Or take out the opposing leader—me or V."

"Makes sense." You nod, hyper-aware of how his voice ricochets through you. "But why so intense? It's just paintball, right?"

The question slips out before you can stop it. But really—all this drama over some colored paint?

"It's never just a game." The edge in his voice could cut glass. "In our world, everything's a test. A challenge. We're constantly proving ourselves. You should know that by now."

His words sink in slowly. You do know—every day in this place feels like walking a tightrope, being watched, measured, judged. Even something as simple as paintball becomes another arena to prove your worth.

"This is exhausting," you mutter, and you actually mean it. The weight of constant training, constant proving yourself—it gets old fast.

"It is." Something in Jeon's voice makes you wish you could see his face. There's a pause, then: "But it's necessary. Keeps us sharp. Survival of the fittest and all that shit."

The bitterness in those last words catches you off guard. It's weird hearing him talk like this—like maybe he's not totally sold on the whole 'constant competition' thing either. The thought of Jeon having doubts about anything feels like finding a dent in what you thought was solid concrete.

He continues moving through the forest like he was born here, feet finding paths you can barely see in the dark. The trees loom overhead, their leaves whispering secrets you can't quite catch. Soon, you are opening your mouth again before your brain can stop you.

"How'd you end up here?"

His stride breaks—just for a second, but you feel it. The air grows heavy again, pressing down on your shoulders. 

"Circumstances. Choices." The words come out clipped, that familiar wall slamming back into place. "Same as anyone else."

You can practically taste the story he's not telling. Something dark and messy that turned him into this walking hurricane of a person. But pushing would be stupid, and contrary to popular belief, you're not that dumb.

"Right." You let it drop, focusing instead on how the moonlight catches on his silver chain when he moves.

Jeon picks up speed, and the trees seem to close in around you both. It seems to be a sign you are approaching your destination.

"So once we get the guns, what's the plan?" You try to break the weird tension that's settled between you.

"Find high ground," he says, voice low and focused. "Somewhere we can see everything but stay hidden. Sniping's all about patience and precision."

"And you think there's actually a spot like that around here?" You can't keep the skepticism from your voice. You've done your fair share of surveillance—good vantage points are rare as hell in this forest.

He just grunts, confident as ever. "I know this place like the back of my hand." He actually lifts one hand to prove his point, the moonlight catching on his rings. 

It shouldn't be as hot as it is. 

Silence falls again and the trees grow closer together, moonlight filtering through in weird patterns that make everything look kind of surreal. The darkness feels heavy, like it's trying to remind you both that you're not exactly on a fun camping trip here.

You watch him scan the forest ahead, all focus and precision. It hits you that this is his element—the quiet, the calculation, the waiting game.

"You really think this'll work against V's team?" The doubt slips into your voice before you can stop it.

"It's not about what works against them." He sounds almost philosophical, which is... different. "It's about playing to our strengths."

He pauses to lick his lip ring—a habit you're starting to notice—before adding: "Plus, I'm Chief of Tactical Assassinations for a reason. Best sniper in Kkangpae. Best in South Korea."

"Best in the whole country? For real?" You hate how interested you sound.

"Probably." His shoulders lift in a small shrug that makes you bounce slightly.

"Right." You roll your eyes. "Got any proof of that?"

"I do." The response comes quick, matter-of-fact. "They're all dead though."

A snort escapes before you can stop it. 

Shit. 

Okay. That may have been actually funny. But you're definitely not laughing at his jokes. He might have a sense of humor hiding under all that ice, but he's still an ass.

Jeon slows down as you reach what looks like the world's most underwhelming hideout—just a tiny hut tucked between the trees. His muscles go tense against your legs, like he's preparing for trouble. The way he lowers you to the ground is weirdly gentle for someone who usually acts like basic human contact might give him hives.

Your ankle screams in protest when you put weight on it, making you wobble slightly. Something flickers across Jeon's face—t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶c̶e̶r̶n̶ probably just annoyance at having to babysit you.

"You good?" 

The question catches you off guard. Since when does the ice prince care if you're okay?

You manage a nod, not trusting yourself to speak without letting out some embarrassing noise of pain. He turns toward the hut but pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"Tell me if you see movement." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "Any movement."

Then he's gone, slipping into the darkness of the hut. You hear him moving around inside, probably doing some super-professional sniper inventory check or whatever the hell he does.

When he emerges, he's carrying two paintball rifles like they weigh nothing. You try really hard not to notice how the moonlight catches on his arm muscles as he moves, or how smoothly he closes the door with just a flick of his wrist.

He hands you one of the rifles, dark eyes scanning the forest with the kind of focus that reminds you why he's chief of his division. Then he just... crouches down again, waiting for you to climb back on.

The sight of him effortlessly holding a rifle while offering you a piggyback makes something in your chest twist. How dare he make this look so easy? How dare he be this capable and t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ this insufferable at the same time?

You sigh, swallowing your pride along with several choice words about the universe's sick sense of humor, and climb back onto his back. His body is warm against yours and you hate that you notice. You hate even more that he's not even breaking a sweat carrying both you and the gear.

Stupid attractive jerk with his stupid perfect aim and his stupid strength. The least he could do is be ugly, but no—he had to look like that while being the most irritating person you've ever met.

Jeon stands like your weight is nothing—because of course he does. He adjusts the rifle with practiced ease, and you try really hard not to notice how effortlessly he handles both you and a weapon. It's t̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶b̶r̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶i̶v̶a̶t̶e̶d̶ annoying how good he is at literally everything.

His movements fall into a steady rhythm as he walks, and you find yourself swaying slightly with each step. It's weird being this close to someone you can barely stand. The guy who's usually a walking natural disaster is suddenly all careful precision, like the calm before a storm.

The hill stretches up ahead, moonlight painting everything in silver and shadow. Somewhere in the distance, paintball guns are still going off. Sounds like V's twisted little game is still in full swing for everyone else who isn't stuck playing piggyback with their nemesis.

You watch the forest ahead, trying to focus on anything except how warm Jeon is against the cool night air. He moves through the undergrowth like he was born for this. The higher you climb, the slower he moves, until finally he stops altogether.

Without a word—because god forbid he actually communicate like a normal person—he crouches slightly. Your cue to get off this incredibly awkward ride.

"Here." His voice is barely above a whisper as he helps you down with surprising care. 

You scan the area, taking in the elevated position and clear view of the forest below. It's perfect for sniping, which makes sense given who picked it. But something about being this exposed makes your skin crawl.

"This is way too exposed." Your instincts are screaming at you to find better cover. The entire forest floor is visible from up here, which means you're visible too. "We need something more concealed."

Jeon turns his head just enough to catch your eye in the moonlight. "Trust me."

Two simple words, but they hit different.

Trust isn't something that comes easy in this life. Especially not between you and Mr. Hurricane himself. 

Yet here he is, asking for it like it's that simple.

You weigh your options, torn between your screaming survival instincts and his calm certainty. Finally, you give him a reluctant nod. What choice do you really have?

You can't help watching as Jeon sets up his position. The way he moves is t̶o̶o̶ ̶g̶r̶a̶c̶e̶f̶u̶l̶ irritatingly efficient, precise and purposeful. His eyes scan the terrain with a focus that makes your mouth inexplicably dry. 

Because it's weird seeing him like this. The usual cold, intimidating chief is gone, replaced by someone who moves with quiet, deadly grace. Every shift of his body as he positions the rifle speaks of years of practice, of countless nights spent perfecting each tiny movement.

The hurricane that usually swirls around him has settled into something different—a gentle breeze that makes your skin tingle. It's... weird. 

Almost peaceful.

You can't help studying him while he's focused like this. The way his dark eyes track every movement below, how his brow furrows just slightly when he's thinking. His silver piercings catch the moonlight when he shifts, and you find yourself leaning closer. 

Just to see better, obviously. For tactical reasons.

Movement near the cache catches your attention. Jeon goes completely still beside you, the kind of stillness that reminds you he's literally the best sniper in South Korea. You lean in further, trying to see what he's seeing, and suddenly realize how close you are. Your shoulder brushes his, but neither of you moves away. You're both too focused on the target below, who's digging through supplies like they've got all the time in the world.

"Wait for it..." His voice is barely a whisper, warm breath ghosting past your ear. His finger hovers over the trigger with the patience of someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

The poor soul at the cache has no idea what's coming. The air feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Then—bang.

The shot is perfect because of course it is. A splash of neon paint blooms on the target's back like some abstract art piece. They jump about a foot in the air, spinning around wildly.

"Dammit, Jeon!" The shout echoes through the trees. There's only one person who could make a shot that clean from such distance.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Even Jeon's mouth twitches at the corner—the closest thing to a smile you've ever seen from him. For a split second, a gentle breeze wraps around you both like a shared secret.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Jeon's eyes suddenly meet yours. For a heartbeat, maybe two, neither of you moves.

It's... t̶o̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ weird. The way his dark eyes seem to see right through you, how his hurricane wraps around you like you're in the eye of the storm. Too close. You're close enough to count his stupidly long eyelashes, to see the tiny scar on his cheek catch moonlight.

Then reality crashes back in. Jeon shifts away so fast you'd think you burned him, putting blessed distance between you. The barriers slam back into place—he's your superior, you're just some annoying ensign he got stuck babysitting during paintball. That's all this is.

You lean back too, trying to ignore the way your heart's still doing gymnastics in your chest. It's unsettling, this weird moment of... something. Not respect, definitely not that, but maybe a reluctant acknowledgment that there's more to him than just being an ice-cold asshole. The way he handled that shot, the focus in his eyes, the subtle pride in his posture—it's t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶t̶e̶s̶t̶ annoyingly impressive.

Jeon's already back in sniper mode, all business again like nothing happened. But the air feels different now. Like the air has picked up speed, swirling with renewed intensity as if trying to blow away whatever just passed between you.

You watch him work, wondering when exactly you started noticing things like how his jaw clenches when he's concentrating, or how his fingers move with such precise grace on the trigger.

You tell yourself the shiver down your spine is just from the cold night air.

"I should leave." The words come out low, almost like he's talking to himself. He stands up, towering over you, a dark silhouette against the forest green. "Won't take long for them to tell V where I am."

"What, you scared?" The question slips out before you can stop it. 

Since when does the great Jeon run from a fight? Especially with V?

"No." It's instant, defensive. His tone is laced with something like irritation. "With V, you play his game. I just landed a shot. He'll know exactly where I am the second he gets here." A pause. "That's why you're staying."

"I see." You answer automatically. Then your brain catches up.

Wait.

"Hold up—I'm what now?" The words come out sharp. "So I'm just bait?"

"Yeah?" He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like he can't fathom why you're even asking. "You'll draw him out."

"Didn't you literally just give me that whole speech about 'making do' and 'real situations'?" Your voice rises with each word. "And now you're using your teammate as bait? Real nice. Guess I was right—you are a hypocrite."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary." His voice is cool, professional. "Plus, between us..."

He looks at you then, really looks, and something in your chest goes tight. Those dark eyes of his catch moonlight like black ice, beautiful and deadly. His stupidly long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and when he blinks, it feels deliberate. Like he's giving you time to process what comes next.

"You're the expendable one. Here, and in real life."

"Fuck off." The words come out sharp and mean, exactly how you want them.

His eyebrow arches, silver beads catching moonlight like a warning. "Watch your tone."

You can feel the hurricane bearing down on you again. It sneaks through the cracks in your attire, scratching at the outer layer of your skin. It is oppressive, suffocating. Engulfs your whole being almost instantly, almost as if to blow you off balance.

"So you're really doing this?" Your voice cracks a little, caught between rage and something that feels too much like hurt. "Just leaving me here as bait?"

He doesn't even blink. Those dark eyes of his are cold and distant now, like you're just another variable in one of his calculations.

"It's strategic, not personal."

"Strategic." You let out a laugh that's more like a snarl. The thought of being nothing but a disposable piece in his game makes your blood boil. Being used by anyone would piss you off, but being used by Jeon? That's a special kind of infuriating.

He takes a step back from you now, creating physical distance as if he was uncomfortable. Maybe, somewhere under all that ice, he actually feels bad about this. But t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶f̶u̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ you're probably just seeing what you want to see.

"Stay low and keep quiet." His voice goes all authoritative again, his standoffish nature coming right back. "If V knows it's a trap, we lose our advantage."

You cross your arms, watching Jeon's figure fade into the shadows. Every cell in your body screams to call him out, to demand better than being left as bait, but...

What leverage do you have? The answer hits like a slap: absolutely none.

He moves like a ghost between the trees, that hurricane of his dissipating until you're left alone with nothing but forest sounds for company. His words echo in your head, each syllable of "expendable" burning like acid.

You try to shift position, searching for some way to sit that doesn't make your ankle scream or your pride hurt worse. Hard to do when you're officially demoted to bait in this stupid paintball game. 

Stupid Jeon. How can he turn even mock battles into some grand strategic play? 

Your jaw clenches. At least real bait doesn't have to deal with the indignity of knowing it's bait.

The forest is too quiet now, like it's holding its breath. You try to focus, to be the good little decoy he wants, but between your throbbing ankle and the rage simmering under your skin, concentration's a lost cause. Your thoughts spin like leaves in a storm, each one circling back to how much you want to punch that perfect face of his.

Then—something changes.

It's subtle. Just the slightest shift in the air, barely enough to stir the leaves. But every instinct you have lights up like a warning flare. You freeze, hardly daring to breathe as you strain to locate whatever's setting off your internal alarms.

That's when you feel it—thorny vines wrapping around your lungs, making each breath sharp and dangerous. V materializes from the darkness like he was born from it, moving with the kind of liquid grace that reminds you why he's chief of stealth. Before you can blink, cold metal presses against your neck��his paintball gun, a very pointed reminder of how screwed you are.

The speed of it leaves you breathless. Or maybe that's his thorny rose aura, squeezing tighter with each passing second. His mastery of stealth isn't just reputation—it's terrifying reality.

"Shh, shh, shh." His breath ghosts over your ear, playful and deadly all at once.

You hadn't planned on screaming, but the way his aura constricts around you makes you reconsider.

"Where's Jeon?" V's voice is barely above a whisper, but something in it makes your blood run cold.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to sell Jeon out—serves him right for using you as bait. But something in V's tone makes you think carefully about your next words. This might be a game to everyone else, but V... V plays different.

"He left me," you manage, voice tight. "Twisted my ankle."

The laugh that follows sounds wrong, like broken glass wrapped in velvet. His thorny vines squeeze tighter.

"Typical Jeon." The way he says it drips poison. "Once a traitor, always a traitor." There's history there, old wounds still bleeding. "Abandoning a teammate? That's cold, even for him."

The paintball gun stays pressed against your neck. Except... is it really loaded with paint? Your stomach drops as you realize you have no way of knowing. Not with V. Not when he's got that edge to his voice that makes you think maybe this stopped being a game the moment he spotted you.

Every instinct screams at you to run, but you're trapped between fight or flight, knowing either choice could end badly.

"He's not here then?" V sounds almost disappointed, like a kid whose favorite toy got taken away. "Pity. I was hoping for a proper reunion."

The gun against your neck suddenly feels a lot more real. You're not the target—you're just the bait. Again. Except this time, it's not just your pride at stake.

"Should've expected as much..." His laugh raises goosebumps on your skin. "No loyalty in that one, hmm? Makes you wonder what he'd do in a real bind. Leave you to rot, probably."

You stay quiet, letting V's poison drip. Each word feels calculated, like he's trying to infect you with his hatred for Jeon. His vines constrict tighter around your lungs with every syllable, and you can't help wondering what made these two hate each other so viciously.

"That's Jeon for you." The words drip with disgust, but V's smirking like this is all some twisted game. "Self-serving. Cold. Doesn't care who he steps on to get what he wants."

The way he's focused on his little villain monologue gives you an opening. Adrenaline floods your system as you make your move—one hard stomp on his foot. His yelp of surprise is almost satisfying.

You shove the paintball gun away from your neck, twisting out of his grip. For one glorious second, you think you might actually get away.

Then reality hits. Literally.

V moves like water, flowing around your escape attempt like he knew exactly what you'd do. Before you can blink, you're eating dirt, his weight pinning you down. The gun barrel presses cold against your forehead, and you realize just how badly you miscalculated.

"Not bad, dear." His grin makes your skin crawl. "But not good enough."

You're pinned, his weight heavy and his presence suffocating. His thorns dig deeper with each breath, and you can almost feel them cutting through your skin. 

You're trapped, completely at his mercy, but damned if you'll let him see you scared.

He leans in close. "Let me give you a piece of advice." His whisper raises goosebumps on your neck. "Watch your back around Jeon. He's more dangerous than you think."

The warning in his voice sounds too personal, too raw to be just another mind game. Like maybe he's speaking from experience.

"Oh, I'm counting on it." The words come out steadier than you feel with V's weight pinning you down. You manage to keep your voice even despite the lack of oxygen making it to your brain.

Something flickers across his face—confusion, maybe suspicion. Those stealth instincts of his finally catching up, but too late.

SPLAT.

Paint explodes across V's back in a neon burst. His whole body goes rigid against yours, muscles freezing mid-squeeze. The look of pure disbelief on his face almost makes this whole night worth it.

When he turns to look over his shoulder, you already know what he'll see. Jeon emerges from the shadows like he was born from them, rifle balanced casually in those tattooed hands. Even playing paintball in the middle of the night, he somehow manages to look t̶o̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶ irritatingly put-together.

He runs his fingers through dark hair, pushing it back from his face in a way that's probably supposed to look casual but comes off more like a shampoo commercial. The silver in his piercings catches moonlight, and honestly? It's just rude how he makes everything look so effortless. Like being unfairly attractive is just another one of his many talents.

V's weight disappears as he stands, and suddenly his whole demeanor shifts. The deadly predator from moments ago vanishes, replaced by that familiar chaos-loving trickster. His laugh rings through the trees as he claps, adorned with delight instead of danger.

"Bravo, Jeon!" V calls out theatrically into the forest shadows where Jeon now stands revealed. "Always hiding in the shadows like the snake you are."

Jeon's face is blank, but there's something razor-sharp in the way he moves

"Far better than always playing the fool to hide your incompetence, if you ask me." Jeon retorts sharply, ice crystallizing each syllable.

"Incompetence?" V's laugh has an ugly edge to it. "That's rich, coming from you. Can't even follow basic gang rules, but here you are, talking shit."

Something flickers across Jeon's face—too quick to catch, but his expression grows darker, more intense. Seems like V knows exactly where to stick the knife.

"A gang built on backstabbing might want to rethink its rules." Jeon's voice could freeze hell over. It's like the winds around him whip faster now.

"See, that's your problem." V tilts his head, a mischievous, lazy grin spreading all over his lips. "When I stab someone in the back, at least I don't cry about it after."

The smile he gives Jeon is pure venom—like he's referencing something that happened between them, something that left scars.

"Right." Jeon practically spits the word. "You only get emotional when you're the one getting fucked over."

They stare each other down, and you feel thorny vines trying to pierce through howling wind and rain. Finally, Jeon looks away first, shaking his head like he's trying to dislodge memories he'd rather forget.

Jeon's eyes find yours, and it's not concern you see there—more like he's doing some kind of damage assessment without having to actually ask if you're okay.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. He left you as bait, remember? Used you like some expendable pawn in his little game with V.

But something annoying nags at the back of your mind. 

Because he did come back. 

The moment breaks when Jeon looks away, that weird tension snapping like a rubber band. His typhoon-self settles back into its usual pattern as he stands there radiating smug victory. The paint splattered across V's back is proof enough of who won this round.

"That's it then. This round goes to me." He says it like he's commenting on the weather, not like he just outmaneuvered the most dangerous man in Kkangpae.

There's something almost boring about how he announces his win—no gloating, no pride, just checking another box on whatever mental list he keeps in that pretty head of his.

His eyes flick back to you. "Time to get you to the infirmary—"

"Let's not pretend you've suddenly gone soft, Jeon." V cuts him off, setting down his gun with this little head tilt that somehow manages to be both playful and threatening. 

"Oh, please." The disdain in Jeon's voice is too evident. "She just needs to get her ankle checked, and it's not like she can walk there."

V steps closer, moonlight painting him silver. There's something otherworldly about him now—like some fairy tale creature that lures people into trouble with a smile.

"I'll take her to medical myself." His voice drips honey-sweet mockery. "Sounds more fun than whatever boring escort you had planned."

You watch Jeon consider this, weighing something in his head. After what feels like forever, he just... shrugs. Like he couldn't care less what happens to you.

"Sure." His voice is pure ice. "She's your problem now."

Then he just... walks away. No backward glance, no hint that he gives a single shit about leaving you with someone who literally had a gun to your head five minutes ago. The winds that seem to surround him dissipate with each step he takes, leaving you feeling weirdly hollow.

V turns to you with that signature grin of his—the one that's equal parts charming and concerning. He offers his hand with exaggerated gallantry, like some twisted prince charming.

He then scoops you up, bridal style of course because that's V for you, and you can't help but notice he's stronger than he looks. The transition from ground to air is smooth despite your resistance, but what choice do you have? Crawl to the castle?

Your eyes find Jeon one last time as V starts walking. Something in your chest twists when you realize he's not even looking back. You hate that you wanted him to fight this, to show something about handing you over to V. Your twisted ankle is his fault, after all.

But his face might as well be carved from stone. If he feels anything about this situation, he's buried it so deep even his hurricane can't dig it up.

next | index

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@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[cat-of-starlight]

tfw you are trying to Limbus Pull but the game's only Bonus Units™ are the ones that freak you out/irritate you lmao whoops

[istherewifiinhell]

First reprimand for shitty customer service <3. Well first one that wasnt just just my boss laughing and saying a local famous person accused me of stealing their wallet [left it on a shelf].

[eebie]

tavros my tavBro

[binx0r]

Legit question: would it be weird to tell someone

“It makes me happy to know you exist”

Bc like… that’s a sentiment I feel a lot esp when I don’t have the ability to interact as much as I’d like to with people but I see them living their lives and it gives me deeply good feelings

Like regardless of whether we cross paths I know you well enough to appreciate you’re part of the universe and that fact brings me joy

Like is that inappropriate in any way?

[edward-lygma-ballz]

WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

[lovelyrotter]

STILL feeling like the only fictive on this site whos really fuckin uncomfortable with other fictives talking about generally-to-really-personal shit and *tagging it with ships* like please. please stop. i want to look at davedirk in peace without some random guy running into the room yelling HEY YOURE LOOKING AT ME ACTUALLY. like bro i get it i am also ''a dave'' but im just a fuckin guy first. person first fictive 3rd tbh

[quantum1mmortality]

The crew & using toys on their S/O in bed please with a cherry on top??

First time writing the whole crew kinda nervous 🤭🤭 I'm not writing Swansea tho I will NOT be writing nsfw of a married man

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, winners love winning in Anyas hcs (use of the term pillow princess), jorkinit jumpscare

Not proofread

Curly

I'm actually not sure if he'd be into toys

I've literally only written for Curly so I'd say I'm a Curly expert, and I just don't think he'd be into toys

He'd use a vibrator on you every now and then, but he'd just use it to tease you and make you beg for him.

He'd probably use cock rings. I am a firm believer Curly would use cock rings. Not all the time, but if he's had a really stressful day at work, he's wanting an extra hard hitting orgasm.

Omg not a toy but APHRODISIACS!!! This man would go crazy for some aphrodisiacs, whether he's taking it or you are.

Now I wanna write a wedding night one shot with Curly and aphrodisiacs thanks a lot anon 😔😔😔 I've got enough shit to write already

Anya

I don't care what any of you say this woman is a pillow princess

YOU'D be using toys on HER

She'd also be a cryer but that's not the point

She'd have a drawer dedicated to sex toys. She's trying to get into med school, she's CONSTANTLY stressed, how else is she supposed to release some of that stress? Don't judge her.

She wouldn't be into straps or dildos, she'd be into shit that vibrates. Vibrators obviously, rose toys, anything that stimulates the clit honestly

I lied she is into dildos this woman is a sucker for a RABBIT!!! Like I said, if it vibrates, she wants it.

Her favorite combo is the rose toy/vibrator + pussy licking. She cums so fast, then gets embarrassed, then begs for more. Praise her a bunch and she'll be able to go a few more rounds

BONUS CONTENT!!; she has a Christina and Princess Albertina, no further comments

Daisuke

Oh yeah, he's using toys.

He has a tongue piercing and sometimes he'll swap it out for a bar that vibrates but y'all aren't ready for that convo

He's gonna use the basic toys, nothing we haven't gone over yet. Vibrators, rose toys, cock rings, ect. He's just trying to figure out what he likes for right now, and he likes all of them

In missionary, he'd hold either a vibrator or rose up to your clit while he fucks you. Kind of uncomfortable as a position, but if it gets you off, it's worth it to him.

Not sure if this is considered a toy but he'd be interested in sounding. He's definitely had you try it on him once or twice, and he never lasts for more than a minute 😭 poor boy

He's just trying new things out. He's new to having a committed relationship, so anything you'd be into, he'd be willing to try. He'd let you peg him if you wanted, but don't ask me to write that.

My pegging days are over

Jonathan

The kinkiest cunt that ever cursed this god forsaken ship

Toys are a must have for him. On you, not him. He only likes using them on you, because it gives him a sense of power over you.

He'd be one of those assholes that would put a bluetooth vibrator in your panties and wait till you're in public to turn it on the highest setting. Like an asshole

Jizzdaddy would have a lot of toys. He'd have one of those robotic dildo setups that like.. idk does the thrusting how the fuck do I explain this????

You guys get what I mean if you've ever been on a porn site you've seen one

Anyway, he'd have one of those setups and watch it fuck you. Ass up, head down, grasping at whatever you could since HIS sadistic ass turned it up to the highest speed.

Eventually hed get pissed off and fuck you himself, claiming that you love the toy more than you love him 😔 the allegations are true but he doesn't have to know that

He'd also use plugs on you. In public, too. He doesn't care. If you humiliate yourself, that's your fault, not his.

vibrators are used during sex, nothing new. But it's the same situation as before. Claiming you love the toy more than him, so he stops using it.

Sometimes he'll just give in though and decide he doesn't care, and wants to tease you more than anything. Highest speed it can go, or the slowest. No in-between. He'll have you begging one way or another.

Chat I hate writing rough characters someone request ooc soft Joshua hcs so I can write him like I do Curly 🙏🙏🙏

A/N; Anya makes me wanna kiss girls

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Imagine telling op guys who has a crush on you, that you want to sleep with them. You just plop down next to them cuddle into them and fall asleep. It's just hem turning red and trying to calm down their thoughts

hehe, this is legit so cute. (tweaked the prompt to be a little more suggestive than just thoughts in the end.)

not a dream ft. the monster trio!

set-up: as anon asked! you happened to utter five simple words, "can i sleep with you?" to the op boys (who have a crush crush on you). now these idiots are contemplating if they'd make it out alive. warnings: includes nsfw thoughts!! no actual things happen but the guys are thinking very very perverted shit, so, if not comfortable please skip!!! m.list

luffy:

💗 you know luffy. do you think luffy— the guy who clings to everyone, doesn't know the word "personal" and "space", who will probably hug you even if you threatened to punch him— will really mind if you told him you wanted to sleep with him? fuck no. even if you stood in front of him with a "i like you, i wanna sleep with you" in a suggestive way, he would say something along the lines of "awh, i like you too. let's sleep."

💗 but well, this was different. cause he liked you. so when you decided to show up at his door after dinner with a cranky look, he was both confused and intrigued. "what's wrong with ya?" the captain mumbled as you sat next to him on the bed. "chopper and ussop. ugghhh." you groaned, "they're doing some stupid shit next door and making so much noise. there is no possible way i can sleep there. and im sure nobody else will let me crash with them tonight in their room." luffy would have probably leapt up and gone to join the other two fools had you not sprawled out next to him. you gave him a tired smile, "so, can i sleep with you?" 💗you hadn't even waited for an answer. mindlessly, you draped a hand over his torso and snuggled into his chest. he pulled you towards himself on instinct. this was normal. yeah. hugging a crewate. yeah. totally normal. atleast for him. then why was his heart beating so fast? mouth going dry? why was sweat clinging uncomfortably to his back although he knew the night air was frigid? 💗you shifted and your chest brushed against his. luffy swallowed wantonly as you shifted again. and then one more time. trying to find the most comfortable position, he guessed. mechanically, you pushed yourself further against him. and this motherfucker went as stiff as a washboard. "luffy?" you mumbled against his skin before tracing your eyes upward. from this position, your doe-eyes bore into his, "you don't mind right? it's just really cold, sorry." how could he mind? your soft body was against his. your fingers drummed faint melodies against his back and your hair smelled like some floral scented shampoo. every time you breathed out, the warm air caressed him and goosebumps painted his hands. he felt your peaked chest brush against his again and he almost swallowed his own tongue. "luffy?" you asked again, your voice saccharine. and he vaguely wondered how would the same voice sound if he tore open that flimsy top your were wearing and held your soft skin against his palm. or if he took the courage enough to dip his fingers below the waistband of your pajamas and felt you up. would you say his name like that? 💗 well, fuck. this was the captain had thought so much in his entire life. and they were thoughts about feeling up his crewmate's tits. and, as a result of such vigorous thinking, a problem had arose in his pants. he tried to think it away. tried thinking about sea-kings or hideous devil-fruit users. of alvida. or anyone else. he even tried to think of food so that his attention could be diverted. but even the most tastiest of sanji's pudding couldn't take away the throbbing in his cock. and the delicious feeling of your soft skin next to his. as a last resort, he prayed that you wouldn't shift more and feel his dick against you. he prayed you would take his silence as rejection and simply drift off to sleep. but ofcourse, this is a godless land. because you moved again. and when you felt his hard-on against your thigh, you looked up at him. lips caught between your teeth, blinking up at him almost innocently, you asked, "got a problem, captain?" before he could answer, you pressed forward, "i think i can fix it." on the other side of the ship nami burst into chopper and ussop's room. when she yelled, it probably could be heard over the entire ship, "LET US SLEEP, YOU MORONS. WE HAVE A LONG DAY TOMORROW. GO SLEEP OR I'LL FINE YOU BOTH A MILLION BERRIES PER MINUTE THAT YOU'RE UP." you're not sure if it was chopper or ussop crying in the distance. but oh well, you have a captain to please 🤭

zoro:

💚zoro's not even fucking sure how he ended up like this. he's sure it involved some higher-than-tolerable level of alcohol for both the parties involved. and he's sure it must have been your idea that he had drunkenly complied with. "let's sleep together" "okay" what was he thinking? because right now, you were sprawled against his chest. both of you were on his bed. his shirt was off, yours was barely on. a bit of drool peaked out from the corner of your lips. and he found himself quietly rubbing it away with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly to himself. ew?! was he still drunk?? as the realization set in, he pulled his hands back in wicked horror and looked around as if someone had seen him. it was still night, and in the middle of the night, the effects of the cheap booze must have wore off of him and he awoke to you as his bed. 💚"hey." he tried to shake you awake but you just groaned, sinking further into him. he hissed when you buried your face against his bare skin. he whisper-shouted, ignoring the goosebumps on both of your skins, "wake up. go back to your own room, woman." but you didn't shift an inch. instead, you stayed buried against him. he groaned but when his eyes fell back to your face, he couldn't help but fight off the impending blush that crawled up his face. your hair was a mess and your cheek was squished against his chest. you breathed softly and sometimes, your fingers twitched against his skin and you touched him fleetingly. and you were warm. too warm for his liking. he tried to look away but his hand carefully came up to your face. staying there not a moment too long, he dragged it downwards. over your shoulders and over your back. he stopped before he went too far and grabbed your ass, the curve so delicious in his eyes. but he stopped, pulling his hands back to lay on the linen sheets. he was a horny man, not an evil douche. 💚but you must have been hell-bent in proving flaws in his moral-code, because you shifted and your pelvis shifted over his. he bit back a grunt at the movement over the fabric. you were so cozy against him. the way you brushed up against him, the way your hair tickled him. would you like it if he pulled your hair? would you moan? god, what would you sound if you moaned out his name? he was a bad man. thinking all of those things. and he tried to focus on anything but the blood-rush to his dick, really, but the way you started moving against him, almost mechanically. god. that made all attempts to ignore his boner disappear. his hips moved upwards and he closed his eyes, giving into the friction of you against him. soft moans fell from his lips, hips still moving upwards to graze your clothed thighs. 💚"zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eye. you strained your neck up and he looked down at you, dazed. "you okay, zo?" when he found himself unable to talk and you found a harsh roll of hips under you, you connected the dots. a playful smile tugged on your lips, "need some help?" "no." the swordsman swallowed thickly. "fine." you shrugged, clamoring off him. your hips swayed as you made a futile attempt to find your discarded shorts somewhere in the room. you gave him a lingering look, "i should go back to my room. the crew will freak out if they find us like this." "no." he caught your wrist, tugging you towards him, "stay. i could use some help." 💚in the morning, sanji walked into the swordman's room to see if the moron could find you somewhere since you were nowhere to be found on the ship. what he found, instead, was you and the mosshead tangled in his sheets. when you and zoro had finally made it to the breakfast table, sanji may/may not have been crying. luffy, ussop and chopper were laughing in the background. nami decided it was a good enough reason to even high-five zoro. it was an awkward breakfast.

sanji:

💙sanji was probably in heaven. yes, that's the only explanation. sure, the ship was en route to alabasta but he was on his way to heaven. because there's no way you had come seeking him out in the middle of the night. you had said, "i can't sleep." "oh?" the cook had wordlessly stepped aside and you took on the opportunity to slip in. he shut the door behind you, "can i help you then, love? want me to cook something?" "i would have really not bothered you but i don't know who else to ask. nami and vivi are sleeping together and the bed's not big for the three of us." you rambled, "and zoro probably showered five months ago. and luffy, ussop and chopper are passed out in the common room. so... can i sleep with you?" it's a miracle he didn't pass out on hearing those words. it's an even bigger miracle that that was three hours ago and he had still not passed out. now, sanji lay next to you— as stiff as a corpse— while you snored. your body shifted and your hands reached out towards sanji. your palm ran up and down his torso as to check if he was there. and once you had gotten a confirmation, you scooted in his direction and sanji held his breath as if one wayward puff of air will wake you up. 💙vinsmoke sanji was trying. he was trying o maintain his composure, to not pull you into his chest. he was trying not to think about the way your chest will feel against his, the way his fingers will glide over your thighs, the way your hand will fit around his dic— and it was as if you could hear his wretched thoughts. because your hands moved over his torso. gliding up and down. you leaned into his touch, molding your body against his. you might have been having an interesting dream cause he saw your hips gently rocking, your thighs pressed harder and you eyes clenched shut. you buried your head into his chest and the smell of your shampoo seemed to turn him on more. he ignored his weeping dick, decided to pay it no mind. but all of that resolve crumbled when he heard you moan his name into the fabric across his chest. your nails dug into his shoulders and your nose buried as deeply as it could against his skin. 💙 he gently guided his fingers to your thighs. and you shook under his soft touches. his thumb softly brushed over your clothed pussy and bucked towards his hand. he could probably just feel you up and you'd let him— "—shit." sanji quickly brought his hand back, realizing that you were sleeping and out of it. even if your lips chanted his name, he couldn't do the things his mind was convincing him to do. because if he started, he wouldn't stop. 💙so, to get himself rid of such sinful thoughts, he decided to hide in the shower and pump at his hard cock till he was tired. till you crawled out of his head. till your voice stopped ringing in his ears, making his cock impossibly harder. he slowly pushed you away, trying to climb off the bed. but as soon as you felt his warmth disappear, you cracked open an eye, "sanji?" "uh" his face went red, eyes averting, "just going to the washroom. i'd be back." you sat up, "did i go too far?" sanji's mouth hung agape as you pulled him back into bed, "i thought you wanted me to moan your name like that—" "—wh-what?" "i had a dream." you innocently traced your index nail down his torso and brushed it over his sleeping shorts, "think you can help me?" you blinked up at him, "pretty please." 💙 the next morning, the cook of the crew made the worst breakfast possible. wasn't his fault. all he could think about was you and your breathless moans and your eyes as— "this tastes like shit." the swordman argued. "thEN MAKE IT YOURSELF, FREELOADER." "might as well if you're gonna cook so bad." "—i think it tastes fine." nami sighed, "if i knew you getting some would make you a terrible cook, i would have let (yn) sleep with me and vivi." and the entire ship choked on their (terrible) breakfast.

a/n: i tweaked the prompt a bit (as i was getting stuck with the original ask), but i hope this was good enough anon!! as always, thanks for reading and send in req that you might have <3 (tagging: @bokutosbiceps cause i know you love luffy) m.list

[nanaslutt]

so i just read like… ALL your gojo stuff.

now imagine… gojo not being able to hold back and wanting to breed you after you both try those aphrodisiac chocolates… ahem…

i am absolutely terrified of getting pregnant yet have the words most insufferable breeding kink, we exist

Contains: fem reader, aphrodisiacs, masturbation, no prep, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, SOOO much dirty talk, praise, so much cum.., whiped!gojo, established relationship

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Gojo was talking soooo much shit when you sent him a link to some aphrodisiac chocolates you saw online. He would not stop dismissing that they didn’t actually work; saying none of that shit that advertised any kind of enhancement in sexual arousal ever did.

So of course you had to order the chocolates and really test it for yourselves, making a challenge out of it.

If the chocolates truly had an effect, gojo would do whatever you wanted, and if they didn’t? vice versa. Gojo was game, of course; because he didn’t think anything would happen.

“Bleh- they taste like shit too,” Satoru grimaced, chasing the horrible flavor with a strawberry soda.

“That’s probably because there’s something in them satoru…like the aphrodisiac…,” you shook you head, swallowing the bitter chocolate.

“Orrrr; crazy thought; it’s just some cheap chocolate marketed as aphrodisiacs to make a ton of money off of people like us.” he drawled, throwing his hands up in the air and waving them around when he spoke.

“I really thought you out of all people would find this kind of thing fun satoru.” you said, trying to push his buttons a bit.

“We’ll of course, chocolate and sex? I’m all over that,” he said making you laugh, “but me and suguru tried something like this for fun back in our student days, it was some kind of pill though,” his face twisted in discomfort as he spoke, “just ended up making us super sick tho, yaga got pissed, heh” he laughed, remembering the memory.

“Knowing you two it was probably some cheap boner pill you got in a sketchy bag at the convenience store.. so that might explain it.” you snorted,

He rubbed his big hand over the back of his neck, “yeah, there was like 5 other pills in the bag with it now that I think about it..” he said quietly, making you hunch over in a laugh.

The two of you went about your evening like normal, watching some comedy movie that was on and cuddling together on the sofa. When it ended you went off to change into something more comfortable as you started off to finished the laundry.

You haven’t felt anything extremely out of the ordinary yet; remembering that the package said it might take long for women to feel the affects; but gojo on the other hand was feeling mildly uncomfortable.

His face and neck were feeling warm, throughout the entire movie his big hand was placed on your upper thigh, like always. What was unusual though, was how his skin tingled when he placed it on yours, palms sweating more than usual; he just chalked it up to all the junk he had been eating throughout the day, probably upsetting his body.

When you moved back into the kitchen and started on the dishes the two of you had created in the sink, Gojo couldn’t help but hyper focus on the fat off your ass peeking out of your night shorts.

The way you moved your hips as some r&b music played quietly from the tv. He watched your muscles and tendons move together when you twisted your body around, watching your ankles cross; one behind the other; getting comfortable from where you stood.

Satoru was feeling hot all over now, a large hand coming down to grope himself over his pants when you bent over to put the dishes into the washer, poking out your clothed mound towards him, the fabric of your shorts squeezing your curves just right.

His jaw dropped slightly, breathing heavier as he got off on watching you do such a mundane task like the dishes.

You inserted the pod into the dishwasher, completely oblivious to satoru’s shenanigans as you stood up straight. You noticed when washing your hands that you were starting to feel a warmth washing over your body, and a sort of warm coil tightening in your tummy.

The lightbulb went off in your head when you realized it was probably the work of the chocolates. You quickly shut off the water, towel is hand as you whipped your head behind you to tell gojo what was happening to you; and to inform him that you were going to win this challenge.

Your motions were stopped short as you bumped straight into gojos chest, “Oh! Didn’t realize you were-“ Your words getting cut off when gojo grabbed the bottom of your face, bringing your lips to his, and kissing you hungrily.

Gojo used his other had to slide his arm around your body, pressing you hard into him, letting you feel his erection against your tummy.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your words that tried to excape, “Sa-mm- Satoru-“ you got out between kisses. Gojo shoved his knee between your legs, putting delicious pressure on your cunt as he kissed you like it was his last day on earth.

You had to grip his hair and pull his face off of you to speak, this didn’t really phase him as he targeted your neck instead, biting and sucking on the skin there, “Fuck- s-satoru slow down-“ you moaned when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Cant, need you-“ he spoke in between his rushed love bites on your neck, moving his big hands to hold your hips as he made you rock your cunt back and forth along this thigh.

Your head was spinning a mild a minute, still trying to wrap your head around the current situation. You expected this to happen; being on the side of ‘pro aphrodisiacs and all; you just didn’t expect it to happen so soon, and for it to have such a strong effect on someone like Satoru.

“S-shit- those chocolates have you m-more worked up than me,” you tried to laugh, voice cut short by a moan when his knee nudged your clit at a particularly mouthwatering angle.

“Need to be inside you,” he ignored you, groaning against your pulse point, hot breath tickling your neck when he spoke.

Gojo was breathing so heavily, his cock feeling like it was about to rip a hole in his pants at how hard he was. “Take em off, now-“ he whimpered, referring to your bottoms as he started pulling them down your legs, panties following suit.

You helped him, gripping his hair and keeping his lips pressed against your neck while you kicked off your shorts off from around your ankles . His hands dropped down to remove his own sweats, too impatient to fully take them off as he pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring out, jerking himself off with one hand rapidly between you; hand holding your hip with his other.

“Let me put it in, please, need to be inside you now-“ he groaned, finally pulling back from your neck; and he looked absolutely wrecked.

This whole situation was giving you whiplash, but you felt bad for him. Satoru’s hands were shaking, face flushed completely crimson, and he was sweating and panting like he just ran a marathon.

He continued stroking his cock, eyes flirting between your pussy and your pretty lips while he waited for them to move, voicing your consent.

His cock was dripping so much pre it looked like he already came. Hard cock still dripping steadily onto his hand and fingers, making his strokes emit loud ‘plp’ sounds into the air.

“Yes, please, give it to me toru,” you spoke, making him let out a moan of satisfaction. You wrapped your arms around his neck when he lifted you suddenly, burring your hands in his hair and face in his neck as he slid his dick into you with zero prep, all at once.

You were greatful the aphrodisiac was in affect, making you so much wetter than normal, and in turn, making the stretch a whole less painful then it would’ve been without it.

You whined at how his massive clock split you in half effortlessly, “Sorry baby- m’ sorry-“ he apologized with a groan against your bruised neck; whatever consciousness he still had left being aware that that might’ve hurt you.

“Shit it’s o-okay toru, just give it to me- fuck-“ You tipped your head back, jaw dropping and releasing a loud whine, giving him more access to mark up your neck while he fucked into you like a mad man; legs dangling over his arms as he held you in his strong grasp, hoisting you up and down on his cock like you weighed nothing to him.

“Holy fuckkk” he whined, vibrations going through your skin, “Need to fill you up, need to fuck you full of my cum s-shit-“ Gojo was working himself up with his words, already on the brink of his orgasm only a couple thrusts in.

He was truly using you like a cocksleve as he fucked into you at an inhumane pace, heavy balls slapping against your ass, strings of your combined wetness connecting to your ass each time he thrusted inside.

He sucked harder against your skin as he felt his first high rapidly approach him. His eyes repeatedly rolling back in his skull at the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy around him.

“Shitshitshit- gonna c-cum, need you to take it all f’me” his deep voice reverberated through you, all you could do is cry and moan our strings of his name and “yesyesyes” while he fucked his first load of the night into you.

“T-take it f-fucking take it yessss” Gojo felt like he was on cloud nine, he had never felt anything like this before. Of course he loved cumming inside you when you had sex but this was different. Every neuron in his brain was telling him to fuck load after load into you; to get you pregnant.

Gojo didn’t actually want kids right now, and you were on the pill so the possibility of him actually knocking you up was low- but not if his aphrodisiac brain had anything to say about it; he would make sure to fucking try.

Ignoring the overstimulation he felt as he humped his cum into you with heavy thrusts, quickly picking up his speed again when he finished spurting the warm ropes of cum into you, making you squeal at his quick recovery.

“Pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking wet sh-itttt” he groaned, dick twitching and abs clenching as he fucked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, sending him straight twords another one.

“T-toru o-oh my god-“ you wimpered, body flopping around limply at the intense pleasure. His cock was drilling straight into your sweet spot and making you dizzy. You tried not to pass out as he manhandled your body, gripping you roughly and marking up your skin everywhere his insatiable lips could reach.

“Gonna knock you up baby- g-gunna give you my babies- get you fucking pregnant, yeah? you want that?” you cut off his filthy mouth by using the grip you had on his head to press his mouth against yours.

“Yesyesyes, give me your babies toru- gonna make you a daddy-“ he groaned into your mouth at your mutual need for him to fill you up.

Gojo felt drunk hearing the nickname bounce around inside his head. Gojo never thought he had a daddy kink, but in this scenario? The nickname had him feeling like he was about to come again already.

By this point, the aphrodisiac was affecting you just as much as it was him, everywhere his body touched yours felt like your skin was on fire. You tried not to lose your sanity as he was pushing your towards your first orgasm without so much as even grazing your clit.

He set you down on the ground and in one swift movement spun you around so you were facing the counter. Satoru used his massive had to grab hold of his cock, slipping it back into your drenched walls.

You both groaned in unison at the sensation. Gojo gave you both a couple seconds to relish in the feeling, pressing his balls hard against your ass before he picked up his same ruthless pace as before.

“Good fucking girl- gonna look so fucking pretty with ur belly all round with my baby shiiit” he groaned when he felt your cunt clench around him at the idea.

He brought his massive palm down feeling your cunt squeeze him, leaving a heavy spank against your ass and gripping the fat between his fingers.

“Pussy tryna fuckin’ milk me down here” he laughed, biting his lip when he watched your hand come down to rub your clit in quick circles, “Yeaahhh fucking touch your pussy for me baby, make urself cum all over my dick while i fill you up.” he instructed, clenching his jaw.

“Shit- g-give it to me daddy- cum inside me-” you mindlessly babbled, there you go again with that fucking nickname that had his balls tightening.

You feet the coil wind itself up quicker than normal at your enhanced sexual arousal from the chocolate and the now added stimulation of touching your neglected clit.

“Come with me baby, gotta feel you cum around me- please” he begged, leaving another loud slap against your ass before pulling you back on his dick roughly by your hips.

“S -shit it’s coming it’s coming i’m- fuckfuck- ngghhh” your warned, voice cutting out as you started to come around his girth while he fucked you through it.

“yeeeeeess baby- fuuuuck- milk my fucking cock fuck-“ he watched intently as your little hole clenched around him, his first load spurting out around his cock with the pressure of your orgasm, making the white ring around the base of his dick get even messier.

“I’m coming again baby- take it for me- need you to take it all, gotta make sure it t-takes” he whined, getting you pregnant still on the forfront of his brain.

Your legs would’ve collapsed on the floor if he wasn’t holding up a majority of your weight by your hips. Your nails slid against the marble as his cock rammed against your cervix, making you dizzy, broken moans getting forced out of your mouth at the feeling of getting repeatedly impaled on his cock.

You tried to gain a little bit of brainpower back to help gojo through his orgasm just like he did for you, “y-e-sss toru’ cum inside me please- i’ll take it all- be a good girl for you-“ your voice squeaked out, words getting louder at the end with how rough his thrusts were,

He leaned over your back, pressing his sweaty chest onto you while he wrapped you in a tight bear hug, not ceasing his ruthless hips, “Need you t-to kiss me baby- go-nna be instense” he whimpered against your shoulder, waiting for you to turn your head twords him to give him access to your mouth.

When you did he wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. The two of you swallowed each others moans as his pitch got higher and higher; his tight grip was sure to leave dark bruises on your body as he held onto you for dear life at his impending orgasm.

When the coil finally snapped, he shook violently against you, hips stilling against your ass, pressing his hips as deep as he could into you while hot ropes of cum filled you up even more than his last load, making more cum spill out around him at how full you already were.

His breath was hitching into your mouth, lips doing their best to kiss you back as his jaw kept falling open as the waves of his high washed over him.

He whined and dropped his head against your shoulder when he started to come down. Gojo panted heavily against your skin, twitching in the aftershocks of his high.

“D-don’t move please” he requested, fucking his softening cock into you a couple more times to make sure his cum was as deep inside you as it could go.

“Fuck toru- feel so full right now..” you wined into the marble, wincing in overstimulation at his final few weak thrusts.

After a couple seconds he finally pulled out his cock, gulping hard as he watched his cum start to dribble out of you; making you whine at the slightly uncomfortable feeling.

He used a couple fingers to spread your pussy lips; admiring his work for a second before he used to fingers to scoop his cum back up, stuffing his thick digits back inside of you, “Gotta get that plug of yours to keep it all in,” he said, biting his lip at how soft you felt around his fingers.

“Or you could let me cockwarm you,” you giggled, turning your head back to look at him while he looked enthralled with your cunt.

“God I love you, smartest fucking girl I know.” he praised.

You fell into a fit of giggles when he scooped you up in his arms, peppering kisses onto your face while he headed twords your shared bedroom.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist while he walked, keeping them snug even when he dropped the two of you on the mattress together. Gojo’s large frame laying on top of you as he reached his hand down between you to slide his semi-hard cock back into your oversensitive walls, making you hiss at the feeling, “Sorry baby- almost in,” he promised, kissing your cheeks while he fully bottomed out.

He rolled his eyes at how warm and soft you felt around his dick, sucking soft hickeys into the crook of your neck while you pet his damp hair.

“I’ll clean you up in a second my love, promise, you just feel too good right now.” he let out a short laugh against you.

“‘S okay toru, makes me feel good too.” you tipped your head forward and pressed kisses onto the top of his scalp.

“We gotta be careful with those chocolates,” he laughed, “Might acctually knock you up one day if we keep eatin those,”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” you confessed, squeezing your legs harder around his hips.

“Dangerous words to say right now pretty girl,” he warned, smirking into your skin,

“Oh right, guess you won the bet,” he remembered, “Whacha want ur big strong boyfriend to do for you?” he asked teasingly,

“Cum inside me again, right now,” you requested after a beat, emphasizing your need by squeezing your pussy walls around him, making him inhale a sharp breath between his teeth.

“Fuck… you serious?” he smirked, lifting his head to look at you.

“Don’t keep me waiting, give me my prize toru,” you pouted your bottom lip at him, making his brain short circuit as he felt his cock twitch back to life.

You ended up taking a plan B the next morning… just in case…

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Just some thoughts of you and Toji sharing a hotel room with Shiu when you go on a trip. There are two beds, you and Toji share one, and Shiu gets the other one to his mopey self, because his wife won't be there until the next day. He gets to warm the bed up on his own and he hates every minute of it, because one: he's third wheeling you and Toji, and two: you and Toji act as if he's not there when it's time to go to sleep.

"Why aren't you sleeping, pretty girl? Do I need to go down there and put you to sleep or what?" Toji murmurs.

You giggle, quietly. "Maybe. I do get pretty tired after you make me cum."

"Yeah, you do," he says, proudly. "You wet, right now, mama?" Toji asks, already unknotting the drawstrings of your shorts.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You say, your voice too soft for what you're inviting him to do. Still, Toji bites and leans in to kiss you as his hand slides down the front of your shorts and beneath your panties. His hand meets your pelvis and continues its downward path, until his fingertips reach the messiness of your slick-ridden cunt. He teases you with barely there flicks of his fingers to your clit.

Shiu's eyes widen the slightest bit, before his eyebrows furrow. He swears he just heard a moan coming from the bundle of blankets on the right side of the room.

"Stop touching each other," he says, irritation heavy in his tone. "Jesus," he grumbles. The one time he didn't bring his headphones, the one time his wife isn't there to let him do the same things to her, that Toji is doing to you. And you both just continue to ignore him.

Your hand comes down to palm at the prominent bulge in Toji's boxers. You can feel his clothed cock twitching in your hand after every gentle squeeze you offer to the thick length.

"Fuck, don't tease me like that, doll. Touch it." His body jerks slightly when you slide your hand down his boxers and wrap it around his sticky length. "Shit, your hands are freezing," he whispers, hissing at the coldness that meets his warm skin.

"You want me to keep going or not?" You ask, teasingly, not stopping the movement of your hand as you wait for him to respond.

"Nah, nah, you're getting warmer. Keep going."

You both think you're doing so well at muffling each other's sounds of pleasure with deep kisses, but the sounds of heavier breathing and constantly rustling sheets in the otherwise steady room, are a dead giveaway to your indecent acts. Shiu has to choose between suffering by being uncomfortably hot with the blanket bundled around his head to shut out the sounds, or being comfortable and suffering with the clear sounds of your sexual antics.

"Shh," Toji hushes, when you let out a little whimper. "Just keep kissing me."

Despite how intense the sensations are, you both keep going. Toji's fingers don't stop rubbing your clit, and your hand doesn't stop gliding up and down his cock. You're both treating the act of sharing a bed as you usually do when you're alone, despite the poor man trying to sleep one bed over.

It takes hearing an uncontained high pitched gasp for Shiu to kick off his blanket and jump out of bed with a grumble. He grabs his car keys off the table and puts on his slippers, directing himself towards the door. "Going to the store. You two better be done by the time I come back."

The second the heavy door shuts, clothes are being pulled at through impatient, all consuming kisses. It gets to the point where you actually have to slow down to get them off, because you aren't making any progress, but once it's all discarded of, absolutely no time is wasted. Your legs find refuge hooked over Toji's shoulders, and his hands home to your hips and your waist. You both freely make as much noise as you want as you indulge in each other like you really are home alone. Minutes unknowingly turned into an hour and after four intense orgasms, you've tired each other out. Toji gets out of bed to grab a towel to clean you and himself up, and once the cleanup process is done, both of you fall asleep, soundly.

Shiu comes back half an hour after you both fell asleep. He's empty handed, looking a little more disheveled than when he left the room, because "going to the store" was code for sitting in his car and having phone sex with his wife. He tip toes further into the room to see if you and Toji are sleeping, and when he sees the way Toji is spooning you with his face pressed to the nape of your neck, and the way your hand rests on the arm he has slinged around your waist, he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

"Rabbits."

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[purinfelix]

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

[misctf]

Trouble at the Bachelor Party

“Dude! This is sick!”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.

It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.

“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”

It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.

“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.

________________

“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that boy-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.

“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”

“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”

“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.

“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”

“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.

“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”

Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”

“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.

“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.  

“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.

________________

The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.

“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”

“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”

“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.

Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?

“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.

________________

Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?

“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”

“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”

Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.

“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”

“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”

They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.

“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.

“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.

“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.

“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.   

“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”

“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...

"You are a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."

His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words carved his new reality.

“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”

Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.

________________

When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.

“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.

“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.

“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”

“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”

Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.

“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”

Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.

“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.

“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.

The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.

“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.

Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.

“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.

“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.

Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”

Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. Gone was his light dusting of chest and belly hairs, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff framing his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.

“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.

“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.

“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”

“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“A hole?” Liam whispered.

He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature dwindled away. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His bulging biceps and triceps became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.

“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.

“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.

“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.

But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.

“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”

“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” He knew his voice sounds more feminine somehow and he cringed, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost as it retracted back, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.

“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”

Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.

“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”

“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.

“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.

“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.

“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in too much pleasure to care, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth. He wanted- no needed- to be like the men on the screen. To be fucked and used by other men. Who was he kidding? He knew what he was, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.

And his new lovers were happy to oblige.

________________

In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.

“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”

Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”

“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”

Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”

Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.

And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.