#like just the evidence that someone out there could give a shit about me at all without me editing my memories or experiences

[imujings]

Talk Talk by Charli xcx gives me so much vernon vibes!! every time i listen to it i just make up a little scenario with him in it! CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS!!💗

but we've been keepin' this a secret and you're surrounded by friends and i'm just wonderin' what they know

wc <1k. warnings some cursing, party scene, suggestive (mentions of mutual masturbation, allusions to sex lol), petnames (babe), situationship. jay��s musings thank u ml :,) here is buzz cut vernon for u!!

The bass of the music makes your ears ring, vibrations reverberating through your nerves down to the bone. It’s blinding here in the club, the neon lights hurting your eyes and forcing you to squint through the heavy smoke filled air. Your drink sloshes around in your cup unsettlingly.

Your outfit feels a little bit too tight, like you can’t get enough air, and you try to steady your breath. There was no more time for feeling self-conscious. You were on a mission tonight—no matter how much you usually hated this kind of scene, you were determined to see it through.

Or rather, see him through.

You hear him before you spot him. It’s embarrassing, really, how your body reacts to the stimuli that is his presence. The music gets a little duller, the lights a little dimmer, and your senses become heightened. Laughter that could belong to no one other than Chwe Hansol reaches your ears, clear and resolute.

He’s standing around people you can only assume are his friends—there’s so many of them it only makes the situation even more overwhelming. One in particular is leaning against Hansol, his arms wrapped around the man’s bicep, and something in your heart stirs.

Flashes of green alight your vision, and only by blinking do you realize it’s caused by the club lights rather than the jealousy curling in on itself inside of you.

Hansol and you were, for lack of a better term, talking.

You two had met on a dating app a little while ago, swapping movie recommendations and indulging in jokes about how the world has gone to shit. Conversation between you two was easy, light; he never made anything feel forced and it left you reeling every time a notification popped up on your lock screen.

However, what did leave you frustrated was his poor attempts at hiding that he was making any excuse possible not to see you.

You asked to grab some coffee downtown at a new place that opened up? He was coincidentally quitting coffee for awhile. You wanted to go see the screening of a newly released movie? He already made plans to see it with some of his other friends. Every offer to meet up in person was shot down, not unkindly, by the man.

And quite frankly, you were tired of it.

You wished—no, craved—that he would just talk to you about what he was so seemingly afraid of. It was evident that he harbored enough care for you to send you updates about his life, from a reel he found funny to what retirement plan he wants to follow.

That, and he would FaceTime you during after hours, spent from long days at his work but still awake enough to hear you whine about goodness knows what. There were even nights that ended in you gasping for breath, your fingers sticky from your release, Hansol’s own groans echoing softly through the speakers of your phone.

“I wish I was there with you,” you murmured once after such an intimate moment. “To touch you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

He was silent on the end of the line for a breath, before his voice, still shaky and low intoned, came through the call. “One day. Promise, yeah?”

That was maybe two weeks before tonight. Hansol, of course, then rejected your attempt to ask him out to dinner, saying he was out of the state at the time visiting family.

Convenient, wasn’t it?

When you heard that he was attending a party this weekend, one hosted by someone you recognized as a mutual friend, you practically begged your bestfriend to let you tag along.

So, here you were, looking dumbfounded at the man only a few feet in front of you.

His buzz cut looked better on him than it did in the pictures. You knew he had gotten one, him excitedly sending you selfies of before and after—it was the most wound up you’d seen him since the initial conversation you two had about Star Wars. But you didn’t think that his new hairstyle, paired with a silver chain and thin white tank, would instantly make heat churn in your lower stomach.

Focus, you remind yourself.

Taking a deep breath to recollect yourself, you walk with purpose towards him. His friends take notice of you first, their eyes widening, and the one that’s wrapped around Hansol’s arm backs away slightly.

His eyes meet yours, and time stands still.

“Hello,” you drawl, leaning into his personal space as you blink up at him with what you hope is a charming smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Hansol’s mouth is parted, eyebrows raised, his eyes drinking in your club outfit and the way the light reflects in your dilated pupils. He swallows. Hard.

“Hey,” he says, arm reaching around your waist and giving your hip a squeeze. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

Your lips curl into a smirk and you slowly trace a fingernail along his knuckles. “Yeah. Heard of it and wanted to see what the commotion was all about.”

“Not much commotion until now.” Hansol’s hand doesn’t stop his ministrations, making you hum as your body moves on its own to press against his.

Your eyes catch the way his jaw tightens imperceptibly. A giggle slips past you.

“I’ve been wanting to finally meet you in person,” you pinch his bicep. “You keep escaping my traps.”

Hansol’s eyes, wild and wide, flicker around to see if anyone is watching you two. When his gaze meets yours again, it’s dark.

“Well, I’m here now. Wanna get out of here?”

You toss your head back into the air and laugh, a sound that makes Hansol tighten his grip on you and grin at.

“To do what? Talk about why you’re avoiding me?” you tease.

He leans in close, breath tickling your ear.

“Nah, babe. We’ll talk later. Gotta show you just how lucky I am first.”

want to queue a song?

[whatremained]

actually keep writing reactions i love reading them

and sorry for responding again. i really like this musical and ... just like talking about it when i can.

with you saying that me reading connor as autistic is a real take, i giggle. i mean i believe it, but i haven't heard many other people read him that way, and it's nice to see someone who agrees. and i do also argue a lot the cast is neurodivergent, and i would say... the main three characters we NEED to be focusing on and thinking about throughout the story (evan, zoe, connor), are all autistic.

though the authors grossly say that evan isn't autistic because "he wants friends…" obviously they don't know what autism is. most autistic people WANT friends, just like how most PEOPLE want friends. we're no different. evan… quite literally is read as autistic, not only to neurotypical people, but also neurodivergent people. (so much so that when i attended the show with my brother who had never seen it before, he turned to me after act one and directly asked if evan was autistic. he is neurodivergent, and it wasn’t an insult by the way he worded it and the way he expressed it. 😭) it REALLY sucks that the writers of the show said shit like that, but it doesn’t change how most of the audience perceives evan.

zoe just reads as autistic to me because of her very set mind and how she views the world. also... zoe can come off as bratty at times! and how she acts can be mistaken for genuine brattiness when she's just... trying to make a point, or say something. ex. her sounding pissed when evan was in connor's room, asking him why he was there. she wasn't hurt or anything, she just wanted to know. but it comes off as very sharp and harsh. she definitely does not understand tone and… i also don’t so yk! zoe's potential autistic-coded being so ignored messes me up. "women getting ignored in the mental health field" quota filled with this musical/book's fandom i guess. good lord, zoe is genuinely such an interesting character, and it pains me that she’s just… ignored all the time. it’s the fact that she’s so obviously a main character. i mean in the playbill, at least the one i have… the way the actors are listed, assumably, is by their status as characters, as in… main lead, and leads. and then supporting cast (as well as understudies & such).

(photo evidence of the listed cast lol)

(touring cast of this year. michael fabisch plays evan, hatty ryan king plays zoe, bre cade plays heidi, caitlin sams plays cynthia, alex pharo plays connor, jeff banks plays larry, gabriel vernon nunag plays jared, makena jackson plays alana… the rest are understudies & the voices we hear when social media posts appear. this… order objectively makes sense for character appearances imo. zoe is… in a bunch of the story and is a very important character. just rambling here though.)

zoe is a character that has a huge story in the show and… she’s ignored because??? idk? she’s a woman? and people in this fandom don’t care about women it seems!

i could go on for HOURS about connor because his symptoms really replicate mine, and it's VERY easy for me to point out, but i'll give my small little rant. from the very start, described by evan in the book, he knew connor from previous classes as children. obviously they were never close, but he saw him in grade school. he describes just knowing connor as basically the kid who… cried a lot. now crying a ton isn’t a neurotypical vs neurodivergent thing. it happens to both kinds of people. but the reason for crying may lead to the realization of “oh! this character might be autistic!”. for connor, as a younger child, we see the cause in one story for why connor may have cried a lot in school. this is the infamous “mrs g” story mentioned in the musical. he cried and got angry because he wasn’t line leader that day, mostly because of the fact he WAS supposed to be line leader that day, and the fact he wasn’t subverted his expectations. for a lot of autistic people, and for me, when things don’t go routinely, they tend to get upset. it’s smart to assume the crying would come from that, feeling overwhelmed day after day.

honest to god; i was going to type a lot more after this but i have about no energy to. my shortest explanation is read the book, connor’s parts. explains a LOT on why i think he’s autistic. i could probably tell you more later but i don’t want this ramble to sit in my drafts for five weeks so.

i also see how people could argue that alana & jared are autistic, but there’s the fact that we don’t really get to hear from them as characters all that much, so we can’t full determine it from there.

but alana i will go out and say, yes, she probably has autism. like her character really reads as autistic person trying their hardest to mask but kind of just… failing somewhat?

jared…? idk. he’s… i could care less man. i don’t want to analyze that asshole more than i have to. i can see the point people try and make with jared, and i can go “sure! yeah!” but. i don’t want to talk about him. he’s the bane of my existence i swear.

anyways yeah that was my little autism ramble i. am so sick and tired of typing rn 🙏

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[stinkbeck]

everyone who has ever been like consistently kind 2 me... u literally have no idea how much it's meant 2 me.

[karinasbaby]

ENHA HYUNG LINE — YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S DADDY ! (they all have daddy kinks. sorry.) part 1 !!

P. enha hyung line + jungwon x fem!reader (17+) | W. unprotected sex, infidelity (but it’s valid), mentions of cheating, lots of pet names, cervix & womb fucking, enha r jealous & feral, breeding kink, biting & marking, other members from diff kpop groups being assholes & getting fucked over (this is just fiction don’t come at me), lots of other filthy shit i forgot | WC. 12k (idek how that happened) | A,N. this one has been in the drafts since july. and i just finished it up while waiting for my doctor’s appointment, enjoy!

IN WHICH the hyung line (+ jungwon) get addicted to a pussy that doesn’t belong to them in the first place ?!

♡ PS this part contains heeseung, jake & jungwon !! <3

✷ LEE HEESEUNG ⋆ 이희승

the one thing that always stood out about heeseung, a striking trait that he carried was his exceptional ability to hide his emotions.

though this odd trait of his did have its own pros and cons that appeared and made themselves pretty evident throughout his life, heeseung still thought this was a good characteristic about himself.

it helped a lot to hide his emotions when he lied, when he tried to make an excuse as to why he forgot to do his homework. when asked from his friends if he was feeling down and the list went on. to put things short, he was the exact opposite of an open book that was easily read.

but heeseung started to slowly doubt this speciality of his, especially when it came to his bestfriend. and his little sister, you.

jeno has always been a great friend of heeseung, their small age gap making the two feel comfortable with one another immediately after meeting. the friendship had a click of some sort, almost making them feel like they’ve known each other for decades when they’ve only been friends for a handful amount of months.

and heeseung wasn’t stopping his grateful and happy emotions to spill out whenever he was with jeno, the kind hearted guy that he always saw as a solid, constant figure in his life and future.

the issue came for heeseung when you, jeno’s cute little sister that he always seemed to eye for a bit too long, got into a relationship.

your first relationship at that.

jeno, as your older brother was rightfully protective, giving you advice every chance he could after checking up on you and your boyfriend, soobin. whom always rubbed jeno the wrong way. but he didn’t have the courage to point it out to you and potentially break your heart, it was a risk he could never take.

but if there was someone that was even more concerned and even more protective— overly protective even, than jeno. it was heeseung.

there was something about soobin that always seemed to just not settle with heeseung. he couldn’t tell if it was his weirdly ‘forgetful memory’ as you liked to call it, or the way his eyes were constantly glued to his phone whenever you four decided to hang out. not giving you a singular ounce of the attention you deserved.

his behaviour towards you, his own girlfriend, was dry. cold. dismissive. and he couldn’t tell if jeno was purposefully turning a blind eye into this, but it was so clearly hurting you.

especially with the way your shoulders would visibly slump whenever you would excitedly tell soobin about an a new event that happened during your lecture, an interest that had your eyes sparkling while he would just nod mindlessly along to your words. vision obstructed and glued onto his stupid phone screen that irritated heeseung to no end. he could see the disappointment rising in you when soobin would pay you no attention. so passive in his responses, so visible that he did not care.

and it was angering heeseung so tremendously. setting him off like a ticking bomb that would explode at the guy any second but he kept holding himself back.

for the sake of jeno. for the sake of you. after all, he was just a friend.

and he couldn’t tell if soobin’s attitude towards you angered him more, or the fact that he was always going to be stuck under the ‘friend’ title in your life.

heeseung had developed feelings for you way before you got into a relationship with soobin, might even be a mere month after jeno introduced you to him. he had always had his eyes lingering on you. a soft, gentle glint in them whenever your presence was surrounding him in any way.

he believed that it was just him forming a soft spot for you in his heart in the beginning, but as time passed by, especially after soobin ruined everything in heeseung’s opinion, his feelings grew. becoming a solidified fact for heeseung instead of a mere reverie that he cooed about in his head.

yet for the longest time, he knew he had to keep his emotions hidden again. falling back into his old routine of covering, blanketing his feelings. hiding and cowering away in fear of your brother finding out and the dear connection that heeseung held so close to his heart ending.

so he bit his tongue. holding back any words, any opinions, any thoughts and of course any emotions that were related to you and soobin. swallowing back his anger that swirled sombrely in the pit of his stomach. though no one was taking notice of his hatred towards soobin, it was only growing more and more day by day.

like a foul stench that would blind your senses, an evil beast that festered malignantly. his distaste towards soobin became a hardened feeling. a prominent one that settled in the front of his chest. growing and branching between his ribs to only pulse in hatred whenever he saw the guy.

he wasn’t sure how long he’ll be able to hide these feelings though.

because not only was he now dealing with the fact that he had to fight himself back from punching soobin everytime he saw him, he also had his own completely opposite emotions that bloomed like the breathtaking petals of a flower when graced by spring sunlight, his undying and thriving pure love for you.

it made his heart ache in dull pain when he saw the damage soobin was causing to you. his own insides ripping apart whenever you would come crying onto jeno’s shoulder because of another argument with your jerk of a boyfriend, he was growing tired. almost as tired as you were becoming from holding his shaking fists back from marking soobin’s god forsaken face. tired from actually capturing his tongue between his teeth before vile words spilled past his lips towards him.

he was so tired with this routine. so sickened of the way you were struggling and struggling. stuck in a bubble of anguish and pain formed by soobin that no one was able to pop.

but heeseung always carried a needle around, for safe measures.

the rainy day you decided to frantically knock on his door, your sobs echoing in his house when you buried your face into his chest because you actually found another girl’s number in the same phone that soobin had his eyes stuck on. was the day that heeseung finally snapped.

fuck all of this.

fuck soobin. fuck jeno. fuck both of their feelings. he had you, who so clearly needed a massive amount of attention, of care and love to pour all over your fresh wound that ached in heeseung’s embrace. he felt his heart shattering into the tiniest pieces when you sobbed in his hold. the desperate grip your fingers had on his arms pulling at his insides as he felt his own tears aligning his waterline.

he hated to see you like this. so heartbroken and devastated over a guy that didn’t even deserve you one bit. he would’ve never treated you like soobin. not even for a single second. heeseung would’ve treated you so much better if only you had looked at him the way he’s always been looking at you for the past months.

if only you took notice of the longing in his eyes. the yearn that clawed at his heartstrings whenever he saw you in front of him. right within arm’s reach but so so far away.

but that didn’t matter anymore. you were finally away from soobin, that fucker was out of your life and you were in heeseung’s arms. heeseung’s embrace that felt so warm, so welcoming as you fit perfectly in his hold. so right.

so you stayed, feeling the safety and comfort that seeped through your body in heeseung’s presence. a peace of mind that you’ve never felt with anyone, not even with your own brother. that lulled you into calmness, heeseung’s gentle touch that brushed against the skin of your face and neck when he would tenderly caress you as he whispered sweet, calming words to your ear that made the raging storm inside of you sizzle down.

the hurt, the pain and all the agony was pushed aside. stuffed inside of a box discarded into the back of your brain. your head throbbed in pain at the excessive amount of crying you did in heeseung’s arms. a pulsing ache that travelled from the back of your skull to the end of your spine as you sniffled quietly in his arms.

“feeling better, precious?” he whispered quietly, voice barely audible. so soft and delicate as if he was scared that any unexpected move or sound will scare you. make you cower away in fear. he knew how to speak to you. how to touch you and handle you just the right way.

so affectionate, calm and delicate when handling you. touch as soft as a baby bird’s feather as if you were made of glass, the most precious material that could break and crumble with the slightest incorrect move.

he made you feel so seen, so understood and cared for. you weren’t too much for him as soobin claimed you to be. not attention seeking or annoying at all.

“not really..” you closed your eyes, wet lashes heavy with tear droplets that didn’t have the chance to roll down your face, he looked at you. in his eyes an unfamiliar glow. unable to pinpoint or understand exactly what he was feeling, all he knew was that he wanted you close to him.

“what can i do to make you feel better, pearl?” the new petname that rolled off his tongue so easily had your heart leaping in your chest, you opened your eyes. glossy vision landing on his own expectant one, he was implying something with his words. both of you aware of the sharp edge in his tone, an invitation that he had slipped towards you. waiting for you to pick it up and accept.

“make me forget about him..” your warm breath fanned over his face, the feeling of finally having you so close made his head spin. a carnal, hidden urge in him awakening after being discarded and thrown away for so long. stuffed deep inside of him for months, a crippling desire. a wicked desire to have you, has surged forward again.

his emotions, feelings, thoughts everything about you that were invalidated by his rational side. concealed in the name of his morals and beliefs that he’s wrong. he shouldn’t desire a taken woman, shouldn’t look at his own best friend’s little sister wrongly, were all springing back to life. enlivened at your mere presence. your mere existence and attendance in his hold. and heeseung was no longer holding himself back.

he didn’t care if what he was going to be doing aligned with his stupid morals and beliefs anymore. didn’t care if you were to wake up tomorrow regretting everything. didn’t care if he wasn’t going to be able to look at jeno in the eye again. he was finally given a taste of you.

not a whisper of you, not a piece of you, you were entirely served on a silver platter for him only to devour. to ravish. to feast on with ardour. to finally satisfy and satiate the hunger that always ached in his stomach for you.

you were finally here. between his fingertips. within arm’s reach, looking at him. staring into his eyes and not only looking at the devoted shine in them directed towards you, you were reciprocating it.

“yeah? that’s what you want, pretty?” he leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. you closed your eyes at the intimacy. a warmth spreading inside of you before settling into your core. dripping. that’s what you were. absolutely soaked.

“i want you.” you spoke, hit with an unknown urge to only speak the truth. removing each and every filter from your mind and mouth as you let your tongue speak whatever your brain formed at that current moment. and you wanted heeseung.

and who was he to deny you of that?

your sultry eyes that looked at him in pure lust asking him that? he was gone. your vixen like manners wrapping him in a chokehold. he was such a weak man for you. determined on pleasing you to the best of his ability, make you lose count on the amounts of times he’ll push you towards your high just so you can think about him and how good your pretty little cunt feels.

and so heeseung started, laying you on your stomach atop his satin sheets with your hands behind you, restrained by his fastened belt around your wrists while you squirmed on his bed. long, thick fingers that worked past your sopping entrance. leaking mushy walls tightened around his digits as if welcoming them for being inside of your needy pussy. fuck you were drenched.

“what a greedy cunt.. sucking my fingers in like this, wonder how long you’ve been waiting for this, pearl.” he laughed behind you, busy taking in the way your slick was drizzling down his palm, the way your puffy swollen folds swallowed in his long fingers entirely. the wet sounds from his abuse against your sweet spot was the cherry on top for him.

he was so fucking hard in his pants. his briefs feeling unbearably tight. heeseung breathed out short huffs of breaths, working his way to stretch your tight pussy open before fucking you on his length that he was sure you couldn’t take.

especially not with the way you were moaning and thrashing in his bed just from his fingers.

but who could blame you? he felt so good. his elongated fingers brushing against all of your sweet spots so deliciously. you could only imagine how mouth watering his cock would feel when he finally decides to fuck you like you’ve always dreamed of.

you couldn’t deny the attraction you’ve held for heeseung. the twinge at your heart that hoped to tug you towards him, an unknown pull that always made you stay up late at night thinking about heeseung. wondering about heeseung. dreaming about heeseung.

and for the longest time, it made you feel so guilty. so ashamed of the fact that you were thinking of your friend more than your own boyfriend. yet at the same time you heard a tiny voice in your head justifying your actions, a small part of you knew that your boyfriend was really anything but a boyfriend.

you did notice his passive behaviour. his curt responses and cold attitude towards you. but did you actually have the courage to confront soobin about it? to bring it up as an actual issue that was clearly building a separating wall between you two in your relationship? of course no. you decided to turn into a blind eye and hold faith in false beliefs that maybe, just maybe soobin will change one day.

except that day never came. it was never going to.

and the rational, logical part of you knew this. knew this so so well that it decided to give up on soobin long before your heart realised the change in your desire. the change in your mind, the way your thoughts quickly turned from being clouded with soobin, to being thundered with your beloved friend heeseung.

you didn’t even realise you had such a drastic change of heart. only coming to the chilling notion of how when you were with soobin, heeseung roamed your mind. when you were talking to jeno. heeseung was filling the back of your head. when soobin was trying to make dry love that lacked any sense of passion with you, you were left to fend for yourself with your fingers, and heeseung in your brain. heeseung on your thoughts, the whisper of ‘heeseung’ on your tongue when you finally reached the climax soobin couldn’t bring you to.

and in the beginning you were scared, terrified even of the thumping in your chest that you were sure anyone could hear if they stepped close enough to you when you were around heeseung. scared of the way your eyes would stray too far away from soobin and remain stuck on heeseung for too long. scared of the way you were only staying in your current relationship not out of love, but out of attachment to soobin when you yearned for heeseung.

hence why the only relief that you found in your love life was in your dreams. your unconscious daydreams that would conjure up a love story, a love vessel that branched between you and heeseung. every night with no fail.

yet you didn’t have to worry about this anymore. no longer tied emotionally to the false, unrealistic images and feelings that only existed in your head about heeseung. not when you had him currently groaning out praises to you, showering you with so much love and attention that you missed out on as he fucked you through your first orgasm on his fingers.

“such a good girl for me.. cumming around my fingers so well. my obedient little girl.” he trailed kisses from the back of your thighs, wet smacks of his lips against your skin till he reached your shoulder, where he traced his long tongue along your neck. “think you’re ready for me, precious?” he whispered lustfully into your ear. and god did he sound so much better. so much hotter than in your dreams.

voice almost gruff, an entire octave lower than his usual tone as he pressed his warm body against yours. brushing the exposed, leaking head of his cock and separating your oozing lower lips after discarding himself from his clothes. he was so menacing. teasing you so much when all your body ached for was to be filled up to the brim with his length.

“so needy for me.. look at your cunt trying to suck me in, pearl.” he hissed, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight of the same hole that he just fucked open with his fingers gaping at him. dribbling more of your syrupy nectar down your inner thighs as if to seduce him. winking at him when you tightened around nothing just to entice him further. making a wave of thrill pass through his body just so he would fill you up.

and well, heeseung was a very weak, weak man when it came to you.

he pushed the head of his cock in. the two of you hissing in sync, your pretty plump lips falling in an ‘o’ shape while he bit on his lower lip, your gushing walls wrapped around him so tightly the first time he sunk his cock in you. as if greeting him, their new owner before moulding into his shape.

if heeseung stared at your form any longer, he would’ve came inside of you already, ruining both of your fun. but goodness was seeing you twitching in his bed, plush thighs pushed to the sides so he can stuff his cock inside of you so fully while your arms shook and jerked around his own belt was a divine sight. one he quickly imprinted onto his brain to always go back to whenever needed.

but something told him that that wasn’t going to happen, he doesn’t need to depend on his memory anymore. he felt like he was going to be able to experience the real deal after this.

he pushed his hips forward, thrusting in and brushing right against your g-spot that had you whining his name almost automatically. “found it..” he smirked in victory, “that’s your weak spot isn’t it, pearl?” leaning down just a bit to inch closer to your ear, “your sweet sweet spot, baby.” you felt tears aligning your eyes. glossing over when he continued to nudge his hips against your spot. the one corner in your walls that had you seeing stars.

legs already shaking under him, you mewled his name so adorably. each huff and puff of air past your glistening lips made his heart skip a beat. he was growing even more obsessed with you than he already was. “y-yes seung.. that’s— oh my god.. that’s it!” you whined and sobbed for him.

heeseung sucked a deep breath in, lips kissing his teeth as his body felt like it was lit ablaze. so many months of daydreaming about this current moment that he was in right now paid off. you felt so hot. so pliant. so malleable under him. body reacting to each touch of his so sweetly, like your body recognised his as its other half before either of you did.

“such a good- haah shit.. such a good pussy.. sucking me in so well. you feel fuckin’ divine, pretty.” his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the way your cunt just kept gushing and sputtering out wetness before wrapping around his cock and sucking him back in deep. so so deep he was bruising your insides.

“j-just for you daddy..” a broken, quiet sentence that was almost unheard. almost went unnoticed. but heeseung was so glad he caught it. as the second that endearing name fell past your parted lips, he felt an entire electric shock shoot through his spine.

his mind was reeling, breaths growing uneven as your voice played like a broken record in his head, so pretty. so small. so frail and so delicate. as sensitive and precious as an actual pearl you were. heeseung was sinking in so much deeper in love than he already was with you.

“yeah, little girl? daddy’s making you feel good, isn’t he?” he was so careful. each move of his made solely for the purpose of pleasing you. of pushing you closer and closer to your peak of pleasure. and before you realised it, your climax broke down upon you like a dam. tears rolling down your cheeks and onto heeseung’s pillowcases as he fucked you through your high.

god did it feel so relieving. so alleviating to have someone put your pleasure first, to push you to your pleasure first. to care for you, think about you and make love to you for you. it was so different. so delicious you couldn’t help but ravish in the ecstasy of it all. your first ever experience of pure, arrant love.

it wasn’t only heeseung that was getting high off of the pleasure of experiencing you for the first time, your mind was also reeling from experiencing such pleasure for the first time. “s’good daddy.. too good! you feel so warm.” hicupping and babbling on as heeseung only continued to thrust in more harshly.

he felt so feverish, the temperature of his body rising while his room turned steamier. it was almost as if he could no longer breathe. not that his mind registered that feeling in the first place, the only thing he could process was the way your pussy was trying to suck him back in more and more and more.

he leaned forward, allowing his hot exhales of breath to fan against your ear. hand sneaking between your shaking thighs and circling around your clit. “you can give daddy another one, can’t you pearl?” he whimpered next to your ear. his eyelids droopy as he held back on his own climax.

he rolled his hips in circular motion against yours, no longer thrusting his leaking cock in and out and only pressing his mushroom shaped tip onto your cervix, the sensation of him so close, so deep and so hot on top and inside of you made your eyes roll to the back of your head, his movements incessant as he worked and guided your body towards another release.

“f-fuck..” sobbing under heeseung as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, he cooed besides your ear as his hands quickly unclasped his belt from around your wrists, making your hands grip desperately onto the sheets while his laced around your shaking legs, tongue peeking out to lick against your tears as he felt relief in his chest at the sight of you crying from pure pleasure and not over your ex.

the feeling of being so intimately connected to you, having you entrust him with your body and pleasure made his head reel. you being so close to him was a dream come true for heeseung. and now that he had you in tears underneath him, he was never going to be able to let go of this moment.

every second of this night has already been engraved in his head. every emotion and every fast thump of his heart tattooed itself on his memory, and it made him feel so good. so accomplished, he felt complete.

he buried his face in your neck, relishing in the way your body was shivering because of him, the goosebumps that aligned your skin because of his touch, relishing in the feeling of having you around him in every way. “you feel so good, princess..” he drunkenly spoke, his orgasm creeping up on him as he continued to grind against you.

“wrapped around daddy so well, pearl.” he groaned, every sniffle and whimper that left your mouth due to his lewd words went straight to his throbbing cock, he felt like he was seconds away from releasing and filling you up entirely. the thought alone making his jaw clench in delirium.

“want daddy to fill you up, baby?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his whisper. luring you slowly into his trap that seemed so effective with the way you whimpered for him and tightened around him more. so pleased, ecstatic and needy of the mere idea.

“p-please, daddy! please fill me up.. give me your babies..” you begged, weaker hands wrapped around his forearms to keep him in place while your cunt squeezed around him, gushing around his cock just to urge him to not pull out and fill you up instead.

and fuck heeseung was losing it.

your words almost awakening something animalistic in him, a noxious urge to truly fill you up, give you his babies and keep you just for himself only. in that exact moment, all the worries from heeseung’s shoulders evaporated.

your brother no longer mattered, soobin no longer mattered, he himself didn’t matter anymore. he only needed to have you stuck with him for eternity. by his side forever, and you were asking him to do exactly that. asking him so desperately. how could he refuse?

after all, heeseung was a very weak man when it came to you.

“gonna take all of daddy’s babies, pearl?” he chuckled, sweat rolling off of his temples as the coil in his stomach tightened further, the feeling making his voice crack at the end. you nodded frantically under him, nails digging into his skin yet the pain made him hiss in pleasure.

“please give it to me..” you moaned as you felt another release wash over you, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks while heeseung bit your skin at the overwhelming waves of ecstaty that crashed on him. “i’m your good girl, daddy aren’t i? i deserve it.. please.” fuck you sounded so starved. the mere longing in your voice, you calling yourself his good girl made him lose his mind.

and before heeseung could even realise it, he was pumping you full with his warm ropes of cum, both of you groaning in vehement, blinding euphoria while he peppered kisses around your neck and jaw. “of course you’re my good girl, baby fuuuck— you’re my prettiest girl.” his own legs started to shake in pleasure as he rode out his high.

keeping himself so deep inside of you, pushing his load deeper with each slight thrust while he stayed above you. whispering praise after praise for you just to show you how much he truly loves you. heeseung was ready to die for you.

and once his high subsided, he carefully laid next to you, moving you gently to your side and staying rooted deep inside of you before covering both of your bodies with his blanket.

he placed a loving kiss to your temple, arms wrapped protectively around your weak and spent body. “sleep well, pearl.” he spoke, “don’t think about anything, daddy’s here.” you felt the way his hold tightened around you.

you felt too fatigued to reply, instead tilting your head just enough to kiss his hand that was close to your neck, the small gesture carrying your love for the man behind you, making his heart thunder in his chest as you fell asleep, feeling so protected and loved for the first time in so long.

★ SIM JAEYUN ⋆⋆⋆ 심재윤

sim jaeyun was great at many things. acing his physics exams, being the best captain for his university’s football team and being an absolute sweetheart to his teachers and friends.

the only thing that sim jaeyun sometimes lacked in was his ability to give a fuck. especially when it came to his childhood friend, his one sided enemy and shameless copycat.

lee anton, who’s also a close family friend of jake. has been living in his shadow ever since the two could even walk. countless comparisons between the two young boys drew a very fat, drastic line that only distanced them from one another without their parents’ realisation.

sure, anton and jake might’ve sat next to each other at family dinners, passed each other tissues or salt, but the second they were outside of the dining room or the house that pushed them to be in the same vicinity? it was over.

their so called ‘friendship’ was only a show the two of them had unspokenly agreed on in order to not have their families pry into their lives. and for the longest time, it worked.

jake didn’t care. jake couldn’t even bring himself to care about anything anton related while that clearly wasn’t the case for anton.

call it his insecurities or doubts towards everything, he always watched jaeyun from the sidelines with a glint in his eyes that not even he could decipher, whether it was admiration or envy. the only thing anton was sure he felt towards jake, was resentment.

years and years of all of his actions getting nitpicked and compared to jake’s made him only strive to be more. to be better than jake. to reach heights and places the older one could only dream of. but at the same time his dreams only stayed as that, dreams.

because jake— he was untouchable. a dude that had everything and anything really. he was perfect in every aspect. excellent grades, respected by all the sport coaches, admired by every teacher and fawned over by every girl.

and it sickened anton.

because he had multiple things that now he had to improve on, he couldn’t find the one singular thing that jake didn’t have that he could snatch. the one thing he could reach and claim before his enemy could even think about it. he had to figure out a way to make jake jealous, to pay for all of these years of one sided rivalry that only made anton almost lose his sanity.

and so he did.

he found exactly what would set jake off. the only way to turn the tables around and have jake eyeing him from the sidelines.

his crush. anton managed to date you, jake’s obsession and love that no one except his close circle of friends knew about. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you see now as mentioned before, jake didn’t care. he didn’t care what other opinions people had on him, who were getting compared to him or who he was getting compared to himself. he was content and happy in being present in his own bubble, surrounded by his own people he knew he could trust. and well just lived his life.

except he couldn’t do that anymore. not when anton, who was determined to climb up towards jake’s level by also becoming the co-captain of the university’s football team— walked around the halls with his arm wrapped around your waist and lips close to your ear as he whispered a stupid joke that made you laugh. right. in front. of jake.

jake was livid.

for the longest time in his life, he never felt the need to reach his hands out towards something that didn’t come for him first. his eyes never strayed too far away from things that were already meant for him. as difficult as this was to hear for others, jake was simply gifted in many factors in life.

he didn’t try too hard to study and ace all his tests. he was just very intelligent and paid a great amount of attention in his lectures, it wasn’t his fault that he was ridiculously handsome that (as cliche as this sounds) girls fangirled over him when he would pass by the halls. and it really didn’t cost a lot to not be an asshole to others.

so for jake to feel the need to have. the crave to own. the urge to desire something that he wasn’t already divinely gifted? was making him pissed.

he wasn’t even sure himself when his crush on you started, or how it developed to be something that gnawed at his heartstrings everyday. when the smart student of his physics class turned from someone that he only used to admire during his lectures into someone he thought about before falling asleep everynight. what he did know though was the fact that he wanted you.

and was jake someone that didn’t get what he wanted? pfft of course no.

that’s why he had you— anton’s beloved girlfriend who he seemed to forget multiple dates with because he spent too much time ogling jake— clenching down on his leaking length that thrusted past your sopping hole.

“f-fuck! jake— shit! he’s going to hear us!” you mewled his name, body feeling excessively warm, heart thundering against your chest in both anxiety and excitement at the thought of being caught with jake, sweat rolled down both of your bodies while you desperately clawed at jake’s open locker.

jake was currently balls deep inside of you in the football team’s locker room.

where anton was just a hallway away, calling out your name since he had to apologise for missing your fourth date this week.

“scared of letting that asshole hear us? haah— i have no idea why you’re still- fuck.. with him when you have me, angel girl.” he breathed out heavily next to your ear, eyes closing in pleasure as he thrusted into your walls that only seemed to suck him in further and further. he was feeling so ecstatic. so high on your touch and presence that he was holding himself back from filling you up entirely.

you pushed your hips back, actions completely contradicting your own words as you kept tightening around jake with each whiny moan that fell past his bitten lips, “you know i can’t leave him..” you whined, head pressing against the lockers while jake leaned down, hovering his chest above your back.

“why is that, baby? is he remembering all your dates? shit- is he buying you all the jewellery you deserve, angel? i-is he fucking you as good as i am right now?” he bit against the shell of your ear, voice growing desperate, needy, ravenous just to hear you say the words he wants to hear. his satisfaction bubbling in his stomach when you shook your head to everything he groaned to you, denying each and every action that jake would’ve done for you in a heartbeat.

“no! no no he doesn’t— hmm he d-doesn’t- fuck! only you do!” you thrashed under his hold, hips jerking forward from his grip as your abdomen only tightened and tightened further. you felt so good. the stretch of his thick cock splitting you open burned so well. you loved having him so deep inside of you, leaking tip of his dick pressing and kissing all over your sweet spots that had stars spinning around your head.

he laughed breathlessly behind you, reveling in your praises and the way each word was only a further push into his inflated ego, he already knew all of this. he knew how shitty anton was treating you as he was too busy trying to make him jealous. he knew every and each move anton was trying to pull but none of it was going to work.

as he was too busy to study jake’s reactions to even realise that he had his own girlfriend cumming around his enemy’s cock so prettily. falling apart in jake’s embrace as jake only cooed and encouraged you even more. to cum more. to make a mess over his cock. to claim him as yours just as badly as he wanted to claim you as his.

and that’s exactly what you did, with the way his cock kept bullying its way back inside of your walls that continued to milk him for all he’s worth. relishing in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up with warm and thick ropes of his load, you continued to do what he wanted. forming a sheen ring of your combined juices around the base of his cock.

jake kept fucking into you, whispering words after words of praise hotly into your ear while your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. his hand let go of your hip to push in between your sticky inner thighs, fingers working deftly in rubbing circular motions onto your throbbing clit that only pulsed in need under his touch. “telling me to stop.. when she’s sucking me in this well.” he groaned, breaths getting caught in his throat as he felt hot white pleasure spreading all over his body.

“asking me to not fuck you… only thinking about your stupid boyfriend what about her then?” he slapped against your cunt, the wet sounds of his fingers landing on your wet, glistening skin had your mind reeling. “always so selfish not thinking about her.. oh but i always do. i can’t get this pretty cunt out of my head baby.” he shivered behind you, getting lost in the way you kept sucking him in due to his words.

the two of your bodies were moulding into one at this point, your flimsy panties that were pushed to the side with your skirt pushed upwards and jake’s shorts that were pooling by his ankles were the last of your concerns, him fucking you this good and this deep in the public space of your locker’s room was also discarded into the back of your head that was getting gradually fucked into subspace.

your senses heightened, only processing the feeling of jake’s swollen, pulsing tip kissing and pushing against your throbbing cervix that begged to be filled up with his cum over and over again, filled up to the brim as many times as jake could give to you till the two of your bodies gave out.

“you don’t actually want me to s-stop do you, baby?” his voice became shaky, matching your own shaky breathes as he bit against the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders. his hips began to grind against yours, thick swollen balls pressed against the curve of your ass as he barely pulled out an inch or two before stuffing you full of his cock. “t-think about her, princess.” he starts to slap against your pussy again, gentle wet slaps that echo embarrassingly loud in the empty locker’s room.

“telling me to pull out when she’s so greedy f’me?” he moans, chest heaving in deep gulps of breath as he kept holding his orgasm back, reminding himself to not cum before you again. “tell me baby, will he ever breed this pretty little cunt like i’m about to right now?” his hand that was gripping your hip dug his fingers into your plush skin further, leaving indents of his sharp nails behind while you mewled in pained pleasure at the sensation.

you loved it when he marked you, admiring all his marks whenever anton wasn’t home and hiding them away from his eyes, it made you feel excited. a rush of joy sparking in your stomach at the thought of these marks being a secret only you and jake knew about.

“n-no no.. he won’t, jakey he c-can’t!” you hiccuped, his favourite pet name spilling out while you felt your used, swollen pussy aching in pain and need. you felt so wasted, so febrile as your cunt only spasmed around him needily no matter how sore you already were feeling. and jake loved it so much when your body began to respond to him, reacting to every touch and contact made by him and he knew each response like the back of his hand.

he doubted if anton knew how to get your body like this too. flushed and burning in his hold, saturated pussy walls milking and squeezing him, salty droplets of sweat that dribbled down the back of your neck that he had no problem licking up. there was no way anton knew your body like he did.

he knew exactly which buttons to push and which parts to pull, just like how he knew that thrusting his hips so deep to the point where your cervix felt bruised while sneaking one of his hands under your shirt to tug at your hardened nipple and slither his other hand to wrap around your neck, pressing lightly just to make your head spin will have you unraveling again on his throbbing cock.

“there you go princess..” he breathed out, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls calmped down on him. cunt wrapping around his thick cock like a vice as you creamed and made a mess over his dick just how he liked it. “feels good, angel?” he spoke against the skin of your neck, hands now moving to grip onto his own locker door to stabilise himself. you nodded dumbly to his words. eyes closed as electrifying waves of euphoria twitched along your body.

“good baby.. so so good t’me.. you can take more can’t you now? my pretty girl?” he spoke over the approaching yells of anton, your name spilling past his lips as his eyes darted everywhere in the halls to find your figure. though he didn’t know why his feet led him into the hallway of the football team’s locker room, he just decided to not wonder about it too much.

and you might’ve not been able to hear him over the incessant ringing in your ears as you came down from your high that jake fucked you dumb towards but oh he heard it so clearly. the tone of desperation in his voice was like music to jake’s ears. this right here, was his chance. and he was going to take it no matter what happens.

“think you can take a bit more, princess?” he began to move his hips again, nasty, loud and squelching wet noises echoing in the locker’s room as he pulled in and out allowing a glistening, clear mixed with white mixture of both of your arousals to dribble past your inner thighs, he looked down at the sight of his veiny cock glistening in your syrupy juices. the locker room’s lights reflecting off your pretty stuffed cunt and his thick cock that disappeared between your dripping folds. god he could cum right now if he wanted to. but he still held back.

his hand moved onto your lower back, pressing slightly to bend you down more. deepening the arch of your back to make his cock slip past your drizzling folds, each thrust of his against your hips almost splattering your filthy wetness over your ass cheeks and his pelvis. he pulled his hips slightly back before ramming them forward again. the ridiculously wet noise in combination with your sinful moan made his muscles tighten.

his abs flexing as he lifted his shirt, tugging the hem of it between his teeth to allow the gushing combination of your juices to climb up his stomach, revelling in the way your pussy spurted out more cum, more squirt and more of your sweet syrupy nectar combined with his own on his skin. in a way he felt like you were marking him, rightfully staining your own territory and it made him feral.

“baby?” the distant yells of anton became closer and closer. the stupid pet name that he dared to call you made jake scoff. his jealousy, envy and all nastily negative emotions that swirlied within him made him fuck you harder. harsher. his length pulling at your walls, tugging against your sweet spots making you sob and wail his name, jake’s name in the locker’s room.

“who’s fucking you this good, princess?” he growled, drool dribbling past the corner of his lips as sweat rolled down his temples, the salty droplets finding purchase on his glowing skin before falling atop your shining one. “y-you! jakey.. fuck! oh my god- you you you!” you babbled on, if jake’s mouth was covered in drool yours was a mess. you salivated more and more as he bullied his cock inside of you, marking and moulding your insides to only fit his length. only recognise his dick and veins that decorated his cock.

“what’s my name baby? say it. yell it. scream it, princess. let them all hear who you belong to.” his shaking hand turned to land a harsh slap against your right ass cheek, palm burning at the aggressive contact of your soft skin with his making you cry even more under him. face almost pressed against the cool metal of the locker, pearly tears falling freely onto the wet puddle that the two of you had formed on the floor right between your legs.

“jakey!” you gasped loudly, vision blurry with both overstimulated pleasure and your own tears. a hot pounding forming in the back of your head as jake continued to fuck you stupid on his thick inches that dragged along your creaming walls, clenching and clamping down on him in cadence to his thrusts.

“that’s not my name, princess.” he frustratedly groaned, he was almost able to hear anton’s foot steps as they approached the locker’s room where he had you bent over and sucking in his cock like the perfect slut for him that you were. the slut that anton didn’t even know existed but jake had memorised like the back of his hand.

“d-daddy!” you choked out, swallowing back sobs as another orgasm washed over you, cumming so hard around jake’s cock while he continued to fuck into you, each squirt of your sopping pussy only encouraged him to push back into your cunt. “pushing me out now, is she?” he moaned, head thrown back in pleasure at the added pressure of your cunt both pushing him out and sucking him back in. making his head reel in ecstasy.

“say my name, baby. say it. who owns this fucking pussy?” he thrusted back, attempting to piston his mushroom tip against your sweet spots to make you see stars. “you do, daddy! you do!” mewling under him as your own nails began to dig into your skin. jake felt so much euphoria rushing deep in his veins at your words. the sound of your whiny voice mewling and moaning so sweetly for him while your body squirmed under his hold made him so happy. he had you exactly where he wanted.

at the best position for anton to see right when he walks past the door of the locker’s room.

“am i fucking this pretty cunt good, princess? want me to fill your cheating pussy up? knock you up so you have no choice but to stay with me and not your asshole of a boyfriend, hm?” he egged you on, knowing so so well that anton heard everything. the loud screech of his sneakers against floor of the hallway telling him everything he needed to know and god jake was on cloud fucking nine right now.

“gonna let me breed you? make you pregnant with my baby. have you all round and pretty carrying my baby so you’re mine forever.” he leaned down to kiss against your neck, his balls squeezing more tightly as he finally let go. allowing all the cum stored in them to push against your pretty cervix and womb. filling you up with his hot ropes of cum, knocking you up just how he wanted.

jake didn’t even mind the shocked gasp the fell past anton’s lips at the sight, too high. too drunk and wasted on the feeling of the way your pussy was sucking him in as he triggered another orgasm from you because of his own, he hummed at the feeling, soft whimpers falling past his lips while he held you close to him. god he was cumming so so much. filling you up to the brim so well you could feel his cum flooding your insides, filling up your swollen pussy and uterus so well. there was no way it didn’t take.

your drool was dribbling past your chin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jake grinding up against your ass to ride both of your highs out, his hand pressed against the bloated bulge in your lower stomach while broken sobs and whispers of his name made it to his ears. your body was so weak. so used and so utterly exhausted from the continuous fucking and breeding. “feeling tired, mama?” he whispered lustfully against your ear, peeking one eye towards the locker room’s door just in time to catch the faint sight of anton’s sneakers quickly disappearing behind the walls.

he smiled, satisfaction and happiness bubbling in his insides at the thought of finally having you. with no worries or concerns of anton. he felt so joyous. so relieved that you no longer had to deal with that asshole. he finally had you all to himself.

he kept his softening cock buried inside of you, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer before nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you felt so soft, so nice and warm in his hands when you moved your hand back to tug at his neck, you turned your head back and connected your lips to his.

and just that action alone had jake’s heart bursting with love, he finally had you wrapped around his finger just how you had him for the longest time.

☆ YANG JUNGWON ⟡ 양정원

for yang jungwon, life had always been on easy mode. as if playing an easier, more smoother game of life with less bumps and obstacles in his path. everything almost moulded to his liking and every unfavourable decision changed for the sweethearted guy.

his life was nothing short than average— he was a remarkably good student, great president of his class. trusted tremendously by the teachers, very dearly loved by all animals— well okay maybe his life wasn’t that average.

but he just liked to believe that it was fate, or luck, one of those two didn’t matter which one but he did know that there was some other higher power that played an important role in all of his life events. as surely there was a reasoning behind every single thing that happens in his world.. or maybe not somethings are just meant to be the way the are.

much like his confusing rivalry with his number one public enemy, the guy that he would actually have no problem with killing if he could, haruto.

the hatred, dislike and absolute loath the two shared against each other was a mystery to not only the people surrounding them, but to their own selves as well. jungwon couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his relationship with haruto had began to bend incorrectly but as far as he remembers— it’s always been like that.

the two couldn’t stand each other to stay in the same room. throwing nasty glares at one another before turning their heads to spew hateful words. “this fucking asshole” “this stupid bastard” and their friends were used to it. no matter how many times they attempted to understand, to really know the reason as to just why there was so much ill dislike between them— they just couldn’t reach anything.

“because he’s a cocky son of a bi—“ “yeah okay i think that’s enough.” jungwon got cut off by his younger friend ni-ki when asked about his unexpected distaste towards haruto, no one bothered to figure out the weird and unexplained hostility between the two boys after that.

and for the longest time, with no interaction points between the two. everything seemed to be fine. both of their hearts calming down from beating so much hatred, mouths empty from nasty words and a calm and collected peace of mind for all parties.

but that didn’t last that long.

you see, jungwon wasn’t the best when it came to maintaining relationships— not in a cheating or unloyal kind of way. he just didn’t feel like he was reciprocating the same amount of effort and dedication he was receiving in a relationship, hence most of the ones he’s went through had reached their demise before they were able to fully bloom.

blame it on his busy schedule and duty filled routines, he just sometimes couldn’t push an entire romantic relationship to handle and be apart of into his life at certain periods.

something that haruto was clearly able to do. and god he did not let anyone hear the end of it, especially jungwon.

the problem wasn’t the fact that jungwon couldn’t keep a relationship anymore. jungwon had always wanted to be in one, to be loved and appreciated and doted on by someone he wholeheartedly trusted and saw a future with. he wasn’t afraid to love either. it was just the time factor that he wasn’t sure about giving. not the satisfactory amount for a lover atleast.

but for haruto to rub all of this into his face when he sat at a lunch table with his arm slinged around your hips as you gazed at him with hearts in your eyes? was a bit too much.

“that’s why you can’t keep a fucking relationship!” this sentence coming from haruto during another argument a mere two days later after seeing you two in the cafeteria? oh jungwon was fuming.

this was it. if haruto was so concerned about jungwon being unable to keep a relationship, why not just snatch away his?

which explains how you currently landed in this situation, laying sideways on his bed. one of his hands gently held your leg, keeping an open entrance for him to plunge his cock back inside of your wetness. he felt so ecstatic. so deep as he shoved his thick inches inside of your gummy walls. length exploring and massaging your insides so wonderfully you couldn’t help but moan so prettily for him, small praises tumbling past your lips. you were so dizzy in pleasure.

“feels good, precious?” he would mumble behind you, his own eyelids shut tightly at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in greedily. a ravenous grip around the base of his cock that had him seeing stars. “s’good won.. f-fuck.. t’ feels amazing..” you huffed, pearly droplets of sweat shimmering prettily over your body as he rolled his hips up against your ass.

his thrusts were short, not too much power behind him as he was so drunk off of your pussy already. they were just right. pushing and kneading against your sweet spots so deliciously and making you bite you lower lip harsh enough to draw a metallic taste into your mouth. he was stuffing you so well. fucking you so good you couldn’t even think about anything else.

especially not the date with haruto you were supposed to be on like right now.

and jungwon knew about it. he knew so well exactly what haruto was planning to do on this date, which flowers he was buying and to which restaurant he wanted to take you to make up for the fact that he was an actual asshole just like jungwon had always known.

because what sane man would be mean to you? no matter how many times you tried to hide it from everyone’s eyes, jungwon knows that you’re not happy in your relationship with haruto. hell— he even got into a relationship to make him jealous in the first place. it wasn’t out of love or whatever lie he was feeding you.

no one except jungwon knew about the disgusting and degrading comments and names haruto would make about you. about his horrible manners and actions that would only make you question the whole purpose of this relationship, because love— what was known as the basis for every relationship, was clearly missing in this one.

but you were too attached to realise that, too used to being around haruto to consider anyone else. so what if he was rude to you? atleast he was your boyfriend. or well.. that was until jungwon walked into the picture, more like waltzed into your life.

“you feel so good around me, doll. milking my cock with this pretty cunt— fuuuck you’re so good to me.” he praised you on and on. mouth and tongue never getting tired from showering you with compliments, something drastically different from you were used to and it felt so nice. different, but a welcomed different.

you shyed away adorably from him, whimpering in his hold as tears sprung into your eyes from both the sensitivity of your cunt and your heart, he felt the way your walls tightened around him at his words. the feeling paired with your body turning warmer and your cute mewls made him coo in your ear. how cute can someone be?

he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that haruto had actually managed to score you. to date you out of all people. such a sweet souled woman that only deserved praise, love and affection. all things that jungwon couldn’t help but shower you with as you laid under him, taking his cock so well like a good girl. seriously how could haruto not treat you right?

though questioning haruto did become something jungwon gave up on ages ago. the only point he took away from that was if haruto is wrong about something, then there’s a very high chance that jungwon’s right.

and haruto was so so wrong about degrading you. treating you so poorly when all you needed were a few soft whispers of how well you were doing, what a pretty girl you were as you took his big cock in so sweetly to get you to glow more. to flourish right before his eyes when you bucked your hips back against his. eyes shutting in ecstasy while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. feeling so loved and appreciated in the arms of a man you knew would never hurt you.

jungwon was enamoured by you. drowning completely in adoration and love for you. you were so warm in his embrace, body so pliant and responsive to his every move. almost like you were made for his touch. made to allow his fingertips to burn along your skin as they trailed from your waist down to your leg.

so needy, so so desperate to feel him all over you. and he felt the same way. the urge to press his skin against yours, cover your body with his and mould both of them into one you couldn’t tell apart where he was ending and where you were starting, everything felt so hot. so warm so electrictifying as he fucked you open on his cock in a way you’ve never felt before.

“p-please.. leave him for me bunny..” he stuttered out, throat closing up when your walls clamped down on him at the sound of his voice so distant, an entire pitch higher and so debauched in you. you shook your head mindlessly at his words, unable to agree to them, haruto still held a small precious spot in your heart. you were still attached.

“you know he doesn’t deserve you, precious..” his chest heaved in heavy gulps of air, his own waterline aligning with tears as he desperately clawed at your body as if he was almost panicked at the thought of you not leaving. begging you to leave his own enemy and become his. he wanted you so bad. to call you his so bad. to claim you, to please you and to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

and he could tell you wanted him just as badly. if your body language was anything to go by, he would think you were in love with him already. you were so good to him. felt so incredible around him he couldn’t help but feel his body floating in utter euphoria, pure ecstasy with you.

“i c-can’t.. i can’t do that won.. s’too mean..” you hiccuped, tears rushing down your pretty face making him coo, he slithered his other hand down your waist, middle and ring finger teasing your throbbing clit that pulsed with need. you were so close to the edge of your climax your eyes rolled back when he began to rub slow circles on your aching bud. almost matching them along with the rolls of his hips against yours.

he was fucking you so well. so good. teetering on the edge of complete pleasure as his heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your ass with every motion. the sound so lewd and sinful it made your head spin with each smack! smack! everything felt too good. too much.

“don’t you think him not fucking this pretty cunt good is too mean, bun?” he laughed breathlessly, eyelids fluttering shut when his raging hot tip that leaked tremendous amounts of pre nudged against your cervix, you sobbed out incoherent words. mind turning into a puddle of mush in your skull as you were unable to process or think about anything other than jungwon’s dick fucking you open like this.

he nudged his nose against your ear, hand and hips picking up in speed to ram inside of your snug cunt that only seemed to suck him in further. sticky, glistening ropes of arousal connected his hips and pelvis to your ass cheeks that were covered in a white mess. you had lost count about the amount of times you’ve creamed on him now, and jungwon didn’t mind at all.

with your hot breaths fanning against one another, warm, sweaty bodies moving in cadence and your insides feeling so sensitive and sore, neither of you were able to pick up the echoing sound of your phone ringing on the bedside table. the call coming from none other than haruto.

“come to me pretty bunny.. leave him and- haah— shit.. come to me.” he moaned by your ear, finger incessant in rubbing against your clit and to coax out another orgasm out of you and another and another.

you were feeling so delirious at this point. having jungwon— a guy that your heart soared for fucking you and dragging out so many highs out of you while begging you to leave your asshole of a boyfriend was so.. intense. it was so much. way too much for your brain to comprehend.

“you know i-i can treat you better right?… so much better than him..” he whined, so lost on you, so gone and drunk on the flavour of you atop his senses. overtaking his every thought, his every idea, his entire brain and whole heart completely. and he loved it. as if hexed by a spell you casted upon him, he relished in it.

and you revelled in his attention, his love that he continued to rain on you, possessed by his presence and enchanted entirely. as if stuck under his hypnosis, the movements of his body against yours, his whispers of sweet words, sweet promises and dirty nasty things he would do to you if you were his had you hexed so so deep into his own spell. tangled in a passion dedicated to him and formed by him only.

you nodded in a lucid manner to his words, eyes droopy as they opened and closed with your vision blurry. you could barely pick up the way you were unraveling around his length again. gummy walls clamping down around the base of his cock for the nth time in the past few hours as you came so hard.

“just like that bun… cumming around my cock so good doll.. needy cunt sucking me in so so well.” he spoke deliriously, his own consciousness slipping away before he finally heard your ringtone. the thought of it being haruto made his inside twinge in excitement. his hand moved imperceptibly, wrapping his fingers around the device while you were still lost in your stupor of pleasure.

he glanced at the small screen and couldn’t help the wide cheshire grin that spread across his features at the sight of ‘haruto ♡’ this was it.

he quickly answered the call, lowering the volume to not have you hear his worries and apologies that instantly began to spill out the speaker. you were so caught up in your own high, eyes closed as jungwon kept rocking his hips against yours making you get stuck on subspace as he remained restless. not taking a second to stop and trapping you in a constant state of ecstasy. and you were loving every second of it.

“feeling good, baby bunny?” he asked loudly, unnoticeably switching the phone to his other hand that kept holding your leg up and lowering the speaker right against your cunt. making the wet smacking sounds, the slaps of his heavy balls against your ass echo in haruto’s ears as he felt his heart drop.

that voice. was too familiar for his liking.

“s’good won.. shit— feels s’good..” you babbled on, soft hands gripping roughly at his ruined bedsheets as there was almost a puddle forming between the two of your bodies, more cum more wetness more arousal seeping out of your fucked hole when jungwon would pull slightly out. a mere inch that will make his cum leak outside of your gummy walls before squeezing himself back in and god the sound was so filthy. so nasty as it echoed for all three of you.

“who’s making you feel this good, hm? tell me who’s filling up this pretty little greedy cunt, bun?” he bit against your ear, licking the shell of it sensually as the need and urge to devour you was just worsening with every second. he needed to feel you everywhere, taste you everywhere and touch you everywhere.

“you are— fuck! you’re making me feel so good.” you mewled under his hold. writhing in complete pleasure and ecstasy as he kept pushing his cock between your puffy and glistening folds. “what’s my name, my pretty bunny?” he whispered lewdly into your ear, his mere voice almost acting like an aphrodisiac for you. making you more needier and wetter for him.

“daddy! ngh daddy you feel s’good!” gasping his favourite name for him so loudly, unaware of the fact that haruto choked on his own spit at how slutty you sounded. voice almost an entire pitch higher and voracious. he felt his own pants tightening at the filthy sounds filling his ears. you never sounded like this with him hell— your room never sounded like this when you were with him.

“good girl.. such a good obedient little bunny for me, screaming her daddy’s name like the good bunny she is..” he kissed along your skin lovingly, dropping the phone onto the bed without a care if haruto had hung up or not, you were right in front of him and he wasn’t able to not give you his full attention. not when you sounded so slutty and needy for him.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, relishing in the way your cunt tightened and tightened around his cock as another orgasm washed over you, you sobbed his name, pretty little tears falling along his stained bedsheets as he switched the position.

he gently laid down your aching leg, the soreness of your body making you wince with the combined pleasure before he situated himself onto his knees. holding your thighs open just enough to see your ruined gaping hole leaking in front of him. the sight making his pulsating cock twitch before he pushed it back inside of you.

the two of you groaned in pleasure, both of you way past being gone. you were completely cock drunk while he was entirely pussy drunk. his mind spun with the way you still tried to suck him deeper, tight mushy walls milking his length and greedily clamping down on him. “f-fuck i’m s’close bun.. gonna let me cum inside of your slutty pussy, hm?” he breathed out. sweat rolling from his temples down his chest and even reaching his glistening, muscular thighs.

you buried your head against the pillow, mind completely high and lost on the way jungwon kept fucking you into subspace. nodding against the wet pillowcases as jungwon was almost about to push past your cervix. “that’s my girl.. my pretty little bunny letting me breed her pussy like this.” he groaned, his abdomen tightening further before he finally released the cum stored in his heavy balls that slapped noisily onto your inner thighs.

hot, long spurts of his cum webbed along your insides, filling you up to the brim and pressing right against your cervix. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt your lower stomach almost bloating with his cum. he was releasing so so much. warm cum making your insides turn hotter as he kept fucking it back inside of you.

his groans and moans, whispers of your name and how good you felt barely reached your ringing ears, hell he couldn’t even hear his own words himself. his ears popping as he finally released the final spurts of his unusually prolonged and intense release before he dropped on top of you. caging your body beneath his.

he cracked one eye open, moving to look at the phone screen that just now closed as haruto finally hung up from the call. he noticed the way you were trying to catch your breath, slipping in and out of consciousness and took this as an opportunity to open your phone.

memorising your password as haruto’s stupid birthday, he quickly went through your home screen to find your messages. where he could already spot multiple notifications from his enemy.

haruto ♡: you fucking bitch

haruto ♡: how dare you fuck my own enemy out of everyone else

haruto ♡: i should’ve never trusted a whore like you

jungwon felt his eye twitching at the way he was texting you. anger rising up like along with the fatigue in his body before he tapped onto your keyboard

my love ♥︎: never text this number again you stupid asshole.

read

haruto ♡ is typing…

and before he could text another nasty message, he blocked his number for good.

now discarding your phone back onto the bedside table, he turned towards you littering your shoulders and exposed skin with affectionate kisses before whispering how much he loved you into your ears.

and at the end of the day, jungwon still took the one thing haruto kept teasing him for and shoving in his face. his beloved girlfriend.

a,note. yay :D ! quick karinasbaby comeback while i’m busy w uni, hopefully ill be able to post more soon if not pls know that im trying my hardest 😞 hope u enjoyed !!! ♡

[envy-of-the-apple]

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

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

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

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

First, you saw a monster. 

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

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky. 

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

"Hey, you good?" 

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

When you don't respond, her eyes squint. 

"Suguru, are you okay?" 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone. 

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

You were dreaming. 

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

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

“Excited?” 

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

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

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

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.” 

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you were supposed to follow him. 

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

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

What should you say? You clear your throat. 

"He just wants what's best for us." 

Wrong answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hurts. 

Everything hurts. 

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

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

You were going to die. 

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

And then the creature explodes. 

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

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, trying to remember the date. 

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

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

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

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

When you ask him, he just snorts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back. 

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

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

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

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

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

It used to be your voice. 

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

"Suguru...?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die. 

ⴵ

Again. You died again. 

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

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks. 

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

Not again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A blue ball drops into your hand. 

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

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

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

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

"Look away." 

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

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

Instantly, you choke. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs. 

"I forgot." Typical. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He'll be dead within a year or so. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So...do we fight Greeny?" 

"It's not my name." You get ignored. 

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

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

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

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Haven't figured it out yet." 

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

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

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

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

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

Exorcised. Ingested.  

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

You need to survive. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. 

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

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. Interesting. 

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

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

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

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “A code word?” 

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

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

“Okay, what did you have in mind?” 

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

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

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haibara told me.” 

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do whatever, Greeny." 

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

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

Gojo only watches with a tilted head. 

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another beat of silence.

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

You give a sheepish laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" 

He gives a wordless hum.

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

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

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

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

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

You blink at that. "What?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hungry?" 

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

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

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks." 

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

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

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

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

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

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

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

"Something wrong?" Riko asks. 

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

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived. 

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

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

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

What do you do?

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

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

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

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor. 

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

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

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

You were wasting time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You release all 368 of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Nothing happens. 

Everything happens. 

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

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

You're sitting in front of God. 

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

You manage to smile.

"Sorry." 

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

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

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

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

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

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death. 

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

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

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

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

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

You clear your throat. 

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

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high. 

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

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

"You and Suguru." 

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

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold. 

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

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

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your hair's nice." You tell her. 

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

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

"Where are you going?" You ask. 

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

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

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

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

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then." 

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

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

"That hurt." Haibara whines. 

Good, you inwardly think. 

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

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You agree with him.

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

“Hey, long time.”

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

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you know about my birthday?”

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

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

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

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

“How did your mission go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved them,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but smile.

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

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

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

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

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

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Not here.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

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

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

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

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

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

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

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

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

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

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

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

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

You smile anyway.

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

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

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

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

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

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

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

For now, it’s all you can do. 

“I know you will.” 

He scoffs, right then. 

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

Rely on me. Lean on me.

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

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

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

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

This time, you hesitate.

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

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

ⴵ

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

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It’s today. 

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

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

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

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

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

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

The twins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” You say first.

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

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

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

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

You play with your fingers.

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

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

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

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

This, was more than enough.

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

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

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

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

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

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

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

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

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

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

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

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

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

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

Suguru’s getting impatient.

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

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clock clicks to 8:07.

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

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

It was over.

It was finally over.

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

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

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

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

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

No, not new. You know him.

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

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

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

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

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

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

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

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haibara gapes.

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

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

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

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

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

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

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

“Haibara—”

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

A smile twitches on your lips.

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

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

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

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

“—You’re a teacher?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But maybe you could. 

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

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

You hate that brat so much. 

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

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

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

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

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”

You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.

It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.

“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”

“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”

“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”

That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.

“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”

For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.

“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”

You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.

“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.

“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”

What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.

What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.

“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”

“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”

It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?

You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.

Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.

But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.

Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.

You forgive Satoru.

“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.

It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.

“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”

“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.

“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”

For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.

You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”

“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”

‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.

“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”

He shakes his head.

“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.

ⴵ

December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.

It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.

It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.

At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.

It’s closed.

Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.

Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.

Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.

With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.

The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.

You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.

It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?

Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.

You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.

You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.

Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?

But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.

A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.

That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.

That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.

If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?

What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?

Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.

It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.

But the view. Oh, what a view.

The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.

You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.

And then, you can feel hands.

Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.

His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.

"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."

Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."

'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'

They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.

"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."

"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."

So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-

"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

[snapscube]

yall have to realize at some point that the obsession with what i am going to play in the future or how i am going to feel about the stuff i eventually play genuinely makes the experience of enjoying stuff right now in this moment a little bit worse every time. i am perfectly capable of thinking ahead for myself and planning something as simple as what the best order for me to play a silly game series is because there are literal decades of documentation and opinion and consensus on this stuff i can research with my own two hands. furthermore who gives a shit if later i am going to be less enthused about a character or a ship or have less evidence than i do now or whatever like.... i am here exactly where i'm at and i'm having fun talking about this stuff presently and it's such a damn bummer to have to constantly be ripped out of that because someone with more knowledge than me thinks they are doing me a favor by trying to be an oracle for how i am going to feel in the future. like it genuinely makes it very hard to want to share these things as i go along, you know. it sucks to have to consider just not posting about this stuff at all because of the poor impulse control of a select few when generally i really really love talking about this stuff with yall and sharing thoughts. i just really wish i could do that without some people treating me like a liveblog jukebox.

[starkeyisthelastname]

How would reader react when pornstar!rafe comes over to her place after filming a scene with someone else ?

just know pornstar!rafe is a pussy destroyer 😰

It was the text you got, reading ‘Can’t, I’m busy.’ Followed by, ‘Filming a scene today.’ That left you feeling some type of way and you weren’t sure why. Okay, maybe you knew exactly why and that was the more dick he gave you, the more you wanted him. You were both pornstars though, and his job was to fuck women on camera and get paid for it. You couldn’t be jealous. It was inevitable that he would have to film.

As the day went on, you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. Some other female pornstar was getting her guts fucked out by him right now, and you weren’t the one getting to experience it. This man had a chokehold on you and you were becoming addicted to the way he made you feel. He was raw, confident, dirty, and didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else said or thought.

You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep as you were startled out of a dream by a pounding on your door. You rubbed your eyes, making your way down the hall and towards the front. You should have looked through the peephole, hell it could have been someone trying to break in, but you opened it anyway against your better judgement. It was Rafe’s massive self storming in that had you fully waking up to realize what was going on.

“Can’t answer a fuckin phone?” He asked, blue eyes peering at you almost predatory as he stalked closer.

“I fell asleep, and why do you even care? You were busy.” You said, evident jealousy dripping from your tongue. You crossed your arms, a challenging sparkle in your pretty eyes as he stared at you for moment. He chuckled, his intimidating height towering over you as he stepped closer.

“Why are you acting jealous for, huh? Gettin too damn attached to this dick, aren’t ya?” He spoke low, large hand coming up to grab your throat. His mustache tickled your lips as he leaned down to look in your eyes. “I like money too much to stop fuckin, pretty girl. You remember what, I said though?” He asked, squeezing your neck harder.

Your eyes couldn’t help but roll back as you were a freak off pain. He pulled away from your face, his lips ghosting over toward your ear as he began to speak. “You are my own personal whore now, yeah? So when I call, you answer the fuckin phone the first time.” He spat harshly in your ear.

You weren’t sure what this weird fucked up situation was that you two were in, but you knew you loved every second of it. He was fucking your life all the way up, his hands digging into your scalp to use your hair as reins as he brutally pounded into your sopping hole.

“Take that shit up your fuckin cunt.” Rafe grunted, toned hips moving at a rapid pace as his thick cock stretched your poor hole out. Your legs were bent back, knees touching your chest as he railed you into oblivion on your own couch.

You were crying from the sheer roughness and pleasure that he was giving to you. A babbling mess, as you fell victim to his nasty ways once again. You were getting too attached to his dick, but what did he expect when he fucked you the way he did. You were soaking his cock, his fat length sliding in and out your messy cunt as he drilled into you.

His body leaned down, his hand yanking your head back roughly so that you were forced to look at him. “This is my fuckin pussy to ruin. You understand that?” He asked, his stache tickling your lips as he tightened the grip on your hair. “You better fuckin answer me when I’m talking to you.”

You let out a gasp, wincing at the burn to your scalp as you were forced to look into darkened blue irises and answer him. “Yes Rafe… a-all yours!” You cried out, earning a vicious laugh from him as he straightened his massive stance back out. He was just as addicted to you and knew you were about to fuck his life all the way up. Just in a completely different kinda way he hadn’t experienced before.

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[boysmentfs]

The trip to the beach.

A collaboration with @misctf .

Steve was the most cliché of the word "nerd" with only 5'4 tall, with pimples and with irritating little voice he was the target for the jock boys in his university. But despite being victim of sneers and bullying, he was the happiest student in college, he always smiled, helped people and was quite studious. So the mockery towards him mattered little to him. Today was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Steve was studying hard in his room, he didn't have any plans for today and he didn't care to have one either, his parents were not home so he enjoyed being alone quietly until someone knocked on his house door.

"Who could it be?" Steve sighed, “I’m really behind on my work.” He looked at the essay he was in the midst of completing, “I should...” The second knock was louder, “Must be important.”

Steve quickly made his way to the front door. As he went to open it, he paused. He could hear the boisterous laughter from the other side, the frequent use of the word ‘bro’, and a few belches. His stomach dropped.

“What could they possibly want?” Steve thought miserably, “I should really...” He sighed. It wasn’t in his nature to just ignore someone. What if they needed help?

“Oh shit! Look who it is! What’s up lil’ bro?” Garrett laughed, emphasizing the word ‘lil’. He put his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging.

“Uh hey.” Steve stammered, “Uhm, I...I...” His mind was racing, trying not to stare. Garrett was rather good-looking- dark hair and eyes, his chiseled face framed by a well-groomed, short beard. And looking further down, it was obvious that his years on the baseball team did wonders for his body- all of which was framed nicely in his tight tank-top, “Sorry, just studying today.” Steve blushed, mentally admonishing himself for making it so obvious that he had a thing for the star pitches on the team.

"Studying?! Lil’ dude, come on.” Garrett groaned, nudging one of the other jocks, “Seriously dude, how lame. How about this? We came here to invite you to the beach.” He placed his firm rugged hand on Steve’s shoulder and grinned, “Lil’ dude, it’s gonna be fuckin’ lit. Cheerleaders, booze, you name it. When’s the last time you did something like that, huh lil’ dude?”

Hearing this, Steve raised an eyebrow. None of these things were as appealing to him as Garrett likely thought they’d be. Although, the naively optimistic part of Steve wanted to imagine this could be the start of a friendship with Garrett. Part of him yearning for closeness with the jock. But Steve shook his head before adjusting his glasses- on what planet would he ever be friends with Garrett?

"I don't want to be rude or offensive, but why are you inviting me?” Steve questioned, “Jake and Logan were just bullying me the other day.” The two jocks behind Garrett snickered, earning them a disapproving look from Garrett.

"I know... Dude, but believe me we want to make peace, me and my bros promise we won't make fun of you again!” Garrett replied, no hint of insincerity in his tone, “Besides, it's Saturday and being at home? It's boring as hell."

Steve sighed, mulling over the offer. Would it be nice not to be bullied by these meatheads? Yeah. Would it be nice to spend time with Garrett? Yeah. Did he really think they’d make peace after this? Steve sighed again- the rational part of him saying to shut the door. The other saying to give these bros a chance.

"Okay, okay... I’ll go.” Steve said, the uncertainty of his choice evident in his voice.

“Oh sick lil’ bruh, but like, don’t sound too disappointed.” Garrett laughed, slapping him on the back and knocking the wind out of his small frame.

“But really, I’m doing this to make peace.” Steve insisted, “No funny business.” He tried to sound confident and stern. Garrett smiled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, “Oh and..." Steve bit his lip, “This is so embarrassing but it’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach. I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

"That shouldn't worry you bro! Give me a second." Garret grinned, “You’re just in luck, lil’ dude.” Garrett seemed way too excited, “Check out these!” His bro reached into a bag and handed him some green shorts with a bit of blue and gave them to Steve. "Here! These shorts belonged to one of our bros. Well former bro. He went on to bigger and better things.” Garrett sighed, “Internship or some shit. Brains and brawn, can you believe it?” The other jocks snickered.

Steve looked at the shorts and made a face of disgust. Did Garrett and his bros really think he would wear someone else’s shorts? Why did they seem to have them ready too? Steve awkwardly grabbed the shorts, and looked back over at the group of jocks.

"Garrett... I uh." Steve could see the look of excitement in Garrett’s eyes. Like he was proud of something, “I don’t really feel comfortable wearing another guy’s shorts. And besides, these aren’t going to fit me."

“And why not, lil bro? I wear my bro’s stuff all the time.” Garrett grinned, “I understand that you don't have the same muscle mass as us, but they’re shorts, shorts look good on everyone."

"Yes... but..." Steve sighed- how was he going to make these oafs understand his discomfort when they clearly had no shame?

"Dude, just get changed. We’ll wait here for you." Garrett grinned, “Come on bros, I’ll get the car started. I got a bomb playlist.”

Steve watched as they walked back to their car, all chuckling and talking about their beach plans. And before long, loud obnoxious music filled the air. Steve cringed, worrying what his neighbors might think of the loud music.

“The faster I get this on, the faster we get out of here.” Steve figured, walking back to his room.

Once there, he quickly undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He frowned as he examined his short and lanky frame- his skin pale from the hours spent indoors studying. His brown hair a curly mess atop his head. Nothing compared to the healthy tans and meaty muscles Garrett and his bros sported. Steve shook his head, ignoring these negative thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the pair of shorts in his hand.

"This is so disgusting...” Steve mumbled, taking a whiff of them, “Oh god, did they even wash this?” Steve was instantly teleported back to his high school locker room- the smell wafting from these shorts an unpleasant reminder of his days in gym class, “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grimaced as he slowly pulled the shorts up his skinny legs, where they rested over his Marvel boxer briefs. Yet despite his initial disgust, he was surprised to see how well they fit. He figured he owed Garrett some credit- shorts do look good on anyone. Steve walked over to his closet, rummaging around until he found on of his old discarded tank-tops. After placing that over his skinny frame, he smiled.

“Okay, I kind of look the part.” He commented, flexing his skinny arm, “Almost.” He laughed, thinking how ridiculous he must’ve looked.

And as he turned away from the mirror, he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. He stumbled forward, catching himself against a wall. Steve groaned and wiped some sweat from his forehead, trying to make sense of the sudden dizziness. But as quickly as it had come on, it had passed. And Steve awkwardly walked to the front door, each step feeling somewhat heavier and requiring more focus.

“Oh lil’ dude, you look great!” Garrett said, approaching him, “You’re more than ready for the beach.” He raised an eyebrow, “Ah wait, lil’ dude you forgot your shoes. Logan! Grab ‘em a pair from the trunk.”

Steve only nodded, not really paying all that much attention. His mind felt foggy, his body heavier. When Logan threw the pair of worn-out sandals at his feet, Steve just slid them on. They were clearly too large for him, but he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to make a comment.

“Lookin’ good on ya!” Garrett grinned, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leading him to the car, “God, you reek, lil’ dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No... it’s... it’s the shorts.” He replied, “They smell...”

“Sure, sure lil’ dude.” Garrett chuckled.

Steve wanted to say something in response, but he felt a slight achiness in his feet. And when he looked down, he could have sworn that they looked bigger and now sporting tufts of hair. In that moment, Steve could’ve also sworn that his nostrils were being invaded by an increasingly intense odor- reminiscent of the locker room but somehow worse. Sour and musky, all at once.

“Alrighty lil’ dude, get in.” Garrett said, "Let's go!"

Steve could barely focus. The smells, the boisterous laughter, and the blaring laughter from the bros around him. He grimaced as a can of beer rolled around in the backseat, hitting his foot. He watched as Logan reached down and smirked, before shot gunning the can of beer while his bros cheered.

“Lil’ bro, why don’t you try one?” Garrett asked from the driver’s seat, “Pregame for me, since I’m drivin’ and shit.”

“I’m good.” Steve replied, clearing his throat. His voice sounded off, “I’m not feeling too...”

A beer was thrust against his skinny chest and he looked over at Logan, who had a wide grin on his face. Steve held the beer, staring at it closely. And with his meatier hands, cracked it open. Steve never drank- it wasn’t his thing. But as he cracked open the can, he felt compelled. He was gonna chug it. And as the bros cheered him on, Steve did just that. As he did, he couldn’t possibly realize the bulge in his shorts was growing. His member growing in size, going from a measly 5 centimeters to an astonishing 14 centimeters, a dense forest of pubes sprouting around his new member.

“Buuuuuuuurrrrrppppppppp.” Steve grinned slightly as he crushed the can in his hand as his bros cheered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Fuck yeah lil’ dude!” Garrett cheered from the front.

“That was sick bruh!” Logan playfully punched Steve’s arm.

Steve looked down at where Logan punched him and his eyes widened. His arms... his skinny arms... they looked bigger? More defined. Muscles Steve knew he had but never saw were suddenly becoming quite obvious to the naked eye. He looked up at Logan and then up to Garrett.

“Hey somethin’s...” Steve froze. That baritone voice couldn’t possibly be...

But no one paid him any attention. They were going on about the cheerleaders, although Steve noticed Garrett was oddly quiet during the conversation. Occasionally glancing at Steve through the mirror. Steve stirred uncomfortably as Garrett stole glances at him. Why did he keep looking at him? He blushed slightly, trying to appear smaller, but his growing pecs and widening frame made that difficult. He was taking up more space now, becoming uncomfortably close to Logan.

“Dude, can you...”

“Not my fault this car’s so fuckin’ small.” Steve’s eyes widened. He would never talk like that, “What the fuck?” The fogginess in his mind was starting to dissipate. He was becoming acutely aware of his newly massive frame, enlarging pecs, and arms that looked more like tree-trunks than sticks.

Garrett turned to look at him and smiled. "What's wrong bro? You look good.”

“I... don’t... fuckin’...” Steve groaned as his tank-top ripped and he tossed the ruined fabric into the trunk.

He grunted as his muscles pulsed again and again. His frame expanding larger and larger, while Logan just grinned, despite losing more room in the back of the car. Steve gasped as small blond hairs erupted from his massive arms and traveled up. And when they finished coating his massive forearms, the hair in his pits exploded into a dense, musky forest. He grimaced at the smell wafting from them, yet at time went on, the smell was becoming familiar. Somewhat nice actually. He brought his hands to his head as his head started pounding. And in the car’s mirror, he saw that his hair was becoming blond. His curly locks reshaping into a sporty cut. His face becoming sharp and defined, his lips puffing up and forming into a permanent smirk.

“Eric, bruh, you good?” Garrett asked.

Steve let out a baritone groan, “Nah bruh, who the fuck’s Eric?” He grabbed his head again, “That’s... not... my... name...”

As he made eye contact with Garrett, he could feel it. A set of memories. Gym sessions with Garrett. Going to sporting events. Playing videogames. Waking up in each other’s arms... tearing each other’s clothes off... fucking... Steve realized in that moment. Garrett and Eric. They were more than frat bros... they were... A small smile formed on Steve’s lips as he felt Eric’s personality and mind overtake his. And in that moment, he came. The climax so intense that he passed out in the back seat.

“Took him long enough.” Logan chuckled, “You happy Garrett?”

Garrett nodded and parked the car, “Alright bros, give him some time to rest.” Garrett smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, “I’ll be right behind you all.”

As his bros started walking to the beach, Garrett opened backseat door and smiled at his hunk of a boyfriend. He ran a hand down his jaw and gave him a quick kiss, before grabbing his cum-soaked shorts.

“Was hoping you’d save that for me.” Garrett smirked, “But all good, bruh.” He kissed him on the cheek, before quietly shutting the door. He’d let Eric get some rest- besides, they had a long night ahead of them.

[ordinaryschmuck]

With Gooseworx all but confirming that the Jax being an AI thing is bullshit, I personally want to talk about an interesting part about Jax that a lot of theorists used as "evidence" that validates the theory:

Jax's fourth wall breaks are a common topic brought up amongst the "Jax is an NPC" theory. After all, Caine broke the fourth wall in the pilot, knowing full well that the world of The Amazing Digital Circus isn't real and is talking to some unseen viewer as he introduces the Circus Crew.

There's also this bit of official art surrounding Jax's pin:

Where everyone else is inside their room, Jax is outside as pieces of the circus fall apart around him and all of reality to crash. Certainly lends itself to this idea that Jax knows he's not a real person and that his presence could cause great disruption to this world. And he doesn't care because none of it is real. Might as well have fun and cause chaos in a world that doesn't exist.

And I'll admit, all of this seems like valid claims for how the theory could be true. I saw it all and thought that it surely COULD be possible...but there are some things that stop me from being convinced.

Firstly, Caine breaking the fourth wall in the pilot doesn't really seem like an AI talking to the audience. It looks more like an AI programmed to talk to a player as a game boots up. What we saw in the opening could be more like a morning routine that he has to do at least once a day. Plus, we've yet to see any other NPC talk to the audience like Jax has. He explicitly called out the viewers in episode three, knowing full well he's being watched by SOMEONE. Or, at the very least, acting like he is. What do I mean by that? Well, to explain, I'd like to use one of my favorite fourth wall breakers as an example:

Deadpool, in most adaptations, knows fully well that he's a fictional character. He'll talk to the readers/viewers, move the camera around, and constantly talk shit to the writers/studio for occasionally screwing him over. It's all in good (Sometimes bloody) fun...but there's a canonical reason for this. It's not like She-Hulk where the fourth wall breaks are a way to tell HER stories HER way. You see, Deadpool...is just fucking insane.

No, really, that's the reason. Due to the trauma of gaining his powers, Deadpool's mind breaks and he's led to believe that he MUST be a fictional character. In comics, he actually gets voices in his head that makes him think he must be some comic book superhero, and the movies implied that something similar happened given how he never broke the fourth wall ONCE before getting his powers. This means him breaking the fourth wall could be seen as a coping mechanism. After all, it's better to believe you're a fictional character designed to entertain some invisible audience than believe that all of the shitty things that happened to you and people close to you is just a cruel joke from the universe.

Sound familiar?

Going back to the pilot, remember how Pomni's first instinct was to say that the Circus was all just a dream? To her, it's better to live in a lie that everything around her isn't real than to accept the reality that she's stuck in digital purgatory. Jax very well could be going through something similar, but unlike Pomni who seemed to just accept her reality, Jax never did. The trauma of being stuck in the Circus had led to his mind breaking just like Pomni's, Kinger's, and anyone else's. It's just that, for him, he thinks he's coping with it better because he discovered the secret that no one else did: None of this is real.

They're not actually people trapped in some hellscape while an AI unintentionally tortures them. They're all just fictional characters whose tragedies and silly antics are used to entertain viewers. I mean, it's either that or they're real people forever trapped in the circus with the closest thing to death being a full, psychotic break as they give up their sanity because they no longer want to exist in this hell anymore...But that possibly can't be true. Because if that IS true, then Jax has to face that he's a real person stuck in a real, awful situation that he can't joke his way out of. So, it's best to think nothing is real and nothing they do matter. So, might as well have fun with it.

Going back to the pin...

I don't think this is damning evidence about Jax being an NPC. Actually, it perfectly captures who he is as a character. He knows the circus isn't real. He even thinks HE isn't real. So instead of grappling with that, Jax lets himself believe that if nothing is real than nothing he does matters. He can break things, ruin lives, and assist in torturing the others in the circus. It's what he thinks will make the show more entertaining, even though all he's really entertaining is himself so his mind doesn't break more than it does.

Now, could the same apply if he's an NPC? Well...maybe. Gumigoo definitely proves how far someone could fall when they're told their world is fake. He was about ready to give up on life because he didn't think he had one. If Jax was an NPC, I could see him having a similar break, but going in the far opposite direction where, instead of giving up on life, he chooses to live the way HE wants it. Instead of being some one-off NPC for a lame adventure, he could go off on adventures of his own and ruin the lives of others now that his is thoroughly ruined.

However, Gooseworx makes a good point: "...a lot of people come up with theories based on how unexpected they'd be, and not because they make sense or align with the show's themes."

If Jax is an NPC, it would harm the overall message of the show. That there's meaning to be found in a stagnant life, and you find that meaning with people close to you who make that life worth living. Jax represents a sort of foil to that idea, with his way of coping with the madness being pure chaos and breaking others. It's his coping mechanism, and it works because it shows how human Jax really is. They're ALL human and they have human desires and wants, with the Circus pretty much stripping that away and leaving them...as they are now. They're emotionally broken, their sanity is decreasing, and some of them are losing all sense of self. By making Jax an NPC, it would definitely be surprising, but it would take away from that idea. It no longer makes him a human facing his own tragedy but instead an AI that's just as broken as Gummigoo. More than that, it gives the others an easy out. All the crew has to do is tell Caine that Jax is an NPC and POOF! No more annoyance. So making him someone who HAS to stay with the others and they're forever forced to deal with him also adds more to THEIR tragedy and torture.

Jax being an NPC is an interesting theory, but I don't think it's one that SHOULD be true. To me, it's more fascinating watching Jax treat the world around him as meaningless knowing he's a human instead of a rogue NPC breaking everything. And Gooseworx made it clear how they feel about it. Now, could it potentially be a mislead to get fans off the trail? Genuinely...I don't think so. That sounded very "I don't like this idea so it's not gonna happen" type of response. Still, we won't know until the show wraps up. Anything can happen, but don't get your hopes up if a character who does bad things to people that don't deserve it is more human than you think.

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[cevansbrat0007]

I saw this and thought of Ari and his Bird right away 😂 Now how would he react? 😌

Dinner is Served...

Summary: You surprise Ari with his favorite meal: You.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, An Appearance from Bucky Barnes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, High Heels, Naked Fun in the Kitchen, Manhandling, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Pussy Eating, Very Mild Chase Kink, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I sent you the files this morning, Buck.” Ari winces as he shoulders his way into your house from the garage. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to open ‘em.”

“Just resend them in a different format.” His friend and business partner responds, sounding frustrated. 

“Why don’t you just give-in and ask Pixie to help you already?”

“Because she’s been giving me the silent treatment since Tuesday. Why would I want to risk breaking the streak?” 

Rolling his eyes, he drops his bag by the door – only to be surprised when he spots a pair of your panties laying innocently on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that it’s actually one of his favorites. It was part of a set he’d bought you just last month. 

“What’d you do, Barnes?”

“Uh…” A heavy sigh can be heard coming from the other side of the phone. “I accidentally broke her fancy little coffee maker.”

“Wow.” He responds, disapproval evident in his tone.  

“Hey! I just said it was an accident. She said she had a bad night and so I tried to make her one of those latte…macchiato…things she likes. And then I broke it.”   

“Make it right, Buck.” After toeing off his boots Ari begins making his way towards the kitchen, following the sound of music in the air. He frowns when he spies your blouse in the middle of the hallway. Closely followed by a pair of black leggings. 

“How?” God, his buddy could be so goddamned obtuse sometimes.

“Fucking apologize. And then buy her another one – a better one.” 

“Ugh!” The former soldier whines. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for a replacement. How about I–?”

Wait. WAIT. Was that your bra? Just what the fuck was up with this strange trail of clothes?

“Buck, you’re a grown man. And google is your friend.” Ari snaps as he picks up your fallen undergarment, his confusion growing with each passing second. “Restore peace to the land before that woman feels compelled to drop a nuke.” With that he ends the call, now ready to solve whatever mystery he’s just stumbled upon. 

But what it’s he sees when he rounds the corner that has him stopping dead in his tracks.

“Well, shit.” His mouth goes dry as he watches your hips sway to the music pumping out of the speaker. 

A low whistle of appreciation has you glancing over your shoulder. 

If you were being honest, you’d known he was home the moment you’d heard your garage door open. Which was also why your bathrobe was now hastily balled up in your pantry. 

“Welcome home!” You chirp, not missing the way your man’s eyes darken as they drink you in. “Did you have a good day?”

“What’s all this?” Ari’s already deep voice dips an octave as he holds up your previously abandoned bra, dangling it from his finger. But you know he’s not mad. This question is coming from a man who clearly likes what he sees.

Which just so happens to be you. Happily cooking in your kitchen. Wearing nothing but a little makeup and a pair of red heels. Oh, and oven mitts. Can’t forget those.

You’d come across this scenario while aimlessly scrolling on Instagram. And since you were growing more comfortable with the body you saw in the mirror these days, you figured that it might be worth trying your luck. If only to see your man’s reaction.

“Oops!” You gasp, trying your best to look apologetic. “I just haven’t had a chance to clean up yet. I’m sorry.”

“Baby…” Ari drags a stunned hand over his jaw. “That’s not even – ah fuck. Cleanin’ up is the absolute last thing on my mind right now.” Dropping the undergarment on a nearby table, he begins making his way to you – only to come up short once again when he catches sight of your heels. 

“What? I’m just tryin’ to break ‘em in. That’s all.”

“Fuck meee.” He groans under his breath, his eyes going wide at the sight of your latest surprise. 

“Hold that thought, sugar.” With a wink, you turn back towards the stove before bending over to retrieve tonight’s dessert from the oven. You’re forced to bite the inside of your cheek when you hear your bounty hunter’s sudden intake of breath at the sight of your bare ass. 

“There we go.” You hum, playfully fanning yourself with a checkered mitt. “Hope you like homemade cinnamon rolls with whipped cream cheese frosting." Tendrils of feminine pride unfurls in your belly when you notice Ari’s impressive hard-on tenting his jeans. "They’re the perfect after-dinner treat.”

“That’s–I’m not…” He cuts himself off, surprising you both with his inability to speak. “We–that ain’t the kinda treat I’m hungry for, little Bird.”

“Hm.” You nod as you stretch your arms above your head. Giving into temptation, you rise up on your toes before giving a little shimmy, calling attention to your breasts. “No problem. What’s the point of talkin’ about dessert when we haven’t even discussed the main course?”

“Huh?” Ari clears his throat, his rapt gaze now focused on your pouting nipples. 

“Tonight we’re having roasted potatoes –” 

“I don’t give a good-damn about no roasted potatoes, woman!” The bounty hunter rumbles, cutting you off before you can finish telling him your menu. “You don’t need to cook nothin’ else. I already know what I’m hungry for.” He takes a decisive step in your direction. “It’s just a matter of where I’m eatin’.”

“But you don’t even know what we’re havin’ yet!” Comes your incredulous laugh as you bat away his eager hands. 

“This right here.” He growls, broadly gesturing at your naked body. “All of this. That’s what I want.” Without warning, he grabs the edge of his t-shirt with both hands before yanking it over his head, revealing his muscled chest. “I'm fuckin' starvin'.”

“But I’m not on the menu!” You shriek, throwing a dish towel at him the next time he gets too close. The next thing you know, this man is now chasing you around your own kitchen, his long legs quickly eating up the space between you. 

Fuck it was hard to run in heels! 

“Now I don’t mind where I dine, darlin’.” Your man purrs, his already sexy voice pitched to arouse. “We can take it to the bedroom. The living room…”

“Beast!” You burst into a fit of giggles as you attempt to fend him off with the help of a chair. “Need I remind you that we are in the kitchen?”

Now that makes him pause. But only for a second. 

“It ain’t the first time I’ve had you in here.” The chair you’ve been holding is gently ripped from your grasp. “Pretty sure I’ve devoured that pussy in every room of this house.” You watch in defeat as he sends your last little bit of protection skidding across the floor. “Did you forget how wet you got the last time I splayed you out on this-here table? Because I haven’t.”

One rough, slightly calloused hand grips the back of your neck – drawing you closer. 

“Remember how I made you hold yourself open for me?” His lips ghost over yours – the sharp nip of his teeth causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest. “Remember the way your thighs shook every time you gushed around me?” He moans softly, the erotic sound going straight to your dripping cunt. 

“I–If you don’t want the potatoes, we’re also having…um…” You can’t help but whimper when he abandons your throat in favor of grabbing a hearty handful of your ass. “Herb roasted chicken…”

“I get so hard whenever I think about the way you drenched my fuckin’ beard, baby.” Ari gives you a playful squeeze before lifting you by your hips and depositing you on the table as if you weigh nothing. “My good girl always makes such a mess for me. Don’t you?” 

“Could I perhaps interest you in some honey glazed carrots?” However, your weak attempt at redirection is completely ignored.

A heady thrum of excitement courses through you when you feel your back connect with the cool, wooden surface. And then Ari’s hands come to rest on your knees, gently prying them apart, baring your most intimate flesh. 

“Look at you.” He rasps, tenderly stroking your slick folds. “Fuckin’ soaked already. And here we are just gettin’ started.” He parts you with thick fingers before leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy clit, making your hips buck. 

“Yeah,” he continues. “This is the only honey I give a fuck about tonight.” Gripping your ankle, he drapes your leg over one broad shoulder, opening you up to him even more. And then he reaches for the remote to your speaker, turning up the volume of the music that had since become little better than background noise. 

“Don’t want any interruptions while I enjoy my meal. Especially since you spent so much time preparin’ it.” Ari drags your body towards the edge of the table before taking a seat in a chair and placing a napkin across his lap. “And don’t worry about me needing any silverware, sweet Bird…” He murmurs as his mouth descends upon your vulnerable, quivering pussy.

“I don't mind gettin' my hands dirty.”

END

Official Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

@gh0stgurl

@blogbog710

@sincerelytlh

@gummydummy19

@steviebbboi

@missaprilt23

@scorpiosaintt

[strangerstilinski]

can you pretty please do [intimidation] with eddie

🥺👉👈

[INTIMIDATION] sender, in an effort to frighten the receiver by invading their personal space, sits in their lap to try and inspire discomfort or fear in them.

cw: alcohol consumption, fem!reader, sort of enemies -> lovers (but actually idiots -> lovers), 2.4k

dividers by @strangergraphics

You're blocking the doorway into the Harrington kitchen, shoulder leaned against the wood panelling where you have a good view into the living room. Your unimpressed glare is drawn from the figure currently hogging the sofa when someone bumps into you just as you're bringing the plastic cup in your hand to your lips.

"Jesus, fucking watch it-" The outrage in your tone fades quick when you see who's run into you.

"Sorry." Jonathan grimaces as he watches you wipe a bit of juice and vodka from your chin.

"No, it's fine," You sigh and turn on your heel, following Jonathan into the kitchen as he begins to grab things to make himself a drink, though it appears to be far more lemon-lime soda and grenadine than anything else. "Sorry, I just.. I dunno, sorry." You shrug before gulping down another mouthful of your own admittedly strong drink. You're kind of hoping that once your buzz kicks in you'll feel just a little less like there's a storm cloud floating right above your head.

"What is with you, tonight?" Jonathan asks with an overly cautious smile, "I haven't seen Munson bug you even once, so it's gotta be somethin' else-"

"Nothing," You huff, a little defensive at just the mention of the other boy, "I'm fine."

"Oh yeah, totally," Jonathan chuckles and raises his newly acquired drink in a salute, "You're like a ray of sunshine tonight."

It's annoying as hell, but he's right. You're fuming and Eddie has yet to even speak to you. He's been avoiding you like the plague from the moment you walked through the door, as if Eddie could somehow sense that you were already in a mood, and he didn't feel like getting told off for being the reason that you finally snapped.

Because normally, Eddie would've found at least seven ways he could irritate you by now. He'd have finished the last of the juice he saw you eyeing for your next mixed drink and laughed maniacally when you pouted about it. He'd have pestered you about whether you might want to join in on another campaign, all while making a handful of little comments about just how easy it'll be for him to decimate your character when you do. He'd have watched you shiver while you passed a joint back and forth by the pool, and then draped his stupid jacket around your shoulders just so he could roll his eyes and give you shit about not dressing warmly enough.

Eddie was infuriating — And the worst part was that he knew it. The asshole thrived on pushing buttons and testing people's limits, but tonight evidently he'd been able to tell that you were already toeing dangerously close to yours and had steered clear altogether.

You peer back out into the living room now, narrowed eyes zeroing back in on the figure sprawled across the entire length of the loveseat, socked feet kicked up on the opposite cushion where someone else could be sitting if he weren't such a selfish prick.

"God, what an asshole." You grumble, downing the last of your drink and grabbing the nearest bottle to begin mixing another. "I mean, look at him, seriously. Does he have to take up the whole couch?"

Jonathan's gaze follows the path your own had taken moments before, and he snorts in amusement, "Eddie."

It's not a question, but you answer him as if it had been.

"Yes, Eddie." Another quick glance up into the living room has your eyes locking with the man in question just as his name falls from your lips.

Eddie's eyes go wide, his cheeks dimpling with his sudden grin. He jabs his index finger into his chest, lips moving silently around the words, "Who? Me?"

"Uh-huh.. Why don't you go do something about it?" Jonathan teases.

Eddie's attention is pulled away when Gareth says something from his spot in an armchair. Whatever he says it gets Eddie riled up and he's immediately talking animatedly, hands gesturing wildly as he speaks.

"Maybe I will." You're already moving with purpose, halfway out of the kitchen when you hear your friend shout after you.

"I was joking!"

"Well I'm not!" You call back over your shoulder.

It's darker as you step into the living room, overhead lights off in favor of utilizing the warmer glow from the the lamp tucked away in the corner. You have to step over Eddie's discarded shoes at the foot of the sofa, and the boy very nearly knocks your drink out of your hand when you step in front of him, too distracted by his own tirade to have seen your approach.

But his head snaps up toward you as your thigh brushes his arm. Whatever he's been saying, the words cut off abruptly at the realization of who it is standing beside him.

"Well hey there, princess." He shoots you a toothy grin — You assume it's meant to be charming, but it only irritates you further. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

You ignore Eddie in favor of casting a small smile of apology toward Gareth, "Sorry to interrupt."

"Nah, no worrie-"

"No, no! You didn't interrupt. We were done." Eddie cuts his friend off, "Gareth was just telling me he was gonna go take a piss, actually."

Gareth splutters for a moment, but when his eyes shift from you to Eddie he's suddenly rising from his chair. You watch Gareth shake his head as he steps around you before he stalks off without a word.

"What was that about?" You can't help but ask in curiosity.

"Beats me. Really had to piss, I guess." Eddie says quickly, sitting up a little straighter against the arm of the couch. He throws an arm out to gesture to Gareth's recently vacated chair, "Did you wanna-"

Rather than taking advantage of the empty seat, you plop yourself across Eddie's thighs unceremoniously, feeling oddly satisfied by the huff of surprise that escapes him when your weight is suddenly in his lap.

The way the warmth of his body seeps into your own is near immediate, even through two layers of denim. Your arm presses into his chest as you lean back into the cushion of the sofa, trying and failing to remain unaffected by his proximity. He smells infuriatingly good this close, clean and masculine with just a lingering hint of the weed he'd smoked earlier in the night. It makes your stomach flutter wildly, makes your head swim for half a second before you're lifting your cup to your mouth in an effort to compose yourself.

Eddie huffs softly and his breath fans out over your exposed shoulder, warm and smelling faintly of cheap beer and menthols. Goosebumps prickle along the length of your arm, hairs standing on end suddenly. You wish you could convince yourself that your body's reaction were one of repulsion, but deep down you know that its something far, far worse than that.

"You.. You're just gonna.. sit.. here?" Eddie asks, voice a little wobbly, unsure.

His knuckles brush your thigh, likely an accident, but one sidelong glare has his hand retreating to the relative safety of the couch cushion in a flash.

"Yep."

You can see outside to the patio from your position, and you focus your attention to the group sitting with their feet in the pool. The sheer amount of effort it takes to keep your eyes trained there, rather than allowing them to drift to where Eddie's hand twitches near your knee-

"Do- Did you want me to move my legs? Do you want-" He shifts underneath you like he's ready to pull his feet from the cushion at the other end, but you remain resolutely in place.

"Nope, I'm good."

You have absolutely no plans of moving any time soon. You'd remain seated right here in Eddie's lap until his bladder was ready to burst, until your weight made his legs fall asleep and tingle from lack of blood flow, until he was ready to grab you by your hips and force you into another seat.

He'd learn his lesson. The inconsiderate couch-hogging asshole.

"O..kay." Eddie says slowly, wiping his palm on the side of his own denim-clad hip, as if his hands might've gotten a little sweaty.

Were you making him warm? Good.

"So.." Eddie pauses. You catch a glimpse of his face scrunching in thought at the corners of your vision before he continues, "Any big plans for the weekend?"

With how close you're sat, Eddie is speaking almost directly into your ear. There's no need for him to raise his voice to be heard, and you find that the low rumble of it is nice, soothing almost. It curls around your ears and sends something warm shooting down your spine.

"Killing boys." You return dryly, eyes straining now in an effort to remain focussed on what's going on in the backyard.

Eddie snorts, body jolting underneath you with his amusement — And his almost-laughter absolutely does not make your chest flush with pride. You couldn't care less whether or not Eddie Munson finds you funny. As if.

"Oh, so nothing out of the ordinary for you then."

Eddie chuckles and the tip of his thumb finds its way to the place where your thigh presses into his. You can't tell if it's accidental or on purpose, but the gentle press of his finger maybe kind of makes your stomach flip pleasantly, so you allow it. Whatever.

You hum in agreement, "Yeah, well. There's almost always some boy who deserves it."

"I don't doubt it," Eddie murmurs with a wide grin, his head tipped sideways over the back of the couch, cheek nearly brushing your shoulder now, "Anyone I know currently at the top of your list, madame assassin?"

"There is this one asshole." You pause to take a sip of your drink, fighting off a grimace at the awful liquor to juice ratio. "He's loud. And irritating. Just loves getting on my last nerve-"

"Long hair?"

The interruption has your eyes rolling, "Yep. Walks around looking like some Van Halen wannabe."

"Oh, he sounds cool."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice now.

"Well he's not." You return blankly. "He's always trying to get a rise outta me, acting like a total prick-"

"Hold on, hold on-" Eddie cuts you off again, "Now I'm not so sure we're on the same page. Thought I knew who you were talkin' about, but-"

"Oh, you know him." You grumble, sinking farther into the plush cushion on the back of the couch with your drink clutched to your chest. "You know him well, trust me."

Eddie shifts beneath you, angling both himself and you until he's taking up more of your line of sight than the patio doors. His big brown eyes bore into you until you crack and flick your gaze toward him.

"Here's the thing.." Eddie starts, the pad of his thumb stroking the seam on the outside of your knee. "Maybe this guy's just pushing your buttons because he likes when all of your attention is on him-"

The arm he has thrown over the back of the couch by your shoulder moves then, brushing your hair back from your temple only to backtrack and trail the pads of his fingers featherlight over the space between your brows.

"-Maybe.. Shit, I dunno, maybe he likes the way your eyebrows come together when you're angry-"

Your heart is beating so loud you can hear the blood pumping in your ears. The urge to fidget under his attention is strong, but you sit at still as possible in fear of breaking the spell. You have to strain to hear Eddie's next words over the dull whoosh of your heartbeat echoing in your skull.

"Maybe he thinks you look kinda devastatingly beautiful-"

"You-" And, fuck. Did your voice just crack? "You're trying to tell me you think this guy is, what? Being a dick because he likes me? Pulling my pigtails on the playground and shit?"

Eddie's grin is less cocky than you've ever seen it. His lips twitch at one side of his mouth. He almost looks nervous.

You take a deep breath as his fingers skim over your jaw on their way back toward your hair, where he pinches a small lock between two fingers and tugs twice, oh-so gentle.

"What if he was?" Eddie asks softly, "Being a dick because he likes you, I mean."

"I'd tell you he's an idiot." You manage, plastic cup crinkling under the increased pressure of your hand.

Eddie winces, but nods and averts his gaze. His arm falls to the back to the sofa again, close enough for you to feel the warmth of it beside your shoulder.

"But.." You have to swallow down a smile when Eddie's wide eyes snap right back to yours. "Maybe this idiot's attraction isn't totally one-sided. So, maybe he should stop being an asshole and try making a move."

Eddie blinks. Once, then twice. He squares his shoulders and leans in like he might kiss you, but then he backs off again and searches your eyes as if he's terrified he might be reading the entire situation wrong.

"Eddie." You whisper sharply, "The idiot is you, asshole."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, thank god."

And then his fingers are curled gently around the back of your neck. His hand is fully grasping your opposite thigh as he tries to drag you impossibly closer. His plush lips are pressing softly into your own, the taste of beer mixing with vodka and citrus.

It's a quick kiss, chaste. Your mouths only remain glued together for all of three seconds before he's leaning back just enough to watch you blink at him from beneath heavy lashes. You can't imagine how stupidly docile you look; brows pushed up your forehead, chest nearly heaving beneath your shirt, jaw slack, lips parted and waiting for more. It's pathetic how he's managed to turn you into this with just one G-Rated kiss.

The hand on the back of your neck moves to your face, fingertips tracing the smooth line of your brow before trailing back down to cup your cheek.

"Yeah.. Yeah, this is nice too." Eddie murmurs, "You're awful pretty when you're mad, but this.. This right here is somethin' else."

"You're so annoying." It comes out airy, absolutely no bite to your words.

"Oh, that's not changing, sweetheart. Matter of fact, I think it's a part of our spark. Gotta keep the fire burning, right? I'll keep annoying you, you'll keep getting angry-"

"Would you just shut up and kiss me again?"

Eddie grins, already leaning in, "Sure thing."

[envy-of-the-apple]

older reader?? SAY NO MORE

you're a confident, popular, charismatic lady in your 30s. you catch a pretty, barely-not-teenage gojo at a bar about to get roofied and rescue him.

you're neither a paragon of moral virtues but apparently you do still have some maternal instincts because you take him aside, help him sober up, and give him a stern but well-meaning lecture about watching drinks, staying safe, etc. maybe he gets a headpat and a caring look while you do this.

that's where you thought this would end but to gojo had absent parents and is starved of all forms of affection, including maternal, so he absolutely cannot let this end here and he will exploit his prettiness, his pitifulness, AND your maternal instincts to the max.

if wires get crossed and he manages to get you to bang him (and hopefully feel so guilty about taking advantage that he can get you to stay with him) then even better!!

omgggggyou know me so well-

(Warnings: manipulation, guilt-tripping, large age gap but both characters are 21+, implied non/dubcon, implied drugging)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Bad Night

When you open your eyes, your head is pounding.

Last night is a blur, but you get the big picture. You drank too much, and you brought someone home.

He's a cuddler, pressing you against his bare chest, a long arm wrapped around your naked body. It'd be a cute way to wake up if you weren't so sweaty and already in a bad mood.

You're debating on how to kick him out when he shifts behind you. He yawns, one hand reaching up to draw circles on your waist.

"You wake up pretty early."

It's not a stranger's voice. You know him.

You turn your head, almost afraid to look. He gives a sleepy smile.

"...Satoru?"

"Mornin'." Taking advantage of your shock, he gives a quick peck on your lips.

It's a jumpstart for the memories of last night to kick in. Satoru had invited you out, you had a bad day at work and you took the offer, you took shot after shot, one thing lead after another and then-

Shit.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and you doubt you're managing to hide the horror off your face all that well. His usually carefree attitude melted into concern.

"Feeling' alright? I wasn't too rough last night, was I?"

When you open your mouth, the only thing that comes out is a strangled 'I'm fine'.

"That's good." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "I was worried I hurt you or somethin'. Last night was perfect, by the way. Everythin' I dreamed of, baby."

Baby. You want to throw up.

"Oh, you must be hungry." Satoru frowns, clicking his tongue. "Uh, wait here, I'll go whip somethin' up."

Another kiss, this time on your cheek, before he's sliding off your bed. He's naked. You squeeze your eyes closed when he starts to put on his pants. You keep them closed until the door shuts behind him.

What the fuck did you just do?

You know what you did. You just had sex with someone more than a decade younger than you. You can't even remember it, but the evidence was all around you. Your panties laying crumbled on the floor. The ache between your legs. The bitemarks on your chest, your legs.

You fucked up.

Satoru was by chance You weren't supposed to talk to him, let alone meet him. You were at the right place, at the right time. You happened to catch smug asshole putting something in the oblivious kid's drink. You happened to grab it right before Satoru could, before dumping it on the asshole's face.

Looking back, it wasn't your finest moment. You nearly got the police called on you, but ever since that day, Satoru clung onto you like Velcro. He didn't leave you alone for the rest of the night. You thought your lecture would have embarrassed him enough to leave, which kid wants to be scolded by a thirty-year old? If anything, that might have sparked his admiration for you.

He was determined. Before you knew it, Satoru was everywhere. He spammed you with texts everyday, when he couldn't call. He'd constantly invite you to places adults way past their college years should not be going. Despite your absolute refusal to visit his dorm, you found yourself reluctantly letting him into your house, picking him up from parties when he was too drunk to drive. He'd told you things he'd never told anyone before.

You knew what was happening, you weren't stupid. And unhealthy infatuation. Young, starved for attention, eager to please. You saw the signs, you tried to set boundaries, but you thought you could help him somehow. Your savior's complex grew too big...you thought you could help him.

And then, you ended up sleeping with him.

It wasn't illegal. You knew he was over 18, at the very least. You still feel nothing but nauseating disgust. When you looked down at your hands, they felt dirty.

You needed to fix this, somehow. You needed to tell Satoru that this was a mistake. Rip the band-aide off, nice and clean.

You ignore the crumbled clothes on the floor: your flimsy dress, Satoru's shirt. Instead, you go to the closet and pull out baggy pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. You needed to hide as much skin as possible. To preserve the remnants of dignity you had left.

You stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes, practicing what you were gonna say over and over again. I'm sorry, it was a mistake, I was drunk, I took advantage of you, it's not your fault. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

When you step outside your sanctuary, you smell something that makes your stomach growl.

Satoru's standing over a sizzling pan with a smile on his face. He knows his way around your kitchen because he's been here before, doing homework on your countertops. You feel sick all over again.

"Hey." He pouts when you inch closer. "I told you to stay in bed, didn't I? Silly." He reaches over, pinching your cheek in affection.

You swallow and you finally manage to steel yourself.

"Satoru, we need to talk-"

"And done!" Satoru cheers, setting down a plate. "Hungry? You gotta' be, right? We did a whole workout last night." You cringe at his choice of words, wishing he'd stop mentioning your biggest blunder.

When you don't move, he picks up some food with his fork, hovering it close to your lips.

"C'mon. At least try it." He urges. "I promise it's good. Please?"

You look into his baby blue doe eyes. Wide and earnest and eager. When you accept the offering, he glows.

He feeds you like this, one forkful at a time. When you ask why he isn't eating, he just shakes his head.

"I don't think it'll stay down." He admits. "I'm so happy, it almost feels like I'm dreaming."

You clear your throat. Hopefully, you can steer this conversation into something more productive. "Satoru, about last night-"

"Did you like it?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

"Last night." He says with a sheepish smile. "Did-did you like it? Was I any good?"

You stare at him, utterly bewildered. "I-"

"It was my first time!" He blurts out with clear impulsiveness, and your heart stops. "I-I was pretty nervous. 'Had no fuckin' idea what I was doing, but it looked like you liked it. Right?"

He looks at you with those wide eyes, filled with genuine sincerity and you want to throw yourself off a ledge because not only did you not remember having sex with him, you don't remember taking his virginity.

You were a horrible person.

"It...was a nice night." You mutter quietly.

He beams again, it does nothing to assuage your guilt.

Fuck this all. You needed to put a stop to this. You needed to stop stringing this poor kid along. You needed to be the bad guy.

But, like always, Satoru makes the first move.

He rounds the countertop, coming to a stop by your chair. Satoru kneels to the floor, taking your hands within his owns. If it were anyone else, you would have melted.

Not him. Anyone but him.

"I meant what I said yesterday." He quietly says. "I know you still think I'm young, but I'm 22. I'm more than old enough to treat you the way you deserve to be treated." Oh God. When you turn away, he's reaching out, placing a hand on your cheek. You're forced to stare at him.

"Thank you for giving me a chance." He smiles. "I-I always thought you'd never see me that way, but then you said you liked me too and-"

"Wait wait, hold on." You interrupt. "What?"

He suddenly looks unsure, his gaze darting around. "At the bar last night. I confessed, and you said it back."

That doesn't sound like you. If anything, when you're drunk, you're annoyingly honest. You've never seen Satoru as more than a kid how could you have said that to him?

But he can't be lying. Not with those eyes. Eyes that were suddenly starting to fall like dying stars.

"Oh..." He trails off. "Did you not mean it?"

He handed you your chance on a silver platter. It was a mistake. I was drunk. I've never seen you like that. I took advantage of you.

You can break his heart, here and now. You take in a breath.

"No." You smile. "Of course I meant it. I...really really like you, Satoru."

His smiles returns and he's leaping up. You can't stop him from kissing you, but he's quick, flitting away just as quickly to give you a hug.

"I'm so glad." He whispers. "I'll make you happy, I promise. I'll do anything for you."

You pat his back, still in a daze.

Satoru is smart. He's a physics major, he's got to be smart. You just need to pretend to date him for a while before he realizes that you're too old for him. Then, he'll leave you for someone his age.

He'll snap out of it eventually, right?

[berryz-writes]

I'll try harder

11) Ends up in the infirmary a lot, Madam Pomfrey thinks he's a "troubled yet entertaining student"

Theo x reader

"Where is my boyfriend?" I asked Draco, my annoyance increasing with his obvious distractions so he didn't have to answer my question.

He gave me a once over, his cool gaze unaffected by my anger "Your boyfriend is currently busy. I'm sure you'll see him tomorrow...or in a few days depending on the situation"

I was going to pull my hair out if I didn't get a direct answer soon "Draco Malfoy if you don't tell me right now I will drag Pansy here and tell her you like her"

His blank expression didn't change except the flicker of annoyance in his grey eyes "And where did you receive that false information from?"

I smiled at him "Just because it's false doesn't mean people aren't going to believe it. Did you know all it takes is one little whisper for a rumour to be spread across the whole of Hogwarts?"

Draco smirked, crossing his arms "Blackmailing me, y/l/n? Looks like Nott does benefit you in some way."

"Tell me"

"He's in the hospital wing and before you run away to mother him, if I hear a single word about me liking that awful witch-"

"Your threats don't matter to me right now, Malfoy. But thanks anyway" I rushed off to where he had said Theo was, trying to rid my thoughts of everything that I imagined had happened to him. He was fine walking off the quidditch pitch and there were no serious injuries while he played so why was he there?

I knocked on the door, making sure it was loud enough for someone to hear. If the door didn't open I would barge in myself. Before I could do just that Madam Pomfrey opened the door giving me a sympathetic smile "Here to see Theodore?"

I nodded my head trying to see behind her to no avail. All I could see were a few drawn curtains and another few beds unoccupied.

"Go on in then, he's the third one." I rushed past her muttering a quick thank you. She was probably fed up of having me to see me at her door every other day.

I approached the third bed and pushed the curtains to the side. I didn't know what I expected but it wasn't Theo sat up reading a book with his head wrapped in white gauze. Otherwise he looked completely fine.

"Hey" I left a small kiss on his cheek and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to answer the questions I was too afraid to ask.

He let out a sigh and placed his book near his pillow, shifting further to the left so I had more space on the bed.

"Who told you I was here?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance and confusion "That's not important. What's important is what are you doing here? Don't tell me you got into another fight"

He gave me a slight smile, his expression showing discomfort.

"Theo. Why? Why are you always fighting?"

"For the record I won the fight, sweetheart."

I scoffed "Well clearly not if you've got that on your head and your opponent isn't even in the hospital wing right now"

He grinned as if he found something funny "He's having a meeting with Snape that's why."

He wasn't getting the point. He just didn't seem to care that what he was doing was wrong and it affected others as well.

"What happened? I want the truth"

His smile dropped, becoming suddenly serious to when I asked for the truth.

"Well, the guy who asked you out the other day and you rejected him. He was talking shit about you so I decided to fuck him up a bit. You know, so he'd know that he didn't have the right to talk about you like that...no one does"

I sighed. The fact that he was fighting because of something said about me was nice of him but I didn't want him hurt because of that.

"Theo he said something about me. Not you. I don't want you hurt every time someone says a single thing against me"

He sat up suddenly, anger evident on his face "And why the fuck not? If he's going to talk about my girlfriend like that do you think I'm just gonna stand there and not do shit all?"

"But Theo your hurt because of it! I don't want that for you"

He slumped back down and didn't bother looking at me "I don't fucking care about being hurt. If I hear a single word against you-"

"Just ignore it!" I was getting annoyed now. Why was he so desperate to be hurt because of something I didn't even care that much about?

"Ignore it? Your fucking crazy if you think I'll ignore something like that"

I stood up ready to do something. Ready to shout at him, to push him off the bed, to do anything but sit there and tell him time and time again that I didn't want him hurt because of something so irrelevant. Tears welled up in my eyes, I tried blinking them away but instead a few fell down making their way down my cheeks.

"Well your good at ignoring one thing! Our fucking date that your missing because of your detention. Is that what you wanted?" I wiped the remaining tears from my face, anger coursing through my veins. Theo finally deigned to look at me after having raised my voice, something I rarely did.

His eyes widened in shock "I didn't realise. Fuck. I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't even realise and- I didn't mean for you to cry. I'm so fucking sorry"

"It's a little late for that isn't it. What does it matter when you've missed the second date this month because of some stupid fighting you can't control"

He leant toward me, reaching for my hand the warmth of his hand seeping into me. "I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? I swear I won't fight again...unless the person deserves it"

I sat back down, the anger vanishing from me, Theo's comforting hand grounding me.

"Lay down with me. Please." He asked quietly, eyes full of sorrow.

I turned so I could lay down next to him his arm coming around my waist to pull me closer to him. He dropped a kiss to the top of my head "I really am sorry Y/n. I don't want you to be upset over something I've done"

I shook my head "I'm not upset. I just don't want my boyfriend to be in the hospital wing for half the year"

"I'll try harder" He whispered.

"Just try harder on the fighting aspect. Otherwise your perfect"

I smiled at him and the one he gave back made my heart melt. I loved him.